#forbidden lands mechanics

[legionofmyth]

Forbidden Lands by Free League Publishing

Venture into the dark fantasy world of Forbidden Lands by Free League Publishing! 🌌 Survive, explore, and conquer in this immersive sandbox RPG. Perfect for fans of gritty adventures and deep storytelling! #ForbiddenLands #RPG #TabletopGaming #FantasyRPG #FreeLeague

Forbidden Lands by Free League Publishing What is it? Forbidden Lands Forbidden Lands by Free League Publishing is a dark fantasy tabletop role-playing game set in a cursed and perilous world. Players take on the roles of adventurers and rogues exploring a land filled with ancient ruins, dangerous wilderness, and supernatural horrors. The setting is grim and gritty, emphasizing survival,…

[marinecorvid]

on the endless list of things to do: work out scifi android/cyborg “nonexistent” govt agent who goes rogue and finds her way home to the desert beyond the broad strokes of it

[apas-95]

Did you know that NASA engineers considered the failure rate of some critical shuttle parts to be about 1 in 100 (significantly greater than what NASA upper-management considered the failure rate to be, and what was considered at all acceptable by the certification process)?

Do you know that NASA engineers currently have no idea how many rocket launches the next mission in the Artemis program (in 2 years!) is meant to involve, because the mission plan relies on SpaceX being contracted to deliver a supply of cryogenic fuel to the crewed Orion (™ Lockheed-Martin) capsule in orbit - a procedure that 1: has never been attempted before on any spacecraft, let alone the Orion™ capsule, not even in uncrewed technology demonstration flights; and 2: would require an as-of-yet unknown number of SpaceX 'Starship' launches, because said vehicle does not actually exist at time of writing?

Did you know they're planning on using this 'starship' as the crewed lander? A design for a lunar ascent vehicle, that is, that does not use hypergolic fuel, that relies on a swing-out crane as the only entry and egress point? During the original moon landings, the LEM had so many redundant methods to make sure it got astronauts off the surface of the moon, that in the most absurd, extreme case, where every single mechanism fails, there's a procedure trained into the astronauts to climb around the outside of the capsule, take a pair of bolt-cutters from the equipment box, physically cut the couplings holding the capsule to the lander stage, and take off to get home. Artemis' proposed lander, on the other hand, is planned to be a vehicle whose design didn't even include heatshields until it was realised it would obviously need heatshields, which are ceramic tiles bolted after-the-fact directly through the steel hull, because SpaceX had decided to mass-produce the original-design hull sections all at once for all the 'starships' first, before doing any integrated testing.

We're seeing the exact attitude that led to the shuttle disasters not being prevented now expressing itself in (and even through) the Artemis program, a project pushed harder and faster through the gates than it should be, by a government (and NASA administration thereby) desperate to advance the eponymous Artemis Accords (that goes unsigned by China, Russia, and much of the world) and reneg on all previous space charters that onsidered ownership, commercial exploitation, and military usage of space forbidden. Something bad is going to happen, and it's going to happen for the sake of SpaceX and the military-industrial complex at large.

[dawnslight-aegis]

and that's a wrap on my tarot series! the upright majors, at least. there may be others sometime in the future if I am seized by a combination of insanity and hyperfixation once again.

you might notice a few cards are a bit (or in the case of the fool and alternate chariot, a lot) different! I did a few retakes for consistency/style.

below the read more I've included a bunch of notes about symbolism and reasoning behind my choices if that interests you!

(tag for individual card posts)

0. The Fool: Ardbert was really the only choice for this one. He's our stand-in, our shard, our mirror. Feo Ul is included partially because of lore (they are my co-WoL's shard on the First) and also because they also fit the themes of adventure and new beginnings and exploration. Most of the cards I played pretty loose on the posing vs traditional depictions, but this one I wanted to hew a little closer, which is why he's on a cliff with a foot hanging over the edge a bit, with his axe standing in for the bindle. This is my second attempt at the card -- the first was in Il Mheg, but I moved it to Kholusia (Ardbert's home) and dawn to more closely symbolize that it's the beginning of something. Attempts: 2. Difficulty: 8/10, posing Feo Ul was annoying.

1. The Magician: This card could have had several subjects, chief among them Alphinaud or a more modern G'raha, but I settled on Alisaie a) because the other two cards I had in mind for her (Chariot and Justice) were already taken, and b) the card's focus on physical magic and depicting the "tools of the trade" reminded me a lot of Angelo's creation! So that's why she's here, and why I set the card in Matoya's Relict, among the tools of magicians who came before (Matoya, Y'shtola). I retook the shot because I was unsatisfied with the blurriness/the way the light covered her face in the first one. Attempts: 2. Difficulty: 5/10, simple pose but working with Impact's spell effect complicated things.

2. The High Priestess: Another that I never questioned who would appear on it. Y'shtola's arc is entirely about uncovering forbidden, secret knowledge and wisdom, so she fits beautifully. The blue-white orb and the purple staff depict duality between dark and light, and how Y'shtola walks in two worlds, seeing things that are beyond sight, standing before an altar/holy place to the Night's Blessed. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 2/10. Premade pose, knew where I wanted to place her -- the only thing was finding a prop for her off hand.

3. The Empress: Hoo boy did Minfi give me some trouble. I knew that I wanted our Antecedent, who provides both authority and care for the Scions, to represent the Empress, but I struggled to find a depiction that wasn't, well, boring. Minfilia is deeply linked with the Solar, and I didn't want to lean too hard into Word of the Mother/Hydaelyn territory, so I settled on a triple goddess-like idea. Attempts: 3. Difficulty: 6/10. Not mechanically difficult, just conceptually.

4. The Emperor: Another one that I knew who I wanted but struggled with the concept. Haurchefant is very much emblematic of the stability, structure, and masculinity provided by the Emperor, but it wasn't until I decided to add his equally-Emperor-coded father that things settled into place. Together, Edmont and Haurchefant evoke the image of father and son as well as king and knight, filling both major male authority roles that the Emperor exemplifies. Attempts: 4. Difficulty: 6/10. Same as the Empress.

5. The Hierophant: this one was one of the hardest to choose a subject for -- the WoL's allies are largely a bunch of revolutionary firebrands, and I disagree HEAVILY with the popular choice of placing Aymeric here. So I landed on Alphinaud -- out of the Scions, he is the one most concerned with tradition and the "right" way to do things, with formal education and structure. He wants to bring Sharlayan into the modern day, not upend the institutions that raised him and that he very much still respects, much like how he still respects his very traditionally Hierophant-coded father. So I placed him in his family home with a sort of smug look since he can be a pretentious little shit sometimes (affectionate). The spell effect is from Kardia, and I paid special attention to having the shapes align perfectly with the lines in the background, to give a sense of stability and order to the shot, especially contrasted with Alisaie's more dynamic and chaotic depiction. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 4/10, entirely in alignment.

6. The Lovers: Hrasevelgr and Saint Shiva are a great choice for depicting the Lovers as two people, but no one does the Lovers in one subject better than Ysayle. Invoking the spirit of a woman who died for love in order to bring harmony to her people, but it truly being her own power and her own choice the whole time... it's great. Her pose is her transformation/summoning pose, turned into a gesture of affection, which I was particularly proud of. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 3/10, posing monsters is always a little funky.

7. The Chariot: This one has two options -- my co-WoL, Marz, and Tataru/Cid/Nero for the NPC variant. All 4 characters share a singular drive and refusal to let anything stop them once they've set their mind to something, and the 3 NPCs have the added benefit of being associated with a literal "chariot" in the form of airship design. Marz's place on Shadowkeeper has some lore associations (Cylva is her shard on the 13th) as well as being a void mirror to Kaede's sin eater shot. For both I wanted to have dynamic poses to evoke the activity of the card. Attempts: 1 (Marz), 2 (NPCs). Difficulty: 3/10 for both, no major hurdles once the lovely @/karoiseka pointed me at an airship in NG+.

8. Justice: The heart of the Justice card is its emphasis on truth, and no character in FFXIV is more committed to truth even in the face of great suffering than Aymeric de Borel. Because of this, the shot is taken at the top of the Vault, where he confronted his father over his concealment of the truth of the Dragonsong War. The card is usually depicted with a woman holding a sword and balanced scales -- Aymeric is holding his sword in a pose used in statues in the Pillars, and the symmetry of the shot/light and shadow split down the middle is meant to give the feeling of balance. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 1/10. I knew my concept, location, and shader before I even went in, and it came out exactly like I wanted.

9. The Hermit: Originally I had Urianger for this card, who still fits well, but when I moved him to Wheel of Fortune, there was a clear second choice: The Exarch. He even resembles the Hermit, with his cloak and staff, holding himself in isolation and possessing secret knowledge with which he guides the party. G'raha has grown out of this role as of Endwalker, but the Exarch fits it to a tee. I wanted to show his longing to return through his body language and reaching out for the portal that shows him the world he is set apart from. Attempts: 2. Difficulty: 4/10. Nothing major but did have to do two entirely separate cards lmao.

10. The Wheel of Fortune: The one I struggled with the most, conceptually. At first I had a more abstract choice, with the 3 starting city state leaders and Tataru, in a sort of "fate leads to the Scions" idea. But then I remembered that Urianger is a fortune teller who uses a wheel-like weapon with a literal wheel of cards, and, well. Yeah. The man is intimately associated with fate and choice, and the choice to place him on the moon is intentional, to separate him from his more secretive depictions in HW/ShB. He is the one who prepares our second option (flight) while giving us the choice to make our first (fight). Attempts: 2. Difficulty: 7/10. He's up on a high ledge that's not normally accessible and that's always a pain in the ass.

11. Strength: The one that started it all. The original shot of Kaede contained some layer elements I wasn't happy with so I ended up retaking it to better cohere with the others. Strength is about confidence and inner strength "leashing" power, symbolized by the woman and the tamed lion, and there's exactly one good lion model in XIV -- Forgiven Cruelty. It also has the fun side meaning of Kaede conquering and wielding the light that almost killed her. For Moenbryda's, I went with something simple -- her axe to symbolize her strength, but with her archon mark and the Sharlayan Thaliak statue prominently featured, emphasizing her intelligence. Attempts: 2 (Kaede), 1 (Moenbryda). Difficulty: 6/10. Kaede's was straightforward enough (though I had to wait an annoyingly long time for the sky to shift colors correctly), but Moenbryda's involved me floating her up on a building so i could get Thaliak in the shot correctly.

12. The Hanged Man: Holy moly this one was a PAIN IN THE ASS. I knew from the minute I started this what I wanted to do with it -- Lahabrea holding Thancred's ankle as he reaches for Minfilia. The Hanged Man is one that I felt it was especially important to mimic the iconic pose on the card, and this was how I decided to do it, but it took me over an hour and a half to accomplish. Anyway, the Zodiark idol stands in for the Tree of Life, which I really liked. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 10/10. Absolutely infuriating to have to pose 3 actors in three dimensional space like that.

13. Death: I only ever considered Estinien for this card. It stands for transformation and change, for shedding the old to make way for the new, and I chose to depict that by having his old corrupted drachen mail posed behind him like a shadow or an abandoned husk. He has left the hate and the rage behind, but the helmet is meant to symbolize that he always remembers it, and carries it with him so that he can do better. His lance is also vaguely reminiscent of the traditional Death scythe. That spot in Coerthas is where he challenges you in the early DRG quests while controlled by Nidhogg, as well as being just visually striking. Attempts: 1, but it took a while. Difficulty: 9/10. The ground is very much not flat, the helmet is on a minion, and I had to change angles and locations a few times.

14. Temperance: I briefly considered Hythlodaeus here, but Krile fits very well. Calm, competent, but unsure of her own worth. I chose Eureka Hydatos both for its importance to Krile as well as its easily accessible water -- instead of pouring from a cup, Krile is looking at her reflection. This one came together so quickly and easily. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 1/10. In and out of Eureka in less than 20 minutes.

15. The Tower: Originally, before I reshuffled, G'raha was going to be the Tower simply because I didn't know where to put him, and I couldn't think of an ally who is ultimately a destructive force, but it always bothered me because he truly didn't fit. Meteion, though -- despite her innocence and unwillingness, is THE destructive force within Endwalker's story. This card had the highest hurdles -- I had to get 7 friends to help me queue for Endsinger and then leave, and I almost couldn't get my tools to load Meteion in properly. After that it was smooth sailing, however. I used the whole lockout timer, but this was only the 4th shot I took, and it's one of my personal favorites. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 4/10, purely for queuing.

16. The Devil: Addiction, obsession, and control -- Zenos was the only answer for this card. I included Zero as well, despite intending this to be a primarily 6.0 and earlier set, to represent the humans bound in chains to the Devil, using the way she's pinned between Zenos and the scythe to symbolize that she's trapped. Afterward I realized this exact shot and character choice would have also worked quite well for the Tower, as well, but I ultimately prefer the Devil for him. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 3/10. Came together surprisingly easily, despite the fact that I had to make Zero's hat touch pose myself.

17. The Star: Symbolizing hope and new life, I can think of no one better suited than Ryne and the Empty. Ryne herself was given her own new life when Minfilia passed on her power, and the ability to make her own destiny -- and she used that power to revitalize a barren wasteland. My first version of this shot had a photoshopped in central star, but I decided to revisit the concept with an in game effect for the star instead. Helios provided what I needed, with the fun extra benefit of some additional rainbows (happy pride!). Attempts: 3. Difficulty: 3/10. Nothing crazy beyond trying to find a good angle to get the star in the shot, as well as Eden and the rainbow crystal. Second attempt I messed up the framing and had to redo it again.

18. The Moon: The card of dreams, fear, anxiety, and secrets, Gaia is perfect here (and a lovely companion to Ryne as the Star), though I did briefly consider Urianger as well. I wanted to have Gaia on the sand, with the moon hanging between the crystal walls of the Empty above her, but the angles would NOT cooperate to allow me to get the moon in the shot. So, levitation was the only answer. Fortunately it suits Gaia well, especially the distance that it evokes. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 6/10. I hate midair posing.

19. The Sun: Another card that sprang fully formed into my mind. Joy and fulfillment is symbolized by Lyse enjoying the morning light in a free Ala Mhigo, thinking of Papalymo. It also allowed me to get both of these very different characters into a single card, as they are very much a package deal, though I did consider Papalymo for the Hierophant as well. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 2/10. Came together very quickly.

20. Judgement: The last two cards of the Major Arcana are very high concept, with very lofty ideals, so they felt hard to pin down. I thought of doing both my WoLs here, or maybe Elidibus with his three forms for light, dark, and balance. But ultimately I ended up on Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus, as the sort of "final judgement" before the battle with the endsinger, the last step before everything ends. Their literal rebirth, the resolution of Emet-Selch's conflict with the WoL, the not-redemption but understanding reached, our efforts judged worthy -- it all just seemed to fit. The card design is simple but I hope the colors and emotion of the scene carry the weight of the arcana. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 2/10. No major roadblocks.

21. The World: At last we arrive at the end, not only the last posted but the last taken as well. I always knew I wanted Venat/Hydaelyn for this card, as she is the literal heart of our world, as well as an Azem who has reached the end of her journey, as Ardbert was one who was at the beginning of his all the way back at the Fool. But when I didn't use Elidibus anywhere else, I decided to add him here as well, since he also served as the heart of the star for a time. Light and dark united together, watching over Etheirys. The one who destroyed our world in order to save it, and the one who saved our world only to try to destroy it. Perfect symmetry, a completion of the circle. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 9/10. I had to stitch together 3 separate screenshots in photoshop, with the fore and backgrounds cut apart so I could control the opacities separately. Probably the card that took me the longest, but it was worth it.

[thydungeongal]

Fantasy Adventure Games part 2

You know what, there's still a lot of trad stuff that I haven't even touched out there, and I would be remiss if I didn't feature some of the other, newer entries into the field. This is a continuation of this post.

So, once again, staying with very trad fantasy games:

Dragonbane by the Free League. An English translation of the latest edition of the classic Swedish fantasy RPG Drakar och Demoner, Dragonbane is a very traditional fantasy roleplaying game whose design is clearly heavily informed by RuneQuest but in its latest incarnation also owes a lot to the game structure popularized by D&D 3e (a game that still informs a lot of game design to this day). Dragonbane is, at its core, a skill-based, no-levels fantasy game, but that still has classes of a sort to grant structure to character creation and advancement. Its playstyle has been dubbed "mirth and mayhem" by its creators, and it emphasizes quick resolution and a sense of randomness. The presentation is also top notch, with art by Swedish fantasy artist Johan Egerkrans.

Forbidden Lands by the Free League. Another game published by the Free League, Forbidden Lands is a classic fantasy RPG with a focus on sandbox play and exploration in a strange, scary world. Forbidden Lands uses a variant of the Year Zero engine from Free League's Mutant: Year Zero games, a type of d6 dice pool system. With out-of-the-box mechanics for exploration, foraging, negotiations, and hunting, as well as running one's own stronghold, the real star of the show is the ready-made sandbox setting that comes with the game, begging to be explored.

Against the Darkmaster by Open Ended Games. The creators of Rolemaster, mentioned in the previous post, for a brief moment held the license to the Middle-earth setting of J.R.R. Tolkien's legendarium and produced a slightly lighter version of Rolemaster to support playing in that setting, titled Middle-earth Roleplaying, or MERP for short. While the game is now long gone, it is still fondly remembered, and in 2019 Against the Darkmaster, a game that is essentially a tribute to MERP made by long-time fans of the game, was Kickstarted. Against the Darkmaster, or VsD for short, is a game in the heritage of Rolemaster, but with inspirations taken from modern RPGs, including the officially licensed modern LotR RPG The One Ring (which is another soft recommend from yours truly). VsD is a gritty and dark traditional RPG that seeks to empower its players to play out stories of a fellowship of heroes struggling against the forces of darkness, very much in the genre of Lord of the Rings, Dragonlance, and the Chronicles of Prydain. If you want crunchy, epic fantasy with a hint of darkness, this one's for you.

Fantasy Hero by Hero Games. A fantasy adaptation of the HERO System, the system that powers the classic superhero RPG Champions, Fantasy Hero is the closest thing I have found to an engine for running a fantasy immersive sim. The core philosophy of the HERO System is that its open-ended power creation system can be used to build anything, and Fantasy Hero directs that energy towards empowering fantasy adventures. The HERO System is very crunchy, almost like a TTRPG physics engine, and it's a dream come true for a certain type of gamer. Heck, I've personally considered using it to run a fantasy sim campaign where spell research is conducted through the power creation system. It's so cool. There is a one-book version of Fantasy Hero out there, called Fantasy Hero Complete, but word on the street is that the better way to run it is using the Hero System 6th Edition rules with the Fantasy Hero 6th Edition genre supplement on top.

Earthdawn by FASA. Once officially tied to the fantasy cyberpunk RPG Shadowrun as its mythic past, due to ownership issues Earthdawn is better understood as its own, standalone game without any ties to Shadowrun these days (and even in the past the actual ties were minimal). Earthdawn casts the player characters as magically empowered individuals who direct their magic into various disciplines, so that a Warrior in Earthdawn isn't simply someone who fights: they are someone who utilizes magic to subtly empower their fighting ability. Earthdawn is very much kin to RuneQuest in how it ties its game system to its world's underlying metaphysics, while being more in line with your traditional dwarves and elves and wizards fantasy. The setting of the game is post-apocalyptic fantasy, with a demonic scourge having recently ravaged the land and people for the first time stepping out of their magically sealed vaults to explore the world. In addition to Earthdawn fourth edition, there is an alternate, simpler version of Earthdawn titled "Age of Legend," which uses an extremely simplified system based on dice results of "Yes, and..." and "No, but..." style prompts. The fourth edition released by FASA is a very traditional, crunchy RPG.

Talislanta by various. Talislanta is a classic fantasy RPG set in an extremely unique fantasy setting that promises ABSOLUTELY NO ELVES. Talislanta is a very unique vision of a fantasy RPG with a very idiosyncratic setting, unique metaphysics, weird sights, and extremely easy to learn yet deep system. The system is very simple, with a basic d20+modifiers resolution mechanic, with varying degrees of success built in, and this system is used for absolutely everything, including combat, skill resolution, and magic. Speaking of magic, Talislanta's magic system is based heavily on keywords and schools, with magic-users being potentially able to produce almost any kind of magical effect the player can imagine under the keyword system, but with certain types of magic simply being more fit to certain purposes and some types of magic not being able to produce certain specific magical effects. What's more, legacy editions of the game are available online for free.

Anyway, that's enough for now.

[book--brackets]

Summaries under the cut

Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery

Anne Shirley, an eleven-year-old orphan, has arrived in this verdant corner of Prince Edward Island only to discover that the Cuthberts—elderly Matthew and his stern sister, Marilla—want to adopt a boy, not a feisty redheaded girl. But before they can send her back, Anne—who simply must have more scope for her imagination and a real home—wins them over completely.

The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer

Humans and androids crowd the raucous streets of New Beijing. A deadly plague ravages the population. From space, a ruthless Lunar people watch, waiting to make their move. No one knows that Earth’s fate hinges on one girl. . . . Cinder, a gifted mechanic, is a cyborg.

She’s a second-class citizen with a mysterious past, reviled by her stepmother and blamed for her stepsister’s illness. But when her life becomes intertwined with the handsome Prince Kai’s, she suddenly finds herself at the center of an intergalactic struggle, and a forbidden attraction. Caught between duty and freedom, loyalty and betrayal, she must uncover secrets about her past in order to protect her world’s future.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl

Charlie Bucket's wonderful adventure begins when he finds one of Mr. Willy Wonka's precious Golden Tickets and wins a whole day inside the mysterious chocolate factory. Little does he know the surprises that are in store for him!

Uglies by Scott Westerfeld

Tally is about to turn sixteen, and she can't wait. In just a few weeks she'll have the operation that will turn her from a repellent ugly into a stunning pretty. And as a pretty, she'll be catapulted into a high-tech paradise where her only job is to have fun.

But Tally's new friend Shay isn't sure she wants to become a pretty. When Shay runs away, Tally learns about a whole new side of the pretty world—and it isn't very pretty. The authorities offer Tally a choice: find her friend and turn her in, or never turn pretty at all. Tally's choice will change her world forever....

Number the Stars by Lois Lowry

Ten-year-old Annemarie Johansen and her best friend Ellen Rosen often think of life before the war. It's now 1943 and their life in Copenhagen is filled with school, food shortages, and the Nazi soldiers marching through town. When the Jews of Denmark are "relocated," Ellen moves in with the Johansens and pretends to be one of the family. Soon Annemarie is asked to go on a dangerous mission to save Ellen's life.

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

Nobody Owens, known to his friends as Bod, is a perfectly normal boy. Well, he would be perfectly normal if he didn't live in a graveyard, being raised and educated by ghosts, with a solitary guardian who belongs to neither the world of the living nor the world of the dead.

There are dangers and adventures for Bod in the graveyard: the strange and terrible menace of the Sleer; a gravestone entrance to a desert that leads to the city of ghouls; friendship with a witch, and so much more.

But it is in the land of the living that real danger lurks, for it is there that the man Jack lives and he has already killed Bod's family.

Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson

Jess Aarons has been practicing all summer so he can be the fastest runner in the fifth grade. And he almost is, until the new girl in school, Leslie Burke, outpaces him. The two become fast friends and spend most days in the woods behind Leslie's house, where they invent an enchanted land called Terabithia. One morning, Leslie goes to Terabithia without Jess and a tragedy occurs. It will take the love of his family and the strength that Leslie has given him for Jess to be able to deal with his grief.

The BFG by Roald Dahl

Captured by a giant! The BFG is no ordinary bone-crunching giant. He is far too nice and jumbly. It's lucky for Sophie that he is. Had she been carried off in the middle of the night by the Bloodbottler, the Fleshlumpeater, the Bonecruncher, or any of the other giants-rather than the BFG-she would have soon become breakfast.

When Sophie hears that they are flush-bunking off in England to swollomp a few nice little chiddlers, she decides she must stop them once and for all. And the BFG is going to help her!

Graceling by Kristen Cashore

Katsa has been able to kill a man with her bare hands since she was eight—she’s a Graceling, one of the rare people in her land born with an extreme skill. As niece of the king, she should be able to live a life of privilege, but Graced as she is with killing, she is forced to work as the king’s thug.

She never expects to fall in love with beautiful Prince Po.

She never expects to learn the truth behind her Grace—or the terrible secret that lies hidden far away . . . a secret that could destroy all seven kingdoms with words alone.

A Light in the Attic by Shel Silverstein

Here in the attic of Shel Silverstein you will find Backward Bill, Sour Face Ann, the Meehoo with an Exactlywatt, and the Polar Bear in the Frigidaire. You will talk with Broiled Face, and find out what happens when Somebody steals your knees, you get caught by the Quick-Digesting Gink, a Mountain snores, and They Put a Brassiere on the Camel.

[wannab-urs]

Pedro Pascal Character Fic Recs | Vol 39

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy folks!

Welcome back to the Spreadsheet Digest! It's been.... a while. In order to make up for that, I have a nice long list of fics to rec. Also, surprise! I'm posting this on thursdays now.

All tags and summaries provided by the authors unless they didn't provide one, in which case I filled it in.

Wildest Dreams a Dave York series by @janaispunk

You meet your father’s new friend for the first time, but he’s a lot different than you expected.

explicit smut (18+ only, mdni), dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamic (reader becomes very dependent on Dave), dom/sub dynamics, angst, feelings, daddy issues, secret/forbidden relationship, corruption kink, able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, Dave doesn’t kill people in this

the hitman’s guide to getting the girl a Dave York seriesby @kiwisbell

It's just another job, until Dave York decides to kidnap an enemy’s wiseass daughter. It’s just another job, until he falls in love.

kidnapping, murder, violence, the world being horrible to women, reader having a very terrible sense of self-preservation, unprotected piv, oral sex (m and f receiving), dave york finding his second calling as a pussy-eating god, pining, possessive sex, jealousy, daddy issues, (stockholm syndrome?), dirty talk, actually filthy talk, hitmen and politicians, revenge, scary man with a soft spot for his woman, philosophical foreplay, tramp stamp worship (you'll see), a little sprinkle of breeding kink if you look hard enough, obsessive behaviour, anal fingering, anal sex, implied age gap, light dom/sub vibes, light bondage

Obscenery a Dave York/Tim Rockford series by @sin-djarin

Dave is worried about the day ahead and Tim offers him some advice.

M/M, Established D/s dynamics, edging, orgasm delay, these two come with their own warnings - in particular Tim's mouth and how much Dave really likes it.

Heaven is Hell a Dieter one shot by @inept-the-magnificent

Writing prompt: “I don’t get it,” says the demon, “This person’s lived a perfectly good and virtuous life. Why are you sending them to hell?” The angel nervously rubs the back of their head. “Honestly? We’re pretty sure they’d be happier in hell than heaven.”

demon!Dieter, Angel!marcus pike, mild angst, fluff, mention of drugs, alcohol, orgies, etc. The usual dieter rabble.

Scars and All a Din series by plaidamoosette (AO3)

Hidden away in the desert land of Jakku, you are slowly chipping away at the debt that you and your mother had accumulated following the death of your father to the horrible Denga Niima. But, after the recent passing of your mother, the debt has fallen on your shoulders. Using your skills as a mechanical engineer, you accumulate wealth for your slave master in the hopes that one day you will be free. Free to explore and live as your parents had always wished for you. But things change when you meet a certain bounty hunter when he comes to you to repair his ship. But, nothing is as it seems, and as the lies that were built around your life begin to crumble, you find yourself sucked into a journey of truth, betrayal, and... love.

Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst, Drama, Deceased Parents, Indentured Servitude, Soft Din Djarin, Soft Dominant Din Djarin, POV Alternating, Din Djarin Removes the Helmet, Protective Din Djarin, Intimidation, Male Masturbation, Touch-Starved, Loss of Virginity, MC doesn't know how to take care of herself, Female Masturbation, Burried Trauma, Readers knows how to fight back, Mandalorians (Star Wars), Mandalorian Culture & Customs (Star Wars), Some Canon material, A whole lot of other made up stuff

Just Can't Say Goodbye a Din one shot by @saradika

a final night is spent in the arms of your bodyguard, before your arranged union the next morning.

sorta medieval vibes, references to antiquated societal expectations, mentions and references to virginity, arranged marriage, technically infidelity because of said arrangement, light angst, sneaking around, first time, fingering, PiV, creampie

Back to You a Din series by @kyberblade

You’ve been friends with Mando for years, and he drops by your hole in the wall bar from time to time to catch up. This time, however, he’s carrying an extra little green passenger with him. They are on the run, which is unsettling because Mando doesn’t run from things. Things run from him. A tracking fob, a dead body, and a confession later, all three of you set out to help the child find it’s kind. (Aka: a really typical Din x Force Sensitive reader plot, but instead of the going from stiff scary Mando to friendly Mando it’s gonna kinda go the opposite way. Not in a bad way but she’s gonna finally get to see what exactly he was running from all those times he came back to see her.)

Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Angst, Humor, Friends to Lovers, Introspection, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Romantic Friendship, Emotions, Grogu | Baby Yoda Being a Little Shit, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Protective Din Djarin, Good Parent Din Djarin, Soft Din Djarin, Force-Sensitive Reader, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Spicy thoughts, but no smut

Familiar Strangers an Ezra one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

When your boyfriend's band opens for Familiar Strangers, you get the chance to meet the lead singer. A man whose work you've long admired. A connection sparks a flame that may change your life forever.

Rockstar!Ezra, Infidelity, reader's boyfriend is a huge asshole and deserves it though, Smut, Mildly Dubious Consent, everyone is consenting but they are impaired by alcohol

Brat a Frankie one shot by @freelancearsonist

You've been torturing Frankie, so he decides to return the favor.

short and filthy lil giflet, unprotected p in v sex, power dynamics kind of

Down the Hall a Frankie one shot by @frannyzooey

Your bedroom, just down the hall from his own, proves too tempting for Frankie to resist - even if he is your mother's boyfriend.

age gap, explicit smut, mom's boyfriend!frankie

All Through the Night a Jack one shot by @baronessvonglitter

after it's made clear that you're not welcome as a Junior Agent for the Statesman organization, Whiskey takes you under his protection for an unforgettable night

18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, mentor/mentee relationship, forbidden relationship, vandalism, nightmares, 'only one bed', first time, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, no use of y/n

Is Joel Okay? a Joel one shot by @djarinmuse

Based on this edit that @/iamasaddie shared, and the tag by @/wannab-urs, thanks Gin for the input "#Joel has a menty b and shaves his head". Reader is there for him. No idea who did the original edit but thanks.

Joel cuts his hair, the utter horror of that alone. No explicit smut but 18+ physical intimacy. Depressed Joel, soft Joel. Established relationship but no background given.

Unearth a Joel one shot by @ezrasbirdie

When your normally strict parents go out of town for two weeks and leave you on your own for the first time with little warning, you're left reeling and afraid of being on your own for so long. Luckily, Joel Miller, your father's best friend, very generously offers to let you stay with him. Your long time crush on him shouldn't be a problem at all.

smut, yearning, Joel is a little manipulative, loss of virginity, dad's best friend, nice big age gap (reader is 21, Joel is 40), liberal use of baby girl, religious trauma of the Christian variety (no denomination noted), reader wears a sundress, shaming of sexuality, bad relationship with reader's parents, insecurity, flirting, trouble orgasming, pussy pronouns (she/her), humping/grinding, masturbation, unprotected PIV, oral sex, references to early 00s media, soft Joel

What it is to grow a Joel one shot by @burntheedges

Joel knows he can't keep running from it – from Her – forever.

angst, hurt/comfort, hope, mentions of the canon depths of Joel’s depression (pills, alcohol, darkness, etc.), canon character death (Sarah), AU with Greek lore/gods & goddesses in the TLOU universe, character study

Birthday Boy a Joel one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Even with a house full of party guests, Joel can't resist when he finds a moment alone with you in the bathroom.

Masturbation, Frottage, light d/s, orgasm denial. Just general Joel Miller filth. There's like a smidge of plot right at the end.

Duality of a Man a Joel series by @wildemaven

A woman shows up at your door looking for your boyfriend

Mentions of food, Mentions of killing, death, birth, birth trauma

Consider it a Favor a Joel one shot by @chaotic-mystery

Your AC breaks in your car and the one person around to help is your neighbor, Mr.Miller.

Age gap (Not specified but I put Sarah in college) DILF Joel mowing his lawn, reader is able-bodied and is wearing a swim suit/coverup, reader has hair Joel can pull, kissing, swearing, (1) blowjob, size kink go brrr, pet names (good girl, sweetheart, baby) facedown ass up, babey, a little manhandling, unprotected penetration (don't look at me okay, the whore in me jumped out), dirty talk, Joel hyping up his ego, pussy ownership, creampie, a little glimpse of aftercare and what really happened to your AC.

Absolution a Joel series by @pedgito

Moving in with your soon-to-be stepfather under the roof of his brother, Joel, ends up being a turning point of change in your life.

DDDNE - stepcest, religious trauma, parental trauma. addition warnings: no outbreak, step-uncle!joel (reader's mom is engaged to marry tommy) age gap (20/late 40s), inappropriate relationships/behavior, slight dubcon (voyeurism), eventual smut (will tag with specific on each chapter), skewed morals, joel using alcohol to cope with life and loss, reader is in the depths of deconstruction.

Imperfect for you a Joel one shot by @joelscruff

you never thought joel miller would accidentally call you baby.

age gap (joel is mid 40s, reader is 23), fluff, very brief instance of blood, tending to a wound, joel is eepy, soft kisses, cuddles

rotten a Joel one shot by @alltheirdamn

Sharing land with Joel Miller has always been infuriating, but when your bad attitude finally gets his attention...things get messy

No-Outbreak AU, banter and arguing, explicit language, brat taming, semi dark!joel, dubcon elements, degrading, choking, rough spanking, hair pulling, face slapping, throat fucking, touch of dacryphilia, rope/bondage, rough unprotected piv sex, hint of a subspace moment, orgasm denial, squirting, creampie, no aftercare because joel is an old, grumpy asshole

Lost Cause a Joel one shot by @Joelalorian

Joel thinks you shouldn’t waste your time on him. You disagree.

Explicit MDNI; Jackson-era Joel; canon-ish but also not; drinking; mentions of cigarettes, drugs, dark thoughts, and death; unprotected p in v; oral (m and f receiving); interesting use of red wine; unspecified age gap; despair and hope

rosemary by the garden gate Joel/Tim Rockford/Dio series by @marisferasiop

(set in an approximate late nineties/early aughts timeline) Shane, turned out by his family after being outed, is sleeping rough when he is abducted by a sex trafficking ring. Joel is Tess' lead enforcer in her gang. His twin brother, Tim, is a highly decorated detective in Major Crimes for the NYPD. Together, they help Tess and her investments navigate both sides of the law. When Shane is given to Joel one evening at a truce meeting between Tess' gang and their rivals, a human trafficking syndicate, he calls Tim to initiate a bust on the opposition. His one request: he wants the kid. Problem is, once Tim meets him, so does he. Most importantly: what does Shane want once his freedom is granted? Or does he even want his freedom, if these two are holding the reigns?

dead dove!! Human trafficking, unhoused gay minors/unhoused gay youth, abuse (physical, sexual, mental/emotional), sex trafficking, sex work, homelessness, food insecurity, stealing to survive, abduction, sex slave trade, gagging/choking (later consensual breathplay), rough oral, "painal" kink, non-con drugging, enemas, forced sex work, bondage for sex and for binding/imprisonment, non-con sex/rape, mafia-esque work and associated unpleasantness (gore and violence), mean but soft Joel, face slapping, spanking as foreplay, caning as punishment, orgasm delay/control, spitting in mouth, body modifications, marking, cum play, all the soft life-affirming gay sex after rescue (Joel and Tim are twins and don't fuck e/o but they do fuck Shane together at one point) a mention of the Meat Rack, the gay sex worker alley where serial killer Des Nilsen abducted his victims.

Win a Date With Javi G + Part 2 a Javi G/Jack Daniels/Reader series by @absurdthirst and @wardenparker

You and your best friend are huge fans of Spanish pop star Javi G, and she managed to convince you to enter a contest to win a date with the singer himself. No one is more surprised than you when you actually win. / Going home with Javi and Jack after the Grammys might be the most important decision you've ever made...

Cursing. Food/alcohol. Pure fluff and flirting. A little dirty talk/dirty flirting toward the end./ Dom/sub dynamic. MMF threesome. *This story features an established MM relationship!* Sex toys, collaring, dirty talk, enthusiastic use of 'Daddy', oral sex (f and m receiving), hand job, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, dom!Jack, sub!Javi, cumplay, rimming, light choking, spanking, double penetration, double vaginal penetration, after care, exploration of power dynamics.

Waffles and Cigarettes a Javi P one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

After you are attacked during a night out, your ex boyfriend comes to your rescue

Attempted sexual assault (not Javi), violence, descriptions of blood and injuries, fingering, spit as lube, unprotected PIV, kinda rough sex, creampie, angst. absolutely feral, protective ex boyfriend Javi

Midnight Rainstorms a Javi P one shot by @thundermartini

Javier is coming home late, escaping from a storm. You’re trying hard not to drown in the incessant rain.

no y/n, female reader, reader is not physically described (except she has long hair), javier and reader are married, mentions of anxiety, mentions of trauma, mentions of guilt, mentions of narcos plot but it’s a blur, nightmare so it may be triggering, grief, no beta.

Crawl a Max Phillips one shot by @proxima-writes

Gym owner Max Phillips offers to let you use the sauna. In return, he uses your mouth.

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), no use of y/n, able bodied reader, dirty talk, crawling, oral (m receiving), no aftercare, semi-public sex.

Dancing Phantoms on the Terrace an Oberyn one shot by @janaispunk

You show up to Oberyn's party

(somewhat) modern!Oberyn, able bodied reader, reader has hair that wind is "whipping through", no use of y/n, alcohol consumption, once again it's all aboard the angst train i'm sorry babes

Happy Reading!

[itsabouttimex2]

Do you have any headcanons for after an escape attempt with each monkey demon ( Mk , Monkey king and macaque) What would be their reaction at first? What would they do when they find you? How stricter would they get? What would they start doing differently after the attempt?

MK, as usual, has very different responses depending on the season he’s in.

Season 1 MK probably doesn’t even consider the possibility that Y/N could “escape”. This is when the relationship between the two of you is at it’s healthiest, before this poor boy goes through hell and back.

You aren’t locked up, he doesn’t have you hidden away, there’s nowhere that you’re explicitly forbidden to go- there’s nothing to escape from. His assumption isn’t “Y/N is running away from me!” or “I can’t let them escape!” but instead, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen Y/N… so I’ll drop everything to go visit them right now!”

Sometimes he abandons all prior goals to run off and see you. Sometimes he rushes through a fight and ends it a little more… fiercely than his opponents would have liked.

Once the trauma starts rolling in and Y/N becomes his coping mechanism as much as they are his friend, MK starts to personally define exactly what counts as “escape”.

You aren’t allowed to leave his side without telling where you’ll be going and when you’ll be back. If you’re a competent enough fighter to take on a Bull Clone or two, he won’t push this ‘rule’ as hard. And if you can’t do that?

Then MK makes a serious push for you to train with him. He’ll beg and pester Wukong to teach you at least some of the 72 Transformations as a form of defending yourself or getting out of nasty scrapes without his help. Eventually, his mentor concedes (after some serious bribery on MK’s part) and allows you to take part in the sessions.

But until you can reasonably take care of yourself against two or three opponents at once, MK is by your side every minute he gets the chance. Running off or giving him the slip means little once he’s mastered his Gold Vision, which he does very quickly. Or he can extend his pole to the skies to get a much better view of the surrounding area to see exactly where you ran off to.

Give him the slip too many times, and MK will tie your wrist to his with his headband, ensuring that you don’t get “lost” as he drags you along after him.

“C’mon, Y/N! I already got permission from Pigsy for you to stay the night!”

“That’s sweet of you both, really… but last time I stayed the night, it turned into a week.”

“I know! That was the best, wasn’t it?! Maybe this time, we can stretch it out to a month!”

Sun Wukong will let it slide once. Just once, he’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, choosing to believe that you wouldn’t go running off with a very good reason. After that, his restrictions mount and your freedoms decline one by one. Each consecutive escape brings you one step close to being locked inside Shuilian Cave, where he decides that you are safest.

But that’s for a later day, once you’ve run his trust dry.

For now, he believes in you.

So he’ll let you leave, giving you a single day to tend to whatever business that you needed to attend to so urgently that you left.

All alone. In the middle of the night. With a single packed bag.

Wukong will let this one first escape slide, because lord only knows that he’s pulled so many horseshit antics that his kid/friend/student/whatever Y/N is running off once isn’t that big of a deal. And really…

He wants to believe in you here. He wants to think that this is something you’re doing for a very good reason, instead of just being a desperate attempt to get away from him.

When the single day he allots you is over and done, you can start counting out your precious, meager minutes of freedom one by one.

In less than an hour, his flying cloud blazes through the sky and blisters the earth like a comet, leaving a crater of destruction and cinders where it lands.

And aboard the vaporous mount is none other the Great Sage himself, arms folded and grin forced.

“Hey there, bud. You been out here having fun, huh?”

No vigor or vim to line his words. No electric cheer to fuel his fluid movements. No warmth in his tone.

It’s almost hard to call him Sun Wukong.

But it is him here, and he’s here for you. He offers you a hand, stiff and tense. The way the acts makes it clear there’s no choice but to take it, not when the air grows thick and the tension is stormy.

“C’mon, bud. Time to head home.”

Pre-Season 4 Macaque is the only one on this list that’s immoral enough to outright kidnap someone, in my opinion. MK might guilt you into staying with him, and while Sun Wukong would technically commit kidnapping, it’s by virtue of not letting you leave instead of forcibly taking you away. It’d be more along the lines of false imprisonment.

But Macaque?

If all his careful maneuvers and schemes prove inefficient in keeping you close, he’ll switch to brute force in the blink of an eye.

Macaque; at the start, gently manipulates you. His shackles are first gossamer, innocuous and kind. He builds you up and tears you down in increments, never swaying too far to either side. You never feel confident enough to leave, never feel hurt enough to lash out.

He doesn’t chase after you. He makes you feel unstable and dependent, then molds you into seeing him as a shelter that you aren’t strong enough to leave.

It’s a brutal process for Y/N, especially if they’re his student, because he intentionally picks a lonely and insecure person for the sake of rivaling MK.

And if you do somehow break free from the psychological and emotional strings he uses to puppeteer you about, Macaque simply switches to physically stringing you up with his shadows and forcing you to act out your deepest insecurities as he narrates them to an audience of shadow clones.

“Poor little Y/N… forever on their own, watching from the shadows while all the rest of the world laughs and loves with one another.”

The shadows around your body maneuver and mold you, forcing you to wave your hands and walk, dragging your lips into frowns and smiles. Every little shame and self-doubt you possess is bared to the light, bared to his shadows, and you can’t help but be strung along as a passive watcher in your very own story.

You break into tears halfway through, devolving into hysteric sobbing by the end.

And Macaque; no longer a shelter but instead a jail, offers you comfort to reel you back into his grasp. He’ll take you into his arms as you weep, promising to make you stronger, strong enough to forget the past and all that he’s forcing you to leave behind.

Now that you’re rendered to your most reduced state, he can start to work his magic.

“Trust me, kiddo… everything I’m doing, I’m doing for your own good. You get me?”

[griancraft]

Hi guys, this is sort of my official "please, for the love of god, listen to Skyjacks with me” post because I’m losing my mind and all the content I can find is from the latest stuff right now, and I don’t want to spoil myself. I want to be able to talk about this with people!!!! I will make a watch (listen) party discord if there is enough interest. Just give it a chance; you won’t regret it. Also, some information may be wrong or outdated. I’m on episode 11 out of over 200.

Skyjacks is a ttrpg podcast about sky pirates in a world where there was a catastrophe about 200 years ago that left the sea unsafe to sail and maybe even damaged the entire world to the point where civilization is scattered and in small groups. There is very casual queer rep, and it’s casual to the point where it really just fits into the world perfectly.

A brief summary of the premise of the first episode will hopefully get you hooked. I’m really bad at summaries, but I promise it’s a billion times better than how I talked about it here:

Captain Orimar Vale is dead, and a mutiny will be on Gable, Jonnit, Travis, and Dref’s hands if they are unable to keep up the ruse of him being alive. To do this, necromancy (deeply forbidden magic) is performed by the Dref, the ship's doctor, to turn him into a semi-functional zombie. Captain Orimar is famous for his abilities as a captain; to replicate this will take great skill.

As they run out of supplies, they make a desperate decision: port on the land of one of Orimar’s scorned lovers or deal with the growing uneasiness of the rest of the crew. They haven’t seen their captain healthy in months, and whispers about his health are starting. However, greater danger will await them when they take to the skies again, lurking just beyond the clouds…

And more propaganda as to why I think you guys will like it:

There are unique and interesting gameplay mechanics they use to tell a really cool story, and if you like Hermitcraft or any other sorta storytelling-based SMP, I promise you’ll like it. Like. If you liked Boatem from Hermitcraft 8, you’ll love the characters in Skyjacks. The players are exceptionally good at playing their characters, their humour is unmatched by anything similar I’ve had the pleasure of seeing, and the story is prioritized, which I think is an amazing choice.

Best part? It’s still ongoing after, like, 5 years. Some people have left, but a good chunk of the OG cast has stayed. Not that leaving is bad, because holy crap, 5 years is a long time, and stories have to end at some point! It’s a good way of getting into something and knowing there is still a shit ton of content to be explored.

The music is good. The story is good. The characters and humour are amazing. The lore of the world is sprinkled throughout, and as you learn more about the world, the more excited you get. It’s incredible so far, and if you decide to listen to it, I will actually love you forever and ever. My boyfriend is on episode 190, and he finds it so funny every time I go. Oh my god, this is so cool.

Link to the podcast, but in a playlist (up to 180). So it’s in order and easy to find, since it’s a part of something else from the oneshot network:

[togenabi]

throwing pebbles because I love you

megumi fushiguro x reader (royalty au)

♡—Whenever the night is clear, and the wind blows softly, Megumi throws rocks at your window.

word count♡— 2.3k words

genre♡— fluff, royalty au

aged up characters♡— 18+

content notes♡— childhood frenemies to lovers, megumi throws rocks, no use of y/n, mc is a bit of a snob, very fluff, secret codes, confessions, not really proofread, megumi is ooc I'm sorry TvT

author's note♡— I really didn't mean to make my second royalty au to also be related to windows, but here we are. (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠) no windows were harmed in the making of this fic.

The first time it happened, it was an accident. You were both eight.

Their royal highnesses, prince Megumi and prince Yuji, were staying over at your family's estate as guests. Your mother was a royal through and through, having descended from the greater empire then married into a neighboring kingdom's duchy. After your father passed, she never remarried; choosing instead to focus on serving the kingdom as the perfect duchess.

She never forced you to take on too many responsibilities, despite her own workaholic tendencies. Your mother had simply let you be a child. Eventually, you learned to be extremely grateful she let you grow into your own person.

For now though, you were eight. And some kid just threw a pebble at your very pretty window.

You throw it back at him.

“Ow!” The kid cries as he rubs his forehead, on which a mark has begun to redden. “Hey! Mine was an accident!”

“You still did it!” You say, pointing at the dent he caused while looking down at him from the windowsill. “My response was your consequence.”

The both of you glower at each other until you realize how far he is. “What were you doing throwing rocks at my manor anyway?”

The kid suddenly looks sheepish as his eyes turn to anywhere but you. “My friend needed rocks for some game he made up, and he bet he could catch all of them.” You notice he starts glaring ahead of him at the ground level, so you lean down—out of the window, to follow his gaze. Your eyes catch a head of pink hair before it runs away.

Realizing these two were the royal guests everyone was fussing about, you scoff. “That's hardly very princely of the two of you.”

He bristles. “Is that how you act towards the prince of the kingdom you serve?!”

“I'll greet you properly when our interaction doesn't begin with a pebble being thrown.” You say as you begin closing the window, throwing on a smile just to mess with him more. “Have a pleasant evening.”

You got terribly sick not long after that, and you never saw him for the rest of that summer. The duchess had forbidden visitors unless absolutely necessary so that you could recover quickly.

Prince Megumi fades into your memory, turning into one that you recall only when you spot that dent on your window frame.

You never made the effort to have it repaired, for some reason.

❀ ♡ ❀ ♡ ❀

You're fifteen, hiding in your room as a ball rages downstairs. Your maids would be distraught if they caught you, donning your best clothes, yet curled up on the couch with a book. No matter, this was the perfect way to spend an evening, in your opinion.

When a pebble glides through your window and lands on the floor nearby, you look at it incredulously.

‘This feels strangely familiar...’ But you decide to ignore it, your position on the couch is much too comfortable to leave. You resume reading.

But another rock comes in. Then another.

“Tsk!” Snapping your book shut, you spring up and finally look outside the window. Your eyes meet a certain familiar prince, holding even more rocks in his hands.

You frown at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “This time's deliberate, then?”

“I'm sorry but I need to hide! Please help me—could I come up?” His voice is urgent, and it's only then that you notice the state of his clothes. They were filthy, and part of his coat sleeve blooms red.

Without thinking further, you push a mechanism hidden beneath a flower pot by your window. A rope ladder immediately falls to the ground outside. Megumi is stunned for a moment before reaching for it, and you wonder if he had planned to climb the vines painfully when he asked to come up.

You assist by pulling him once he's within arm's reach, and he collapses into your room with a loud groan. You slam your hand on the mechanism again, and the rope reels back into place.

He looks exhausted, but you have to make him get up. You're not sure how you would move him to the couch if he fainted.

“Stand up for me, please.” You plead with him. “At least to the couch.”

Megumi's breaths are labored as he glances towards the couch. He closes his eyes and groans louder as he gets up and walks slowly, leaning on you the whole time.

He's out like a light once he lies down. Your first instinct is to go get help, but it hits you that you have no idea who Megumi was running from. It dawns on you that if he could ask help from a professional, especially one nearer the palace, he would have. It could be dangerous for anyone else to know he's here.

You purse your lips as you think, and reach for a medical journal on your shelf. You must do your best to tend to his wounds on your own while he rests.

Megumi looks so peaceful as he sleeps. He looks the most relaxed you've ever seen him, and you're thankful he's at least comfortable. While his wounds weren't that deep, he was probably running for a while, which had exhausted and strained him further.

You're cleaning up the medical supplies you used when Megumi regains consciousness for a moment.

“...Thank you.” Megumi's eyes reflect how truly grateful he is. He croaks out the words despite the toll on him. He even grasps your hand dearly.

You clear your throat and look away, but your ears clearly turn red. “If you ever need my help again, just throw a rock. I'll be here.”

That brings a sleepy smile to Megumi's face. “What happened to ignoring me if the encounter starts with a pebble being thrown?”

It takes you a moment to respond. You're not sure what surprises you more, that he remembers your exact words all those years ago, or that he has the gall to crack jokes in his condition.

You stutter out a response lamely to cover up how flustered you are, “I—there can be exceptions, even if it's for you.”

Megumi laughs quietly, and lets out a soft sigh before falling asleep.

You drape a blanket over him as he rests, pausing only to brush his hair away from his eyes.

You don't notice, but the gesture makes Megumi's breathing still for a moment.

❀ ♡ ❀ ♡ ❀

When you're eighteen, your window is severely banged up with dents and scratches. The glass had already broken on more than one occasion, and while of course you had that replaced, the frame stays strong from all the rocks it's been hit with throughout all these years. And, on the day it finally breaks and shatters into spikes, you think you'll make a picture frame out of it.

‘Megumi and I don't have a single nice portrait together, though.’ The thought makes you laugh softly. Both of you weren't exactly exemplary at the frivolous details that come with being nobles, you often helped each other out to skip balls and escape from dreadful hours posing for portraits. But neither of you ever minded.

You bought the most wonderful chair when you were sixteen, you simply melt into it while reading. The best part of it, however, was that you could put it by your window; with the ladder mechanism easy to reach nearby.

Megumi visits less often these days, though. His responsibilities are becoming far too great to leave the palace for too long. He even leaves for other nations and kingdoms sometimes.

But you keep waiting, and he always comes back to you.

A rock clatters into your room and you smile absentmindedly at the sound. You continue reading as your hand moves to trigger the ladder down.

Megumi enters through the window. You'd look at him, but the novel you're reading has suddenly taken an interesting turn, and you're absolutely absorbed into it.

If you had looked up, you would have seen the softest of smiles on Megumi's face.

He approaches and kisses your forehead. By the time you process what happened, he's already walking away as if that was the most normal thing to do. You blink at him in surprise. Megumi only sits on your desk, as he's done so many times before, and begins to do some paperwork he's brought with him.

“What was that?” You ask, still stunned.

“What was what?” Sounds of paper shuffles as he sifts through documents.

“That kiss.”

He pauses.

Your heart seems to rattle in your chest. Were you too blunt? Was it really a normal thing that people like both of you did? Both of you? What were both of you? Does he—

Your thoughts come to an abrupt halt when Megumi smiles, and you finally see that soft and caring smile he saves only for you.

His next words, however, make you throw a pillow at him.

“I'll give you another one later if you liked it that much.”

❀ ♡ ❀ ♡ ❀

It's late into the evening after Megumi has left. You don't speak of the kiss again, and he doesn't either. Though you already had an inkling of your feelings for Megumi, you've never spoken of or acted upon it.

But tonight suddenly made you question if you should start to.

As you retrieve it, your fingers trace a rough texture on the rock Megumi threw earlier. Turning it over, you read something that seems to be etched into it.

‘TWK—p.402, q.1'

Is it some sort of code? What could this be? Surely Megumi was the one to carve this, but how do you decipher it? You stare at the rock and return to your chair. Before you sit down, however, your eyes catch the cover of the book you were reading...

The Wicked King.

The puzzle pieces click into place. A title, a page number, and a quote! Your fingers flutter to get to page 402, not caring that you haven't actually reached that part of the book yet...

The first line makes you gasp and your heart stutter.

“You are my daylight.”

As you trace the line delicately, you wonder if he's always been doing this. But you would have definitely noticed if he was. The jagged texture of the letters are obvious no matter what way you hold the rock. The others before were always perfectly intact.

Your heart skips a beat again. ‘Then... Does this mean that this is the first, and that he'll leave another code next time?’

❀ ♡ ❀ ♡ ❀

A month passes, and Megumi has visited you exactly three times since the first rock with a clue.

Though he's visiting less, you're certainly thinking of him more. The messages you decoded all engraved into your mind at this point, with how many times you've read them.

“You are my daylight.”

“May your day be filled with happiness and warmth, as much as you have given to me.”

“My mind has not forgotten how you smiled at me so.”

“Thank you, for being my home.”

You never let on that you cracked the ciphers, however. He hasn't ever mentioned their existence either, but you suspect he knows that you're aware. Especially since he's been acting so much more dearly during his visits.

After writing all the messages down on a sheet of paper, you realize you should give Megumi a reply. But, how should you do it?

Your eyes find the four small rocks on your desk...

Ah, of course! Of course that's the most perfect way!

Your mind whirls with excitement as you rush outside to find a rock. Once you find one, you realize Megumi is the only person you would do this for...

Because you love him.

And that's it, you've decided. That's what you'll tell him, no code needed.

You love prince Megumi.

❀ ♡ ❀ ♡ ❀

‘Is this how he felt, all those times before?’ His window seems so far and almost out of reach. ‘Was he ever this nervous? Nervous that I wouldn't respond?’

You tighten your grip on the pebble. Megumi never had to worry about that. You'd always respond to him no matter what.

And yet, you're nervous as hell, and shaking like a leaf. If you weren't so anxious, you would have laughed at how baffled the palace staff were when you arrived but didn't enter the palace at all.

The head butler looked so confused when you asked to be led to Megumi's window, but you assured him your intentions meant well.

The pebble suddenly feels heavy in your palm, but you hold yourself firm. You blow a kiss on it softly, before beginning to aim.

The pebble flies from your hand. It was a perfect throw that collides with his window loudly before rattling along his balcony floor.

Megumi peeks out carefully, but then brightens up the moment he sees you. He laughs as he waves at you. “It feels so strange to be on the receiving end of the rock.”

You smile shyly up at him. “But, you haven't just been giving me rocks recently, haven't you?”

He suddenly looks nervous, and starts to search your face for any sign of rejection. When he finds none, he looks cautiously optimistic.

“Pick up that rock now, would you?” You say, acting impatient, but your heart is beating eagerly to see his reaction.

He turns this way and that looking for it, and you stop breathing when he finally finds and reaches for it. Once he reads it, he looks at you with a dazed expression. The rock falls from his hold as he quickly jumps over the balcony edge, and lands safely in front of you.

You're about to nag that he nearly gave you a heart attack when he slowly gets on one knee. Your words die in your throat.

Megumi laughs at how stunned you look. “I'd throw this rock at your window, but my family might actually kill me.”

His smile widens as he jokes, “I don't suppose I need to write a code to express what this one means...” He opens a small box to reveal a stunning ring that suits you perfectly.

“Will you marry me?”

© togenabi 2023 | see here to be added to my taglist ♡

[nostalgebraist]

declare

Read Declare by Tim Powers recently.

It had some really good individual bits, and was well-written throughout, but overall I found it kind of a slog.

Partly that was just due to pacing, or me not quite being in the target audience, or other similarly ordinary and boring reasons. But, on reflection, I think a lot of my troubles with the book come down to one big, uncommon flaw it had -- which is my reason for writing this post.

----

Declare is a hybrid fantasy/spy novel.

The spy stuff, which comprises most of the book by mass, is drawn from real history -- in particular, from the life of real Soviet spy Kim Philby -- and strives to be consistent with all particulars of that real history that are publicly known.

The book is a "secret history" as opposed to an "alternate history," intended to produce the impression: "for all we know, this really could have been what happened." It sticks to the historical record about the kind of matters that make it into said record, and only invents things in the blank spaces in between them.

As Powers put it:

I made it an ironclad rule that I could not change or disregard any of the recorded facts, nor rearrange any days of the calendar – and then I tried to figure out what momentous but unrecorded fact could explain them all.

You'll note that I'm being vague about what "the fantasy elements" are.

I'm doing that on purpose. Revealing much about their nature would be the kind of spoiler that actually spoils, because one of Declare's virtues -- and I really did admire this -- is the way it makes its fantastical secrets feel really secret. Like a secret doctrine, a mystery cult, an epistemic Rubicon that one does not cross lightly.

They are talked about elliptically, even among initiates (and Powers makes this feel naturalistic, not like cheap and pointless reader-teasing evasion). Before you know much else about these "fantasy elements," you know that encounters with them have a tendency to leave people scarred, broken, changed -- and disinclined to say much about what they saw.

The early chapters of the book almost feel like the opening of a "mundane" spy novel. Except they are dotted with stray glimpses, from odd angles, of... something else. Something that is clearly one single thing, with a coherent shape, only you cannot make out in full what that shape is. Something that feels, authentically, like it was not meant for your innocent eyes.

It's all very effective. Really great stuff.

But then, at least by the halfway mark if not earlier, the reader catches up with the characters. The shape of the thing comes into focus. You get what the deal is, insofar as anyone does, and insofar as there is a "deal" to get. The nature, if not the logic, of the hidden world is laid bare.

"The nature, if not the logic": this is the book's fundamental flaw. The fantasy elements of Declare eventually land in a worst-of-all-worlds no-man's-land between mystique and mechanism.

They are explained to the reader just enough that they lose their glamour; what initially feels like the mystic doctrine of a lost gospel, or the forbidden fruit of a Lovecraft story, ends up feeling more like a collection of "lore" passages accompanying tables of numbers in an RPG rulebook. Yet they are not explained enough that they make sense, the way a law-bound "magic system" makes sense; despite Powers' ambitions, they never quite become capable of explaining anything else.

To put the point a little differently, and set things up for my next one: Declare mixes together two ingredients which, on their own, are perfectly fine -- indeed, actively good -- but which absolutely cannot go together. Namely:

Mysterious, supernatural forces that feel properly mysterious, numinous, not quite bound by "our" human logic and thus fundamentally beyond our ken.

A secret-history version of bizarre and partially unknown real-world events, which supplies explanations for the weird parts and fills in the tantalizing gaps.

Why do historical mysteries draw our interest? It is not just that there is something we don't know. There are a lot of things we don't know, about history, and mostly they don't trouble us.

But there are some questions for which it does not seem possible to imagine an uninteresting answer.

When a real historical figure behaves in some bizarre manner -- as the real-world Kim Philby frequently did -- we know that, whatever cause moved them to do so, it must be outlandish in a way that matches its effect. When people act strangely, they do so for strange reasons. That is roughly what "acting strangely" means.

But! Once you allow "ineffable, partly unpredictable magic" to be a cause with effects, the link between interesting events and interesting causes is broken. You can now invent explanations which are less interesting than any real-world one could possibly be.

You can survey the historical record, note down all the intriguing gaps, and then sculpt an infinitely pliable magical putty into the precise shape of each gap, so as to fill it. These fillings do not have the shape of real things; they are made retrospectively, and modeled after the patterned obstructions marring our view, rather than the real patterns which are being obstructed. They do not have spiraling implications, as real things do; they plug the gaps they were made for, and do nothing else.

Human behavior has human causes, and human causes are frequently interesting, to us humans.

It is usually a virtue, in fictional depictions of magic, for that magic to feel nonhuman.

But it ceases to be a virtue when that magic goes on to become a substitute for the real human causes of real events. It provides answers to all our questions, at the cost of removing the reason we imagined we might want to possess those answers.

"Why on earth," you ask me, "did this bizarre historical event happen the way it did?"

And I respond: "a wizard did it."

You protest that this is not an explanation at all. You profess to be just as confused as you were at the outset.

You say, in exasperation: "it can't just be that. There has to be something more. Why did the wizard do it? Is it... the sort of thing that wizards do? Is there a 'sort of thing that wizards do'?"

In real life, you'd have a point. In real life, for every X, there is a sort of thing that Xs do.

But not for wizards. Remember #1 above? Wizards are beyond your ken. Perhaps there is "sort of thing they do," but if so, it is too subtle for your dull, unmagical brain.

Which is to say: they can do whatever the author, or the plot -- or the gaps in the historical record -- need them to do on any given occasion. And then they go back into their box again, until they need to be retrieved, in order to do something else entirely.

And worse: although the introduction of the wizard does not leave you any less puzzled, it frees you from caring that you are puzzled.

There is no longer the unscratched itch of an unsolved mystery about human behavior. You are not confused about a person, anymore, but about magic. And it is perfectly clear that you are never, ever going to understand magic. Your confusion is now expected, predictable. Everything is properly in order, as you can now see. You are free to go.

And yet somehow, you find, the book is not over. It will not be over for a while yet. You have other confusions, you see, which have not yet been stripped of their human interest and robbed of their allure.

(Not everything in Declare is like this, to be clear. I may be making too much of a few sore points in the plot, I guess. Still, there's no denying that I found the later parts of the book tedious, and this is at-least-sort-of why.)

[legionofmyth]

Forbidden Lands - Strongholds

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[chernabogs]

GLOAMING

Inc: Knight of Dawn, Lilia, Meleanor, Malleus mention, Silver mention, Leah mention Warnings: Heavier topic, obviously, considering the circumstances of KoD and BV's backgrounds. Mentions of blood, death, and genocide-related actions. WC: 1.5k Summary: Gloaming: Twilight; Dusk. [promptober]

The Knight doesn’t recall too much of his life before he was found. He doesn’t know who his parents were, nor how they fell on the good side of the fae to begin with, nor does he recall how he survived to the point in time where the king took him in. Perhaps that was an additional blessing by his guardians—the stubborn inability to fall victim to life’s poor toss-ups. After all, how else does an orphan starving on the filthy streets of a village end up under the wing of that nation's monarch? No one is that lucky without some sort of external acting force. 

Still, the old king was a kind man. A father that never gave his adopted son a name and rather just referred to him as his ‘Knight’, which quickly turned to ‘Knight of Dawn’—originally said in mockery by others, but soon to be uttered in reverence through trial and tribulation. Dawn was beautiful and sounded far more so without the term ‘knight of’ before it, especially when such a name comes to be associated with so much pain. 

No country wants a war, really—just the people who rule them. The costs are far greater than the benefits and the amount of blood that’s spilt for a mere few kilometres of land is never worth it. Besides, these kilometres are more often than not lost in the next scuffle, which makes all those bodies and broken families even less agreeable. The old king never wanted conflict, even when he fell ill with the Grieves and his body became a limpid, pungent husk swathed in royal robes. If a country denied him a cure then he would rather choose to die with dignity then drag his denizens and his name through mud.

Heinrich was not the old king. The crown prince who fancied himself a god was as arrogant and as entitled as one would expect a silver-spooned infant to be—not that the Knight would speak it out loud. He enjoyed dangling oaths like swords of Damocles, bending people to his whims and then discarding them once they stopped being so pliant. 

Childish. Always had been. Just a boy playing dress up as a prince.

She, however, was not. He was nameless and faceless beneath a mask until she had taken him into her heart and given him what he missed. A face, a name, a purpose beyond paying off a debt he never asked to get and was far too young to understand. 

“You are more,” she would whisper in his ear as he lost himself in her embrace, trying to find a few moments of sanctuary before he’s pulled to the front lines once more. Leah had evolved from someone he swore to protect by obligation to someone he would protect even if it meant rendering himself to ashes. In her presence he found himself able to think clearly, to know that the actions he was compliant with were wrong on so many levels. Their relationship was forbidden but the risk of it all made the moments more tantalizing then the most divine of nectars. 

But Leah could only shield him for so long, just as he could only do so with her. 

He doesn’t know how many he fell by his sword. He stopped counting at some point and merely began to act by mechanical response. Faces stopped having features to him and bodies stopped having names. His mind began to regress in itself until he was nothing more than a Golem serving as an extension of his lord's will. He rendered families to nothing, annihilated bloodlines, and almost took down a dynasty while he’s at it. He wanted to stop but he could never bring himself to speak his defiance’s out loud.

Coward. Always had been. Just a boy playing dress up as a hero. 

The only thing that snapped him of his reverie in these dark hours was the egg. It was unexcitable as it was clutched in the arms of its mother’s closest companion, who stared at him with red eyes that held as much exhaustion as he felt, but the Knight knew of its worth.

Tired. They’re both so goddamn tired. Divided by race, divided by loyalty, but united in this very breath by a singular emotion that they shared. 

“You…” he rasped out, his body aching from the collapse he was subject to, his throat raw with dust and debris. The General tensed and seemed prepared for a fight as he clutched the egg tighter. He will die for this baby, the Knight realized. He’ll let his blood stain the ground before a single scale is broken on that shell, and he’ll rip the world apart while he’s at it. The egg was about to be an orphan—its father was already dead, and he was in the process of killing its mother. Another family razed; another bloodline annihilated. 

He took a sharp breath as they stared at each other for a moment more before his mind settled on a decision and he uttered a single word: “Go.” 

There was only a split second of hesitation in the General’s eyes before he was running, and running, and the Knight hoped that he ran faster than he ever had before because he was all that little egg would have left once this is done. 

No one is that lucky without some sort of external acting force. 

He spat blood on the ground to grant the starving soil an offering before he raised his sword once again. 

____________________________

When the gloaming comes, the Knight is not surprised. Dawn will always end one way or another. People can claim to be the best, but it only takes so long before someone better sets them right. 

Heinrich was dead—and good riddance to that. It had taken enough of his self-control not to tarnish the man's grave the moment he was finally set in the ground. He had only lasted for a mere ten years before the other nations grew as hungry as he had been and decided he was prepped for a feast. They wanted mines, railways, and resources, and Heinrich was simply not as strong as the Draconia family had been when it came to keeping dogs away. 

Leah was gone, too—not dead, but he had sent her to the castle in the hopes that the stone walls would offer her some safety. He was not a man of faith, but he had selfishly prayed to the creator of that palace to take mercy on his wife, not for their sake, but for the baby that she cared for. Meleanor had been a mother like Leah and all he could hope is that she’d understand. 

He’s all that’s left of a bloody reign, and he feels it’s far overdue to put it to bed. He doesn’t want his son to grow up with a legacy of misery tied to his name. He doesn’t want his son to be looked at with fear, or resentment, because of the actions his cowardly father committed. All the Knight wishes for is for Leah and their baby to be free, to be loved, to be as far away from Briar Valley as they can possibly be because he has tarnished this place and there is no forgiveness left to give. Not that he deserved any.

When the sword pierces his chest, it’s a poetic irony. He wagers that him being killed in this manner is Meleanor’s revenge, and she’s only having someone else do it because her son has yet to be welcomed to this world. 

Good for her. 

The Knight falls to his knees and looks up at the faceless visage of the one who finally bested him. Blood is seeping down his armour and turning it from blessed silver to the colour of a violent dusk. He remembers hearing once that your life will flash before your eyes the moment you’re about to die, but instead of his life, a thousand thoughts appear.

He thinks of the egg that he’s orphaned and the parents that he took away. He thinks of the burning trees he bore witness too, the empty mines he walked through, and the poisoned lakes that were the result of their machines. He thinks of the many faceless bodies and the many forgotten names that were a direct result of his actions. A thousand years of reparations would do little to heal the wounds that he carved into this land because he could not bring himself to say ‘no’ to one man’s orders.

When the sword is wrenched free, he thinks of Leah, and how sorry he is to put her in this position.

When his vision goes black, he thinks of the king, and how he wishes the man never took him in to begin with.

When he finally goes numb, he thinks of his son, and how all he can do is hope that he turns out to be a better man than his father ever was. 

[neciebee]

Title: I Need You

Pairing: Azriel/Eris

Word count: 5k

Summary: Azriel had always wanted a mate. Both of his brothers were so happy with theirs. It used to be the three of them together, but now his brothers had their own lives and wives and Azriel could not contain his envy. All he had was this. Dirty, secret, meaningless. Perhaps he could pretend it was something, if he’d just take one bite.

Link: to AO3

Eris disentangled himself from the sheets and padded barefoot to the sideboard, where he poured a few knuckles of whiskey into two tumblers and, after a moment’s hesitation, selected a bunch of grapes from the bowl of fruit. Returning to his expansive bed, he proffered one of the glasses.

His bed-mate heaved his solid frame to sit up against the majestic headboard and accepted the drink with a nod of thanks. His wings reposed lazily against the silken pillows, his knees splayed out with comfortable ease. Eris folded himself atop his sex god, straddling his hips and bringing the whisky to his lips.

They were fully spent, cocks soft and sleepy, as Eris nestled their balls together in an affectionate, but innocent tease. They had wrung out so much pleasure from each other throughout the night that their satiety offered them a moment of rest. He bit a grape away from its brethren from the bunch in his hand. Chewed it. Swallowed. The next one he held between his teeth and pressed it to his partner’s mouth.

Silently, secretly, he cradled the golden glow within his chest, covering it with his entire soul. His mate didn’t know. Couldn’t know. But still, he leaned forward with desperate intent, knowing he would never be forgiven, but he had to advance all the same.

Azriel took the grape between his lips and sucked the sugary flesh into his cheeks. They’d never done this before, but the act felt so intimate and honest that he could not help but submit to the offering of fruit. He had wanted, needed, a ritual like this all his life. For tonight, he could pretend he was one half of a whole. He could pretend that this was more than just clandestine, forbidden sex, and he could almost believe that he and and Eris were males of no consequence to anyone but each other. Tonight they were not the protectors of rival courts. Tonight they had no proverbial swords hung precariously over their metaphoric necks.

As the chilled fruit slid down his throat, an unfamiliar feeling chased it into his chest. Warmer than he could have expected, a golden glow bloomed inside of him. His eyes widened and he sat up with a jerk, spilling Eris out of his lap and their drinks into the sheets.

He sprang out of bed like the covers were on fire. Eris looked at him steadily with his cunning, amber eyes.

“Did you know?” Azriel spat. He was stunned. He couldn’t actually be bonded to Eris, could he? After all this time, he would have known. Since they first came together in the war camp after Hyburn’s defeat, having saved each other’s necks, they’d had ample opportunity to learn what their insatiable hunger for each other had meant. He was ruined. He could not return to Velaris like this.

Eris refused to acknowledge the remorse bubbling in his gut. This had to happen. It was for the good of Autumn. It was for the good of Prythian. Deleting all emotion from his voice, he replied, “Yes.”

A flurry of shadows stormed throughout the chambers. Azriel called them to him, panicking, trying to get away through the dark portal they shared solely with him. The shadows whirled frantically, but Azriel didn’t move. An irresistible yank on his ribs kept him anchored to the spot.

“You are my mate, Azriel. You belong with me.”

~

Azriel landed on the balcony of the House of Wind, mind blank and feeling dazed. His feet lead him mechanically into the cool dark of the house, and he came to realise that he’d taken a seat at the dining table. What had just happened? His entire future had been hijacked and he didn’t have a clue how to return to his life in the Inner Circle.

Fuck! The Inner Circle! What will he tell them? The scent of the bond had been glamoured but his actions would be inexplicable.

Eris was certain that Azriel could fabricate an excuse. He’s smart. He’d think of something. They were allies after all. But the pull Azriel felt towards Autumn could not be dismissed as the mere fulfilment of courtly duties. His desperation to return to his mate’s side was taking all of his strength to resist.

“Azriel!” Cassian greeted him jovially as he joined him in his usual chair. “How was the mission?”

Plates of roasted fowl and garden vegetables appeared before them both. “Fine,” Azriel answered automatically, staring at his plate. The Autumn vegetables stared back.

He couldn’t focus on Cassian’s babble as he picked at his lunch. Hyburn had been defeated and Briallyn unmade. The courts were enjoying a tentative peace. Even Spring had started to regrow after Lucien had hunted down Tamlin in the wilds of that southern court and wrestled him back into the Manor.

None of them knew about the status of Autumn as well as Azriel did. There was an oily sense of foreboding within the Forest House, heavy enough to seep through Eris’s wards and unnerve the Prince. Though he sometimes watched from the shadows, he’d more often than not find himself revealed, as the Autumn scion sought to remedy the black moods that regularly claimed his evenings.

Beron wasn’t happy.

If Beron wasn’t happy, Autumn wasn’t happy.

Briallyn had been flirting with an alliance to Autumn, and her disappearance had caused the Autumn High Lord much distress. He couldn’t openly acknowledge his thwarted plans; Briallyn had been on Hyburn’s side in the war that Prythian had narrowly won. Allying with her would be politically... unbecoming.

Eris’s delicate handling of his father’s rages were all that kept Autumn running. The pressure on the Heir and the threat of collapse lead Eris to solicit his own comfort.

The relief and freedom they all felt after the final battle against Hyburn made them do some previously unheard of things. For Azriel, it was to seek out the Fae who had taken a sword to the face as they fought side by side on the Northern flank, deflecting a blow that would likely have severed Azriel’s still-healing wings.

Since that day, he’d found more and more reasons to collect intelligence from within the wards of the Forest House. If most of that time was tailing Eris, it was because the political and military hands of action were his. Beron was surely still scheming, raging, and planning, but the true leader of Autumn was the Heir.

During the nights he watched him agonise over demands from the dissidents and the infighting of his divided people. One of the brothers often came to debrief with him after the volatile meetings, but Eris had always been the driving force. It was a big job. He was tired. He needed to rest. He needed help.

Azriel bringing him to release after release was practically a public service.

~

Eris had promised that Azriel’s life could go on as it always had. He didn’t need to keep coming to Autumn unless he felt the pull. Azriel had dropped all pretences of spying on Autumn, as he didn’t know how he would react being in the same vicinity as Eris now. His dirty little secret had become something much, much worse.

He had returned to Velaris, falling back to his old routine, and possibly spending more time flying around the Illyrian Steppes than was really necessary.

It was days later, in the middle of a sparring session with Nesta and Cassian, when a desperate tightness snapped against Azriel’s ribs and he doubled over in agony. He needs us he needs us he needs us!

His wild eyes met his brother’s confused ones, concern flooding his features, but Azriel had no time to explain. He dissolved into his shadows.

~

Fuming, Azriel stood by the window in a soldier’s pose. Eris slunk up behind him and breathed softly on the back of his neck.

“Thank you, Azriel. Zelus would not have been so easy to recruit if it weren’t for you.”

Azriel growled, “I would have helped you, you know. You didn’t have to invoke the bond.”

Eris closed his eyes, hesitantly placing both hands on Azriel’s hips.

“I couldn’t take any risks. The situation is still dire. Beron has become even more ruthless. I didn’t know any other way to ensure you could be here fast enough.”

“There are ways.”

Eris knew that Azriel never wanted the bond. He’d been heavy handed in securing such a powerful... tool. But his loyalty was to the people of Autumn, and they were suffering under his High Lord. Eris had to do whatever it took to ensure a better future for his citizens, and the most powerful, most dangerous Fae in Prythian was just there, right at the other end of his golden bridge.

He silently promised that when the upheaval was over and Beron gone, he would find the witch on the continent and release Azriel from his shackles. His glorious angel deserved freedom, but he couldn’t afford to give it to him yet. He wished that some day he could give Azriel everything he’d ever wanted. For now, all he had to give was himself.

Eris slid his hands up to encircle Azriel’s shoulders, pressing their bodies together. Wings tensed against Eris’s chest, but Azriel didn’t otherwise react.

“Can I apologise?” Eris murmured into Azriel’s back. He brushed his lips against the black leather, ghosting kisses towards the side of his mate’s neck and up to his ear. “I really am sorry we’re in this situation.” He tugged Azriel around, who resisted, but reluctantly turned to face the Autumn Heir who’d betrayed him.

“It’s not all bad, is it?” His lips continued their journey from where they left off. Down the sharp jaw of the shadowsinger and the column of his throat. He lifted his eyes to meet the hazel ones, and reached his lips up to coax a kiss from him.

“Please, can I thank you?”

Azriel wouldn’t kiss him back, but didn’t pull away either. Refusing to be disheartened as yet, Eris pulled at the fastenings of his mate’s leathers.

“Please?” he repeated. He lowered the chest plate to the floor, and the back fell along with it. Planting another soft kiss in the centre of his chest, he repeated, “Please?”

He lowered himself to his knees, facing the scuffed, dark, leather pants. Tracing his nose along the crease in the fabric between Azriel’s hips and thighs, he drank in the masculine scent of his lover. His lips found their way onto the leather.

“Please.” Kiss. His hands caught the laces and tugged the knot loose.

“Please.” Kiss. Pulling at the waistband, the lacing slid open.

“Please.” Kiss. He pushed the leathers over Azriel’s hips, and down his powerful thighs.

Azriel finally moved, only to toe off his boots and kick away his pants. Eris’s heart clenched, relieved to know that Azriel wasn’t pulling away. He knew that if Azriel rejected him, he’d more than deserved it, but wouldn’t be able to bear it. He continued reverently mapping the skin between Azriel’s thighs, mouthing down lower to plant kisses on his knees, revelling in the cold touch of his skin against his burning lips and hungry tongue. He retraced his path back up to Azriel’s groin, nosing at Azriel’s half hard member, nudging it to lay across his face as he reached his tongue out to taste the soft pouch that cradled his balls.

He kept his eyes on the singer’s, who looked down at him impassively. Eris was no longer pleading with his voice, but his eyes were loud and clear. He opened wider and engulfed Azriel’s flesh within his mouth, sucking gently at each of his balls. Working his warm tongue with all the talent he’d honed over the centuries, he tried to draw out a response, any response, from Azriel with the pleasure he was bestowing upon him.

Azriel’s expression remained unchanged, but his cock swelled thicker. Eris pressed his face against it, nuzzling it with his cheeks. His eyelashes brushed against the head, bestowing butterfly kisses onto the sensitive flesh that was peeking out from the skin. His tongue spelled out poems of his adoration for the singer against the soft skin of his sack. With one last, wet lick, he drew his tongue flat up the hardening cock, all the way along the length to lap at the tip. Wrapping his lips around the head, he kissed and suckled and worshiped his mate until Azriel had fully hardened. He was rewarded with the salty bloom of pre-come in his mouth, and an interrupted grunt that escaped Azriel’s throat.

Sliding his hands up the back of Azriel’s powerful thighs, Eris gripped the prominent globes of his ass and pulled the heavy cock into his mouth. He worked his tongue along the underside of the length, flicking against the vein that lead from the base to the crown. He relaxed his tongue to take more of him down, moving in shallow pulses to ease the tip into his throat. Sliding one hand around to the front, he cupped Azriel in his palm, rolling the flesh with his elegant, spidery fingers. Swaying his head gently from side to side, he was finally able to inch his way down the shaft and bury his nose into Azriel’s dark, pubic curls.

He heaved a great, sensual breath.

Azriel hummed and threaded the fingers of one hand into Eris’s auburn locks. Eris could have cried with relief, unable to weather another minute of Azriel’s stony indifference. He redoubled his efforts, pulling back slowly until he could roll his tongue around the head, licking into the slit and suckling at the spongy cap.

Azriel’s hips began to rock in time with Eris’s movements, as if he wasn’t conscious of his response. Eris kept one hand firmly on his hip bone, encouraging him to maintain their tempo, and gently tugging his balls in harmony. Eris’s mouth met him stroke for stroke. The shadowsinger remained silent, though Eris moaned when he felt Azriel’s other hand join the one in his hair and the beat of his hips became more domineering and assured.

Eris twined one hand around his mate’s thigh and reached up with the other to clutch at his waist. He wanted to pull and pull and pull until he and Azriel would merge into one. Azriel’s hips snapped and then he was earnestly fucking into Eris’s throat. Tears stung at the future High Lord’s eyes as he took everything that his mate was willing to give him.

Eris felt utterly used and wretched, but he deserved this. He had manipulated Azriel into accepting the mating bond for his own purposes. Offering himself as the vessel of Azriel’s sexual pleasure was the least he could do. Nothing would ever make up for that deception, that exploitation. Eris had never pretended to be honest. All he could give his mate was a momentary glimpse into the land of milk and honey, and hope that it was enough to stop Azriel from killing him outright.

Azriel growled and his balls tightened in Eris’s hand. He wrenched his cock out of Eris’s mouth and fisted it in his own scarred one.

“I’m gonna mark you,” he thundered.

Eris nodded emphatically and stared up at Azriel with imploring eyes. “Please Azriel, I need you,” he breathed hoarsely, sticking his tongue out as far as it would go, presenting his gulping mouth to accept his mate’s gift.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Azriel’s wings drew in tight as he came. His seed bounced off Eris’s tongue and splashed against the back of his throat. The shadowsinger groaned as spasms rocked his body, wringing out his prostate in uncontrollable, quivering waves. His cock was twitching with the intensity of his orgasm.

Eris gathered the considerable volume behind his lips and took the throbbing cock in his face fully into his mouth, spreading the fluid all the way down the length. He caught every escaping drip and lathed them around his balls, up into the crease between his hips and thighs, and smeared it into his groin. Pulling back, he rubbed the come-covered member all over his face, bathing in the scent that made him feel whole. Sticky strands caught in his eyelashes, his brow, his hair. He wanted to live in this moment with his mate coating his entire being.

Azriel’s front shone wetly, having had his messy mate’s face rubbed all over him like he was a desperate cat. He took Eris’s wrist and wiped the spit and spend from his skin on Eris’s sheer, silky sleeve.

“You’re deplorable,” he accused, pulling on his pants and retying his laces. Eris’s heart fell as the cock he’d been worshipping disappeared back into the leathers. He was ravenous. He wanted more. He wanted Azriel inside him. He wanted them joined forever. He couldn’t always get what he wanted.

He drew his other sleeve across his face, clearing most of the mess. He ignored the wetness in his eyes that came not from Azriel’s body, but from his coldness.

He stood up slowly, gasping, to kiss his lover, but Azriel cruelly turned away. “Next time, you don’t need to pull so hard on the bond. It nearly killed me today. Just... Just tug. Tug on it and I’ll be there.”

Eris reached out his arms, but Azriel was already beyond his grasp. Dejectedly, he wrapped them around his middle instead, and nodded.

“Sorry, I didn’t know.”

Azriel regarded him with an unreadable expression as he gathered the rest of his clothes, nodded in return, and faded into his shadows.

Eris couldn’t hold it in any longer. A heaving, honest-to-the-Mother sob escaped his chest. He shuffled, despondent, into his bedchamber, onto his bed, and without his nightly bath, buried his tears into the silken pillows.

~

The shadows deposited Azriel above the training ring at the House of Wind. Snapping his wings wide, he glided down to land on silent feet. Still carrying his chest armour, he trudged towards his room, hoping the rest of the House inhabitants were still asleep.

No such luck.

Cassian was sitting on the floor outside the door to Azriel’s bedroom. Resigned to getting his explanation over with, Azriel heaved a sigh and approached.

Cassian’s perpetually honest face conveyed his hurt. “Why did you leave like that?” he asked.

Azriel rubbed the back of his neck. “I have been... Ensorcelled.”

“Ensorcelled? what does that even mean?”

“Uh... There’s a sort of... spell. A magical tie. It calls me away to help... someone,” Azriel blundered. “It’s irresistible.”

“This someone put you under a spell? Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you tell me?” Cassian sounded hurt. “We can help you. We’re brothers. We’re in this together.”

Azriel sighed. “It’s a done thing. Can’t be changed. Don’t worry, it won’t happen often. They... he... promised. Not until there’s no other option.”

“They... He?” Cassian shook his head as if the roiling thoughts in his brain could be resettled with a physical upheaval.

“Yeah. I’ll only be called away if there’s no other solution.”

He pushed his hesitant confidence into his brother. “You won’t even notice it the next time. I’ll be in and out before you know it.”

He stepped around Cassian and entered his room. No matter how long he stared at the ceiling, sleep did not come to him that night.

~

Azriel’s shadows were spread thin. If they could just hold on to their targets a little longer, Beron’s guard would be compromised and Eris could challenge Beron without interference.

The resultant fight was a bloody mess, with Eris nearly burning out as the entire Forest House Throne Room was engulfed in blue flames. Beron’s charred corpse was laid to rest with all the ceremony befitting a millennium old High Lord. Although Eris and his brothers had suffered by his hand, his steel, and his flame, he was their father and in a way, they had loved him. Their mother was the last to add her flame to her husband’s pyre, her eyes brighter and her complexion warmer than she’d been for centuries.

Eris had shown Azriel Autumn’s gratitude with his body again. He rode the shadowsinger as the pyre burned brightly outside of their window, new magic bathing the room with incandescent heat. The first act of the new High Lord was to venerate his court’s allegiance to Night, and he did so with his heart and soul and body. As he felt the bloom of come flood inside him, he unleashed his first emit as the High Lord of Autumn, seeding the chest of the Night’s foremost courtier with his spend.

Azriel was gone before the pyre had burnt to ash.

~

Eris had not contacted Azriel since he’d ascended the throne. That was several months ago, and although Azriel had felt a few twinges down the bond, none of them constituted a summons. He had left a cadre of shadows, more than he could justifiably explain, in the Autumn Court, and he watched, reluctantly impressed, as Eris and his brothers weeded out Beron’s remaining supporters and found ‘diplomatic’ solutions to their ‘differences’.

Every night, the bond felt like a heavy smog, shrouding the golden bridge with a presence that seemed to push Azriel away. He tried not to explore the fog, wanting nothing to do with it if he could help it. One evening, he couldn’t help it, and by the time he’d sighted the flaming forest at the far end, he felt a desperate pull down the line.

Fearing the worst, Azriel fell through the shadows into Eris’s chambers. From the bedroom came wretched moans and pitiful cries. He entered to find Eris splayed out on his bed, two fingers inside himself, writhing like a frantic mess.

Wild eyes found him, and Eris keened, "Azriel, I need you!"

Azriel knelt on his side of the bed, not that he had any claim to a side, and Eris rolled over, crawling towards him and pulling him into a bruising kiss. There were tears flowing freely, seeping in between their crushed lips, and Azriel could taste the salt of them. Eris's skin was hot - too hot - and his usual milky pallor was blotched with angry red.

Azriel pushed against his mate's shoulders, wresting their lips apart, and his eyes searched over Eris's ruined appearance. He traced a finger along the tear tracks. He could feel the months of agony their distance caused, built up behind a barrier on the far end of their golden bridge. Eris had been abstaining from pulling on the bond, and his yearning had boiled over. Softly, he murmured, "I'm here."

"Take your pleasure from me, Azriel." Eris's hands scrambled at Azriel's leathers. He had forgotten his magic, forgotten his powers - at this moment he was reduced to a primal creature who only wanted to see his mate laid bare before him.

Azriel's hands delicately circled Eris's wrists, pulling him away. "Let me." He stood by the side of the bed, unhurriedly releasing his clasps and laces whilst Eris watched hungrily. The High Lord reached out impatiently to pull the leathers off, but a scarred hand on his chest guided him to lay back against the mound of pillows.

Azriel finished undressing at his own pace, and unhurriedly joined his mate in the bed. He ran his palms down the overheated chest, soothing the fever with his icy touch. Lips followed the same path, tasting the warmth that radiated his scent. He inhaled deeply when he returned to meet his mate's eyes. The whiskey and wood-smoke were intoxicating, but the scent of tears tormented him.

He wiped away another droplet, and Eris squeezed his eyes shut. "You don't have to be gentle, Azriel. My body is for you to enjoy. Do what you want with me. Please."

"I am."

Azriel brushed a kiss against both closed eyelids, and kissed towards Eris's mouth. His hands continued their exploration, cooling the Fire Lord's skin. He could sense the burning anguish down the bond, and his soothing hands only seemed to hurt him worse.

"Don't be sweet with me. I can't handle it. Stop torturing me."

"Hush. Turn over."

The Autumn Lord obsequiously turned to present his ass into the air, but Azriel tenderly pressed him down into the mattress, encouraging him to relax. He continued feathering kisses across the nape of Eris’s neck, until they became more insistent and dripping in passion. He summoned the oil and greased the crease of Eris’s fair bottom. His flesh was already willing and pliant, pre-prepared by his desperate masturbation earlier. When he found that his fingers could easily push into the hole, he pressed the tip of his cock into the tight ring of flesh, which freely gave way to his breach. Slowly, he sunk into his mate, prone on the mattress, and languidly rocked against the creamy white ass, taking his pleasure in the measures of the skin he could lay against his mate’s.

Azriel’s hand found Eris’s, and he interlaced their fingers, placing their entwined hands against Eris’s chest as he held their bodies close. Eris met Azriel’s hips stroke for stroke, their movements soft and indulgent in the slide of their bodies, connected as thoroughly as they physically could be. Eris turned his head to capture Azriel’s mouth with his own. Azriel lost himself in Eris’s lips, luxuriating in the kiss as if it were their last.

Azriel bracketed his knees around Eris’s waist and drove in deeper. His other hand found his mate’s cock and worked it’s semi-erect state into full mast. He matched his sultry pulls with the rhythm of his hips, thrusting his cock into his mate’s eager flesh each time he stroked down with his hand.

Eris tugged Azriel's grasp off his cock and replaced it around his neck. This was what he needed. He couldn’t stand being loved so thoroughly by this fearsome Illyrian; to be taken, however, was all his heart could accept. After the sins he had put him through, this was what he had deserved. Azriel seemed to understand, and tightened his grip on the creamy neck as the pace of his cock solidified into a harder fuck.

Coming was an afterthought to the both of them. They savoured the feeling of their bodies moving together, synchronised as if they had an understanding of one another. Azriel moved within and above and against his mate, revelling in their physical connection for as long as he could. As Eris was consumed by the sensation of his mate surrounding and invading him, his cock rutted against the sheets until ropes of semen smeared into the fabric. His moans remained unchanged. Azriel’s claiming of his body was the last bastion of hedonism he could allow himself, and no orgasm could transcend the feeling of being held in the arms of his mate.

Tears escaped his eyes again, as his heart bade farewell to the leash with which he had chained his mate. Soon, he would no longer have any claim to this wonderful being. Soon, he would not be able to call him to appear by his side, no matter his desperation. He relished in the slide of his mate’s cock against that sweet spot within his body, and with a sob, another wave of come escaped the tip of his cock, mashed into the weave of the satin rubbing against his body.

Azriel clutched the hand and the neck he was holding as he gyrated rhythmically into his mate. He had missed this body, but they had never had sex like this. It felt like a finale of some sort. It felt like farewell.

As he held his mate tight, he came deep inside his flesh, grasping their bodies together as if they’d never come apart again. He panted against the lips of his lover, their eyes meeting reverently, and he finally relaxed. He remained inside his lover, raining soft kisses across his face. Their arms and legs were intertwined. His wings flared to encapsulate them both. The shadows drifted down to rest across their bodies, although one of them dove at him again and again. It was distressed, but Azriel was too comfortable to care.

He rolled them both to the side, spooning their bodies together. Eris twisted around to face Azriel, hooking their legs together, and kissed his eyes, his cheeks, his lips.

As Azriel drifted off into slumber, Eris whispered his vow against his lips. “I would do anything for you. I will set you free.”

~

Weeks passed, and Azriel hadn't felt anything down the bond. Not a summons, not a tug, not even a hint at how his mate was feeling. He hadn't been waiting for one, he wasn't hoping for one. He was expecting one, though. After their last entanglement, he thought Eris would want to resume their previous arrangement - before that infernal grape changed their entire dynamic. He felt unnerved by the silence. He considered plucking at it himself, but he couldn't say why. What would he even do if Eris responded? Did he really want him to feel it? He didn't miss the connection. He didn't want to see Eris again.

Later that evening, after a family dinner that Feyre had insisted upon, he sat playing with Nyx, contemplating the Prythian in which his nephew was to grow up. A fizzle in the River House wards caused Feyre to look up from her sketch book. Her face broke into a grin as she rushed to the entrance hall.

Azriel heard her elated voice carry back into the sitting room. "Lucien! How lovely to see you!" Her voice was muffled, as if pressed into the chest of her first Fae friend. After some indistinct conversation, they both entered the room, and Nyx barrelled into his glowing uncle.

Standing up awkwardly, Azriel waited for the greetings to die down before he slipped out of the room. He sent a shadow to whisper into Lucien's ear, and made his way out to the cool garden.

He'd been sitting in the moonlight for at least half an hour as Lucien made his rounds in the River House. He'd been all throughout Prythian and carried news from at least three courts, as well as the Mortal Lands. As Night Court's spymaster, Azriel should have been very interested in his updates. But there was only one thing he was desperate to ask the clever fox when he finally stepped into the fragrant garden.

Wordlessly, Lucien joined Azriel on the wrought iron bench. It was well placed to enjoy the beauty of Elain's work; night-blooming posies waved their salutations to the stars. The emissary turned his eyes to the spymaster, patiently waiting for the other to speak.

"Have you," started Azriel, then hesitated. Steeling himself, he continued, "Have you heard from... from Eris?"

Lucien regarded him with eyes of both russet and gold. He seemed to be calculating something, or looking deeper into Azriel's enquiry than was really warranted. "He's travelling in the continent," he finally replied.

The continent. Perhaps the distance was why the bond felt so lax. "What business does he have there?"

"Last I heard," said Lucien after a long moment, "he's been seeking a witch with unforeseen powers. There are whispers of her dark experiments, and it appears as though some of them have been successful."

"What kind of experiments?" A shadow of dread coiled around Azriel's bones.

Lucien's gaze looked too much like pity. He chose his words carefully, unsure of how Azriel would receive the news.

"Rumour has it she's found a way to cleave cauldron-made bonds."

End of part 1.

[jellyfishsthings]

Warnings: this is going to be a multi part series and it's going to be angsty cause I am in my feels. Female reader, Padmé and Anakin were together but had a healthy break up, Jedi reader so forbidden love

This story takes plays in Clone Wars yet many events have been changed (like the meeting of Ashoka and Anakin... don't worry the sibling energy is still there.)

series masterlist

No one of us talked about what the council started to call an incident. More missions come yet there is not a single one where we are together. So many things are left unsaid as we circle each other the war weighting our shoulders. Anakin climbs in everyone's eyes, he claims praises as if they are a polite exchange. And I am quickly forgotten, overshadowed by his brightness.

Part of me is proud of his achievements. What he has done is remarkable but still, I am the one no matter how hard I work, or how many battles I have won, I am still pushed to the side. Anger simmers in me and the only way to control it is through meditation. Letting myself get lost in the Force and my thoughts.

“Normal it is to feel this way.” A voice sounds in my head and I peek through my eyes finding Master Yoda opposite. “Control this feeling you must. A good fighter your friend is. Smarter, not. Strategical also not. Wrong is the council about you. Stronger he is. More favored by the Force. But you… our saviour you will be. Not him. Seen it, I have.”

“Master… I keep having these dreams. Of destruction and pain is this all we are going to be? Is this what we are trained for?”

“Peacekeepers Jedis are. In war we are, we do what we must. Protect we must. So fight we must.”

“I am tired of fighting.”

“At it you are good.” I chuckle at his words as I see a teasing smile on his face. “When first met you I have. My Padawan I asked you to be. No said the council. She is more powerful, with you she will be indestructible. Same with your dear friend. More than I hoped you turned out to be. Hope you must have. Your purpose soon will find.” He says as he leaves the room. Not a second letter he re-enters dropping a letter in my lap. Information about a new mission with… about time.

I go to my room and change out of my robes to one of my armours. And then head towards the jets. I find Anakin leaning against his favorite one, the one he calls the unbeatable lion. … men.

“Took you long enough.” He called out as I approached him. He frowns as I brush past him and his comment heading straight to the cockpit reading the jet for take off. We both occupy our usual seats as we jump into hyperspace. The travel is short and enveloped in a strange, restless silence as if one of us is a ticking bomb ready to explode. We head to the now sprang battlefield with no backup.

He turns to me right as we leave hyperspeed. We quickly land and I spring to my feet, reading myself for the upcoming battle.

Right as we exit our jet we are greeted by explosions and gunfire. And so we both throw ourselves to the battlefield. We let muscle memory take control of us. Our lightsabers seem to fly between the broids, decapitating them and destroying them. We don't let our minds wander to the other and how they are holding up, trusting each other completely. We soon reach the centre point of the battlefield.

A huge pillar towers in front of us and a bazillion of druids guard it as others try to climb it, trying to reach… no. I jump behind a random boulder and Anakin quickly follows.

“I have a plan.”

“I think we should…”

We both say and we stare at the other waiting to continue. He is impossibly close once again, his hair is a wild mess, and his body seems to vibrate with energy. He is too reckless, he is too merciless. So I don't let him continue his thought process as I bolt and race towards the droids. I drop down to my knees and slide underneath them, swinging my armed arms in a wide ark. Cutting off the mechanical legs and the pillar letting it fall on top of them.

Dust covers my vision. My ears ring from the loud bang of the now-fallen pillar. My mind is hazy as much and through the fog, a figure appears; he deflects every single shot that is thrown his way, his saber dancing in his hands as his movements are filled with precision, purpose and wild anger. For a small moment, his blade turns from its vibrant electric blue to deep bloodshot red. At the next moment, it is gone, back to its original colour.

I ignite my sabers as I force myself back to the raging battle. Our bodies move in sync as our backsides are pressed together. And so the fun begins and it doesn't last long as we find ourselves in a big rocky field, covered with dismembered droids. We turned towards each other, panting and wild smiles adorning our faces.

We stare at each other for what seems like forever, breathing hard. But the moment is ruined by a beeping sound. It comes from a small device close to me and I crouch near it, studying it. Anakin is right behind me. His ragged breathing hits the back of my neck as he reaches his hand over me to grab it. He examines it shortly while turning it over his long fingers and I stare at him. Hoping the mechanic in him will appear as it always does, hoping to be given the chance to stare at him while he gets lost in something he loves filling my head with filthy thoughts. Like how he can use those long fingers on me.

C3PO approaches complaining about the “mess” we made and we both chuckle at his antics.

“Masters I am afraid we have to leave. We are needed at the Temple. And it sounded urgent.”

“So that we shall do. Thank you, C3PO.” Anakin says to his beloved droid.

And so we head back home. I stare at my reflection in the glass of the jet as my mind replays the image of Anakin wielding a red lightsaber. Was it simply a trip of the eyes or was it a vision?

“Have I done something? Why are you not talking to me? You seem distant and I… kind of miss you as of late.” He whispers, his voice easily lost under the sound of the burning engines.

“No Ani, I am not angry with you. I just needed time to sort and clear out my thoughts.”

“And? What is it that is bothering you? Because I can tell you what is bothering me. It's you. You are changing. It is as if you are going backwards. Locking yourself away from others, away from me. Today I feared losing you, both mentally and physically. I am lost without you. I am nothing without you.”

“That's not true.”

“It is. It is like I can not breathe, I can not function when you are not near. Everyone thinks that I am this great fighter, the Chosen One back you are the one that shows me the way. Like a really grumpy and snarky firefly. Brooding all the time.”

“Ok-”

“... and really angry as if you are a, what is it called, that … that animal that seems to be angry all the time, that pending with the huge downturned eyebrows…”

“Alm right enough-”

“And also so mean…”

“Watch your words Skywalker.”

“I love you.” The words stun me and all the previous banter is gone.

“Anakin-”

“I never got to finish what I meant to say. I know we are not allowed to feel this way and I think you are not ready to say so. But all I want, all I think about is kissing you, sleeping with you, having fun with you, fucking you.” I draw a sharp breath at the last words and his eyes darken more, as they are now filled with lust. He grabs my thighs, manhandling me to his front as he lets me rest on his lap. He looks at me through half lidded eyes and he lets his nose move at the side of mine, tracing invisible paths.

“I want to have you underneath me. Making you a withering, whining mess, stuffed to the hilt full of our releases. I want your body to be my canvas letting me fill it with kisses, hickeys and bite marks along with bruises.” My eyes flutter close as he brags his nose at the side of my neck. “I want to fuck you from the back as I have your hair in my fist, spanking that ass of yours. I want to have you spread out for me as I fuck your brains out. I want to taste you and suck your breasts. I want to make you mine.” He now says against my lips as he finally slams them against mine. The kiss is short but full of passion and we gaze at each other as we break apart.

“Don't look like a penguin” I say to him and he chuckles, mumbling under his breath. “I miss the days we were bickering and having fun. I miss you. I miss the way we were.”

“I miss it too. But it's coming back. I can see it, trouble. Our story isn't going to be like that, I promise I won't let it.”

words: 1.573

[nshtn]

you're wesker's sparring partner. today you set out to teach him how to harness Progenitor to his advantage in mixed hand-to-hand combat. his responses give you more than you ever bargained for, though.

tw: suggestive, 'gunplay', praise kink, sadomasochistic wesker.

this time it was about using Progenitor to his advantage.

he's on you in almost seconds, disappearing from your sight and reappearing over and over as you can do no more than brace yourself. when he gets close, he stops, though, ego buying you the time to bury his win with a punch that has you gaining some distance, crack sounding out.

that's got to hurt, but if it does, he doesn't show it. maybe he regenerated that fast?

he spits red and growls before he moves in on you again, and you can see in the way the veins on his arms darken and pump and snake into the fringes of his gloves that he's charging up to send you flying. you focus everything on dodging it, knowing he can only reasonably throw a few before the burst of power dissipates, and you hear the animalistic sound of his frustration crackle out of him as he pushes the remains of it through his larynx at your breakneck pacing.

but then his eyebrows soften again, and he's back to the cold, calculating man you usually see. even with the virus coursing through him, he tempers himself as quickly as he tailspins.

good. he needs to reign in the aggression it supplies. you don't want impulse dethroning logic when it really counts.

maybe you should focus on that?

he stiffens as you close in on him and throw a kick that he sidesteps with inhuman speed and the squeak of his boot, and you follow up with several crescent kicks that never land. "good job," you say, and he hums in response, brilliant predatory eyes landing on your own and searching them for truth.

wesker finds it too late, because you take the moment his guard is down to kick him backwards, and, to your surprise, when he attempts to use the virus to stabilize himself, the weight of it makes him land on the floor. you take the opportunity immediately, straddling him with your own.

you know he's going to try to throw you off, so you pin his wrists above his head, stretching the muscles out.

he thrashes like an angry fish, locks of his usually-perfect hair tumbling forward, but he can't push the virus into his arms to shove you off - he's like a crocodile with its' mouth held shut, every ounce of power to bite and none to pry its' jaws free.

he sniggers a little. you cock a brow and pull a gun out, pointing it at him.

his eyes widen, laugh turning breathless.

you punctuate this trial with your trigger finger, making it click.

you toss it aside. of course he should've known it was a prop. you would never truly hurt him... and in secret, he relished in that. still...

the action of making it click - the hammer striking the firing pin, the mechanical action stirring despite the lack of a bullet - makes his heart race and his blood pump immediately.

and it is times like these, moments that would ultimately mean death if they were real, that are the things that make his cheeks bubble and burst forth with heat.

you feel it in the thing that is now digging into the meat of your lower body, which is pressed flush and rough against his lower torso to keep him beneath you. you freeze, letting his wrists go as color springs to you, and to your shock, he doesn't push you off.

it's like a dare he cannot say out loud...

his breath fans out hot against you and your hands shake as they return beside each of his shoulders very, very slowly, palms against the floor.

he's allowing it...

one hand goes up to his shades, fingers flexing on the rim, pulling them down. you admire his face for a few seconds... disheveled hair, sweat and pheromones dripping down his sideburns, brackish veins that scramble across his temple and those beautiful, forbidden eyes locked on your own.

"you're gorgeous," you say. you don't know where to take this. his brows raise again, and you feel the way he throbs under you at your unbridled, positive attention...

and then they furrow.

he throws you off of him, having had the time to calculate where to push and pull Progenitor's power. in seconds, he's above you, pushing his shades up as he wags one gloved finger. "you got distracted," he disciplines, the words rolling off him with a deep, controlling tease, as if what happened in that moment was all according to plan.

but you both know it wasn't, and now you know he's into you.