#forgotten about either. if it makes sense for them to be recalling this thing that happened then they do

[infizero]

its funny how before i started rewatching adventure time i was under the impression in my head that it was mostly just episodic stuff with the occasional overarching things thrown in there, but it actually has some of the best continuity i've ever seen 😭😭

[azrielbrainrot]

Moonlit Shadows - Act I

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: When tasked to find the once famed Temple of the Moon Goddess, Azriel only expected to find old, forgotten ruins if anything at all. He could have never imagined that not only would he find a temple but also someone who would change his life forever.

Tropes/Tags: Star Crossed Lovers (in a way), Forbidden Romance (kinda), Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, some Angst with a Happy Ending

Warnings: a bit of angst

Word Count: 12,4k

Rating: 18+ (this part is actually kinda chill)

Notes: Just as a warning (?) reader has white hair and white silvery eyes in this story but those are the only physical descriptions I will make, they're kind of part of her magic. Also when I started writing this I totally intended on it being a one-shot but the story got away from me and I decided to split it up into 3 parts. I really hope you enjoy!

You've been pacing in front of the temple's door ever since the sun set over the mountain, the warm rays slowly being replaced with the brilliant pale moonlight. You keep wringing your hands together and smoothing down any possible wrinkle on your dress, repositioning the diadem perched on your head to make sure it sits perfectly. It's not often you get visitors up in the temple, let alone any your Goddess went out of Her way to warn you about and gave clear instructions to help in any way you could. You can't quite distinguish if the anxiety building inside you is the result of excitement or wariness - possibly a healthy dose of both.

The last time someone climbed these steps had been almost a full decade ago. It was a quite short affair as well since the visitor only needed a book long forgotten in the temple's library. You'd read it multiple times before, and offered it without hesitation, prompting the traveler to thank you and immediately start descending the mountain, going on his way all the while muttering about finally having all the knowledge he needed to achieve his goal. That small interaction served as a reminder of your purpose in this temple, filled you with a sense of accomplishment you usually felt in such situations, but you've been alone in between these walls since then.

After almost four centuries you're more than used to the quiet, to the way your steps echoe in the grand empty space. The loneliness had been a more prominent companion, but even that had come and gone throughout the years. You had no place in the world, nor family or friends waiting for you anymore. All you had left was your duty to the temple. But you're still only fae and the longing for some company catches up to you every once in a while. At times you think you only want the reminder that you're still alive.

There wasn't much to do around the temple either, it magically gave you food and kept itself clean so you didn't even need to bother with that. You could recite every book in the library at this point and you found you weren't the best artist as you tried your hand at painting and sculpting, even music and dancing. The flowers around the temple seemed to grow effortlessly, not even needing you to tend to them either. Even keeping a journal proved inefficient as there was little to write down, the monotony of your life not interesting enough for such a thing. When tasked with guarding the temple, you would never have imagined boredom would end up being your biggest problem.

You still recall the day your hair started turning white and your eyes dulling, losing their color slowly until they turned into the silver, almost white color they were now, mirroring the moonlight. At first your parents thought it could be some disease or even a curse, they were scared for your health and safety beyond measure, but when the Goddess contacted you and sent you the amulet you now wear religiously around your neck, it guided you and your parents to this very temple hidden in the mountains of the Night Court. She then told you Herself what the fates had written for you, presenting you with an oath and sharing her power with you, making you the Keeper of the Moon Temple.

Everything had seemed impossible to believe at first, the time of the Gods had passed millenia ago, it was hard to find someone who could even name any of them anymore, you certainly couldn't at the time. So when you were told what your role in life was going to be you had been completely blindsided, not even knowing what to make of your new occupation, of being trusted with such an important task when you weren't even three decades old.

Truthfully, you expected at least a few people to show up every once in a while, asking for help or guidance. You even prepared yourself for there to be some threats to the temple, but things had been mostly peaceful and quiet, so quiet. You understand why guarding the temple is important, this type of knowledge and power can't ever fall into the wrong hands, the safety of the world depends on it, but sometimes you wonder what your life could have been like if you hadn't been chosen by fate to hold such a heavy burden by yourself.

Your heart stalls in your chest when you feel a presence approaching, used to feeling them pass by unannounced as the temple remains hidden in its protective spell. When it's clear this is the visitor the Goddess had warned you about, as they entered the wards seamlessly, you take a deep calming breath, adjusting the diadem one last time, and open the heavy doors, revealing the temple to the moonlight. As the stairs come into view, you step up to the threshold and clasp your hands together behind your back, waiting to be of help as your Goddess instructed you to.

Distractedly rehearsing your greeting, unused as it was, you almost miss the dark shadows swirling up the milky steps, passing by you and escaping to all corners of the temple before you have time to react. Your head snaps back to follow them, breaking the calming character you were falling into in preparation to fulfill your duty. Some of your power drips down to your fingertips, casting a white glow under your skin, as you study these shadows intently. Not finding any ill intent in them, as strange as they were, some of the tension leaves your body. They simply lay before you, more and more of these wispy shadows gathering together as they swirled around themselves, not paling even a fraction under the bright moonlight or your powers. Strange little things indeed.

You wonder for a moment if this was the visitor the Goddess had mentioned, not knowing what to make of it or how to approach such a situation. She had not specified if the visitor was fae, though you're not so sure how you would be able to help shadows. Before you could embarrass yourself in trying to speak to these creatures, the same presence you felt earlier makes itself known, much closer than before. Looking up at the starry sky, you find strong, dark wings carrying someone directly to the temple, a glimpse of blue shining over their dark form.

This was already the most interesting visitor you've ever had. You'd never had the pleasure of meeting any winged fae before, and, given their reaction to the fae approaching, you were confident the shadows were under their command. Those were definitely even rarer than winged fae - Shadowsingers, you remember them being called.

As they fly down closer to you and the temple, slowly letting the wind guide them, you feel a strange tug on your chest, and then another, this time strong enough that it makes you look down at yourself with furrowed eyebrows. Your confusion only deepens when you notice a bright string connected to your heart, raising your hand to try and touch it. Your fingers pass right through it, as if it wasn't there in the first place, and soon after you try catching it, the string disappears from sight.

You lay a hand down over your chest, feeling your heart beating under your palm. The string was invisible now, but you could still feel it tugging incessantly, as if urging you to look up. You follow its silent command, almost gasping out loud when you find the winged fae a lot closer than you had expected, catching him as he lands with a harsh tud on top of the steps, arms bracing out to maintain his balance as if he isn't quite used to landing yet. The shadows swirling at your feet rush to him, and a bewildered expression takes over his face, likely mirroring your own, as he stares at you, mouth agape.

Wide leathery wings stand behind him, open in a somewhat awkward angle as he stands frozen in place. As the moonlight filters through them you realize they're not quite black as they appeared before, the insides actually have a beautiful crimson hue to them. Your eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they keep cataloging his entire form, taking note of every detail as if it was crucial information. He was covered from head to toe in black leathers, you recognize it as an armor of sorts. It clung to his every muscle, showcasing them as much as it protected him from harm. You find the same blue light from before twinkling in the midst of all the black, studying it closer to find it came from gems scattered across his armor, you're almost certain they hold some of his magic somehow.

Moving up his neck, you find tan skin shining under the moonlight and black hair curling into his forehead softly, locks messy and a little damp from the flight. The stranger also had striking hazel eyes, and you find yourself struggling to not get lost in them, only bringing yourself to break eye contact when you notice the glittery string once more in the corner of your eye, only this time it's connected to his chest.

Your breath catches in your throat as you follow its path slowly, careful not to lose the thin thread once more, finding it leading back to your own heart. You feel another tug, prompting you to look back up at the male in front of you. A hand falls over your heart at the implication, right where you could feel the phantom string had tied itself. Yet another tug confirming your suspicions.

How could this be?

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Azriel wasn't expecting his evening to turn out like this when he was called to Rhys' office. While he knew there was going to be a mission of sorts, he never imagined it would involve a temple no one has ever heard of or a Goddess long forgotten. Even with Amren's knowledge and the old books she found corroborating her words, Azriel was still anticipating coming back to Velaris empty handed. He's flown over these same mountains at least a million times in the five centuries he's been alive, and never once has he noticed a temple or any signs of magic.

The woods under him looked completely untouched as far as he could tell, no one choosing to live so far from the neighboring towns, isolated between the trees and steep mountains. His shadows filtered through the woods in case he missed something from his high position, even if he thought this search was in vain, it didn't mean he wasn't going to give it his best to fulfill his High Lord's order. He felt almost naked without his shadows latching onto his body though, the single companion still perched on his shoulder in order to relay him information not giving him nearly enough coverage to feel at ease when he was so far from home.

Mission and discomfort aside, the wind felt heavenly hitting his skin on this warm summer evening. It had been a while since he was able to fly for this long without dreading his destination as it usually meant he was visiting the Illyrian mountains, the Hewn City or a much more gruesome mission than the one he found himself in at the moment. It also feels good to step away from the full houses he found himself in nowadays. As much as he loved his family, Azriel had always valued his alone time and it was getting harder to find himself completely alone in the midst of missions and the ever growing inner circle.

As he was flying over the edge of the mountain, Azriel was getting ready to make the trip back and throw a very satisfying “I told you so” at his brother's face when his shadows suddenly disappeared right before his eyes. The abruptness of it made him panic for a few seconds, clapping his wings so he was hovering in the same place and was able to study the space ahead of him, trying to feel for any type of ward or shield but coming up empty. He could still feel his shadows, and knew they were alright given how calm the remaining one was as it sat on his shoulder and simply urged him forward, as if confused why he had stopped in the first place.

Azriel trusted his shadows blindly, they had never steered him wrong after all, and so he did as he was told and slowly started moving forward once again. After living for five hundred years surrounded by magic, there isn't much that can surprise the shadowsinger, but he can safely say he's never seen anything like this. He felt his body pass through some sort of gateway, one that went unnoticed by him until now, and as he did his surroundings began changing as if they had only been a mirage before.

In between the trees a path carved in white stone could now be seen, glinting under the moonlight in complete contrast to the rest of the dark woods. As his eyes followed this path, going up stairs of the same stone carved into the side of the mountain, he found a white temple sitting right at the top. It wasn't a huge building by any means, but the white eerie glow it emitted made it impossible to miss had it not been the spell covering it - one that would make the one who kept Velaris safe for centuries pale in comparison - and keeping it hidden from the world and unwanted eyes.

Amren had been right after all, something that happens more often than he would ever care to admit. The Goddess of the Moon still had at least a temple left in this world, leaving it behind when She took to the sky. Not much is known about the old Gods, but Azriel, born and raised in the Night Court, felt himself relax as he looked up at the moon shining above him, not believing this Goddess could be anything but benevolent. She had watched him fly over from Velaris after all, it almost felt like he was guided here.

The entire temple was made of white stone - it appeared to be the same type of stones used for the path and stairs leading up to it, only more polished. There were silver highlights carved into the walls and columns, these glowed with an intensity Azriel had never seen. Most of the roof was a huge skylight, likely so the moon could illuminate Her temple and Her followers could bask in Her brilliant light.

Given the color scheme of the entire building, his shadows were easy enough to spot, which would have been a big problem had he decided on a more covert operation when coming to the temple, he was more than glad he came here in peace. His little companions seemed perfectly content as they swirled around and over themselves right in front of the temple's doors, a few steps from a figure completely clad in white.

Even after finding the temple where he had only seen trees and shrubs before, he couldn't help but feel even more surprised that there was someone inside it. A sudden spark of magic has the shadowsinger moving faster, a gasp catching in his throat when he sees bright, pale light coming from the figure's palms. Even this wasn't enough to send the shadows that would be at the receiving hand of it into alarm, something curious on its own as they were usually as suspicious and careful as their master.

Azriel was already within earshot when the person in front of him decided his shadows posed no threat and the white light disappeared from her hands. At first glance she might have looked like a regular high fae female, but there was a different kind of power flowing through her, as shown by the strange way this light magic manifested itself, something Azriel had never felt before.

Upon flying down closer, his feet almost touching the top of the steps in front of the temple, he realizes she had not been wearing a white hood or veil as he initially thought but her hair was completely white. There was an unnatural element to it as each strand shone under the moonlight, almost rivaling it in its intensity. The floor length dress she wore was of the same color, made of a light, breathable fabric, almost translucent in certain areas, swishing softly in the faint breeze. She had not looked up at him yet, seemingly intrigued as she watched her own chest. Perhaps looking at the pendant she wore around her neck, the magic coming from it could almost be seen in its intensity.

Azriel took this moment to take her in, not knowing what to say since he was the one possibly trespassing. She was absolutely gorgeous, truly mesmerizing in her beauty and demeanor. It was almost impossible to believe she was real, standing right in front of him and not a Goddess walking his dreams. For a moment Azriel wonders if this is truly the Goddess, if She never left the land of the mortals as it was once believed, instead keeping herself safely hidden in these uninhabited mountains, but when she looks up from her necklace, eyes falling on him for the first time, all thoughts evaporate from his mind. White, silvery eyes meet hazel and a sudden rush of inexplicable feelings hit him right in the chest, squeezing his heart tight and taking his breath away. It felt as if the world had broken apart and put itself together, as if everything finally made sense. The only thing he could make sense of was one word, swirling around in his mind and completely taking over every cell on his body. Mate. You were his mate.

In his stupor, Azriel forgets he was still up in the air, wings freezing along with the rest of his body and sending him falling towards the ground. Thankfully, he hadn't been too high up, and was still able to land on his feet, knees only buckling under his weight slightly as he steadied himself. This had to be the most ungraceful landing he's performed since his brothers were training him between giggles and harmless teasing when he first joined the Illyrian camps. If he wasn't so surprised and his brain was able to formulate a single thought, he would be cringing at the fact that you had just witnessed it, his mate had witnessed it.

It takes several moments before he starts catching on to the situation, the ringing in his ears subsiding and the rest of the world re-emerging around you. He hadn't even noticed his shadows had returned to him, ecstatic for their master finally found his equal. Azriel tries to school his features in an attempt to keep at least some dignity, in fear of coming on too strong as well, especially since it seemed you were in the same predicament as him, a curious but stunned expression locked in your beautiful face as you studied him. His stupid Illyrian senses make him flare out his wings a little before he has the chance to fully take control of his body. When your gaze finds his once more, his heart stalls in his chest before speeding up at an alarming rate. You haven't even spoken a single word to him, but his heart already sang for yours.

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

The oath you made before your Goddess rushes into your head as you study the handsome male in front of you. How could this be possible? The fates had decided your life lied within the temple long before you were born, so why give you a mate? A bond like this is extremely rare, you'd never seen one in your entire lifetime, albeit you lived isolated from the world for most of it. Still, this was something only a few were blessed with, a bond stronger than what mortal minds could even comprehend, so why waste it on you? Could the fates and the Mother be this cruel?

You can't even bring yourself to hope he didn't notice the brilliant bond forming between you - an angry twist pulling at your heartstrings when you dare to think of hiding it - considering the expression on his face and his silence, it seems he's already more than aware of it. All it took was a single glance and it had fallen into place for both of you.

In the midst of the rushing thoughts invading your brain, you try to remember what you've read about mating bonds. There was a book talking about them in the library, of this much you were sure, but its contents were evading your racing mind.

Gaze falling to the floor, trying to sober up from what you imagine to be one of the most intense occurrences anyone could go through, you almost miss the step he takes towards you. The surprise of it makes you flinch slightly, but it was enough for him to notice and take the same step back, wings coiling up tightly to his back and shadows moving to cover him almost completely, excitement wiped off his face and replaced with a hurt expression.

Your gaze falls on him once more, a self loathing feeling crawling up your throat and making you want to beg for his forgiveness on your knees at the thought that you put that expression on his face. This bond would take some getting used to, in what world would you kneel before a male you've just met. Still, you didn't want him to think he scared or even disgusted you in any way, mate or no mate, that was extremely rude.

You clear your throat softly, remembering the weight of your role in this temple and trying desperately to fall back into character, hoping the familiarity of your duties will bring your mind some peace and help you get through this moment.

“Forgive me, it isn't often that we get visitors,” his entire body tenses up even further at your words, but it relaxes as you keep speaking, “I welcome you to the last Temple of the Moon. I'm the keeper and sole habitant of this temple. I've been tasked to keep it safe from any possible threats, but also do my best to help anyone the Goddess deems worthy of being shown the way, just as you have been.”

You try not to look too long in his general direction in fear of getting lost in his eyes once more, but that's close to impossible when you're talking to him and he might be the most beautiful male you've ever encountered. Taking a step to the side, you hold out a hand towards the door, inviting him into the temple, something you should have already done.

He nods his head once after watching your outstretched arm for a moment longer, and then makes his way inside slowly. As he passes by, you can't help but breathe in his scent, it feels intoxicating and it takes every bit of strength in your body to not let your mind linger on how well it would smell mixed with yours, until you couldn't point out where one ended and the other began.

A gasp pulls you out of your betraying thoughts, a smile finding its way to your lips, knowing the sight was making him speechless. It always sparks a little pride in you when someone gazes upon the temple for the first time. Even after living here for centuries, this temple's beauty still takes your breath away. The entire floor was made of replandescent white stones, silver gems weave highlights into them, creating patterns across the entire room, maps of constellations and lunar phases, and giving it a particular glow of their own. They were illuminated by the giant skylight making up most of the ceiling, as to allow both the moon and sunlight to enter. You've tried identifying the materials used in this construction before but ended up coming up empty. It seems the precious stones and gems used no longer grew in this world, perhaps they never did.

At the far corner of the room there was an altar, one without statue or offering table, but an altar all the same. Even when She walked this world, your Goddess never accepted gifts or ever allowed anyone to replicate her image because even that could end up leaving traces of her power behind. The altar looks empty right now, and you catch yourself wishing he could be here to see it on a full moon, when the moon rays fall right over it and you can communicate with and receive any orders the Goddess might have for you. The entire room holds an even more intense glow during that night of the month as well, you're sure he would find it fascinating.

Making your way around him, careful not to step too close or accidentally touch his wings, you catch sight of his awe stricken face, tan skin glowing beautifully under the moonlight. A small, fond smile appears on his face when his gaze falls back on yours, and you almost curse the Mother for the challenge she just put in front of you. His beauty was truly otherworldly, it rivaled every shiny gem and stone in this room, maybe even the moon herself. How were you supposed to act normally knowing this was your mate?

“I've never seen anything like this before,” he admits softly, eyes never straying from yours. The sound of his voice makes you pause, it feels strangely familiar, like something you've been waiting to hear your entire life. There's a curious kind of magic around mating bonds, you don't know how it's possible for someone you've just met to already have so much power over you, even when you're trying your best to ignore him.

“I still find myself at a loss for words when gazing at this room as well,” you agree, wanting to cringe at the bashful expression you know has fallen over your face. Your plan of keeping a detached demeanor while fulfilling your duties was doomed from the start. You clasp your hands behind your back before continuing in what you hope is a professional voice. “The Goddess warned me of your arrival and left orders for me to help you in any way I can. If you tell me what you seek, I will give you what you came here for as long as it's within my abilities.”

His eyebrows furrow slightly at your words. “How did you know I was coming?”

“The Goddess knows more than us mortals will ever be able to grasp,” you explain as vaguely as possible while hopefully not raising any suspicions. There's not a single cell in your body that thinks he's untrustworthy, but they're incredibly biased, and the inner workings of your role as the Moon's keeper must be protected.

He seems satisfied enough with your answer, but there's a different kind of air about him now. As if remembering he doesn't know you, and has found himself at your mercy.

“You haven't told me what you came for,” you remind him. If you sit in silence for long your thoughts will start drifting again.

“Right,” he clears his throat, a pinkish tint covering the tips of his rounded ears. “I come on behalf of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court.” Your eyebrows raise at this, not expecting him to be such an important person. “One of the High Lady's sisters has been turned into a seer recently, and given that she wasn't even born fae, these powers have proven extremely hard to control.”

You've heard the story of the human who saved the fae from the evil clutches of Amarantha, and her sisters who were tragically thrown in the cauldron by King Hybern and turned into fae against their will. Your Goddess had even told you one of the sisters vengefully stole her powers from the cauldron, and the other was gifted seer abilities. Given the circumstances in which this all went down, it's understandable that she has been having trouble controlling her powers. Being a seer is an exceptionally heavy burden, and she's still so young too.

“We have some books that might be able to help, both in controlling one's power and pulling an entranced fae out of any visions or dreams they've found themselves stuck in. Was that what you were hoping for?”

“Yes,” he admits, apparently relieved at having found what he was looking for, “We found texts mentioning the followers of the Moon Goddess often had prophetic dreams, and wrote entire manuals on how to navigate them. Since Elain wasn't born with these powers these books seemed perfect to help her, and so the High Lady sent me searching for them.” You nod, motioning for him to follow you as you turn and start walking to the library, already making a mental list of all the books that might help his friend.

Even lost in thought, you sense him stopping in his steps as you're walking down the corridor, overwhelmingly aware of his every move as you were. This prompts you to turn around and face him in question, only to find him watching you in amazement.

“You're breathtaking,” he blurts out before he can catch himself, making heat rush up your neck and settle over your entire face. He looks away embarrassed for a moment, one of his shadows crawling up his neck and over his ear, before looking back at you with a bashful look. “I'm sorry. I just- Is it normal for you to glow like this?”

This power has been a part of you for so long, you almost forget about the way your hair lights up in the dark, an aura surrounding you as well, giving you an overall ethereal glow. “Yes, I harness power from the moon and She glows so…” you trail off, biting your lip as he keeps studying you. “The library is right up ahead,” you add, turning your back to him once more so you can gather your thoughts for the nth time since he stepped foot into this temple.

As you navigate through the familiar rows of shelves your heart finally calms, easily picking up the pertinent books. You can't help but keep watching him out of the corner of your eye, not out of suspicion, but curiosity for his every reaction. He seems content with following after you as he watches the decorations and studies the books sitting on the shelves, not once asking you what you're giving him, simply carrying the books you hand him. It makes you wonder if he usually trusts everyone this easily or if it's something reserved for you.

When you hand him the last book, you move to the back of the room slowly, the place where you keep some important magical amulets and tools, waiting on any sign from the Goddess forbidding you from lending him any of them. He comes to stand beside you then, likely noticing your hesitation.

“There is also an artifact that I think could help your friend,” you start, picking up the bracelet in question and holding it up as you explain its power, “This can help numb one's powers.”

“Like faebane?”

You shake your head, “No, this is completely painless, but it's vital that it is only used when she's finding herself lost in her visions and you're struggling to pull her out. This is not to be used as a crutch. If she used it to suppress her powers too often, she might never be able to take control of her full powers and this bracelet could become something she can't live without.” He nods, hopefully understanding the gravity behind your words. “It's also extremely rare and dangerous so I ask that, as soon as she has a better grasp of her abilities, I would say within a few years at most, this bracelet is delivered back to the temple so it can be kept safe.”

“What happens if we don't return it?”

The question makes you tense up and close your hands around the bracelet, your voice coming out clipped as you answer him. “I'm not entirely sure as no one has ever attempted something so foolish as long as I've been here, but those types of transgressions are handled by the Goddess so I imagine you would not be able to keep it even if you tried.”

“I wasn't considering keeping it. I was merely curious,” he rushes to explain, sincerity dripping from every word and making you relax a bit.

“Curious?”

“If you would be the one to come for it,” he confessed.

A warm tingly feeling spreads through your body as you digest his words. Would he seriously consider stealing from a God just for a chance to see you again? Even if it meant being at the end of your wrath? Can you be confident the bond wouldn't drive you to such extremes as well?

“I can't leave the temple unattended,” you murmur, much too softly for your own good. Your emotions are running all over the place, it almost seems like they're fighting to see which one will take control of your body, and unfortunately, you have an inkling as to which is winning as his scent overwhelms your senses once again.

“Of course,” he says, taking a small step closer to you, shadows mostly retreating from his body, “Forgive me. I didn't mean to upset you.” Must his voice sound like a cup of hot chocolate after a day spent playing in the snow?

It doesn't help that you've been in this temple for so long that you can't even recall the last time someone touched you, not even sexually, no one has so much as held your hand or hugged you in decades, ever since your parents passed. Looking at him, you know you could get lost in his arms, your head resting against his strong chest.

It's only when you squeeze the bracelet too hard, a bit of its power zapping through you, that you're finally able to pull yourself from the beautiful hazel of his eyes, and your consuming thoughts. Clearing your throat and handing him the bracelet. He only hesitates a second, likely pulling himself out of the moment as well, before carefully taking it from your hand, conscious of not letting his skin touch yours, much to your dismay.

You can feel your eyes widen at the sight of his scarred hands before you have a chance to school your features. The armor he wears and the sword strapped between his wings tell you he's a warrior, but you can't imagine what could have happened for this injury to scar like this. Someone employed directly under the High Lord must have access to the best healers in the court. Suddenly, anger bubbles in the pit of your stomach at the thought that someone dared to hurt your mate.

This time he's the one to pull away from you abruptly, shadows returning to their master, and that infuriating string tugging at your heart as he does. It makes you want to reach out and hold his hand, reassure him somehow, but thankfully your brain catches up to the thought that might be overstepping, and so you simply nod at him and ask him to follow you back to the temple's main room once more.

The walk back is filled with a heavy atmosphere, not only considering your oversight, but also at the realization that you must send him away now, likely never to see him again. If you're lucky he will be the one to return the bracelet, and you will be able to see him in a few years. The thought makes you slow your pace.

It's only when you reach the heavy doors, that you allow yourself to turn to him, his face reflecting your feelings perfectly. You briefly consider mentioning the bond, at least to make sure he feels it too, but you fail to see what good that would bring. You still can't leave the temple and, now that he's gotten what he came for, he will not be able to return either. This will be the last time you see each other, regardless of your feelings.

He studies your face carefully, perhaps wondering the same. It seems he reaches a conclusion as he speaks up, “Can you tell me your name?” He sounded hopeful, but somehow scared of asking, as if denying him could hurt him beyond comparison.

You whisper your name hesitantly, knowing this isn't just another stranger, this was your mate. He repeats it, tasting it on his tongue as he stares at you with an intensity you almost couldn't bear, but were unable to look away from.

“My name is Azriel,” he offers willingly, like he wanted nothing more than to hear you say his name, and who were you to deny him this when you were already withholding so much? You repeat his name the same way he did yours, the impertinent little silver string connecting you and your mate reappearing as the delicious word left your lips.

You keep repeating it in your mind as he thanks you for your help and you watch him take flight, hesitation written in his entire body language as his wings slowly carry him over the clouds, looking back down multiple times as if fighting himself to keep moving. You repeat it once more out loud, when you can't see him anymore and you know he's out of earshot. This time his name is followed by a broken whisper of an apology.

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

The flight back to Velaris was one of the hardest ones Azriel has ever attempted, noticeably taking him much longer than it would have under normal circumstances. He has had to fly back home on an injured body and even injured wings, carrying another with him – Cassian of all people – and he's had to fly through the most extreme weather, heavy rain, snow and the torrid desert sun. All of those things had seemed easy compared to what he was experiencing now with a well rested body.

Both Rhysand and Cassian had mentioned how the mating bond made them act differently, how it seemed like it was taking control of their body and pushing them to act a certain way, but he didn't expect it to be this bad. His every instinct was screaming at him to turn around and go back for his mate.

He even had to take a break along the way, after watching the temple disappear right before his eyes, hidden inside the spell that had kept it safe for millenia. As the sight of the brilliant building was replaced with trees and rocks, the only thing going through Azriel's mind was that he might never see his mate again, the mere thought sending his heart into disarray. He spends a good while sitting under the moonlight, looking ahead at where he knows she is, while his shadows do their best to comfort him. Trying desperately to wrap his head around everything that happened, and how much his life changed in such a short time.

If he had been given a warning, a chance to prepare himself, then maybe he would have approached things differently, but getting blindsided by a mating bond wasn't in his plans. In fact, it had been a good while since he had stopped hoping for a mate.

He had longed for one most of his life. For someone that not only was his equal, but was also able to connect to him in ways only those who have experienced such a thing can begin to comprehend. A person that would accept him no matter how wretched he was, how much blood he has had to wash off his hands for the sake of his court. Someone he would love with every breath in him, even if it ruined him completely.

So many don't truly believe in mating bonds until they see them in front of them, but Azriel always did. He'd seen the worst this world had to offer and knew that if there was such darkness, then its counterpart would be equally as strong. And what could be stronger and brighter than love?

It wasn't until his brothers found mates of their own within a year of each other that Azriel started truly wishing for one though. Before, it was nothing more than a dream, just as he had dreamt of flying when he was locked in his cell, of seeing his mother when his cruel father kept him away from her, but seeing the happiness the mating bond had brought his brothers and how amazing the connection they shared with their mates was, he couldn't help longing for the same.

That was until enough years passed, everyone around him happily mated or in loving relationships while he stood by and watched from the same dark corner of the room. Azriel had convinced himself he wasn't worthy of a mate, even now after seeing you he can't help but feel the same. You were perfect in every aspect of the word, a beacon of light even kept away in your temple, while Azriel was nothing more than a monster. The feared Spymaster of the Night Court. Always ready to drench his hands in blood for the sake of his family and his home, always covered in shadows. A lesser fae, Illyrian of all kinds.

You deserve someone better, of that much he's sure, but the Mother had decided you were equals, and Azriel didn't mind doing his best to be worthy of you even if he had to work for it for the rest of his life. He's been waiting to love someone for so long, has been saving all of that inside him, and he wants nothing more than to shower you in affection, in reverence. Except it didn't seem like he would have the chance.

For most of your interaction, Azriel was convinced you had also felt the bond forming between you two, but he couldn't be sure, not when you hadn't even mentioned it or alluded to it before showing him out. Maybe he had read too much into things, let his own feelings bleed into his analysis, or maybe you simply didn't want a mating bond, not with someone like him. It didn't seem like you knew of him, but who's to say you haven't heard of the awful things he's done, and decided you didn't want anything to do with a monster like him.

The thought had his shadows rushing to soothe him once more, whispering vehement denials of his unworthiness as they covered him. Unfortunately, they wouldn't answer any of his questions about you, claiming it wasn't their place to explain your feelings or situation. In a way they were right, but that left him with no idea of what to think.

Azriel sat on that mountain, mulling over everything that had happened until the first rays of the sun started rising over the horizon. It wasn't until Rhysand reached out to check on him, worried at his spymaster's unusual tardiness, that he resumed his trip back to Velaris, this time passing through shadows along the way to cut his time shorter, hoping his brother hadn't caught glimpse of the heartbreakingly beautiful female consuming his every thought. Trying desperately to clear his mind as the cool wind hit his face, preparing for the meeting that was waiting for him as soon as he got home.

“So the temple truly exists?” Rhysand had been as skeptical about the temple's existence as Azriel, finding it hard to believe that such a thing could be hidden in his own court without his knowledge.

Azriel nods and sets the books you've given him on the dark desk, dropping the bracelet on top of the pile carefully, trying not to be reminded of the way you had handed it to him, or focus on your scent still clinging to it faintly. Shaking himself out of it and letting the spymaster mask fall over his face, he starts explaining how he had found the temple behind a powerful spell, going into detail about the building itself, the keeper who had helped him and the books and bracelet given to him, including the warnings you gave him, making sure to stress the fact that the bracelet was to be returned as soon as Elain gained enough control of her abilities.

“You really didn't feel the wards around the temple?”

“No, if my shadows hadn't disappeared right before my eyes I wouldn't have even noticed they were there.” So much had happened that Azriel almost forgot how peculiar those wards were, in fact all the magic present in the temple and in you had felt different.

“And this keeper?” His heart speeds up treacherously, enough so that Rhys gets a curious glint in his purple eyes, undoubtedly noticing it. “Tell me about her.”

A soft scowl takes over his features, a strange possessiveness creeping up before has the chance to quell it. “She was waiting for me at the entrance. Apparently the Moon Goddess warned her there was a visitor coming.”

“She can talk to the Goddess?”

“It seems so,” Azriel hesitates for a moment, “Her magic is different from any fae I've seen. Her hair is completely white, and her eyes aren't much darker, maybe a bit more silver. There was a certain aura about her, her entire being seemed to glow beautifully under the moonlight, even more when we moved inside. She truly looked otherworldly. In that moment, she looked even more radiant than the stars and the moon combined.”

A moment of silence falls over the room as everyone digests Azriel's words, tiny gasps leaving Feyre and Elain, who had been out of it for most of the conversation as a result of yet another one of her visions, and Nesta's jaw dropping significantly as they were not used to hearing the Shadowsinger muse about someone like this. Unfortunately, the others have seen him drunk enough when he was younger, so it wasn't as much of a surprise.

“What was that, brother?” Cassian's teasing voice cuts through his thoughts, “I thought you didn't resort to poetry.”

Azriel looks up at this, heat rising to his cheeks at the amused looks shared by everyone in the room, realizing he had lost himself in his descriptions of you, unable to keep them as clinical as he normally would, especially when it came to a mission.

“I just meant her magic manifests in a way I've never seen before,” he finishes lamely, one of his shadows oh so helpfully crawling up his neck to notify him that no one seemed to believe his excuse.

“Right, her magic,” Nesta mocks, suddenly interested in hearing about the temple after focusing on the books that would be helping her sister.

Thankfully, Amren didn't care about whether he found the keeper beautiful or not, and wanted to keep the conversation on track, a bored expression on her face as she pulled the attention back to her and the topic at hand.

“You said she called herself the keeper of the temple, correct?”

Azriel nods at her while checking his mental walls just in case, lest he also let them fall in his moment of distraction, and his High Lord or Lady saw something they shouldn't. He can only guess what feelings and thoughts would be attached to your image in his mind. If they saw this he would never hear the end of it.

“I believe she not only can communicate with the Goddess but also shares some of her powers. It's hard to determine just how powerful she truly is,” the ancient one turns to Rhys and Feyre, a serious look taking over her features, “She could become a threat to us.”

“She's not a threat,” his voice cuts through the room, protecting his mate instinctively.

Rhysand raises one annoyingly perfect eyebrow at Azriel's sudden outburst. Some of the amusement still lingers around the room, but the anger behind his statement was undeniable, creating some tension and confusion between everyone. It's not often they see him so on edge, to the point of raising his voice at Amren of all people.

He tries to calm himself as much as possible, knowing this is a symptom of the mating bond and that his brothers and sister-in-laws might be able to figure that out, and tries to explain himself once again.

“I was the one who talked to her, there were no ill intentions when she guided me through the temple and gave me the books. She even added more books than we wanted or knew existed, and the bracelet. She helped us willingly.”

Amren studies him through narrowed eyes for a moment longer before finishing her earlier thought. “Even if she had any ill intentions, keepers are bound to their temples and can't physically leave, so there wouldn't be much to worry about.”

It feels like the world stops when Azriel hears these words. Every little hope he was clinging to in regards to your bond escaped him in that moment. If what Amren said was true, you couldn't leave the temple, even if you wanted to come and find him, and he couldn't find the temple unless he needed something and the Goddess showed him the way. He could very well never see you again, or only once more, when Elain got better and he had to deliver the books and bracelet back to the temple. Was that why you ignored the bond? Because you knew there was no hope for the two of you?

Azriel spends the rest of the meeting in a sort of trance, barely able to listen to what his family was talking about, or even register what they decided when it came to helping Elain use the books. It was impossible to focus on anything when it felt like his life, a dream that had barely started was crumbling right before his eyes. He only tunes back in when the meeting is over and most of the Inner Circle starts leaving, hoping he can at least go rest from his flight, take a long bath and find a quiet place to be alone and digest these life changing last few hours.

He was already on his feet, dragging his exhausted body to the door when Rhys called out his name, making him turn around in question. “There's something else we need to discuss.” His brother was always the most perceptive at the worst times. The last thing Azriel wants to do right now is discuss his miserable fate with anyone.

Everyone filters out the room then, even Feyre who drops a kiss on her mate's cheek before following her sister out - a gesture he's more than used to witnessing but bears a different weight today - leaving the two brothers alone in the quiet office. Azriel doesn't move from his spot, standing in the middle of the room with crossed arms as Rhysand studies him, daring him to start the conversation, secretly praying he simply has another mission to send him on instead of the conversation he's almost sure is about to start.

“Are you going to tell me what happened with this keeper?”

Azriel has to physically stop himself from sighing. Why couldn't the Mother let him have a moment after everything that has already happened in the last few hours?

“Nothing happened,” he sounds defensive even to himself, his mind too preoccupied to try and mask his emotions, “She gave me the books and then I left.” This much was true, unfortunately.

Rhys simply hums, always sounding irritatingly sure of himself. “So you wouldn't mind showing me your memories of last night, right? I'd like to take a good look at the temple. It seemed quite intriguing,” he pauses for a second, head tilting a fraction to the side, mouth forming into a smirk, “and so did she.”

A snarl escapes Azriel's mouth at his brother's words. Even if he knew he was being baited, controlling this damned bond was impossible right now. Rhysand's smirk only deepens, like a predator who successfully lured its prey, since his brother gives him the exact reaction he was expecting with that little comment. No wonder Azriel has to work so hard as his Spymaster, it's a miracle Rhys has lived this long.

“You look very defensive of a female you've only exchanged one simple conversation with.”

“Like I said before,” he says, that snarl not quite leaving his lips no matter how hard he tries, “She helped us without a second thought, even more than we expected. I just don't understand why everyone keeps insisting that she might be a threat.”

“I didn't say she was a threat, I simply asked you to show me what she looked like.” The High Lord taps his purple painted nails on the table, waiting for a response. When it becomes clear that Azriel isn't taking the bait, Rhys keeps going, “Can't blame me for being curious of how this keeper beautifully glows under the moonlight. She looked otherworldly, you said?”

The thought of assassinating his loving brother crosses Azriel's mind. He doesn't even know what to respond knowing those were his own words, and any reaction would be amplified by the mating bond. The High Lord had him right where he wanted him.

As he keeps staring at his brother, shadows climbing up his body until most of him is covered from those intense violet eyes, Rhysand's expression changes, a somewhat defeated look replacing the earlier amusement as he accepts that he'll have to pry the truth from his spymaster.

“Azriel, I've known you for over five centuries. I can tell when you're hiding something from me,” his face and tone turning even more serious as he continues, “I also know what a fresh mating bond feels like, the emotions it evokes in us.”

Azriel stares at his brother for another moment, before realizing there was no need to try and pretend he wasn't right, letting out a sigh before sitting down in the chair across from him defeatedly, shadows settling while his wings drooped, enough to touch the floor.

“If you already know, why are you asking me about it?”

“I didn't expect this to be your reaction,” he says, thoroughly studying Azriel's face. “I don't understand why you wouldn't be happy. I know it can be scary, but you've always wanted a mate, Az.”

“There's nothing to be happy about.”

Rhys simply rolls his eyes, “I know a bit more about mating bonds than you do. Trust me there's a lot to be happy about.”

His temper rises at this, emotions still not having settled - he's starting to wonder if they ever will. Even his shadows were becoming overstimulated, not knowing how to soothe their singer in these circumstances.

“Didn't you hear what Amren said? She can't leave the temple, she's bound to it, and I can't go back there since it's hidden under whatever spell that was,” the words almost caught in his throat, “I'm never seeing her again.”

Saying it out loud makes the whole situation unbearably real. It's not often Azriel sees himself in conversation such as these, always one to ignore his feelings for as long as possible, and then isolating himself when they become too much, but his brother knows him too well, as he said before, and was prying out everything too easily.

“I don't even know if she wanted this,” he finds himself whispering.

“Why wouldn't she?”

Azriel swallows all the self-pity, the unworthiness he felt when it came to you, or anyone else really. Diving into these feelings would lead them into a different conversation, one he wasn't sure he could handle, much less right now, and so he opts for the simpler answer.

“She didn't mention the bond once, she was ignoring it – if she even felt it at all,” he leans back and runs his hand through his hair, “my feelings were muddled the whole time I was there so I can't even know for sure.”

“You didn't tell her you were her mate either,” Rhysand reminds him.

Would things have gone a different way if he had? Or would you simply let him down as soon as he brought it up? Did it even matter? Would he be able to survive your rejection?

“She told you the temple showed itself for the people who needed it, right?” Azriel looks up at his brother, nodding. “Seems to me like you need to talk to her.”

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

You're not entirely sure what one is supposed to do after finding their Mother-blessed mate, and then proceed to send them on their way, possibly to never return. Not being able to get even a wink of sleep and spending the next few hours searching your library for any information on mating bonds seems appropriate though. There wasn't anything written in these books that you didn't already know about mating bonds: extreme attraction, a connection of emotions, feelings of primal possessiveness, the possibility for a love unlike any other.

There was no mention of the silver string you'd seen tied around both of your hearts, but the bond seems to manifest itself differently for everyone, and the magic your Goddess has poured into you was peculiar to say the least. Even Azriel might not have seen or felt it manifest the same way you did, but that doesn't mean it's not there. Denying it is out of the picture at this point.

The section about rejecting mating bonds caught your eye, but it quickly soured your mood. It seems there's no way to reject a mating bond and hope for life to ever go back to normal, especially for males as they would always feel like a part of them was missing. The book didn't exactly go into depth on the topic – there can't be too many other idiots thinking of turning down a mating bond, – so it didn't mention anything about just ignoring the bond. Would it just fizzle out until you could barely feel anything, or would it end up with the same effects of a rejected bond? As much as you knew this bond was doomed from the start, you didn't want to convict Azriel to a lifetime of madness, or even worse. It was bad enough he couldn't get a mate out of you.

After your mood deflates at the bleak prospect for your future, and the sun has already replaced the moon, you decide to indulge yourself for a moment. Since your encounter had been so brief, you ended up not finding out too much about Azriel aside from his name, and, as much as there was a voice nagging at the back of your mind, warning you that trying to learn more about your mate won't help you in successfully ignoring the bond at all, you're still only fae and curiosity got the best of you. How could you not be curious about your mate?

You'd heard stories about a shadowsinger working under the High Lord of the Night Court, but you didn't know if that was him as the High Lord had changed since then. If it was though, this would make him a truly important figure for this court, country even. You can't help but feel proud at the thought.

Your search for information on Shadowsingers soon proves fruitless, not being able to find much else aside from their abilities to communicate with shadows, rare as they are, so you move onto researching winged fae instead, in hopes of finding out what kind he is. There are various kinds, this much you know, but for some reason you've always imagined them all to have feathered wings. It's at times like these that you wished you had traveled more when you were younger.

Most of the day is spent like this, tucked into your favorite sofa in the library, the temple refilling your teacup and offering you little snacks as you search for any bit of information that could help you understand who Azriel is. A tug on your silver string finally pulls you out of the moment, body immediately going into alert as you feel your mate nearing. These feelings are entirely too abstract, there's no way of knowing if he's flying over the temple or simply a bit closer than he had been an hour prior - which could still be halfway across the Night Court. You'd also found in one of the books that mates could attempt reaching out to each other through the bond, the descriptions of the resulting feeling appearing quite similar to what you were experiencing at the moment.

You try to ignore it and carry on reading your book on wings - the irony not lost on you - but the string keeps tugging incessantly, even more firmly now, and you suddenly get the feeling that he was actually close, possibly even trying to reach out at the same time or following the bond.

Had he come looking for you? You told him the temple kept itself hidden unless the visitor needed something from within these walls and the Goddess allowed them passage. He had to know that he wouldn't find anything more than trees and shrubs in this forest, the temple keeping itself out of sight even if he had been here before and knew its exact location, such were the wards around this place.

Putting away the book and sitting up on the sofa, you wonder what you should do. There's no way of communicating with him, and you won't be able to let him in, no matter how desperate you were since that decision was not your own to make. Your role was to protect the temple, but you knew he wasn't a threat either. Were you to simply stand by and watch while he looked for you, only to be met with silence? The Mother seems to have a twisted sense of humor.

As you were preparing yourself mentally for what you assumed were going to be a tough few hours, you feel the unmistakable sign of someone passing through the barrier, prompting you to stand up and winnow straight to the main hall, opening the front doors in a rush, only to find a familiar dark figure waiting for you.

If you weren't witnessing it with your own eyes, if your heart wasn't beating at that rhythm that seemed reserved solely for him, you wouldn't have believed this to be true. Your feet move of their own accord, carrying you towards your mate as he stands at the entrance to your temple, a contagiously hopeful expression on his face as he watches you move to him.

“How did you get here?” You can't help the dumb question, not being able to understand what is happening in the midst of your surprise and every other feeling that came with his presence.

“I needed to talk to you,” he explains in a breathy tone, smiling down at you like he wasn't sure if this would have worked either, if he was actually going to be able to find you.

The Goddess showed him the way, if She hadn't he wouldn't have been able to find you, even with any shadowsinger trick he might have had up his sleeve. Could She know he's your mate? She had been the one to warn you of his arrival the day before after all.

You're still trying to gather your thoughts when he continues, skipping over all the pleasantries as if he couldn't keep the words in any longer.

“You're my mate.”

Hearing the word coming from his mouth makes your heart soar, a tingling feeling spreading over your entire body as if lava was now running through your veins. This was not a confession you needed to hear, but the bond welcomed it anyway.

“I know,” you admit, a bittersweet smile overtaking your features.

“Are you unhappy with it? With me?” You quickly shake your head in denial, but he continues before you have the chance to explain, “I would understand it if you were, and if you don't want the bond, I won't force you to accept it. I promise I will never hurt you.”

Is this what has been going through his mind since he left? That you wouldn't want him? The thought makes you swallow, you've only wanted to spare him as much pain as you could, not hurt him more yourself.

“Azriel, that's not it. There's nothing wrong with you, or any reason I wouldn't want you as my mate” you assure, “but I swore my life to protecting this temple, and I can't physically leave the grounds. That's not fair to you.”

He doesn't seem to be surprised at the information, meaning he was probably already aware of your predicament and decided to come talk to you anyway, but he still takes a moment before speaking, thinking through his words as he watches you, shadows coming up to whisper in his ear.

“Did you make a vow of chastity or anything similar?” The question takes you aback for a second, heat rising to your cheeks at the implication.

“Not explicitly, no,” you clear your throat, “but it's hard to keep a relationship when you're bound to a temple hidden in the middle of nowhere. I can't even walk past the first few steps.”

Azriel looks behind him at your words. If he took a few steps down, you wouldn't be able to follow him, a different set of wards keeping you within these grounds. When he meets your eyes once again, you add carefully, “This isn't a relationship worth pursuing when we both know it won't end up working.”

“I think I would like to decide that for myself,” he says as he takes a small step closer to you, “if you'll allow me.”

“What?”

“I would like to come visit you whenever I can, and get to know you. This… I don't think we should throw away a chance like this so lightly, not without at least giving it a try.” He closes most of the distance between you, raising up his hand and holding his palm up for you to take, “Even if it never becomes a romantic relationship, or if it ends up breaking both of our hearts, I don't want to be the person who didn't fight for something so special in fear of getting hurt.”

You watch his hand as you mull over his words. It's not as if he doesn't make sense in his argument, you're more than aware how downright stupid it is to throw away a mating bond when some people spend their whole lives searching for one, but you're scared, for both of your sakes. Letting your mate into your life, even without accepting the bond, knowing that there will come a time when you will want more from it than what you're capable of having would not simply hurt you both, but change both of your lives beyond recognition – it could even kill you. And yet, staring into his hopeful eyes every little reason why you should be turning him down, walking back into the temple and closing the door behind you, seems to escape your mind.

When his hand lowers slightly, wings drooping as well, possibly taking your hesitation as denial, your hand moves to hold his instinctively, surprising the both of you. You had been kidding yourself into thinking you could fight a bond like this. The smallest sign that your mate would leave and your body moved to keep him by your side. Your decision has been made. You can only hope the Gods will have mercy on you.

“I would like to get to know you too, Azriel,” you say, squeezing his hand in yours as a blinding smile takes over his devastatingly handsome face. “As long as the Goddess shows you the way to the temple, I don't see anything wrong with… talking.”

He lets his thumb run over the back of your hand before raising it to his lips, sending your heart into disarray as he leaves a soft kiss on your skin. A flush covers the tip of his ears, and you catch a flash of the silver string connecting the both of you.

“Then I promise to come see you as often as I can.” He lets your hands fall between you two, fingers still intertwined as you stare at each other like fools. You catch yourself after a moment, thanking the Mother for living in this isolated mountain for once so no one could witness this.

“Do you want to come in? You must be tired after your flight,” you invite, letting go of his hand, missing the warmth of his skin immediately.

His gaze drops to your hand before meeting yours once again and nodding, following you inside into the main hall he had been in before. It looked different in the light of day, his hazel eyes studying it once more.

“I didn't fly all the way here,” he starts, gaze still stuck on the stone covered walls, “I can travel through shadows, similarly to how most high fae can winnow.”

“Oh.” You watch as his shadows move lazily around him, coming up his legs. “Is that one of your shadowsinger abilities?”

“Yes.” You wanted to ask more, your earlier curiosity returning, but you find a conflicted expression when he meets your eyes, you can also feel it in your chest, and so you wait for him to decide if he wants to share it with you.

“I'm not high fae,” he admits.

“Right, the wings,” you let out, much too excitedly, as your eyes fall on the huge appendages on his back, “I've never met anyone with wings, and haven't even heard of featherless wings. I searched in the library for types of winged fae, but most of our collection is a bit outdated, and the Goddess was never too interested in those sorts of things so I couldn't find anything that fit your description.” Your mind finally catches up to your words then, eyes widening before falling to your hands as you play with your fingers, and add lamely, “I have a lot of time on my hands here, and I didn't think I'd see you again so…”

You dare a look at his face when his silence drags on too long, finding him watching you with a surprised expression, wide hazel eyes staring into your white ones. His shadows had crept up his neck once again - singing to him you suppose.

Azriel finally finds his words after another moment, your eyes not straying from his for a second, “I'm Illyrian,” he starts, studying your face carefully before continuing, “As far as I know, we're the only ones whose wings have no feathers.”

“Illyrian?”

“Have you heard of it?” He seems scared somehow, but you're not exactly sure why he would be. You try to remember where you've heard the word before, only taking you a moment to remember them as people who live in the mountains up in the north, and were part of the High Lord's army.

“Yes. I know they're people who live in the mountains, and fought in the war but I didn't even know you had wings,” you gesture to them, “I didn't get much of a chance to travel before I came to the temple, so I've never met any Illyrians.”

“That's all you've heard?” You nod slowly, eyebrows furrowing at his insistence. “Illyrians have an unfavorable reputation. The males train their whole lives to fight, and the females aren't regarded as much more than a means for procreation,” he explains further, “Some have started changing their ways, slowly, but most camps insist on their traditions, no matter how cruel. They- We just don't have a good reputation.”

You start understanding where he was getting at. Some fae had trouble opening their eyes to how the world was changing around them, choosing to remain willfully ignorant to the harm it brought those who were different from them, who they deemed as lesser. He was scared that, had you heard about whatever cruelty he's seen from his peers, you would judge him for it. You feel a little offended that he would think so lowly of you, but the truth is he doesn't know you at all, or you him.

“It's hard to outlive archaic traditions when we live for centuries. I wouldn't ever dream of passing judgment on an entire group of people for the beliefs some of its members insist on clinging onto,” you clasp your hands together behind your back, shrugging as you smile up at him, “and I might be biased, or even wrong, but I think you're very kind, Azriel. You came all the way here to help your friend, with no real proof that you'd find what you were looking for, and then you came back to ask permission to visit me, even when you thought I might not accept it. Cruel is the last word I'd use to describe you. I'd rather go with sweet.”

“Sweet?” He asks, a flush rising to his cheeks and a bashful smile finally erasing that conflicted expression off his face. “You think I'm sweet?” You hum in agreement, your grin growing so large it hurts your cheeks. “I'll have to let my mother know at last someone agrees with her.”

You let out a laugh, the image of a baby Azriel getting showered in praises from his mother entering your mind. You almost have trouble imagining him as a child, but you have no doubts he was more than sweet, adorable even, with his round cheeks and small wings.

“So…” You lean back on your heels, intertwining your hands behind your back. “Do you want me to show you around the temple?”

“I would love to,” he agrees with a blinding smile on his face.

[criibibi]

Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

Masterlist: Prev; Next;

Chapter 2 - Spider Luck

Morning came quickly despite the shitty sleep you received that night. The constant tossing and turning, the constant fear and anxiety of getting caught or broken into, really you couldn’t catch a break. 

Despite that, you did get some sleep, even if the sum total was like three hours. Still, it’s not like the nightmares would have let you sleep regardless. All your failures would consume your thoughts and drown you, reminding you of your losses. 

Sure you moved on, but it’s not like you had forgotten. Uncle Ben’s wisdom, Aunt May’s lessons, and Peter Parker’s kindness. You vowed to honor and cherish those memories, but here you are, in another fucking world, with a high possibility of you breaking some laws just to get out.

Desperate people do crazy shit, and you aren’t that sane to begin with.

Luckily this motel has a shower and you plan to use it. Making sure to clean yourself with what you have (unfortunate) and pick up the necessities that you desperately need. 

Taking your time (since you paid for it) you get yourself ready, making sure your mask, gloves and (stolen) wallet are secured inside the hoodie’s pockets. Suite nice and tucked underneath the turtleneck and leggings. First order of business is shoes. Maybe that should have been your first mission yesterday- oops. 

You definitely should have followed the young spiderlings example and fight crime with shoes. Well if you ever meet them again, you will…

When you meet them again. You will. You have to. No matter the cost.

And then your stomach rumbled. “Great! Time for cheap food. Wonder if that knockoff Wack-Donld place is open. 

Oh that’s a nice plan. But you forgot one thing, genius. Where is it? How would you know where it is? You can’t even map it since you also don’t have a phone. 

About to unlock the door, you realized something. It already was unlocked… “Hmm…” Well, it was good that you webbed the door then.

“Fuck.” Leaving the motel keys at the front, you skedaddled your way back into the streets, looking for either a bodega or a shoe store. In order to keep yourself somewhat sane, you start softly humming music you recall Miles shared with you.

After some time of walking around aimlessly (you avoided asking others for directions, gods know gothamites unwritten rule is to mind your fucking business), you found a thrift store.

Guess what you realized while browsing for shoes. If you buy and fight crime with shoes, and (as of right now) are your only pair, you will get found out. So crocs it is!

Black ones, because white gets dirty too damn easily.

Finding your size and other clothing necessities, face-mask, a backpack and a portable sewing kit, you were good to go and all for a cheap price! God you love thrift stores. You used to go to as many and as often as you could with Peter. Ya had a bad spending habit and Peter certainly never discouraged you. He was your terrible financial buddy.

Not now! You can’t reminisce right now, not until you found a way home. Asking the cashier for directions while also subtly declining their phone number (your excuse is that your phone got stolen) you made it to a corner store. Hurray!

Making sure to stock up on snacks, since- let’s be real, this will be your food source for a while, (no income, remember, silly) you stand in line to pay before your spider sense goes off.

Behind you. There’s a man, hoodie on, looking down, covering their face, hands buried inside their pockets. You’re betting it’s either a gun or a knife. 

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot.” Oh, it’s a gun. How original.

The cashier seemed to clock in to what is occurring and subtly reaches under his counter. Not subtle enough because the man behind you yelled, pulling out his gun and pointing at the back of your head.

What the fuck spider luck.

You quickly assess your surroundings, making note that there is only one exit, two normal people not including you but including the gunman, and the room feels tight and too small to do anything.

Conclusion? You’re fucked. 

“I said don’t move, hands up! Give me the money, all of it!” From the corner of your eyes you can see just how fidgety this man was. Probably trigger happy if you do something stupid.

“He-hey man, I don’t got much in here.” The cashier had his hands in the air, trembling and freaking out. 

“I don’t care, give me the money! Yours too, bitch. Now!”

How rude. “Alright, I’m going to get my wallet. Don’t shoot.” You made slow movements of reaching into your pocket for the wallet.

“Hurry up! Both of you!” The thug yelled impatiently. You could practically feel how sweaty and anxious this guy is.

You watched the employee open up the cashier and take the money out. The assailant motioned for you to place your wallet on the counter, which you do and step to the side, getting out of his way. Just as he goes to grab the money you quickly grab the wrist with the gun and twist it, making sure he dropped it before smashing his head onto said counter, money flying everywhere. 

Both you and the cashier watched the assailant fall to the ground, nose bleeding and out cold. “Um,” The cashier looked at you, spooked. “I panicked.”

Hey look at that, no shots fired baby! Ya still got it! You are a pro-fess-io-nal~!

“Hey man, no-um no sweat. You saved me.” He replies with a tremble in his voice.

“Cool, cool, I also didn’t want to get shot. How much for my stuff?” You asked, picking up the money on the floor, handing it back while placing your snacks on the counter..

“What stuff? I see nothing. Just go. I already called the cops.” Oh, so he wasn’t reaching for a gun (corner stores usually have one under the counters) but a buzzer or something? Nice, cool, great.

“Thanks buddy!” Hey man, free food is a blessing. Picking up your wallet and bag of snacks, you step over the knocked out guy, (pick pocketing any cash he had on him,) picking up the gun with your sweater sleeve and placing it at the counter. “Here, for the cops.”

“Thanks so much, again for everything. Hey, can I get a name? For the next time you come and…buy stuff.” He shot his shot.

“I appreciate it man, but I don’t give out my name like that. You know?”

And he missed.

“Ye-yeah…” He looked like a kicked puppy.

Just as you stepped out you heard the sound of a motorcycle nearby and your senses went off again.

“Stop right there, not another step.” A third party voice joins the fray.

What the fuck, spider luck?!

Instantly you recognize the vigilante in front of you but regardless you are not taking any chances today. 

Taking a step back inside the store, making sure to close the door on the guy. “Um, hey not to alarm you or anything but there is a guy with a mask standing outside.” Bringing your hands up (again) you back away from the entrance, snack bag swinging around with your movements. 

The employee nods pulled out the pistol from the counter (what the fuck, why would you grab that with your fingers my dude?) and aimed.

Well at least he doesn’t hold grudges for being rejected.

The door swung open and there stood a masked vigilante, but a familiar bat symbol on his chest caught the employee’s attention.

“Oh thank god it’s not another one.” Putting the pistol again he sighed in relief.

“Ah!” The yellow vigilante turned his focus onto you, (who backed up so much you tripped over the k.o.ed dude, fucking embarrassing) hands still in the air and snacks littering the floor.

Some professional you are. Fuck you spider luck.

“I didn’t steal anything, I swear.” God, you're embarrassed and stressed.

The vigilante ponders for a few seconds, taking in the scenario, glancing at the employee who nods and turns his attention back. “Sorry about that. Here.” He extends a hand out towards you and to not be suspicious you hesitantly take it, your body tenses on instinct, pulling away immediately.

“Thank you.” you mumbled silently cringing at your embarrassment over spilled snacks.

“What happened?” He still faced you but you knew that question was for the other party member. And even if it was for you, you’re silent.

“That dude tried to rob us and they knocked him out. Oh,” The cashier looked at his hands. “This is his.” And placed the pistol on the counter.

This looks like the perfect time to poof away so you do. Right after you pick up your snacks. Signal sees this and silently aids you. “You both aren’t hurt, right? Need medical assistance?”

No you fucking don’t.

Holding out the bag as Signal placed the last snack in you as you shook your head. “I’m a-okay. Thank you though.” And you walk out for the second time. You could still feel his eyes on you until the door closes.

And guess who shows up.

The men in blue.

“Hold it right there.” Bro, you just want to be left alone, is that so much to ask? This time instead of bringing your hands up (for a third time), you instead clutch your bag to your chest, mask down and point inside, making sure your voice matches your facial expression.

“In there, he stopped him there.” meek, timid, nervous.

It seems to have worked as the pair of policemen entered the store and you didn’t think twice and booked it (in a non suspicious manner- if you run, they might chase). Passing by a yellow motorcycle you take a glance back and see the vigilante stepping outside the store, looking somewhat bothered in the presence of the authorities. 

Sucks to suck, bud, you know that feeling very well, not your problem anymore.

As if feeling your eyes on him he turns his face towards you, your eyes meeting a mask. Oh fuck! You felt your hair stand up. Holding his gaze for a few seconds before turning away (any other abrupt movement would definitely make you look suspicious) you continue on your way.

Forcing yourself to not tense up and fight the urge to shiver at his cold gaze you round the corner and you feel somewhat safer again. But it’s a false sense of security, because you know you’re slowly losing your mind.

Hopefully you won’t run into him or any of the other bats.

-

Duke Thomas was patrolling his territory, the Narrows, when he got a notification.

“Signal, there’s a robbing occurring five blocks from your location. The corner store Convenience. Know it?” Oracle’s voice spoke through the comms.

“I know my way. I’m checking it out now.”

“Checking the cameras- there are only three people inside. The assailant, a civilian, and an employee.”

“Got it-”

“Oh wait. Huh, well look at that.” Disbelief could be heard through the comms.

“What is it?” Did things escalate too fast?

“The civi knocked the guy out. Basically one move.” Color Oracle impressed.

“I’m here, anything else I should know about?”

“I’m scanning what I can see of their face, but I’m coming up blank. I’ll let you know if anything.”

Duke didn’t reply, instead as he pulled up he saw someone coming out of the store. “Stop right there, not another step.”

He watched the figure (gender unidentifiable with the oversized hoodie) freeze before making eye contact with him-er his visor. Despite the hood being down, he could not see their face completely with their mask, only their eyes and hair. Just a normal civilian, who apparently knocked out a guy with a gun.

Then silence and no movement.

Until the civilian backed away, closing the store door.

Stunned for a moment, Duke could hear Oracles snort through the comms. “Think they’re scared?”

“From what, me? They took down a guy with a guy and I scared them?” 

“Careful, gun pointed straight at you inside.” warned Oracle.

He moves towards the front door, pushing it open to see the civilian from earlier backing away still, hands up before turning his attention to the employee with a gun. “Oh thank god it’s not another one.”

“Ah!” A yelp caught his attention and it seems the civi tripped on the knocked out guy he just noticed. They immediately spoke, catching his eyes,“I didn’t steal anything, I swear.” 

Duke holds in a snort before glancing at the employee who nods in confirmation before he focuses on the fallen person. He calmly walks towards them, taking note of their discomfort and reaches his hand out. “Sorry about that. Here.” 

Despite his covered eyes somewhat obscuring his vision, he couldn’t will them away from this stranger’s visible face. 

Duke watched their hesitation but placed their hands in his, and he swore he felt a spark that sent shivers down his spine. How curious. He pulled them up, noting just how light they felt in his hold.

“Thank you.” Their voice was soft, but audible.

They quickly pulled their hand away, the warmth gone. His hand held its place for a couple of seconds before he let it fall to his side. “What happened?” He still faced the civilian, both unmoving. He already knew what occurred, Oracle told him everything, but he wanted to hear them talk more.

Only the employee replied. He took note of their lack of eye contact. 

“That dude tried to rob us and they knocked him out. Oh,” Duke glanced as the cashier placed the gun on the counter. He’ll leave that for the cops to pick up if they don’t get here before he leaves. “This is his.”

His attention is once again stolen as the civilian in front of him kneels to pick up their half empty bag. Standing above them, he notes the tips of their ears are red, how cute.

“You good there, romeo? You kinda have a staring problem.” Oracle’s voice snapped him out of his trance.

Duke cleared his mind (he hoped he didn’t look weird or creepy, yikes) before leaning down as well and helped pick up the tossed chip bags.

Though he did take his time, just to squeeze a bit more time with this civilian that he has yet to identify. “You both aren’t hurt, right? Need medical assistance?” He mostly directed this question to them than the cashier behind him. He wonders if Oracle figured out this civilian's name. 

Placing the last snack inside the plastic bag he watches them straighten up before shaking their head. “I’m a-okay. Thank you though.” His eyes couldn’t seem to leave their figure as he watched them walk out the door.

“Cops outside, Signal.” Oracle once again breaks his attention. 

“Got it.” Duke turns his attention to the guy on the floor, sitting him up as two officers enter the store. One takes the guy off his hands while the other questions the employee, taking the gun.

A slight restless feeling took over him and he made his way outside, the one carrying the passed out guy following. Duke quickly takes notice of eyes watching him and he turns to see the complete unmasked civilian from earlier. 

This time, he really felt like he had a staring problem. He drinks up their appearance like water. Their nose, lips, face shape, everything. He didn’t know how to explain it, but he really couldn’t look away this time. Everything around him suddenly felt silent. He felt his body shiver.

Such a pretty face, this civilian caught his breath regardless. He’s not one to lose himself by a pretty face but it seems this one was an exception. He felt mesmerized, entranced, and tongue-tied. Something about this person had a strong lock on him, and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat excited then put off. It felt like a very tight leash, and he doesn’t mind one bit.

Three seconds. Ever since he caught their gaze, they made eye-contact (despite him wearing a mask) before she looked away and left, turning the corner. (Their features look pretty feminine so he’s going with her). 

“Anything Oracle?” He mumbled, still a bit lost.

“No dice. How strange…”

Bummer. He mounts his ride and drives off to finish the rest of his patrol. He’s tempted to drive in the direction the civilian went to, but he wills himself to not do that. God it’s like he’s down bad. Really bad.

Hopefully he gets to see you soon, it seems you’re staying in the Narrows which increases his chances to see you. As much as he curses himself internally, he hopes he can save you next time something dangerous happens again.

Something formed in the pit of his stomach, and he doesn’t know if it’s desire or obsession.

Regardless, he embraces this feeling whole heartedly.

Prev; Next;

I struggled really hard, like REALLY hard. Duke is new to me (i only learned of him because of the webtoon) Now I'm reading issues he has been in and I don't know his character well but there is a SEVERE lack of Duke fics and I made it everyone's problem. So now he's down bad.

Updates are random and spars, no update schedule and don't plan to make one. This is my hobby not my obligation.

[junosmindpalace]

can you make a scenario where saiki accidentally makes his s/o cry so now he literally panicking trying to calm her down? and then out of guilt for the next few weeks he doing all these sweet things for her?

lots of fluff please!

hi there! thank you for your request!

Last week, Saiki was caught up in an incident.

There was just a lot going through his mind, alright? His parents were on his case about errands--particularly his father, exhausting his powers for his own needs--and his friends kept finding ways to drag him along in their endeavors, and he was worn out; both physically and mentally. 

The second he thinks he gets a mental break to himself to recover, you come along and try to make conversation with that irritatingly cheerful voice he’s been having to listen to as people tear him from limb to limb trying to get him to do this and that for them.

So he accidentally comes off a little harsh when he tells you with a murderous glare to just leave him alone. 

And you know Saiki, and Saiki knows you. You know the stress he’s often under, and he knows you just want to spend some time with him. Neither of you have a problem with either of these things usually, but today, it was just a jumble of emotions and some miscommunication that made it all fall apart. 

You try to understand, and you do! But even still, you couldn’t help feeling bad for upsetting him, and are unable to prevent the stray tears that pricked at your eyes from rolling down your cheeks. You immediately wipe them away with the palm of your hand and give him an apologetic smile, but Saiki immediately panics. 

He panics a little simply recalling the incident, even a week later when you’ve practically forgotten all about your crying and getting your feelings hurt. Still, Saiki feels bad, and ever since the incident occurred, he’s been trying to dull the guilt and sense of obligation to compensate for his actions in his heart. 

But though it doesn't seem like he's doing anything unique to an outsider who may not know him very well, you can tell the small shift in his attitude toward you in the weeks following the incident.

Seeing you splayed out in distress over a desk is a sight Saiki has become accustomed to with all the time you spend studying together. Typically, a couple of "motivating" words from him telling you to just pull yourself together and break down the material is enough to get you to begrudgingly pull yourself up and work. As of late, however, he'll tells you to stop moaning about your work when it gets too difficult to understand or you’re too tired to comprehend any of the material, and to just copy off him. He words it in a way that makes it seem that it's to his benefit, but usually Saiki wasn’t the type to lend you his work, believing that you should put in effort yourself, even when you’re whining about it. 

He sacrifices life and limb to help you with your daily tasks. Mundane things he knows you can handle yourself, but now his absolute first instinct is to immediately look for ways he can help you, even if he rolls his eyes and reprimands you at first. Lost something of yours? He’s using clairvoyance to track it down. Forgot something at a certain place when you go out? He’s fighting off traffic, interrogations from his friends, and all the other absurd obstacles he often finds interfering in his everyday life just so he can bring it back to you without raising suspicions of his powers. 

And if all those things weren’t obvious enough he’s been trying to atone, he buys you sweets. All of your favorites over the past couple of weeks, paid in full by him whenever the two of you order or stop by a bakery or restaurant. Maybe one found on your desk throughout the school day. He even shares with you his own if you ask or eye them longingly. 

All of these seemingly menial acts leave you a little suspicious, especially since it had been days since the event happened, and it hadn't taken much time for you to come around from the incident and continue being yourself. You expected that his offer to listen to your rant would be the extent of his atonement. Could he really still be stuck on it?

Your speculation is pretty much confirmed that these things were all attempts at making up for his poor behavior when he finds him yet again in a similar situation, exhausted and frustrated thanks to all the nuisances in his life. And then you come skipping along happily, greeting him with news of your day. His brows furrow, his eye twitches, and he’s about to open his mouth. And then he meets your gaze and he pauses. Takes a second. Remembers what happened last time, can see a flash of that pained face you made. 

You give him a look of confusion as you observe his expression. At that point, he can only sigh and slump back. 

"Saiki?”

"Let’s just go home and talk.”

You might catch onto his drained attitude, and offer to take him to one of his favorite dessert places as a treat to refresh and an apology for not recognizing his burden sooner. He’s immediately brightened by this, of course, and you end off with a win-win situation, with Saiki being able to wind down with some treats, and you being able to spill about your day sitting across from him.

[teaboot]

While I'm happy that the word "gaslighting" is more known than it used to be, and that people at large are learning to recognize what it looks like, I feel like we need to be careful not to turn it into something soft and casual we throw around off the cuff without meaning.

Being gaslit is psychological abuse that fucks you up very badly, very slowly, at such a gradual pace that you don't usually know it's happening until it's already re-wired your brain.

If you're unfamiliar with the term, "to gaslight" is to intentionally persuade someone that they cannot trust their own perceptions of reality. It's a destabilizing form of manipulation that leaves you constantly anxious, off-balanced, confused, and dependant on others.

This is done by lying about events that have happened or about things that are happening, invalidating feelings and observations, and either denying, refusing to acknowledge, or deflecting away from hard facts.

As someone who has experienced gaslighting as a form of abuse, this is what I remember from when I didn't know anything was off:

"Oh, I must have forgotten what really happened."

"I'm just not seeing it from their point of view."

"Everyone has their ups and downs. This is normal."

"I guess I wasn't thinking about what I was doing."

"I must have been wrong."

This is what I remember from when I first started realizing something was weird:

"How come every time I'm convinced they did something wrong, they just talk to me a few minutes, and I end up asking for their forgiveness? What has me so convinced I was right in the first moment?"

"I should start writing things down when they happen, so I can go back and check later when I'm confused."

"If every relationship like ours (familial, romantic, platonic) works this way, how come I never hear about it, or read about it, or see it anywhere else?"

Getting out and adjusting to the real world is hard, too, and comes with rapid swings of unfounded guilt, shame, fear, anxiety, and self-deprication that are completely unfounded in reality.

You've been conditioned to believe that you are entirely helpless and unable to think for yourself, possibly "crazy" or otherwise fundamentally impaired, and that there is a singular source of guidance that knows exactly what is right, and all of a sudden that pillar of support has vanished.

The immediate "after" that I recall looks like:

Constant uncertainty. Because nobody is there to tell you what's real and what isn't, you approach every situation thinking at it from all angles. Every question has fifty possible answers and most of them are wrong and you don't know which. If you choose wrong, the world will end.

A sense of helplessness. You feel that nothing you do is correct, and it's easier to make no choices at all- or you make wild, reckless, impulsive choices, because you feel you have nothing to lose.

Memory loss. I don't understand this one, but it's not like memoriescare being erased, but more like... you're so used to treating your memories as dreams or imaginations that you reflexively dismiss anything you recall as fake, and you can't believe anything you recall because you don't think it was real. Your abusers voice is in your head, wiping things away and telling you that you did the wrong thing. And you believe them, because they're the only constant you can rely on.

Missing the abuser, or the abusive dynamic. Because you know now that it wasn't healthy, but at least you knew where you stood. As long as you said the right things and acted the right way, agreed and obeyed and did as they expected, you felt like thevworld made sense. Now you have to figure out which parts of you really are broken, and which parts are working fine in a really weird way, and it's like tuning a piano when you've never played one before.

The long term "after"- for which I can only speak for myself- looks like:

Having to double-check, triple-check, and continue checking hard evidence of an event before responding in an active way.

Consulting with trusted friends to verify that your observations are legitimate and that your perceptions are valid. Following up with them to see if someone is really angry at you, or if you're just projecting anger onto them because it's what makes sense to your old pattern.

Obsessive collection of "evidence"- saving pictures, writing detailed journals, making recordings and video, never deleting emails or old texts, because you still don't quite trust yourself all the way and you're afraid that someone will cause you to doubt yourself again.

Continued self-doubt and being "gullible": I have straight up seen people flip me off to my face in front of witnesses and then immediately tell me, "No, I was just waving", and my first instinct is to believe them. For a few seconds, I *really do* believe them. Your brain is so trained to latch onto what people tell you to believe that its really, really hard to hold onto information that you already have.

Learning to take ownership over your own actions. (I didn't mess up because I'm "crazy", I messed up because I'm a person and people do that.)

Instinctively seeking approval. (Takes a lot of work to remind myself that I don't exit to make people happy, and that some people suck ass, and I can tell them to piss off.)

I don't intend to invalidate anyone currently struggling with this- if you feel that something is wrong, it probably is. That's the thought that got me out. Trust that feeling that something isn't right.

I just want people who don't know what to look for to know what gaslighting *actually* looks and feels like, so they don't just roll their eyes and think, "Oh, that word doesnt apply to me- I'm not some snowflake".

('Cause we all saw what happened with "triggered", right?)

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

This is my first time requesting a fic so I hope I'm doing it right! I have this cute idea for a hazbin hotel fic that could honestly go for anyone!(Id prefer Lucifer, alastor or vox tho!)

Something where the reader's sin was killing a goldfish, hamster or something small as a small child without knowing any better and that's why they are sent to hell. It takes forever for the reader to remember that it happened and realize that's the only thing they could be in hell for and brings back a bunch of guilt. Whoever it's with is like- really pissed at heaven for counting that as a sin because the reader is literally the sweetest person anyone knows and was just a kid and either comforts them or tries to do something about it??

A/N: I loved this so I decided to write this for all three of them!! I just loved this so much so I felt like it needed all of them if that makes sense. I hope you enjoy and I loved this concept so thank you so much for your request!! happy reading!!

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!

Alastor aka RADIO DEMON

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut—an old memory, long buried and forgotten, resurfacing with a sharp pang of guilt. You had been in Hell for what felt like an eternity, surrounded by the damned and the wicked, but you had never been able to recall what sin had condemned you to this place. You weren’t like the others. You didn’t have a trail of victims or a past stained with blood. You were kind, gentle, always trying to do right by others. And yet, here you were, trapped in this eternal torment.

The memory came back slowly, piece by piece, until it all fell into place. You had been so young, just a child, maybe four or five years old. The goldfish had been a gift from your parents, a small, delicate thing that had fascinated you. You’d watched it swim in its little bowl, entranced by its shimmering scales and the way it moved through the water with such grace.

But you were a child, curious and clumsy, and you didn’t understand the fragility of life. You remembered reaching into the bowl, wanting to hold the fish, to feel its smooth scales against your skin. But when you pulled it out of the water, it had flopped in your hands, struggling for breath. You didn’t understand what was happening, didn’t realize that you were hurting it. By the time you’d put it back in the water, it was too late. The fish had floated to the surface, still and lifeless.

You’d cried, of course, but you hadn’t understood the gravity of what you’d done. You were just a child. But now, as you stood in the depths of Hell, that memory filled you with a crushing guilt. Was that it? Was that the reason you had been sent here? For something so small, so innocent, done out of ignorance and childish curiosity?

As the weight of the memory settled on you, you felt a presence behind you. The air grew thick with a sense of unease, and you knew without turning around that Alastor, the Radio Demon, was there. He had taken an interest in you from the moment you arrived in Hell, though you could never quite figure out why. Maybe it was your innocence, your kindness, that intrigued him—qualities so rare in this place.

“Ah, my dear,” Alastor’s voice purred, smooth and dripping with a dark amusement. “What is it that troubles you? You look positively distraught.”

You turned to face him, your eyes wide and filled with a deep sorrow. “I remember… I remember why I’m here,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, his smile never faltering but his crimson eyes narrowing slightly with curiosity. “Oh? And what, pray tell, is this dreadful sin that has condemned such a sweet, innocent soul to Hell?”

You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. It seemed so ridiculous, so absurd now that you were about to say it out loud. But the guilt gnawed at you, and you couldn’t keep it in any longer. “When I was a child… I… I killed a goldfish,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t understand. But it died because of me.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Alastor let out a soft, almost incredulous laugh. It wasn’t the cruel, mocking laugh you had expected, but something tinged with disbelief and anger—not at you, but at the situation.

“Is that it?” he asked, his tone sharp and incredulous. “That’s why you’re here? Because of some childhood mistake? A simple, innocent act of curiosity?”

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know… but that’s the only thing I can think of. That has to be it.”

Alastor’s expression darkened, his usually jovial demeanor replaced by a cold, simmering anger. “Heaven,” he spat, the word laced with venom. “What hypocrites. To send a child to Hell for something so trivial, so insignificant, is beyond cruel. It’s unjust.”

You looked at him, surprised by the intensity of his reaction. “But… but it was still wrong,” you said softly, the guilt still gnawing at you. “I took a life, even if it was just a goldfish. Maybe I deserve to be here.”

Alastor shook his head, his eyes flashing with a dangerous light. “No, my dear, you do not deserve this. You were just a child, and children are not held accountable for their innocent mistakes. You were condemned unfairly, and it infuriates me to see someone as pure as you suffer because of it.”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently tilt your chin up so that you were looking into his eyes. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice low and firm. “You are not like the others here. You do not belong in this wretched place. If I could, I would march up to Heaven myself and demand that they right this wrong, that they acknowledge the cruelty of their judgment.”

You stared at him, shocked by the passion in his voice, the anger in his eyes. You had always seen Alastor as a being of pure malice, a demon who took pleasure in the suffering of others. But now, in this moment, he was different. He was angry for you, on your behalf, and it stirred something deep within you.

“Alastor…” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He sighed, his expression softening slightly as he looked at you. “But alas, there is little I can do to change your fate. The rules of Heaven and Hell are not easily bent, even by one as powerful as I. However,” he added, his voice taking on a softer, almost tender tone, “I can offer you something else. Comfort, companionship… protection. You may be in Hell, my dear, but I will not allow you to suffer alone.”

The offer took you by surprise, and you found yourself staring up at him, unsure of what to say. Alastor, the Radio Demon, offering comfort and companionship? It seemed almost too surreal to believe. And yet, there was something in his eyes, something genuine that made you believe he meant every word.

You nodded slowly, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

Alastor smiled, a smile that was still tinged with that ever-present darkness, but also with something warmer, something almost… kind. “You don’t need to say anything, my dear. Just know that you are not alone. Not anymore.”

With that, he pulled you into an embrace, his arms surprisingly gentle as they wrapped around you. You leaned into him, the weight of your guilt and sorrow easing just a little as you allowed yourself to be comforted. It wasn’t much, but it was enough—for now. And maybe, just maybe, with Alastor by your side, you could find a way to live with the past and the unjust fate that had brought you here.

Vox aka HEAD OF VOX TECH

You had never really understood why you were condemned to Hell. Unlike the many souls writhing in the pit, you didn’t have a string of atrocities trailing behind you. You didn’t murder, cheat, or betray. In fact, in your mortal life, you were known for being kind, caring, and overly cautious. And yet, here you were, suffering in Hell without a clue as to what had brought you here.

At first, you tried to remember, to piece together what might have happened, but every time you searched your memories, you came up empty. The only thing that ever came to mind was a stupid, childish incident—one that surely couldn’t be the reason for your damnation.

You’d been about eight years old, with a love for all things small and furry. That’s when you got your first pet, a little hamster you named Buttons. You adored Buttons, carrying him around in your hands, giving him treats, and petting his soft fur. But one day, while playing, you squeezed him a little too hard. You hadn’t meant to. You were just a child, after all, but that didn’t change what happened. Buttons stopped moving, his little body going limp in your hands. You cried for hours, not understanding what you had done, only knowing that your beloved pet was gone and that you were to blame.

You’d buried the memory, convincing yourself it was just a mistake, a tragic accident that any child might have made. But here, in Hell, it was the only thing you could think of. Could that really be it? Could you really have been damned for something so small, so innocent?

It was a thought that haunted you, gnawed at your insides until you couldn’t take it anymore. You found yourself wandering through the dark, twisted corridors of Hell, your mind lost in a storm of guilt and confusion. That’s when you felt it—eyes on you, watching, observing. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Vox had taken an interest in you almost immediately after your arrival in Hell. It wasn’t unusual for him to be intrigued by someone new, but there was something about you that kept pulling him back. You were different from the others—gentle, kind, and most of all, innocent. That kind of innocence was a rare commodity in Hell, and Vox was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

“Lost in thought again, aren’t we?” Vox’s voice crackled through the air, distorted slightly by the static that always seemed to surround him.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of his voice. It wasn’t that you were afraid of him, exactly, but Vox was intimidating in a way that words couldn’t quite capture. He was larger than life, a presence that seemed to fill the room, even when he wasn’t physically there.

“I…” you started, your voice trembling slightly as you turned to face him. “I just can’t stop thinking about it. About why I’m here. I can’t remember doing anything that would deserve… this.”

Vox’s neon-lit face twisted into a smirk, though there was something darker lurking behind his glowing eyes. He tilted his head, his massive form leaning casually against a nearby wall as he continued to watch you. “You’re in Hell, darling. Everyone’s here for a reason.”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing as you tried to find the words to explain. “But that’s just it. I don’t have a reason. At least, not one that makes sense. The only thing I can think of… it’s ridiculous.”

Vox’s eyes narrowed slightly, his curiosity piqued. “Oh? Do tell. I’m all ears.”

You hesitated, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you forced yourself to speak. “When I was a kid… I had a hamster. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I squeezed him too hard, and… and he died.” Your voice cracked as the memory resurfaced, filling you with a wave of guilt and shame. “That’s the only thing I can think of. I was just a kid, but what if that’s why I’m here? What if that’s what sent me to Hell?”

For a moment, Vox was silent, his glowing eyes fixed on you as if he were trying to process what you’d just said. Then, he let out a harsh, distorted laugh, his voice crackling with a mix of amusement and anger. “That’s it? That’s what you think got you sent to Hell? A childhood mistake? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You flinched at his laughter, feeling small and foolish under his gaze. “I know it sounds stupid,” you mumbled, looking down at the ground. “But I can’t think of anything else. Maybe Heaven saw it as some kind of cruelty or—”

“Bullshit,” Vox cut you off, his voice sharp and electric. He pushed off the wall, striding over to you with an intensity that made your heart race. “That’s not cruelty. That’s a mistake. A kid not knowing any better. If that’s really why you’re here, then Heaven is more fucked up than I thought.”

You looked up at him, surprise flickering in your eyes. You’d never heard him speak like this before—so angry, so protective. “But… what if that’s all it takes?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “What if that’s enough to damn someone?”

Vox’s eyes blazed with a fierce light, his hand reaching out to grab your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Listen to me, sweetheart,” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “You don’t belong here. You’re not like the rest of these damned souls. You’re… different. Innocent. And if some bullshit technicality is what sent you here, then Heaven’s got a lot to answer for.”

You stared up at him, your heart pounding in your chest as his words sank in. He was right—deep down, you knew he was right. You didn’t belong in Hell. But the guilt, the overwhelming sense of responsibility for that long-ago mistake, was hard to shake.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I can’t change the past, and I can’t go back. I’m stuck here, no matter what.”

Vox’s grip on your chin softened, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “Maybe you can’t go back, but that doesn’t mean you have to suffer for it. You’re in Hell, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to be miserable. You’ve got me, don’t you?” His voice dropped to a lower, almost seductive tone as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ll take care of you, sweetheart. I’ll make sure this place doesn’t break you.”

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, his proximity making your head spin. Despite the fearsome reputation he had, there was something about the way he spoke, the way he looked at you, that made you feel… safe. Like he really meant it when he said he would protect you.

“But what about Heaven?” you asked, your voice small and unsure. “What if they’re watching? What if they… try to punish me again?”

Vox’s eyes flashed with anger, his grip on you tightening slightly. “Let them try,” he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. “I’d like to see them come down here and explain themselves. If Heaven wants to play dirty, they’ll have to go through me first.”

You stared at him, stunned by the intensity of his words. No one had ever stood up for you like this before, especially not against something as powerful as Heaven itself. It was overwhelming, and yet… comforting. Maybe you couldn’t change the past, but with Vox by your side, maybe you could find a way to live with it.

Slowly, you nodded, a small, tentative smile forming on your lips. “Thank you, Vox. I… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Vox’s expression softened, his hand moving to cup your cheek as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead in a surprisingly tender gesture. “You don’t have to worry about that, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now.”

As you closed your eyes, leaning into his touch, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. The guilt was still there, but it was tempered by the knowledge that you weren’t alone. Vox was with you, and he was determined to protect you, no matter what. Maybe Hell wasn’t where you belonged, but as long as you had him by your side, you knew you’d find a way to make it through.

Lucifer aka THE KING OF HELL

You sat in Lucifer’s grand office, your fingers anxiously twisting in your lap as your thoughts swirled in confusion. You had been in Hell for a while now, and yet the reason for your damnation still eluded you. It was maddening, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t pinpoint the sin that had condemned you to this fiery realm.

Lucifer watched you closely from behind his lavish desk, his sharp eyes catching every slight movement you made. He had always found you to be an enigma—so sweet, so innocent, and yet, here you were in the depths of Hell. It didn’t make sense, and that bothered him more than he cared to admit.

“Love,” Lucifer’s voice was smooth, like silk brushing against your skin, “I can practically hear the gears turning in that pretty head of yours. What troubles you so?”

You glanced up at him, your eyes reflecting the turmoil within. “I just don’t understand, Lucifer. I’ve been thinking and thinking, and I still can’t figure out what I did to end up here. It’s like… it doesn’t add up.”

Lucifer leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he studied you. “Not all sins are remembered easily,” he mused, his tone contemplative. “Some are buried deep within, forgotten or dismissed, but still weighed heavily by those who pass judgment.”

“But that’s just it,” you insisted, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve searched through every memory, every mistake, and nothing seems big enough, bad enough, to have damned me. I was never… evil. At least, I don’t think I was.”

A slight frown tugged at Lucifer’s lips, a rare expression of displeasure crossing his usually calm demeanor. “Tell me, my love, what are the memories that you have found? The ones you believe to be insignificant?”

You hesitated, biting your lip as you gathered the courage to speak. “There’s this one thing… I was just a kid. I didn’t know any better. I had a best friend, and we were inseparable. But one day, I got jealous—stupid, childish jealousy—and I told a lie that got them in trouble. They were punished for something they didn’t do, and I never confessed. I was too scared.”

Lucifer’s gaze softened slightly as he listened, though his eyes gleamed with something darker—resentment, perhaps, but not directed at you. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he fixed you with an intense stare. “And you believe that is the reason you’re here? A child’s lie?”

You nodded slowly, your heart heavy with guilt. “I know it doesn’t seem like much, but… what if that’s it? What if that’s the one thing that damned me?”

A low chuckle escaped Lucifer, his voice rich with amusement, though there was an underlying edge to it. “My love, if Heaven condemns souls to Hell for such trivialities, then they are more twisted than even I had thought.” His smile turned cold, a bitterness seeping into his tone. “It seems they are as quick to punish as they are to pretend their hands are clean.”

You looked at him, confusion and a flicker of hope warring within you. “But… what if they’re right? What if that lie was enough?”

Lucifer stood, his presence towering over you as he moved around the desk to stand by your side. He reached out, gently lifting your chin so that you were forced to look up at him. His touch was surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the power and authority he radiated.

“They are not right,” he said firmly, his eyes boring into yours. “You were a child. A child who made a mistake. That is not evil, nor is it worthy of damnation. You do not belong here for something so minor, so human.”

His words washed over you like a balm, easing the knot of anxiety that had taken root in your chest. “Then why am I here?” you whispered, your voice filled with desperation. “What could I have done?”

Lucifer’s expression softened, and he let out a sigh, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “The truth, my love, is that sometimes the reasons for being here are not fair. Sometimes, they are born of Heaven’s need to appear just, even when they are far from it. You may be here because of a mistake, but that does not mean you deserve to suffer.”

You leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his words, even as they stirred a deep sadness within you. “It doesn’t feel fair,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel like I’ve been punished for something I didn’t even understand.”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed with anger, though it was clear his ire was not directed at you. “It is not fair,” he agreed, his tone laced with resentment. “Heaven is quick to cast out those who do not fit their mold, regardless of whether they deserve it. They hide behind their righteousness, but in truth, they are no less flawed than the souls they condemn.”

You looked up at him, your heart aching at the pain and anger in his voice. “You… you sound like you’ve experienced this before. Like you’ve seen how unfair it can be.”

Lucifer’s gaze darkened, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “I have seen it many times, love. More than you can imagine. Heaven is not the paradise they would have you believe. It is a place of judgment, of exclusion, and for those who do not conform, it is a place of damnation.”

He paused, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “But you do not have to face this alone. You have me, and I will ensure that Hell is not the torment they intended for you. You will find peace here, with me.”

Your breath hitched as his words sunk in, the weight of your situation lightening just a little under his promise. “Thank you, Lucifer,” you murmured, your voice trembling with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Lucifer’s expression softened further, and for a moment, the cold, calculating ruler of Hell was replaced by someone almost… human. “You will never have to find out,” he whispered, his voice tender as he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing gently against yours.

The kiss was soft, almost hesitant, as if he were afraid of breaking you with the intensity of his emotions. But there was a warmth there, a reassurance that you weren’t alone, that you were safe with him. As he pulled back, his eyes met yours, and you could see the depth of his feelings—his resentment toward Heaven, his protectiveness over you, and something else, something deeper that he kept hidden behind his regal facade.

“Rest now, my love,” Lucifer murmured, his hand lingering on your cheek as he straightened up. “You have been through enough. Let me shoulder the burden of your past. You belong here with me, and I will not allow Heaven’s judgment to take you from me.”

You nodded, a sense of calm settling over you as you allowed yourself to trust in his words. For the first time since you arrived in Hell, you felt like you weren’t alone, like you had someone who truly understood the injustice of your situation. And as you looked up at Lucifer, you knew that, despite everything, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[razzle-zazzle]

Ok but what happens next 😭😭😭 how do the show and movie ninja interact I NEED THEIR SHENANIGANS /lh

Okay okay so. basically. the movie ninja are temporarily stuck in showverse, so the show ninja just kind of (slightly awkwardly bc they weren't expecting this AT ALL) take them in for the time being while looking for a way to send them back. we get to see the similarities and differences between the show and movie ninja, we get to see both groups reacting to each others' lore/lives ("you all still go to school? ew" "you all live together like a permanent sleepover? so cool!").

But also. When Ghost possessed Movie Cole. Movie Cole got a whole bunch of Show Cole's memories. They're all jumbled up and discombobulated, though, so for all that M!Cole knows more about his counterpart than any of the other ninja it's usually expressed in Sudden Realizations as the disconnected pieces click into place. Meanwhile, Show Cole kind of has Ghost and Corpse' memories, kind of, and Ghost was pretty much present the entire time he was in movieverse even if he couldn't be seen or heard for most of it (and did have a few episodes where he couldn't see or hear either), so Show Cole also has a weird amount of insight to his counterpart that he doesn't really actively realize he has. This leads to great interactions such as:

S!Cole: i mean, i kind of remember? it's in bits and pieces S!Cole: your history essay was awful btw M!Cole: what would you know, you literally— M!Cole: wait M!Cole: YOU DROPPED OUT OF MARTY OPPENHEIMER'S?! S!Cole: i still know half-assing when i see it! M!Cole: MARTY. OPPENHEIMER'S!!! M!Cole to S!Cole:

and

S!Jay: soooo are those memories making any sense yet? M!Cole: no S!Jay, thinking about the love triangle: oh thank fsm M!Cole: you two fight a lot, huh? S!Cole: i dunno what you're talking about, we're best friends S!Jay, opening the fridge: yep! we're—COLE DID YOU TAKE MY FUCKING PUDDING CUP AGAIN S!Cole: the best of friends 😌😊🌸✨

and

M!Cole, to S!Kai: so what's "human pinata" supposed to be M!Kai: the WHAT S!Kai: ...some things are better left forgotten S!Cole, from across the bounty: HE WAS AN ENTERTAINER AT KIDS PARTIES A FEW YEARS BACK M!Cole: oh M!Kai: oh? OH???? M!Kai:

There's more that I can't recall off the top of my head rn, too. But yeah once the slightly morbid twist is resolved Cleaved gets back to regular crossover shenanigans and impromptu cross-dimensional group therapy. Of course, there's also that fact that M!Cole's indentity was revealed back home, but surely that's not going to cause any problems when they finally figure out how to reliably travel through realms...

right?

[son1c]

listen to your heart

falling stars fic masterpost

Thunder, but not from a storm. Sonic could hear it pulse in his ears, and he realized it was his heart, pounding on his rib cage like a boxer pounding on a punching bag. He was standing up, though he couldn't remember when he'd left the couch. It was at his back now, and Sonic was facing the TV, staring at his reflection in the blank black screen.

What he saw there brought his hammering heart to a standstill.

It was himself. But it was wrong. His fur was too pale, the color faded like a years-old photograph. And his eyes… They stared back at him, their gaze piercing and far too bright.

They really were glowing, like Stripes had said.

Sonic raised a hand to his face, and the stranger in the TV screen copied him.

He thought about his nightmare. But, no, that wasn't right. There was no way it was a nightmare. The thing reeked in a way that only something real could. It must've been a memory--a rotten, no good memory of something that had happened to him during his time at Scrap Brain. But why was he remembering it now? And how had he forgotten it in the first place?

Sonic recalled the enraged face of the red echidna, Knuckles. That was the last thing he'd seen before… waking up on a table back at Scrap Brain. His body was in pieces, his screen crowded with one hundred emergency alerts.

Eggman was looming over him. He wanted to know what had happened on Angel Island, and Sonic, unable to lie while giving his report, told him the truth. And when he was done, he asked Eggman one question: Who am I?

The images he'd been shown by the Master Emerald refused to leave his addled mind. He was fixated on them, because they didn't make any sense. His code was telling him that he'd always been this way, that he'd never been anything but a robot, a vanguard of the Eggman Empire. But his heart said something different, and it was compelling enough to make him doubt everything.

Eggman said he understood. He said he would help. Then, he placed a hand on Sonic's head and told the Robian not to worry, because he would remember who he was shortly, after a factory reset.

In the present, Sonic shuddered. He realized he'd forgotten about Knuckles and his trip to Angel Island because Eggman had made him forget. The realization tasted like ten jugs of curdled milk smashed together, sour and disgusting.

And it made him furious, too.

Furious to think that Eggman used to have so much control over him.

Sonic was once again faced with his reflection in the TV screen. With those eyes that stared back at him with a sickly green intensity. One thing was for sure: they were different now from how they'd been before. They weren't the eyes of a Robian, but weren't the eyes of his old self, either.

Sonic looked away from the TV, but his glowing eyes were seared into his brain, and their afterimage followed him around the room, their impressions burning holes into the back of the door when he turned toward it.

He felt the need to run. It would help clear his mind, or so he hoped. The questions that haunted him now--What have you become? Is your body your own? Are you really free?--were too much for him to bear.

He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to look at himself, to see how much he'd been changed.

Stay cool. That was what he wanted to do. Yeah, he would take this in stride, like he'd done with his broken leg. And he would remain above it--above his pain. Like he'd been after losing his memory (the first time). After being hunted by soldiers, and tricked by Mr. Ivo, and--

Sonic balled his hands into fists, and couldn't help but think his fingers felt stiff. It was the sort of stiffness that he wouldn’t be able to wring out, because it had settled deep beneath his flesh and into his bones. The temperature of his palms was equally disconcerting; the coldness should’ve meant he was dead, his paws seeming more like bits of the Antarctic than a hedgehog Mobian, even though it was warm inside the casino.

He felt like shivering. Instead, he set his jaw.

Stepping toward the door, Sonic got as far as the welcome mat before he felt a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"It's the middle of the night," Shadow said. "Where are you going at this hour?"

Buggy hugged Shadow's leg, looking up at Sonic with its wide, unblinking eyes.

Sonic shrugged, though he wished he wasn’t having this conversation right now. “Can’t say I had someplace in mind,” he said truthfully. “Maybe the Ferris wheel? Doesn’t matter, so long as I get there fast!”

Shadow crossed his arms and glanced at the clock. It was 4-something AM. “The city will wait for you,” Shadow said. “It’s not going anywhere. Just like you should be—don’t sacrifice your sleep for a whim, Blue.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Sonic said as he pulled open the door. “Let’s both go. That way, we can have a little friendly competition. Our last race was stacked in your favor, but this time, I’ll beat you!”

Shadow was incredulous. He could’ve said a lot about Sonic’s lack of care for his own sleep schedule, but what he said instead was, “Beat me? You must be joking. I’ve seen your speed once before, and I can outdo it.”

Buggy rubbed its claws together nervously. Suddenly, there was a current of tension running through the room, and it was felt by even the robot.

Sonic held the door open for Shadow and stepped to the side, gesturing at the hallway with one hand. “I’m a good sport,” Sonic said with a grin, “so I’ll let you have a head start.”

Through the hallway, down the stairs, and out the door to the first floor of the casino. The two hedgehogs blew past Rouge, who was just finishing turning off the lights at the bar, and she spun around like a dreidel from their combined speed. She tried to shout after them, but whatever she said was swallowed up by the sound of the front doors slamming shut.

The bottoms of Shadow's shoes were lit up. Earlier in the night, he'd attached the rings Rouge had given him to his soles, and now he was using their power to skate Heelys-style through the streets of Night Babylon. The pavement was still wet from the rain, but that was it. There were no floodwaters to wade through, only slick corners to turn as the two hedgehogs raced toward the Ferris wheel.

Streetlamps illuminated the empty roads. Parked cars sometimes stood in Sonic and Shadow's way, but they vaulted over them expertly, using the hoods of the vehicles as springboards. They touched down on the other side and kept moving, always neck-and-neck.

Until Sonic suddenly pulled ahead. After spinning around, Sonic taunted Shadow while running backwards. "Not so easy now that we're on equal footing, huh, Stripes?"

Shadow gritted his teeth. After being woken up by Sonic's motobug friend, thinking something was wrong, he couldn't help but be annoyed by the Blue Blur's cocky attitude. But then he saw it--Sonic's carefree grin. And the way his shoulders were relaxed, his hands folded behind his head in a way that reveled in the motion, cherishing the wind at his back.

After all that time spent with a broken leg, was it really a surprise that Sonic was enjoying himself right now?

Shadow smiled. He wasn't annoyed anymore. In fact, he was happy for Sonic.

"You've been looking forward to this moment, haven't you, hedgehog?" Shadow asked.

Sonic blinked. His grin faltered. He stared at Shadow's expression, at the kind smile his friend wore, so slight that it might've been just a trick of the light, but it wasn't. It was real. And it shocked him--for just a moment, before Sonic recovered and his heart soared, a warm feeling taking hold of his chest, so much nicer than those frigid feelings from earlier.

"Yeah," Sonic said, laughing a little, "I have!"

And then Sonic, still running backwards, slipped on a particularly wet patch of pavement, and tumbled into a bush on the other side of the street.

Shadow's eyes widened. He skidded to a stop in front of the bush.

Laying on his back in the twigs and flowers, Sonic rubbed his forehead. The yellow light from the streetlamp made him squint, but he wasn't hurt, just embarrassed. So much for winning the race! he thought with a sigh.

Then, Sonic saw Shadow extend a hand to him, and the blue hedgehog couldn't help but think that maybe winning didn't matter so much.

Taking Shadow's hand, Sonic said as he pulled himself up, "Haha! What a wipeout!"

Just like that, Sonic's good mood had returned, and now all he wanted to do was bask in the feeling, the warmth of Shadow's touch matching that of his own fluttering heart.

"I gotta give it to you, man," Sonic said. "You've got me beat two-to-none!"

"The rain was an unexpected ally," Shadow admitted, his smile a little wider now, "but who am I to deny my own victory?"

Sonic rolled his eyes, but his grin remained intact. "Oh, sure," he said, "rub it in. Better to live it up while you can, right? Cuz pretty soon, I'll stomp ya! Just gotta, uh… keep my eyes on the road next time. Heh."

"If nothing else," Shadow replied, "it will make for a more dignified defeat."

Then, Shadow's eyes fell to his hand--the one that Sonic was still holding. Even though they were both standing now, and there was no need for it anymore.

Sonic followed Shadow’s gaze, saw what he was looking at, and realized he should probably let go. Somehow, the thought hadn’t occurred to him until now. But he hesitated.

Sonic wasn't sure when it had happened exactly, but at some point during their adventures together, he'd become so comfortable around Shadow that it made him not want to let go of his friend's hand.

So, Sonic listened to his heart, and he laced their fingers together.

“Not bad, huh?” Sonic asked.

At first, Shadow had no reply. From his toes to his teeth, he stood, his posture as rigid as a brick wall. The sudden display of affection from Sonic confused him, and the blue hedgehog's question pierced his brain like a bullet. It brought with it a gnarled tree of feelings, feelings he scarcely recognized, and because of this, Shadow was left feeling vulnerable, and he hated that.

But there was one thing that Shadow did recognize: his friend, Sonic.

Haloed by the streetlamp, Sonic looked so confident, so content. Like holding Shadow's hand was everything he was meant to be doing in that moment, and Shadow envied him. The dark hedgehog once again found himself longing for some of Sonic's confidence.

His own sense of self was still so shaky, still second to that of his Android copy, and when Shadow focused on it for too long, it made the ground itself seem to rumble and crack beneath his feet.

And then there was Sonic. Always there to catch him when he started to fall.

Shadow curled his fingers around Sonic's hand. Finally, he relaxed. He felt steady now, here in the middle of the empty street, surrounded by parked cars and sky scrapers and a glowing Ferris wheel. Not even the blossoming emotions hanging from the branches of his heart seemed so scary anymore.

"Yes," Shadow answered softly.

Sonic beamed. Then, he pulled on Shadow's hand, and the two of them ran up the side of the Ferris wheel together.

From the top, Sonic and Shadow could see all of Night Babylon. Palm trees swayed gently in the breeze while hotels stood still, their windows mostly dark. Even this late at night, the casinos remained the center of the action, with people going in and out in a steady stream. Laughter floated up from the streets as people twirled and danced through the city.

With a clear, star-speckled sky, Night Babylon shined, so much richer than it had been on the day of the storm. Sonic and Shadow looked down at it while keeping pace with the Ferris wheel as it continued to spin. Their worries were temporarily forgotten as they watched the purple night change into a pink dawn, the sun poking over the horizon, the moments pressing onward, all while holding onto each other's hand.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I've referenced before how I have a big google document to keep track of every media I've ever seen in my entire life (just for reference because I like to track everything possible lol… I am the Data Collector), but recently as I was updating it, I thought of actually evaluating them to find out random percentages (like for example, out of Total Shows Watched, what percentage did I finish vs. stop watching, what percentage did I like or dislike, etc.)...

Evaluating these things is made easier by the fact that I already place everything on each subsection of the list into 6 broad ranking categories, so I don't have to go back and guess to figure out how I feel about them or anything. The categories are: Ranking 5 - overall best* (despite some criticisms of course because I'm too much of an Analyzer to ever find anything Perfect lol) Ranking 4 - more positive than neutral, but not good enough to be 5 Ranking 3 - either the good + bad negate each other, OR it's just not memorable/interesting in any way enough to be ranked higher or lower (this is the Default category ALL things are placed in if no other rank applies) Ranking 2 - maybe a few redeemable elements but largely more negatives than positives Ranking 1 - So bad that it circles around to being fascinating to observe in some way (not necessarily Funny, or Good, but just interesting somehow) Ranking 0 - Bad in a genuinely frustrating or obnoxious manner

*("best" primarily defined here as most interesting, rather than most good in a technical sense, or some other measure. I tend to value more highly whether there's something novel or thoughtful about the worldbuilding, tone, writing, base premise, etc - than about whether it's actually executed perfectly.)

And here's the amount of shows that have so far been placed into each category -

TV shows ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 20 shows ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 28 shows ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 114 shows ~ Rank 2 (mid low) -33 shows ~ Rank 1 (low low but intriguingly so) - 14 shows ~ Rank 0 (iredeemably low) - 2 shows

This would make for a total of 211 TV shows overall. However, there are 57 shows within these list marked as "didn't finish" (typically meaning I quit on the very first or second episode - but log them still to keep a record that I at least had a brief view of them).

So my total of genuinely fully watched shows would be more 154. 211 Total, but a More Accurate Total of 154.

Counting them all and using the Total Number Of The List (211) -- that means roughly 9.5% of all total shows I have ever watched (or at least attempted to watch) have been Mostly Good, 13% have been Moderately Okay, 54% have been either entirely Forgettable or some mix of good + bad that lands them right in the Neutral Middle, 15.6% have been Mostly Bad, 6.6% have been Bad (but in an interesting way), and 0.9% have been Terribly Bad.

Additionally, I didn't even get past the first two episodes of about 27% of the total.

Sooo, discounting ones I didn't finish, my total TV shows ever watched in my life would be about 154 (maybe give or take a few, assuming I might have forgotten some from very long ago).

But instead of entire life, let's just say this is the total for 'About 20 Years' (so, not counting very early childhood when I likely wouldn't remember things I saw/have no detailed recollection of them (like for example, I'm sure at some point when I was like 4yrs old I must have seen an episode of Spongebob or something, but I have zero distinct memories of it, can't quote anything of it, and barely recall the premise - so I don't count it on the list, etc.)).

In that case, 154 divided by 20 would be roughly 7.7 shows a year.

Which is actually surprisingly low considering that I often have stuff on in the background for hours whilst I make sculptures and do costumes and stuff (maybe I should have also marked some distinction between 'things I fully paid attention to' and 'things I kind of half listened to whilst sculpting', but that would further split the categories too much probably lol), but I guess a lot of that is youtube videos or random documentaries, so .. eh.. maybe I get it being lower.

Now, doing the same thing for movies-

Movies ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 4 movies (3.4% of total) ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 12 movies (10.3% of total) ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 91 movies (78.4% of total) ~ Rank 2 (mid low) - 8 movies (6.8% of total) ~ Rank 1 (low but interesting) - 1 movie (0.8% of total) ~ Rank 0 (irredeemably low) - none in this category (0%)

That makes 116 for a Total (Actually Remembered) Movies Watched In Lifetime (Or At Least In 20 Years).

116 divided by 20 is roughly 5 or 6 movies a year (I feel this has probably been skewed though by adding everything since like elementary school onwards, as I remember a lot more movies from child/teen years.. Whereas, the past 3 years I feel like I've barely seen maybe even 5 movies?? lol). I also have "Didn't Finish" marked on 18 of them. Which means I quit halfway through about 15% of the total movies.

So, a for broader summary stuff..

I seem to be less forgiving to movies than tv shows, by far. Which makes sense to me, I guess, because I love elaboration and details, so "short form" things that only last an hour or two are often lost on me a bit. My biggest complaint with movies is indeed usually walking away just wishing there had been more exposition, more scenes where characters are doing nothing, more "mindless bantering" conversations, more Quiet Downtime and Lore Elaboration and so on lol, so... of course most 1-2hr films end up feeling a bit Not Enough To Draw My Interest/Nothingy to me.

If you count 5 and 4 as "like" and rankings 2 to 0 as "dislike", then for TV shows I at least somewhat liked 48 of them, and at least somewhat disliked 47 of them.. So it's almost exactly the same lol. I'm just about equally as likely to find something bad as I am to find something redeeming about it. But overall, the largest chance is that I just won't really care much for it at all and it will be tossed into the 'neutral' pile, forgotten forever. Movies have a bit better of a balance, "liking" 16 of them, and "disliking" only 9 of them. So I'm slightly more likely to enjoy a movie than to find it annoying - though still VASTLY more likely to just not find it anything in particular, possibly not even finishing it.

ANYWAY.. this is vague and literally pointless, but like I said, I just really find information fun. Like my document where I've rated every apple flavor I've ever tried (like 40 of them now?), or reviewed every oreo flavor (32?), or ranking data from my entire 10 years of Trying To Make Friends process (out of 100 people, roughly 8% chance of a moderate compatibility, 3% chance of high), or etc. etc.. I love to have random pointless things to analyze I suppose lol.

I doubt anyone tracks things in their life in this same exact way, but I'd be interested in hearing any at least somewhat similar data !!! (like, how many TV shows you watch a year on average, and what percentage of those you like vs. dislike (if you keep track of that sort of thing), etc.)). I guess it might be easier with movies, since I think some people use those websites where you curate a list of movies you've seen and you can rate them or something, so maybe the numbers are already available on those places. :0

[starsreminisce]

Hiii!!! I love your blog so much 😍😍😍.

I have a question for you: Do you think SJM could have Elucien reject their bond without exploring it? I feel like for Elriel to have a book, the bond would have to be rejected early on so the story can focus on Azriel and Elain and whatever plot SJM chooses, just like she did for feysand in ACOMAF. It would be weird for Elain to explore the bond and get to know Lucien while building her relationship with Az at the same time. Especially when it’s supposed to be a dual POV. If she’s dealing with both, they both should have their pov as well for it to make sense - in my humble opinion.

Hello! Thank you so much for your kind words!

Short answer: no.

This isn't just Elain's bond to Lucien; it's also Lucien's bond to Elain. As you mentioned with Feyre, she underwent a process of understanding her relationships with Tamlin and then with Rhys, eventually discerning the differences between the two.

We see a similar exploration with characters like Aelin, Rowan, Lysandra, Chaol, and, to some extent, Bryce with Connor and Ithan with Bryce.

When SJM introduces a new character as a love interest, there's typically a lightbulb moment that reveals why one person wouldn't work and then segues into why another would.

Remember Az's bonus chapter?

Personally, a rejected mating bond would have been included as part of Elain's early healing journey. We would have been introduced to this concept in ACOSAF as it sets up the trajectory for the next couple of books.

Consider the dinner scene where Elain attempted to join the conversation but faced challenges, particularly when Amren tells her she can't be human anymore. While the reasons behind Elain's inquiry may remain ambiguous (small talk, genuine interest, existential crisis, powers), Amren later confirms that Elain isn't okay. Then we have Lucien dropping off the presents. We could have been given insight into Elain's potential rejection during Feyre's confrontation, either through Feyre's speculation or Elain's hints, yet it's Mor who reassures Feyre that they just need time and things will work out. Happiness doesn't seem to be part of a rejected mating bond equation—not when it haunts her, not when it drives Lucien to madness, not even when she senses his death.

How will the story proceed with only two perspectives in the next book, considering ACOSF sets the stage for a different narrative structure? It's worth contemplating the trajectory of Elain and Lucien's journey together as they pine over different people while processing their bond. What happens next? Will the following book be a quad POV because their HEA hasn't been realized yet, or will it solely focus on Elain, leaving Lucien's fate uncertain?

I recall reading an Elriel's comment about SJM writing them into a corner. I can't relate—she made the road to Elucien pretty clear to me.

And if she had forgotten that the bond could be rejected until ACOSF, then isn't it telling that she had no plans for it at all?

[decks-writing-blog]

Whatever the Fuck Benrey is: Chapter Twenty-One: Pretty Neat, Huh?

Chapter One

Previous Chapter

~

If Gordon had had doubts about his sleep-deprived conclusion on his feelings for Benrey, they were dispelled upon waking up with him. Whilst asleep, they’d shifted into a more traditional spooning position, Benrey’s back pressed to his chest. Gordon could happily lay here forever with him. … Or maybe not forever. Waking up like this every day for the rest of his life sounded pretty good though.

No nightmares either. Or if he’d had one, he didn’t recall even the feel of it. Perhaps he’d just been too tired but Benrey’s presence had certainly helped because it always did. Probably cuddling anyone at night who was into it would’ve helped but it was Benrey who chose to, had suggested the idea in the first place. When or why he’d started caring enough to do so was still a mystery but it didn’t really matter, did it? He cared and Gordon loved him for that and for so many other things.

Which didn’t mean Benrey wasn’t an annoying bastard, trolling whenever possible when they played games together even if they were supposed to be on the same team. And Gordon had eventually found the cling-wrap over the basement door. It was probably only a matter of time before he pulled another prank. But he better knew Gordon’s limits now, putting them closer to being on the same page of what went too far. He hadn’t repeated anything like the falling bucket prank.

There was still the question of if he reciprocated. Even if what they had now was more than enough to make Gordon happy, the possibility of romance was still alluring. Theoretically he could tell Benrey how he felt and ask. Probably the wisest move but… what if that ruined what they had now? So he’d think about it more later, maybe ask someone or the internet for advice. Right now he didn’t want to move or even think in general. Going back to sleep would be nice.

Except even if he was still tired, that wasn’t easy. The light coming in through the gaps in the curtains was too bright. He needed to get up to get a drink of water if nothing else. Sometimes being a human with normal animal needs sucked.

And then sealing the deal on sleep being over… “I’d have thought you’d want to get up soon as you woke up today.” Of course Benrey was awake. He didn’t need to sleep as much as Gordon did so naturally when sleeping in, he’d woken up first. And of course he knew Gordon had woken up too; he could be quite perceptive at times.

Gordon took a breath, intending to ask why he’d not want to linger in bed but… let it out in a sigh instead. The reason he was so tired and sore, they’d just returned from the Black Mesa facility with all of Benrey’s experiment related stuff. Including his records that Benrey was going to let Gordon look at.

With a groan, he forced himself to sit up and look down at Benrey, his face an unreadable blur. “Good morning.”

“It’s not morning.”

“Yeah, probably not, huh?” The light coming in through the window attested to that. Gordon slid off the bed entirely, allowing him to reach over to the nightstand for his glasses. The beside clock read 12:32pm. They’d slept for almost ten hours… or Gordon had anyway. “You look at any of your stuff yet?”

Benrey slid out of bed too. The ruffled mess of his hair and pajamas was endearingly cute. “Nope, waiting for you. We’re gonna look together, remember?”

Of course Gordon remembered. Most of yesterday was a blur but that kind of thing wasn’t easily forgotten. “You sure you’re okay with me looking?”

“Yep.”

Gordon should perhaps decline anyway out of politeness or at least tell Benrey to go through it all himself first to sort out stuff he wasn’t all right with Gordon seeing. But he was being given permission to look. All the questions he’d ever had about whatever the fuck Benrey was could finally be answered. And not the type to be constrained by social conventions – especially ones that were stupid like the whole offering something out of a sense of obligation with the understanding and hope that it’d be declined for the sake of propriety thing that people sometimes supposedly did – Benrey likely wouldn’t lie about being okay with it. What was there to be gained from such a lie? Nothing as far as Gordon could tell.

“Wanna go look now?” Benrey gestured towards the door.

As eager and curious as Gordon was… “I gotta eat something first.” And more importantly get some coffee, he could drink some water while he waited for that to brew.

~

In anticipation for playing games together once they got a proper gaming computer built – a process they hadn’t quite begun yet – they planned to eventually get two office chairs into the gamer pad. For now though, they had only the one. Gordon was going to let Benrey have it but… “Nah, you’re taller so you’d have to bend over to see the screen good.”

Gordon couldn’t argue with that. And with all of the stuff they’d brought in from the lab, there wasn’t room to comfortably pull in one of the kitchen chairs. So with a sigh, he sat down and booted up the computer.

Back at the lab they’d pulled the hard drives out of the computers salvaged from the facility to plug into the ones they already had up and running. Here though, the salvaged computers were more high-tech than the cheap temporary computer Gordon had bought solely to be able to browse the internet on. Enough so that even if it wasn’t built for gaming, it still might be able to be used for such. And so while Gordon had had ‘breakfast’, Benrey had moved their computer aside and replaced it with one of the three brought in last night.

Which meant starting it up brought up the familiar Black Mesa login screen. Promoted and having put himself in charge of sorting through the old experiment data he’d long since gotten the master login from Breen. As he typed it in – slowly but surely he was developing a one handed way of typing that wasn’t as fast as he used to be able to do but was still far better than pick-typing – he repeated it out loud to Benrey so he could log in by himself later. It was possible to change the login for this computer or set it to boot up without it but whatever, Benrey deserved to know some of Black Mesa’s secrets. If he wanted to risk sneaking into the temporary lab to log in to one of computers there to set up a prank on Breen or whoever, as long as he could do it without getting caught or landing any of the Science Team plus Darnold in trouble, it wasn’t any of Gordon’s business.

What was his business though, being the one with easiest access to the mouse and keyboard was finding the experiment data saved to the computer. The systems used across all of Black Mesa were the same, making it easy to navigate even though the experiment was of an entirely different sort than the ones he’d worked on.

After who even knew how many years Benrey had been an experiment for, there was an awful lot of stuff, taking up most of the available memory across multiple backup drives. They were in luck though as the people in charge of organizing the data had done that job well – a surprisingly uncommon trait amongst the Black Mesa scientists – making it easy to navigate. True to Benrey’s word, a lot of the files had the term ‘Subject X’, implying they were about Benrey. Possibly a roman numeral. There might be nine prior attempts at making him or maybe nine other aliens captured for study. Or the ‘X’ might be because it was the first letter of ‘Xen’. Maybe it meant nothing and had just been chosen at random or for some reason not directly related to Benrey and the experiment.

“Start with the videos.” Benrey leaned in over Gordon’s shoulder. “You scientists are always super boring when writing your research paper stuff.”

Gordon should perhaps ask one last time if Benrey was really sure he was okay with him seeing. He’d already said several times that he was though and Gordon wanted to see. So much so he’d been willing to go all the way to the Black Mesa facility for the chance to. Thus instead, he said nothing as he followed Benrey’s orders. Not how he would’ve done it but it was only fair he let Benrey call the shots here.

The earliest video file was dated at April 1st 1983 and was titled ‘SubX Success’. So they’d presumably had Benrey for about twenty-five years. Well, it had already been established that they’d had him for at least for as far back as he could remember, thus basically his whole life. Still a long time to be an experiment though. Not that there was anything that could be done about it so instead of saying anything, Gordon opened it and set it to start playing.

On screen was a man – his age indeterminate beyond being old enough that his hair was starting to go gray – in a lab coat standing behind a table in a generic looking lab. “That light means it’s recording now, correct?”

“Correct,” came an off screen voice, presumably the camera man. In typical Black Mesa fashion, the camera used to record was more advanced than what would’ve been available elsewhere at the time. Allowing for video and sound quality to be not too far below what would be considered on par for modern day technology.

“Good, good. Now,” he turned his attention into the camera, “we finally have a living specimen. If it’ll stay alive for long, we don’t know yet, especially since its not quite what we expected, but I personally have high hopes.”

As he spoke, he pulled a cart in from off screen. On it was various equipment, including a stand that held up a small metal canister about the width of a pool noddle. Grabbing it, the man pressed something on the side that cause the lid to lift before upending it onto the table in front of him. The camera zoomed in on it as he did so.

A grayish blob flowed out of the canister, looking not at all like a living thing. Not until it moved anyway, reaching out with formless tendrils as if looking for the canister as it was pulled away. Finding nothing, the blob instead reached out all around it. Not the settling motion of a non-solid but seemingly intentional reaching out for something.

Was that… Benrey? It didn’t look anything like him but there wasn’t any reason for it to considering his shape shifting. If it was Benrey though, that made it a he instead of an it. Assuming that’s how Benrey preferred to be called anyway. Gordon had never actually asked so… he paused the video and looked up at Benrey. “You go by he/him, right?”

“Yup. Why?”

“Just wandering and making sure.” He could maybe ask for more specifics later if Benrey was willing to share his thoughts on the human made concept of gender and all that. For now though… “Let’s continue.” He clicked the play button, resuming the video.

The scientist’s hands came into the picture, one of them holding what looked an awful lot like a scalpel – this had only just started and it was already taking an uncomfortable turn. “As you can see, its form is a bit odd but when we cut it, it bleeds to heal itself.” He demonstrated with the scalpel, making a small cut on top of Maybe-Benrey, making him visibly flinch away. The blood was a now somewhat familiar slightly purple tinged red that did indeed seem to close up the small cut. “We’re not sure if it makes enough for us to be able to harvest it but the hope is that it’ll bigger and thus will in time.”

His other hand blocked the blobs attempt to crawl away, pushing him closer instead as he lifted the scalpel to do another cut, a bit bigger this time. “It also responds to being cut as if it feels pain. We will have to see how that develops in the future and see if it responds to other stimuli as well. For now, I don’t wish to keep it out of its simulated environment for long lest that kill it. End the recording ple--” The video ended, cutting him off.

Gordon turned in his chair a bit, letting him look up at Benrey. Before he could figure out how to ask what Benrey thought about the video…

“That ain’t me.” Benrey’s tone was just ever so slightly strained towards perhaps anger or frustration. Or maybe Gordon just expected him to be having an emotional reaction and thus was imagining it.

“Well, um… I guess we don’t know that for sure yet. The guy did say it might die. So maybe… the next one’s you or the one after that. We know it’s got something to do with you though so… you know.” There was a good chance that Benrey had looked an awful lot like the blob in the video at some point in his life. Which was interesting as that would make him a fascinating creature indeed.

“I tried the no structure thing. It sucks.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“Last time I was doing the trying to find my true form or whatever thing, I finally like uh… dissolved all my bones or whatever. It sucked, didn’t feel right at all. If I’m really just… a dumb boring blob or whatever that was, I would’ve felt something, right?”

“I don’t know. I know less about how any of that should work than you do.” If they kept going, there was no doubt a lot more to be revealed. No bigger questions had even been answered yet. Gordon’s curiosity was stronger than ever and the answers were right here but… Benrey didn’t seem to be pleased with this little bit they had found. “You wanna stop? Or maybe take a break since we went all that way so it’d be a shame to stop now.”

“No.” Zero hesitation on that answer. “Next video.”

“How ‘bout we start from the top? The first document should have the purpose and intended method of the experiment clearly stated.”

“Fine, guess that’s easiest anyway since you wanna look at everything anyway.”

Gordon was no longer entirely sure he wanted to see everything, everything. Not if Benrey – or the prototype Benrey and eventually no doubt Benrey himself – was going to be shown being sliced and diced or anything of the sort. Science was only interesting and fun when no one was being hurt. Even if physical damage wasn’t as big a deal for someone with Benrey’s powers, that didn’t make it okay or pleasant to witness. For now though, he turned back around and scrolled up a bit to open up the earliest file on record, dated almost a full year before the first video had been taken.

“Read it out loud,” Benrey said as he leaned into the side of the chair, forcing Gordon to catch himself with his foot before it could swivel too far the right. “Make it entertaining.”

“I doubt I can do that.” His interest in the subject would make it compelling for him but his lack of experience reading things out loud would likely harm how interesting it would be to someone like Benrey. “I can try though.” That’s all that could be asked of him.

***

Benrey soon set into pacing behind the computer chair as Gordon read. As expected the file was dry, scientific, and took way more words than it really needed to, making it boring. If Gordon was indeed trying to make it entertaining, he was bad at it. Benrey hung on every word anyway. Finally it was time to get some answers.

The stated purpose of the experiment that had resulted in Benrey was to create a life form that could passively produce healing gel, negating the need to create it manually using limited resources. One of the key ingredients for which was a rare plant found on Xen that refused to cultivate in any lab scenario, creating the need for the experiment in the first place.

Benrey’s pacing slowed to a halt as Gordon read through the list of proposed materials and procedures to create this life form. This was an the answer to the question at last; Benrey had been made in the lab out of alien plants and chemicals. He was the only one of his kind. There wasn’t a group of aliens out there like him which also meant he had no family he’d been stolen from as an egg. He hadn’t even come from an egg but instead, reportedly a vat, not even a tube. And to top it all off they’d made him solely to harvest his healing juice.

That was… fine though. It didn’t matter. Nothing changed. It’s not like he’d have liked his family if he did have one. He’d have been mad at them, right? Because they’d have let him get stolen and experimented on. So this was probably the better option anyway, right? No one had let him be stolen and experimented on, he’d just been made to harvest healing gunk from and then bonus experimentation had happened along the way too. Shitty but… whatever, it didn’t matter anyway. He’d just been mildly curious. And now he knew so he could go back to not caring. He was fine with this.

Once apparently done reading – though Benrey had tuned out the last however long – Gordon turned the chair to face him. “So you were made in the lab but entirely outta alien stuff which basically means you’re like both, right? A lab grown alien. That’s pretty cool.” He would think that, wouldn’t he? “Even if uh… the reason they made you is kinda, not great. Or I guess their intentions were good but being made to have a resource harvested from you is uh… uncomfortable. But being a lab grown alien is pretty neat, huh?”

“Guess so, yeah.”

Benrey had apparently done a bad job of conveying just how much he didn’t care because Gordon’s attempt at a smile died. “You were hoping that uh… you were a just a normal alien, huh?”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. Don’t need a family anyway. What they made me for kinda sucks but… I already knew they were keeping me ‘round for that anyway so it’s nothing new. So… I don’t care.”

“I’m sorry.”

Benrey scoffed. “Don’t be.” Even if him caring enough to be sorry was a good sign, Benrey didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He knew now so it was time to move on. “Let’s continue. There’s a lot to get through.” So the question of how Gordon would feel about him after would finally be answered too. It’d be real nice to just be done with all this nonsense already.

“You uh… sure you wanna keep going? I mean that was… You’re allowed to be upset by it. We could take a break to process that if you want.”

“I’m not upset and I don’t need a break. It’s easier this way, don’t gotta worry about trying to find my people or whatever. I’m like uh… um… a legendary Pokemon. There’s only one of me ‘cause uh… the world couldn’t handle more. So drop it and read the next file or whatever.”

“All right, if you insist. But if um, you do ever need a break, just say so, ‘kay?” Gordon swiveled the chair to face the computer again.

Benrey had no intention of taking him up on that offer. The sooner all this was done with, the better. So he settled back into pacing as Gordon started reading the next document.

~

Next Chapter

[btr-rewatch]

Big Time Rush Season 1, Episode 4: “Big Time Bad Boy”

I originally didn't have this on my "episodes to review" list, but I changed my mind. I don't have a whole lot of memories of this one, so it'll be fun to revisit it.

Highlights: To save the band, Kendall Knight is forced to wear dark clothes, eyeliner, and cause thousands of dollars in damage to Rocque Records.

For anyone just finding these posts, I'm not planning to write up commentary/review for every episode. Mostly because I want this to be a fun experience for myself and not feel obligated to make a post for every episode in the series (especially if it's an ep I either don't really like all that much or one that I simply want to sit back and enjoy without taking notes and lots of screenshots, lol)

So..."Big Time Bad Boy." I seem to recall this one being played a lot on Nickelodeon, but my memory of it is fuzzy. What I do remember for this one consists of two things: 1. Kendall dressed all in black and 2. He pees in Gustavo's desk??

All these years, and that's what stuck. Onto the episode!

The guys are in the studio singing "The City is Ours." They sound and look great, but Gustavo isn't super impressed. Something is missing, he says, and that something happens to be A Bad Boy. Someone who will shake up their image a bit and give them an edge. He comes to a quick conclusion.

Kendall looks both surprised and horrified at this suggestion, to which I ask: why?? Need I remind you, Mr. Knight, that this path to L.A. was paved precisely BECAUSE you were exhibiting many bad boy-esque behaviors??

Have we forgotten this? This Kendall who once attacked Gustavo via an enraged 90's pop song performance, fought with security guards, and seemed to have the entirety of his self-control tied together with frayed string is now bewildered that he's being nominated for the position of Official Bad Boy??

I'm sorry, I had no idea that I would get so hung up on how Kendall was handled when I decided to rewatch this show. I don't know what's happening.

Gustavo goes on to explain more about the necessity for a bad boy in every band, and I admit that I can see why Kendall is so opposed to it. The bad boy is being framed as someone who turns his back (quite literally!) on the others, and we all know that's something Kendall could never do. This is a loyalty thing for him, so yeah, okay. Makes sense. However, the other guys quickly jump at the chance to fulfill the role once they learn it comes with lots of money, fame, and girls.

Kendall is unamused.

Over at the Palm Woods, Mrs. Knight is worried that Katie has no friends her own age, so she introduces her to someone named Molly.

Katie instantly doesn't like her, but Mama Knight says you can't judge someone before getting to know them. Mrs. Knight then wildly misinterprets a situation between Bitters and Buddha Bob, assumes Buddha Bob is an axe maniac, and runs away screaming with Katie over her shoulder.

When the guys get back to the apartment, James, Logan, and Carlos are full-swing into the bad boy act. This is no match, however, for the Mom Look.

When James, Carlos, and Logan fail to impress Gustavo at his Bad Boy Audition, he once again tags Kendall for the role. When Kendall again says no, Gustavo has some surprising news for him.

Refusing to do what he's told makes him a bad boy!

Ha! You've been bamboozled, Kendall.

When Griffin comes to take a look at the guys, he's dismayed at the very obvious lack of bad boy. "A bad boy is someone parents would never let their daughters date. And I would let my daughter date any one of these boys," he says, which is one of my favorite lines so far.

Griffin really went, "These boys are sweet and respectful, and it upsets me."

He came prepared with a ready-to-go bad boy: WayneWayne.

The boys don't like him. Gustavo doesn't care.

We return to the Palm Woods where Katie is trying to avoid having to play with Molly. She thinks there's something wrong with her. Mrs. Knight then sees what she thinks is Buddha Bob tossing bodies into a dumpster (they're mannequins).

Meanwhile, at the pool, BTR are angrily watching WayneWayne. After complaining about him, Logan says, "And that's why we're gonna get rid of him. Kendall, get rid of him."

For some odd reason, Kendall wonders why he has to do it. I dunno, Ken; maybe it's because you're the one who has to do everything, remember? Logan always looks to you to fix things. That's your JOB. You need to get rid of people who are upsetting your friends, solve every problem that comes their way, and do everything. All the time. Forever.

No pressure, though.

After a quick little pep-talk to his scaredy-cat friends, Kendall stands up to WayneWayne, which ends up backfiring immediately. There's only room in the band for four people, so somebody has to go if WayneWayne is going to be added in.

Poor Logan.

Kendall begins another impassioned speech that's interrupted by WayneWayne, who declares that it's going to be KENDALL who gets kicked out of the band. The guys all go running to Gustavo in a panic.

Including this screenshot for no other reason than Kendall's reaction in this moment cracks me up.

James says, "He wants to kick Kendall out of the band!" And Kendall just goes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Gustavo defeatedly tells the boys that Griffin is in charge and there's nothing he can do to help. He's firmly against Kendall's insistence that they can come up with a plan and tells them just to focus on learning the lyrics to the new song they're working on.

When the day comes for Griffin to visit the studio and see the band, Kendall is suspiciously missing. When he does arrive, he's sporting a new look.

Yes, Kendall has evidently dug deep down within himself to salvage the last remaining vestiges of First Episode Kendall and channeled it all into one spectacular burst of Bad Boy Behavior.

He absolutely demolished Gustavo's office. I mean. It is entirely destroyed. I wonder how much that all cost to repair.

In one last desperate attempt to win the "bad boy off", WayneWayne kicks Griffin, which is one step too far. Griffin announces that BTR already has a bad boy—Kendall—so his services will no longer be needed. He will, however be put into a band still. WayneWayne is dragged off by security. Kendall tells Griffin that he doesn't want to wear the black clothes "all the time" and he isn't going to turn his back on his friends, which I guess is his way of officially accepting his bad boy role??

So, like. If this is establishing Kendall as the necessary Bad Boy, as per Griffin's request, does this carry on through the show (even though it's never mentioned again as far as I can remember?). Does Kendall remain BTR's bad boy for the duration of the series?? If so, that's very funny considering who Kendall turns into character-wise.

This guy? This absolute goofball is Big Time Rush's bad boy??

Reminds me of that meme with the polite cat. This one:

Wait, let me fix it

Ok, I've gotta pull it together and wrap this episode up.

Kelly finds out that Gustavo, though enraged as he did appear, was actually in on the plan the whole time. When he'd handed out the lyric sheets, he'd included a secret message for the boys.

Aww, Gustavo did some super sneaky scheming with his dogs. And hooray! The band gets to stay intact (until the next time it's threatened, of course).

Victorious, the guys head back to the Palm Woods to see how WayneWayne is doing in his new band: The Ziggle Zaggles

Need I remind you that this is still the same day. It probably hasn't been more than an hour or two since WayneWayne was dragged from Rocque Records, and he's already ON THE TELEVISION in his new band.

It this level of absolute absurd nonsense that really makes this show such a gem. Ridiculous. The Big Time Rush universe has one foot out of reality at all times, and it's great.

For an added dose of weird, the Ziggle Zaggles is interrupted by a news broadcast warning people of a police chase involving Molly, Katie's new "friend." She was actually a 20-year-old con artist the whole time. She also stole Mrs. Knight's car. The end. Cue the credits.

Decent episode overall. I skipped over most of the Mrs. Knight, Katie, Molly, and Buddha Bob storyline to avoid making this post even longer and because there wasn't much "meat" to that part of the episode anyway. I also feel like this was another episode where James, Carlos, and Logan didn't really have much to say or do? I noticed that with the first episode as well; they acted more like props or sidekicks who were only there to occasionally chime in while Kendall ran the show. I look forward to seeing them get fleshed out a bit more!

As always, thanks for reading :)

[dragonnwriter]

Inviolable Bindings

Aemondxfem!OC and Aegonxfem!OC

All Chapters Here!

Chapter 50

The words cut like daggers as they left his lips, but Aemond masked his own hurt behind a wall of anger and stoicism. Viserra could see right past his front, knowing it cut deeper than he would ever let on.

“Maelor is dead?” She managed to ask. “How?”

“Do you truly wish to know how ?” He asked, though she wasn’t sure if he did not wish to speak it more than she wished to know.

“Perhaps not,” she breathed, closing her eyes while continuing to process the reality of it. The image of the sweet toddling boy was now tainted as she tried to brush it from her mind. She only hoped the details had also been spared if they had reached poor Helaena. “Does your sister know?”

Aemond’s face softened as he conjured up his response. “I do not know, but I imagine word has already made it back to the Keep. I am sure such a thing will be celebrated there.”

Viserra shook her head, sick at the thought. “We will burn them all,” she promised. “Where should we start?”

“Daeron has already taken care of the city responsible for our nephew’s murder,” he explained. “And he is headed to Tumbleton to continue closing in on King’s Landing.”

There still seemed to be more to what he was saying. She understood Daeron might need support, but it felt as if he were something else that drove his need to be involved.

“And?” She asked, prompting him to finish.

Aemond reached down and scooped her chin with his hand. “We can search out for Aegon as soon as we’ve ensured Daeron and the Hightower army are not overrun by Rhaenyra’s forces.”

Her brow furrowed once more, finally sensing where this was heading. “And you wish me to go to Daeron?”

“Do not tell me you oppose this now,” he spoke with an almost mocking undertone. “You have been so eager to be of use.”

Viserra pulled her chin from his hand.

One minute, Aemond did not want her leaving his side yet the next he was offering to let her fly to Tumbleton to possibly engage in battle. “There is something you are not telling me, Aemond,” she pressed. “I would gladly bring my dragon to your brother and burn those that supported the killing of yet another child. But it surprises me you would let me go without so much of a fuss.”

Aemond looked away briefly. “I plan to go with you,” he confessed. “My hope is that it will not be much of a battle. I have heard there may be a way to sway one of the dragonseeds from Rhaenyra’s side.”

This peeked her ears. “What do you mean?”

Aemond’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It has been rumored that one of them claims to be a son of Saera Targaryen.”

Viserra was on her feet in a matter of seconds. “Saera, my grandmother?” She gasped in disbelief.

Aemond nodded. “That is what the man has been claiming to others.”

“It would not be impossible,” she spoke while thinking it through.  I have not seen either of my uncles since I was a young child.”

“Do you know their whereabouts?” He watched her closely, his eye sharp with interest.

“One left for Braavos and the other…” she paused, trying to recall a half forgotten memory. “Sunspear, with hope to make a new life in Westeros.” Viserra felt the realization flash through her. He had indeed left for Westeros, it was not an impossible feat that he had traveled and ended up somewhere other than Dorne. “And which dragon did he claim?”

“Vermithor,” he replied. “King Jaehaerys’ mount. Which leads me to believe there might be truth to this all and why I need you there.”

Viserra thought about it more, it all began to make sense. “You wish for me to try and turn him.”

Aemond nodded, pleased that she had come to the conclusion all on her own. “It would be worth a try,” he proposed. “And if you are unsuccessful, then we eliminate both dragons and their riders.”

The idea of confronting a man who claimed to be the son of her grandmother was quite a wild thought, something that filled her with dread. Truthfully, she was wary of the claim,  but knew Aemond was not wrong to see the opportunity at hand. Bringing another dragon rider to their side would only strengthen them.

“When do you wish to leave?” She asked.

“On the morrow,” he replied without missing a beat. He did not lack any confidence in this plan, though she was not sure if that was reassuring or worrying.

Viserra sat in silence for a moment, reflecting on these next steps that would hopefully bring them closer to retaking the throne. After a long pause, she looked back to Aemond. “When we return, I intend to set out for Dragonstone. I believe it to be even more important to seek out the truth of Sunfyre living there.”

Aemond didn’t argue, only humming in response. He had not directly opposed the idea, but she could feel the tension lingering around it.

The next morning they set out as planned. Viserra had wished for better armor, thinking of what she had left back in King’s Landing, but her mind drifted to Aegon at Rook’s Rest. His armor had fused into his skin from the flames of his enemy on dragonback, so today she would need to settle for the flexibility and comfort that riding leathers offered.

The rush of adrenaline as they mounted their dragons and took off into the skies together was quite enjoyable. It felt freeing to be in the skies again, especially flying alongside Aemond. It was always impressive to see him take off, even from the ground, but watching him command Vhagar mid flight was magnificent.

They followed the river down to just south of Tumbleton until midday. If the massive army flying the large Hightower and golden Targaryen banners did not give them away, the blue dragon laying near them most certainly did. As they circled around, looking for a place to land their larger beasts, Viserra had to reassure Rhyn they were in good company.

As soon as they touched the ground, Aemond dismounted Vhagar, clear that he did not wish to waste a single minute. Following right behind, Viserra climbed down her dragon's back while noticing the beasts both seemed a bit restless. Each dragon took turns growling softly as they too, looked over the army before them.

Approaching the camp, Viserra watched as a few men stepped from one of the tents and headed in their direction. The youngest man of the group caught her eye, his silver blond hair reflecting the midday sun just as Aemond’s did. He couldn’t have been older than eighteen, yet he had grown features similar to the sharpness of Aemond’s.

“Brother!” He called out, his voice bright and filled with excitement.

Aemond greeted him with a nod, his tone steady and much too formal for family. “Daeron,” he spoke. “It is good to see you.” His body language remained composed yet Daeron paid no mind to it as he continued on wrapping his arms around Aemond in an eager hug.

Aemond stiffened at the unexpected embrace but patted his younger brother on the back. When Daeron released him, he turned to Viserra, studying her with excited curiosity.

For a brief moment, Viserra was not sure how to react. While this boy did indeed look similar to Aemond, he projected a certain playfulness and charm that was much more similar of Aegon.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Viserra,” he greeted, his arms reaching out to embrace her just as he had done with his brother.

Viserra was still taken aback by his friendliness but she smiled and allowed herself to return the hug. “Please, you do not need to proceed with such formalities. Viserra is fine.”

His energy was a breath of fresh air, quite the contrast to the heaviness that hung over both of his brothers. He seemed less burdened, more full of life, even despite being in the middle of the war.

“Come, come,” he urged, gesturing for them to follow him back to the tent. “We have much to discuss and not a lot of time to waste.”

That, most definitely, was something they could all agree upon.

As they made their way into one of the large tents, Viserra noted a few men already seated around a small wooden table. They all stood and bowed as they entered but only one of them stepped forward.

“Lord Ormund Hightower,” he introduced, “It is an honor to have you here.”

“Lord Hightower.” Aemond greeted with a nod.

Viserra followed suit but did not speak, joining the others around the table. A cup of wine was quickly offered as the cupbearer moved around efficiently, filling the vessels before retreating back into the corner of the tent.

Ormund Hightower immediately dove into proposing their outlined plans as Aemond leaned in to listen with sharp focus. The army would be led to Tumbleton at once, then within the day the dragons would join them. From there on, the plan was simple, ground Vermithor and create an opportunity for Viserra to speak to the rider claiming to be her uncle.

Aemond’s gaze hardly ever left the map as they spoke, his mind working through all of the scenarios they might run into once on the move. Viserra was more than excited to join him in battle. It did not, however, outweigh the responsibility for her to successfully convince another dragonrider to switch loyalties, knowing that if she failed, there would be bloodshed, fire, and many lives lost.

As the plans were finalized, Lord Hightower and his men excused themselves to put everything in motion. The three dragonriders were left to entertain themselves for the next few hours before they too would take off to head north.

Daeron leaned back casually in his chair, his relaxed and carefree demeanor still in contrast to Aemond’s. “I have heard quite a few things about you, Viserra,” he teased, his eyes darting to Aemond then back to her.

Viserra smiled. “I hope they have been good things,” she answered playfully in return. Though she was generally curious about what he had heard exactly.

Daeron laughed. “Mostly good and some things I thought perhaps might be stretching of the truth,” he replied. “Though I could have sworn they involved my eldest brother, not this one.”

Aemond tensed beside her and she didn’t even need to look at him to know it. But before she could respond, he had dismissed it himself. “We have more important matters to consider than mere rumors, Daeron,” he spoke, his voice firm.

Raising his hands in defense, Daeron’s eyes still had a hint of playfulness in them. “I meant no offense, brother,” he defended. “I am just happy to see another dragonrider fighting alongside us. Your personal doings, however, are none of my business.”

It was clear that Daeron had no ill intent but she placed a hand on Aemond’s leg in an attempt to reassure him as well. Her touch did seem to calm him slightly, though his jaw remained tight.

“Perhaps you’d like to tell us who you’d like to kill first when we take King’s Landing?” Daeron asked, changing the topic into something he felt Aemond’ would happily engage in.

Aemond let out a slow exhale. “Our mother and sister are still housed within the Keep,” he reminded him. “We must be careful not to put them in harm’s way when we come upon the city.”

Nodding in agreement, Daeron smiled at his brother. “We have already lost too much,” he admitted. “I will not stand for anything more being taken from our family.”

None of them would disagree with that. Burning down the city was not what any of them wanted, especially with their loved ones still being held hostage within the castle walls.

Conversation continued on as Daeron asked much of his siblings and mother. Even Viserra had been given the opportunity to share what it was like across the Narrow Sea, leaving both of them rather curious about her lands that seemed so different from their own.

Daeron left after a while, seeking out his dragon to make sure she had been fed before their departure. The tension that was directed towards the happenings outside of the large tent lingered on…but they had a plan, and each of them knew their roles.

Viserra glanced over at Aemond, the excitement building within her but she chose not to voice it. She looked over to admire his sharp features, even the obvious tension in his jaw. When he caught her looking, the corner of his mouth turned up into a smile and she did not need an invitation to lean over and take his lips in a quick kiss.

A horn sounded from outside the tent, abruptly interrupting their moment. Aemond was first to stand, Viserra rising beside him with a smile on her face. “Should we see what help others might need before we are to join the army on dragonback?”

Within the next hour, they were ready to take to the skies. As soon as Rhyn took off, Viserra enjoyed the open air pushing on her face and rushing under her dragon’s wings. Aemond and Daeron flew beside her for most of the short flight, but soon Vhagar ascended higher above the clouds while Tessarion joined her low and close to the terrain.

It did not take long to catch sight of the army just outside of Tumbleton’s gates and they watched as the small specks of soldiers got larger as they approached. As planned, as soon as the dragons were spotted, the soldiers on horseback rushed forwards as they started their attack.

Daeron’s voice pierced through the air as he called out, pointing and drawing her attention to something on the ground. She followed his gesture and her breath caught in her throat her eyes fell on what he had been pointed at. Two other dragons were stationed just on the outskirts of the city, one looking to be almost as large and formidable as Vhagar.

A surge of adrenaline ran through her as she realized they had just moments before meeting their enemy in the skies. Viserra pulled Rhyn higher, guiding him back into the clouds to find Aemond. She forced herself to steady her breathing, knowing that from here on out there was no room for error in what came next.

Finally, as she broke through the clouds, she spotted Aemond waiting patiently on his dragon as they leisurely soared where no man could see them from the ground. Wasting no time, she brought Rhyn as close as she could to Vhagar, shouting over the wind to him and only hoping he could hear her.

“They are there! Be ready!”

Aemond gave her a firm nod, readjusting his grip on the reins. They did not need to wait long before Tessarion burst through the clouds to join them with the two other dragons following behind.

Taking in the sheer size of Vermithor even closer, she realized the beast was nearly the size of Vhagar. The other dragon was thankfully smaller, though it was clear she made up for it in speed and agility.

The battle erupted within seconds, with Aemond immediately honing in on the smaller of the two, leaving Viserra and Daeron to deal with Vermithor. They circled above the massive beast, weaving around him quickly and with skill. However, he was not so easily outmaneuvered and immediately resorted to dragonfire that barely missed the other two darting out of his range.

Viserra had no time to think of Aemond’s whereabouts, her focus entirely on the dragon that was trying to scorch her. It took longer than she thought to close in on him again, but with each near miss, she learned the way the rider maneuvered his mount and it quickly became clear that he was new to doing so.

After a longer time than Viserra would have liked, Vermithor finally overestimated Rhyn’s trajectory. This gave the two smaller dragons the opportunity to strike him down together, the combined force on his flanks sending the beast plummeting towards the ground. Though the force was so great that both Rhyn and Tessarion were pulled into the descent along with him.

Viserra’s hands tightened on the reins and she felt the straps dig into her skin as she braced herself for impact. The jolt of Rhyn hitting the ground knocked the breath from her lungs, yet she found herself still in the saddle. Blinking through the dust around them and trying to catch her breath, she was relieved to see Daeron landing Tessarion nearby, much less battered.

Rhyn let out a low growl as he stood himself back up. He was still agitated from the fight but she was pleased to sense he was ready to move at her command. Her attention then snapped to something on the ground in front of them, her eyes settling on what she eventually made out to be Vermithor’s rider.

The man had been thrown from his saddle, but he was now slowly attempting to rise on his feet. Viserra unbuckled herself quickly, leaping off of Rhyn’s back and drawing her sword the moment her own feet hit the ground.

He finally stood to his full height and Viserra took in his appearance up close. His long hair and beard were the unmistakable Valyrian white, his eyes a deep purple the same as her own. But it wasn’t just the color that startled her, it was the shape of his face, his cheekbones and heavy but muscular features that mirrored her own father’s. It was like looking into a ghost of her own bloodline.

Viserra’s grip on her sword tightened as the realization crashed over to her. “Uncle,” she shouted, addressing him as she knew him.

Daeron dismounted his dragon and had moved to her side, his sword drawn as well and his eyes darting between the two of them. Her words were the only confirmation he needed to know that what they hoped would be true, was indeed so. It was now in Viserra’s hands to gauge how fragile his allegiance was to their enemy.

“Yes,” he coughed, his voice raspy as he confirmed their shared blood.

Viserra’s heart pounded in her chest, the way he responded meant that he knew it was her as well. She stepped forward slightly, her eyes narrowing as she tapped the air with her sword. “You knew it was me?” She demanded.

He gave a slight nod, though his expression betrayed little emotion. “I did,” he replied simply.

The confusion quickly gave way to anger as Viserra took another step forward. “And you would so easily plot against and kill your own blood? Your own brother’s child?” She asked with an intensity that matched the perceived betrayal.

Her words seemed to strike something within him, though he remained steady nonetheless. Glancing away before answering her, a look that resembled regret crossed his face. “I did not grow up as you, Viserra,” he explained. “The riches of Volantis, the comfort of my mother were not my life. My father was no magistrate and I left to make my own way in the world.”

Viserra paused. There was truth to his words, knowing that her own father and this man only shared a mother. “And all this time?” She asked. “You must have known that I had come to King’s Landing. Why did you never seek me out?”

He met her eyes steadily. “I have been no lord. The smallfolk do not have time for politics or rumors. They fight to survive, to feed their families. There was no time nor meaningful purpose for me to seek out reunions with lost relatives.”

Opening her mouth to respond, Viserra found herself at somewhat of a loss. He was not wrong, those who lived among the city did not care about the everyday happenings of the elite. They were too busy scraping by. But still there was something that stung about his indifference.

Taking a step forward, her voice hardened once more. “And now, here we are. You have claimed a dragon and sided with my enemy. You have chosen to bend the knee to someone who intended to harm your own kin.” She pushed her sword forward once more. “Tell me, uncle, did you mean to kill me today?”

The man’s expression remained stoic, turning his eyes down to the ground before looking up at her. “It was not you who presented the opportunity to rise above poverty and starvation,” he spoke. “The Queen, Rhaenyra, gave me a chance to claim this dragon. To make something more of what I have been given in this life.”

Though she felt some degree of understanding, there was little room for sympathy now. However, in that moment, she realized the opportunity had finally presented itself. Glancing at Daeron, she took a deep breath in before looking back at the man before her.

"You are on the wrong side," she snapped in frustration. "I would have sought you out myself if I knew you were here and had the wits to try and claim a dragon." This was not a lie nor means to coerce him with empty words. "You must know that Rhaenyra is only using you for her own selfish means, she would discard you the moment she deemed you a threat."

For a moment, the silence between them was only interrupted by the dragons still fighting somewhere up within the clouds.

"We have dragons too and our strength grows with each passing day," she continued. "We will take King's Landing and anyone who stands in our way will burn. Pledge your loyalty to me, your brother's child, and we will ensure you received everything and more that has already been promised to you."

His face hardened at her words but he did not speak.

“Come with us, Uncle, join us in the skies,” she pressed. “You are my blood, my kin. I give you my word that I would see you rise with us, not fall with the pretender queen.”

“And if I refuse?” He spoke, the heaviness of the choice hanging on his words.

Viserra did not waver. “Then we will have to kill you,” she warned. "You of all others should understand. Survival comes first."

Author's Note: Somehow, I spaced updating my Tumblr on chapters. I have up to 53 written now, so I will post so you can enjoy if you haven't stalked my ao3 for them! One upload for tonight and I will try to get the others up here tomorrow. Using my phone for my computer's internet connection so it's slowwwww.

[nyt1ba]

     Her luminescence dims by unseen shadows,   always lurking at the corner of her eye,   ghosts of an unknown realm only she can see with such clarity,   a tear between mind and body that had often tricked her into complex illusions that seem almost within reach.   He had seen that absent look in her eyes a few times before but could never determine the source,   it wasn't the melancholy of intruding thoughts but a longing as well as terror for figures that materialize only her mind's eye.   It was a secret for her to choose whether to spill or not,   he wouldn't pressure or demand an explanation from her.   Yet,   he can't deny the worry that creeps upon him every time he pays attention to such episodes.   He isn't one for consolation,   intense   &.   depressed as he is,   he thinks he would only make matters worse.   This time however,   his flaws are ignored against his better judgment to simply sit beside her,   hesitant yet gentle as he reaches to break through delusion as his hand overtakes hers.   She nearly flinches in his grasp but calms a tad when an assuring squeeze offers a faint sense of recognition,   a quiet admission from him that he was here and not another creation of a broken mind.

       ❛❛   You know   ...   It was because of my dad that I developed an interest in engineering.   ❜❜        he says after a silence,   unsure if she's listening but knowing no other way than to follow her example when he needed a distraction from the Hive Mind.   He thinks a moment,   trying to recall a past almost forgotten,   it feels so strange for him to talk about himself,   almost uncomfortable.        ❛❛   He had a classic car   ...   I forget what it was                   the first car he ever bought and the only one he ever needed,   it was in great shape despite the years,   as he was always making improvements and replacing old parts.   He used to let me help,   and by help it meant carrying his tools and watch him work.   I wasn't allowed to touch It,   or drive it.   Well,   I got curious one day,   I wanted to look at the engine   ...   then inside It,   under It,   and the next thing I know I had it broken it down to pieces                    it was   ...   the first time I ever got grounded.   ❜❜        he smiles a tad,   remembering his father fury   &.   amazement,   he was a well-behaved kid unless it had to do with his curiosity,   he would make an easy mess out of anything if he wanted to.        ❛❛   I wish he could see the Tetrapod,   he would've liked it.   ❜❜        The thought is uttered to himself,   his thumb brushing against the back of the metal plating of her hand as he did.   He had never once forgotten how much he missed him   ...   he doesn't speak much of his parents for a reason.

     [ REST ] for one muse to rest their head against the other’s shoulder while they talk.

     Thoughts don't stray for long as an unexpected weight presses upon his shoulder,   seemingly more relaxed as she finally allowed herself some rest by leaning onto him.   While he had grown to favor her hand never being absent from his own,   closeness in itself was a concept he had to relearn all over again.   Being closed off   &.   guarded as he is,   he would never expect the gesture to be so   ...   easy,   certainly not from her either.   It wasn't unpleasant however,   it doesn't sear at skin or fill him with the usual discomfort induced by the simplest of touches,   unaware how she was slowly becoming an extension of himself in a way that her presence felt all too natural.        ❛❛   He would've liked you too   ...   ❜❜        he adds in a softer voice,   cheek pressing against the top of her head as he eased in himself.   If he could,   he would take away all her pain,   but this would do,   for now.        ❛❛   Now,   where was I ?   Ah,   right                ❜❜

@stilettaux // CRYING ABOUT THEM AS ALWAYS -

[dailycharacteroption]

Folklorist (Pathfinder Second Edition Archetype)

(art by Victor Rossi on Artstation)

 There is something integral to the human experience in storytelling. The art of creating stories to entertain, teach, and bond over is something we’ve been doing ever since we developed sapience, and we’ll continue telling stories until we finally come to an end.

That love of storytelling is why we play RPGs, and games in general. After all, a ttRPG is by nature a collaborative storytelling experience.

It only makes sense then that there would be an archetype tied to that sacred role. And while this archetype shares bones with the bard class conceptually, both can exist on their own and together as well.

While such storytellers could easily show up anywhere, this archetype is heavily associated with the Mwangi Expanse, where the art of oral storytelling is a respected profession. Indeed, such is their gift for storytelling that they can use tales to help guide the actions of others, firmly believing that just as the real world shapes stories, so too do stories shape reality.

 As part of the dedication for this archetype, these tale-weavers can spin a tale that is either about an ally or is relevant to their predicament, surrounding them with minor inspiring illusions that bolster their ability to fight a single enemy.

Before libraries or schools, stories were also the primary way to educate others, though oral tradition runs the risk of misinformation as tales or forgotten or unique circumstances that inspired a tale render it’s lesson inapplicable. As such, these storytellers learn a lot about various stories which can help them recall knowledge on almost any topic, but runs the risk of dubious information.

Just as a storyteller conveys a tale, skilled ones can convey magic, letting allied spellcasters channel their magic through them, which can be useful when cover or range is involved.

Many storytellers agree that three is an auspicious number, and the hero of a story often achieves their goal on the third attempt. As such, when inspiring an ally, that ally becomes more resistant and avoidant of their foe’s attacks on the second, and especially on the third attempt to resist the same effect.

More powerful storytellers can spin stories about whole groups of heroes, blessing many allies at once with a story rather than just one.

Interested in an archetype that adds a bit of bard flavor and knowledge to your character? This might be what you’re looking for. Naturally this works best with a character that supports allies either as their main gimmick or as a side thing to do with an action each turn. Heck, you could even double down and apply the archetype to the bard class for even more poetic and oratory support. However, any character with decent storytelling chops (especially high charisma, though that’s more for flavor than mechanical benefits) could benefit from the archetype. All in all, this is a good archetype with some tasty flavor.

 The cool thing about oral traditions and folk tales is that stuff is constantly evolving, being remixed, and changing along with the people that tell those stories. As such, going into this archetype is carte blanch to absolutely go ham on making up all kinds of stories not just for use with the mechanics, but just general roleplaying opportunities as your storyteller cites or retells a story as part of character interaction.

  Though not well-known outside of his own kind, the kitsune hermit Kogafune is well-known as a lorekeeper and teacher, one with secret knowledge forgotten by most. Reaching him for information is difficult, forcing travel through trackless mountain wilderness. But reaching the old sorcerer can only benefit those with the dedication to find him.

 As symbols of hope and goodwill, coatls, particularly the quetz coatls, often become secret patrons of storytellers to help them create stories of hope and bravery among mortals, the better to keep such feelings alight in the heart of mortals.

 The thing about stories is their message can change a lot depending on who is telling the story. To the Gula human tribes, the story of Ekesor is about a man who heroically tricked an orc chieftain into ceding territory and giving away his daughter in marriage. Meanwhile, orcs tell of how the human showed cowardice in underhanded tricks and betraying hospitality.

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS LOST EDEN Vol.2 Kino Saga [TRACK 5]

Original title: 欲しがる理由

Source: Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN Vol.2: Kino-hen

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Tomoaki Maeno

Translator’s note: It has been a while since I actually translated this CD so I have forgotten some things, but I do recall being very fascinated by Kino’s backstory. I just wish Rejet was a little more clear about what exactly he is but maybe I will learn more when I eventually play his Lost Eden route. :p Speaking of which, I’m sure this CD has some spoilers for his route but I don’t really mind. I recall translating some of Carla and Shin’s CDs long before playing either one of their routes as well. 

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5

TRACK 5: WHY I WANT YOU

*Rustle*

“Nn…”

*Rustle rustle*

“Nnh…Ahー I must have dozed off at some point. Pwaah…The taste of her blood still lingers on my tongue. Perhaps I overindulged a little?”

*Rustle*

“Hmー As to be expected, she’s out for the count.”

*Knock knock*

“Yes?”

Yuuri informs him on the Sakamakis retreat to the Demon World. 

“Heehー Those guys just made a run for it, huh? I guess they went to the Demon World. …Well, it makes sense. With six of them, it’s difficult to hide.”

You ask if he’s talking about the Sakamakis.

“ーー Whoops. Ahーah. How long have you been awake for?”

You sigh in relief.

“I would have liked to keep it a secret from you for just a little longer. Look at you being so relieved.”

*Rustle*

“Hey! This is your fault Yuuri! …Well, I guess it can’t be helped now that she heard. However, knowing that, I suppose it’s about time we get started with the preparations.”

You tilt your head to the side.

“I mean, those guys will definitely come to steal you back, won’t they? That’s why I need to be ready to strike back when they do. …One of them has even inherited Father’s powers.”

You ask Kino what he hopes to achieve.

“Hah? What? Isn’t that obvious? …I will become the King of the Demon World.”

You ask him why.

“Don’t sweat the details. You really think there’s anyone out there who would pass up on such an opportunity? Besides, I want power. Overwhelming…powers…”

You try to convince Kino that those powers are not what he might think.

“What exactly are you trying to tell me? Inheriting those powers only brought the guy pain and suffering? I mean, I’m sure it’s because he’s simply not cut out for them.”

You elaborate.

“Please don’t group us together. I’m nothing like those who enjoyed a good, fortunate upbringing free from any worries…I was abandoned in the Demon World’s Land of the Unwanted alongside the Ghouls, only to be discriminated against and resented by other Demons. And if that wasn’t bad enough, even the Ghouls…! Anyway, I’d be able to pull it off. I will be able to wield those powers correctly. The Vampire, Vibora, Adler and even the Wolf Clan…I will use those powers to annihilate all of them! Ahaha…Hahaha…”

Your eyes widen in terror.

“Don’t worry. I’ll let you stay alive. I kind of need you to be by my side when I claim sovereignty over the Demon World after all. Besides, your blood is sweet and delicious as well.”

You frown and question his words from earlier. 

“Oh, I still hate you, for sure. But that doesn’t matter, does it?”

Yuuri enters the room.

“Yuuri. We are going to make the first move again. Just like how we did when we murdered Lord Richter. ー I’m just not the waiting type. …Let us dye the moon crimson with blood once again tonight.”

You ask Kino if he is the culprit behind Richter’s death.

“Exactly. I’m the one who killed Lord Richter. That guy had the nerve to seek me out himself and approach me. I guess he assumed he could use me to achieve his own goals. But too bad, I taught him a lesson and he paid with his life. I really enjoyed the look in his eyes during his final moments.”

Your face goes pale.

“Fufu…~ I guess you’re shocked to find out about his death? But he was a Vampire, remember? So he should have been glad to meet his end. No need for you to be so shocked.”

You grab hold of Kino’s arm and ask him what he wants to do.

*Rustle* 

“Tsk…Isn’t that obvious? I told you before, didn’t I? I want to get my hands on those powers and bring an end to all Demons. If you understand that, let go of me. …No point in trying to stop me.”

Kino leaves the room.

*SCENE SHIFT*

“Yuuri, I want you to keep an eye on her. I honestly wouldn’t put it past her to try and jump out of the window again. I can handle those Sakamakis by myself just fine.”

Yuuri tells him to be careful. 

“Yeah, yeah. I won’t do anything reckless. I’ll make sure to have some alleys by my side, just in case. I won’t lose that easily. …Unlike those guys, I have a proper goal I’m working towards.”

Yuuri nods.

“Well then, I’m leaving her in your care, Yuuri.”

 The wind blows in the distance.

( After speaking those words, I leaped off into the night sky alongside my Ghoul comrades. When I did, I couldn’t help but catch sight of the lights flickering on the land. From my point of view, those lights looked incredibly pure and beautiful. Like someone had scattered konpeito all across the ground. It almost gave me the impression that stars had fallen down on this place. Yet, at such a lovely place, those Demons who think they can trample all over us are hidden. It’s rather odd that as soon as I realize that, an unstoppable urge to massacre them right here and now wells up inside of me. 

ーー I start seeking out other Demons from up in the air. It shouldn’t be that difficult to track them down. The fact that this is not the Demon World plays in my favor, since they’re more likely to forget to conceal their presence. I am sure that they consider this place to be some kind of Paradise as well. )

“...I guess I really have no other choice but to put the trash where it belongs. ーー In the garbage bin, that is.” 

*Woosh* 

*TIMESKIP*

Kino enters his manor.

“I’m back!”

He plops down on the couch.

*Thud*

“Phew…”

Yuuri approaches him.

“Ah, Yuuri. How is she doing?”

He explains.

“A shower, huh? I guess she finally realizes that there’s no way out for her.”

Yuuri asks how things went. 

“Ah, unfortunately, I couldn’t find those Sakamakis today. This blood belonged to some random Vampire. They had been living amongst humans, so I killed them.”

He suggests that Kino takes a bath.

“Ahー You do make a good point. Guess I can’t stay covered in blood like this…I suppose I should go freshen up. I’m sure she has left the bathroom by now, right?”

Kino gets up.

“Mmh. Well then, Yuuri, I expect you to bring me my guava juice?”

He leaves towards the bathroom. 

*Thud* 

*Pshhhhh*

“...Oh? She’s still in there? Quite the long bath she’s taking then. Hmー Oh well, whatever. No need to hold back at this point. We can just take a bath together.”

Kino takes off his clothes. 

*Rustle rustle* 

“...Hey! You’re in the bath, right? I’ll join you as well. ー Eh? No reaction? Boring!”

He approaches the shower area. (1)

“Say, aren’t you going to at least freak out a little or get all embarrassed?”

*Knock*

“Hey…!”

*Knock knock*

“I’m coming in, okay?”

Kino opens the door. 

“Huh…? There’s nobody here?”

*TIMESKIP*

“I wonder who took her away?”

Yuuri apologizes once more.

“It’s fine. I’m sure you never expected her to disappear from the shower, did you? Besides, only a Demon capable of controlling space would be able to pull that off. Which means it has to be those guys…Things were going a little too well. I made myself known to her and I’m sure she will tell them all about me. I mean, it isn’t really my style to do things behind other people’s backs…so this honestly works in my favor. Next time, I’ll go and get Eve in person. I’m honestly looking forward to it already. …But no need to rush. Hahn…”

*Nom* 

*Crunch*

“I am sure that the stars will guide us. ーー Just like they did back then, remember?”

( While thinking so, I bit down on the sweetness of the konpeito spreading across my tongue. ーー While the sweet melody of this world falling apart echoes in the back of my mind. )

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) Most Japanese bathrooms consist of two separate areas with a door in between. The first area is used to take off your clothes while the second is where the shower area and tub are.