#glee is by far the strongest

[strawbyarts]

tumblr is the only place i can post about all of my random and unconnected interests and not get burned at the stake by some algorithm or something

[milkbobatyun]

the dangers of a slipper

pairing: jingyuan x fem!reader

genre: fluff, crack

summary: slippers are a dangerous weapon, even more so when you're the one holding it

word count: 704

a/n: wrote this cus i was inspired by that one meme of the mom scolding the son and the father intervening, but both end up being scolded.

he should’ve known that he was going to be in trouble, the moment he let yanqing run off and go fight in such a dangerous duel. word travelled fast in the xianzhou, so it was no surprise that the moment yanqing and the general stepped into the house, they were in danger.

“yan. qing.” your stern voice calls from the top of the stairs. a shiver of fear runs down the boy’s spine at your tone. sure, he was the strongest swordsman of all of xianzhou, but even so, he was terrified of his mother figure.

hanging his head guiltily, yanqing steps forwards, not daring to make eye contact with you.

from the side, jingyuan watches yanqing get scolded by you, his eyes are filled with mirth and amusement as he relishes in the drama. yanqing, kneeling obediently at your feet, head bowed in shame, shoots pleading looks at jingyuan.

finally, jingyuan decides to step in, trying to save his trusted little aide from your fearful wrath. with a sigh and subtle shake of his head, jingyuan steps into the firing line your line of sight.

“now, now, love,” he began, voice smooth, though his hands were clammy with fear. “yanqing is quite capable. after all, his master is yours truly.” he boasted, puffing his chest out in confidence.

unfortunately for him, he doesn’t win the fight. instead, he finds himself a victim of the deadly slipper, a swift but light bop to his head sening him dropping to his knees, mirroring yanqing’s posture of submission. his joy has been knocked off into one of sheepish submission.

anyone who sees such a scene would find it hilarious. the most powerful swordsman and the dozing general of xianzhou, both quiet and docile as they listen to your scolding. the proud, young swordsman and jingyuan, fearless dozing general, forced into reflection under your watchful gaze and the threat of the merciless slipper.

jingyuan, who finds the courage to lift up his head, assuring you that it wasn’t a big deal. his only response is another ruthless bonk on the head from your slipper. silenced and cowed, he lowers his head again, quietly reflecting on his actions. to yanqing, jingyuan can only offer a meek smile, as his hand rubs the tender spot where your slipper had made its mark.

to add salt to his wounds, even the general’s ever-loyal companion had betrayed his trust. when jingyuan spots his lion overgrown baby, mimi, pass by, he shoots her a pleading look, hoping that she would bravely put herself between her owner and the threatening lady looming over them.

to his hurt and disbelief, mimi spares him a single glance of disinterest, before flicking her tail and plopping down beside your feet with a huff of disapproval, even going as far as shooting him a condescending glare. jingyuan’s shoulders slump, the fight fleeing his posture.

how heartwrenching. 

“mimi,” jingyuan groaned in exasperation. “what have i ever done to wrong you? did your mother give you more treats behind my back again?”

as though to mock him, mimi rubs lovingly against your leg, glee sparkling in her mischievous eyes. the large, white lion lets out a yawn, snuggling closer, as though saying, “you might’ve raised me, but boss lady here is better than you.”

letting out a dramatic gasp, jingyuan feigns a collapse. unfortunately for him, it doesn’t give him extra sympathy points. instead, he receives another repremanding whack from the slipper.

yanqing spares a single side-eye at his general, pity and suppressed amusement dancing across his face. it seemed that even the general was powerless in the face of big boss. with a pout, jingyuan sat back onto his knees, the duo casting looks of mutual pity at each other.

‘boss lady is scary,’ they telepathically communicated, determination etched on their faces. ‘next time, let’s not get caught.’

thwack. thwack.

“i know what the two of you are thinking.” you warned, slipper pointed at their faces. “don’t you dare, i’ll have mimi watch you and keep you out of trouble.”

tomorrow morning, the duo would have to explain why they have matching bumps on their head.

how embarrassing for them. well, maybe they should’ve thought twice before being stupid.

footnotes:

1. the image i was talking about:

taglist (open): @leehanscorydora, @pastelmitzuki

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobatyun 2024 / づ ♡

[etherealrin]

꩜ .ᐟ blue.

summer 2006.

you know, you and satoru both do, that you're not supposed to be enjoying it this much. this whole beach trip in okinawa, all of this sightseeing—none of it was really for your pleasure nor enjoyment.

riko amanai looks at you thoughtfully. "something up?"

"nope! let's keep going!" you fake a smile, dragging her back towards the shoreline where the ocean was ravaging the sand.

"eek! it's cold!" the black haired girl cries, cringing at the sensation. you'd have to agree, squeezing her hand in reassurance.

out of the blue, you're both rudely splashed by a truckload of the frigid water.

"SATORU!" you exclaim, turning to stare at the white haired male, currently sniggering with glee. suguru stands next to him, an obvious accomplice by the sight of the huge dragon which had caused the wave.

"you'll never get us, losers!" the two boys had run too far along the seashore for you and riko to have any hope of catching—and even if you did, satoru would surely turn on his infinity.

not that he'd turned it off since leaving riko's school. you can sense it in his eyes, how they're just a little bit duller. he must be dead exhausted underneath that facade, you know it.

his gaze catches yours, and as if by fate's intention, suguru and riko are called away by kuroi, leaving the two of you alone. you walk to him, sand shuffling under bare toes. satoru is oddly quiet, eyes never leaving you for even a second.

"you gonna stop staring? it's a bit awkward for me, y'know?" you lightly punch his arm when you finally reach him, sighing.

"it's weird, isn't it? to feel this normal. gives me a bad premonition, actually." his fingers are fidgeting at nothing in the air, now looking up at the blueness of the sky.

you're standing shoulder to shoulder but it feels like there's an impossible distance between you two. he seems distant, lost in the world of his own thoughts somewhere far away.

"what are you thinking about?" you question softly. "i know you might believe you have to handle everything by yourself, because you're the strongest or whatever, but that's just your superiority complex talking." that gets a chuckle out of him. but he still doesn't feel like the satoru you know.

"what i'm thinking about, huh?" he falters, pale hair ruffled by the salty breeze of air. you swear you can hear both his and your heartbeats, drumming in sync. "i'm thinking—well, imagining, that we fell in love on a day just like this, by the ocean."

when the words leave his lips, you suddenly see it. everything he imagines, you want to believe so badly.

"is that what you wish for? that we were regular humans?"

"sometimes." it's a confession from the strongest. "but mostly no. i'd hate to be weak," he feigns disgust in an attempt to joke.

you can't stop the smile from spreading across your face, reaching both hands out to capture one of his. satoru stiffens immediately, impossibly blue eyes widening.

so he did turn off his infinity for you.

"it's alright. like you said, you're the strongest, right?"

the glimmer of the ocean's waves reflect across his face, painting him aquamarine. the moment is so blue, in both emotion and color.

if you could have said it then, you would have told him instead that he could leave his heart with you. you'd keep it safe for him, and your love wouldn't ever falter. that the universe would always bring you two back together.

but you don't. you can't, knowing that if something ever happened to the either of you it would only hurt even more.

instead, you allow him to rest his head against you, quietly praying to a higher power that everything would be okay, listening to the soft splashes of the water.

a/n: this is the beach scene in hidden inventory yes! gojo art is by @ shachi0515 on yt!

ılılılılılılı now playing: blue by yung kai, blue by keshi (do we sense a theme here?)

masterlist. can be read as a continuation of this fic!

[cosmica-galaxy]

Parasitic!Shadow Milk Cookie Dabble

His many eyes could not hold back their glittering mirth as Shadow Milk beams a warped fanged toothy smile in seeing something that was once deemed extinct by cookiekind... A human! Oh, just LOOK at that BEAUTIFUL strong vessel! Perfect for a beast cookie of his success and caliber to evolve further into godhood with! He was just ecstatic with glee! He happily wiggles about on his throne as the portal showed your visage and size, completely untainted by the LESSER PARASITES of this world. Pure...untainted...just WAITING in perfect condition for him to usurp! His imagination wanders as he daydreams about all the possibilities of what he could do once he owns that body. He would become the strongest beast in all of Earthbread! His desires, will, and brilliant mind will shape the landscape and seat him as the rightful king over everything! Yet, they are oh so far away in Crispia...and the vermin that dwell there are threatening to damage or taint his precious vessel.

Like Enticing Vanilla...that dreadful softie that rules over such a succulent kingdom of strong fragrances. Shadow Milk's frown deepens as he watches the filthy parasite attempt to sweet talk the poor vessel into staying the night. A smile so wolfishly wide and eyes so caluclating and cunning...disgusting. Stay away from HIS vessel, you worthless poser! That is HIS right to godhood...and he doesn't want it TAINTED! Such a body can only belong to the infectiousness cookies such as himself. Old enough to remember when the witches once reigned before the uprising and spread of the so-called "cookie calamity". Oh, to know that such powerful bodies were wasted on the lessers...who knows if those collaborating idiot cookies in those witch bodies haven't crumbled to time yet. No. When he takes the body, he will make it HIS. Their flesh will become HIS flesh, their bones will become HIS bones, and their blood will blend with his as they allow him to shed this weaker cookie body and ascend into becoming another being. Yet, he can't do that if he doesn't get HIS vessel. His minions will just have to help buy him some time until he can coax his new body to his land...and then he can begin the ritual of his long-dreamed ascension into the higher planes. Oh...what a glorious body you will make for him~!

[sonamytrash]

Hange grins as you take a seat beside her at lunch, having missed breakfast, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, well, look who's finally decided to grace us with her presence." She leans in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I heard a certain someone was sneaking back to the barracks this morning from the direction of your quarters. Care to share what you two were... up to?" She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, barely containing her excitement.

A blush creeps across your cheeks beneath your tired eyes. "What the fuck Hange, where did you hear that?" You ask almost a little too defensively.

Hange's grin widens at your reaction as she leans in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "Oh, you know how it is around here - nothing stays a secret for long." She chuckles, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Come on, spill! I'm dying to know the juicy details." She elbows you playfully. "The rest of us need some entertainment around here, you know."

You avert your eyes to stare down at your lunch, "I don't know what you're talking about." Taking a bite out of the bread.

"I heard Captain Grumpy Pants was in a decent mood for once?" A teasing lilt to their voice. "Or maybe you just wore him out, hmm?" Her glasses glint mischievously as she waits with bated breath for your response.

"I wouldn't go that far." You confess quietly. "That man has the stamina of a thousand soldiers."

Hange's eyes light up with unholy glee at your confession, a knowing smirk spreading across her face. "I knew it was true! spill - what was it like being on the receiving end of Humanity's Strongest?" She asks, relishing the opportunity to tease you.

Your face turns bright red, "HANGE!"

[danosrosegarden]

HIIII ELIII !!! firstly THANK YOU for all the work you do for danonation… you are our strongest soldier !!! 🙏🙏💕💕💕 secondly, i’d like to put in a request for the anniversary celebration !!! <3 if i could may i get glitz + edward nashton? i love that lil freak … maybe something with creepy mutual obsession? i need him to know i’m just as obsessed with him as he would be with me …. THANK YOU SO MUCH AAAH !!! ^_^

it's hot and we rot - edward nashton x gn!reader headcanons (NSFW)

elijah's anniversary celebration: post three!

✨ glitz prompt: give me a character, and i will write a nsfw piece for them. ✨

{contains: male masturbation, public masturbation, underwear thievery, sub edward, and general mutual creepiness and obsession.}

♡ Sharp, grimy talons of guilt pierce through his heart and spill the thick, gushing blood all over each time he finds himself back in the bathroom next to his cubicle. Edward Nashton knows that there's nothing good in what he's doing. There never is.

♡ But God, does it feel right. Sorry. He really shouldn't tell you that, it might make you uncomfortable, he knows. But he thinks it's something you should know. An inky black secret too revolting and shameful to keep to himself. A slowly swirling python of perverse glee wraps itself around Edward's sweat-slicked body as he pulls your underwear out of his pocket: the carnival prize he'd won for himself last time he was over at your apartment.

♡ He hears your voice swimming around in his head as he wraps it around his cock, already slick with precum and throbbing a harsh, blushing pink. That's disgusting, Edward! I trusted you, I let you into my home, and that's what you do when I'm not looking? You're a fucking freak, you know that?

♡ Jesus. He's already biting down hard on his cracked lips so as to not alert his coworkers. It's all a rolling ball of sharpened knives, a blazing firecracker of intensity...the thought of your horrified look and cruel, venom-laced words spat into his face. The idea that somebody in the office could walk in at any moment and accidentally catch sight of him through the spaces in the stall doors, crimson-cheeked and leaking all over his tightly-gripped hand.

♡ His mind runs chaotically wild as he pumps himself, the fluorescent light above his head humming a low, growling buzz. You. He wants you. He doesn't give a fuck what he has to do. He'll beg for scraps. He'll whine and plead. He'll get on his knees and pray. God, he just wants you.

♡ Heat. It rushes through his body, injects itself straight into his bloodstream. He feels the white-hot warmth tingling deep in his gut as a high whine slips from the slits in his clenched teeth. It feels dirty, what he's doing, but that's part of the charm. He feels appalling, painting his hand with thick dribbles of cum in his workplace bathroom while thinking of your acidic, outraged insults, but he cannot stop himself.

♡ Maybe it's for the better that Edward doesn't know how deeply you want him, too. He's hardly able to be around you as is without the sickening thoughts infecting his brain...if he knew you reciprocated, he would never be able to calm himself down.

♡ For sure, Edward would explode if he knew about the picture of him you kept in your bedside drawer. You took it on your Polaroid while he was over one evening, destressing from work. His smile is crooked and his hair is ratty, but that was the picture. The picture you held tight in your hand when you masturbated and whispered his name into the hot, blanketing air of your bedroom. The picture you stared longingly at when the aftershocks subsided. My precious boy. Sweet angel. I wish I could ruin you.

♡ Edward stuffs his prize back into his pocket and washes his hands with a sheen of light sweat dusted across his forehead and a heavy coat of shame wrapped around his shoulders. He knows deep down in the depths of his heart that you're far too good for him. He'd actually much rather be the loser moaning and writhing to the thought of you than risk the friendship he'd somehow managed to obtain. At least he'd gotten away with his gross thievery. Nothing more, he promised himself. There is no going further.

♡ He also knows deep down in the depths of his heart that there was no stopping the enormity of his depraved desire. It was famished and on the hunt for any fragment of you it could find. And if only he knew the same hunger lived within you, chronically clawing at your gut, demanding more, more, more. God, if only he knew.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Record Of Ragnarok x Thors Daughter!Mitsuri!Reader

And the Human Fighters meet her when Brunhilde introduces her and the other Hashira to the Human Fighters

-It started with an invitation from Brunnhilde, inviting the Demon Slayer Corps, more specifically the Hashira, to a meeting with the warriors of humanity from the big Ragnarok tournament that ended.

-You were happy that it had a happy ending, with humanity winning and all the fallen fighters being brought back to life, bringing new and old friends back together.

-After the Hashira had to fend off a demon outbreak, following Hades’ demise, the gods agreed that the Corps should be celebrated as well, and Brunnhilde brought up the idea of having a large party and bringing the two groups together.

-You were excited about this prospect, as you had the chance of possibly meeting a husband- as you knew they were strong warriors, and you were still on the lookout for the perfect man to call your own!

-The only thing is, whoever you chose would need to earn your father’s approval, which was easier said than done, at least about you dating and looking for a marriage partner.

-You were a demi-god, that’s why you were so unnaturally strong, being the daughter of a human mother, and Thor of all gods!

-Your father adored you, he found it amusing his daughter was so dainty and girly looking, but had an appetite that rivaled his own and those in the Norse Pantheon, and had a strength that just seemed to grow.

-He was proud you were a warrior in your own right, working with the Demon Slayers, to keep Valhalla safe from outside threats, just like him.

-However, as you grew into a beauty, Thor learned the troubles of having such a pretty daughter and only those who had earned his respect were worthy of you, and so far, nobody was, in his eyes at least.

-You respected your father, and you respected his decision on having a worthy man for you, as you wanted someone who would be able to take care of you.

-If only he knew that this party was going to do just that, Thor would have attended to test the man you deemed worthy enough in a duel.

-When you walked in alongside the other Hashira, a warm smile on your lips, a contrast to the glares and cocky looks some of the others were giving, many were surprised to see that such a delicate looking woman was one of the strongest in the corps.

-Brunnhilde introduced each of you to the human fighters before introducing the human fighters and as soon as introductions were made, Brunnhilde put her hands on her hips, giving only one warning, “I will discipline anyone who fights.”

-The party was lovely, there was so much food that everyone could eat mountains of it and there would still be leftovers for days, something you were quite excited about, as you could eat your fill without feeling guilty.

-There were some minor arguments, your fellow Hashira picking at some of the warriors and vice versa, trying to pick fights, much to Brunnhilde’s annoyance as she kept having to play referee.

-You’re not sure how it happened, but Brunnhilde agreed to one match in arm wrestling, a human fighter against a Hashira, and (Love) was chosen to fight. You were surprised when Tengen picked you up by your waist, easily carrying you over and sat you down for the match while you blinked, a bit confused.

-(Love) didn’t want to be rude, as he had no fights with a woman- he wanted someone like Tengen or Sanemi, who’s been running their mouths, but Shinobu put her hand on your head, “We believe in you Y/N!”

-You beamed at their praise, little flowers of glee surrounding you as you turned back to (Love), who was honestly surprised by the determined look in your eyes.

-The two of you locked hands, something that your cheeks turned a bit pink with, as you were holding (Love’s) hand, as Brunnhilde was officiating the match.

-When she called for the start of the match, (Love) was prepared to win easily, but trying to do it without hurting you, only to freeze as he didn’t move, or rather- he couldn’t.

-Your eyes were narrowed in determination as you were easily pushing his arm down. The human fighters were yelling, telling him not to throw the match just because you were a girl, but they were quick to shut up when they saw the veins in his arms, seeing that he was actually trying- that you were actually that strong.

-The table beneath your elbows cracked from the pressure and the next thing (Love) knew, he had been sent flying across the room, crashing hard into the wall, leaving you the clear winner.

-The Hashira were all cheering while the human warriors were all gawking in complete awe, seeing your strength as you were quickly running to (Love), pulling him out of the wall into your arms, his head against your chest, “Are you all right?!”

-(Love) was immediately taken by you, seeing that you were caring as you were strong. You were perfect!

-Elsewhere, Thor felt a chill run up his spine, feeling a sense of dread washing over him. A storm was coming.

[songsofadelaide]

In the summer of your seventh year, as your parents hosted a high-ranking guest in your home, a silver-haired boy stole a kiss from you under the blooming trellis in your family's sprawling garden. Your family called him a little god reborn and warned you to steer clear should your path ever cross with him again. ("He might steal more than a kiss the next time around," your older brother told you.)

There was no avoiding him, though, especially when he has taken quite an interest in you. Your kind, noble parents disliked his entitlement, but who were they to refuse the wily whims of a godling so besotted with their daughter? Their refusal would be tantamount to treason, even more so when the council elders and the oracles deemed you his other half. ("The stars said that you were born for me specifically... Or something like that," said Gojo Satoru, the Crown Prince, a little god from a house much higher and older than yours.)

His boyish presence filled your family's estate for many summers to come after he stole that kiss from you, his eyes so clear and blue and steadfast and he knew better than to lie to you when you asked him if he really liked you. ("I like you this much," he said, tracing an immeasurable, invisible line from his heart to yours.) The confirmation came in a formal declaration, on paper, that you were to be his bride when you both come of age.

In the summer of your sixteenth year, Gojo Satoru asked for your hand in marriage. ("I know it's been declared and all, but I'm asking you for myself now because I truly care for you— and I want you to know that what we have is more than just a simple arrangement by those old farts in the council," he told you with a smile so tender that you thought you were fast asleep on your feather bed, dreaming this all up.)

On that very same summer, a bounty is placed on the Crown Prince's head. A coup is declared against the head of your homeland, the Empire of the Six Eyes, and foes from within the imperial noble circle claim the prince to be a threat to the already fragile peace between the many high and noble houses. ("They cannot touch me, of course," he told you with a chuckle as he brought your freezing knuckles to his lips, warm and ablaze. "I am the strongest. And with you by my side, I will be invincible.")

Years passed and the internal struggle did not relent, even when the instigators were brought to light. The Crown Prince, now the Emperor they loathed and feared made manifest, permitted their existence in court, for he didn't want to be the tyrant they made him out to be. You wondered where you fit in the equation— the Empress— one born under an auspicious star so similar to her husband. ("You need not wonder where you belong, my heart. By my side is your place, always," he whispered to you in the midst of a banquet, as though you were the only two people on earth.)

("By your side, I'll remain then, my heart," you whispered back to him, and he responded to you with a face flushed with glee and a laugh that let on just how nervous he still was when it came to you.)

He called you his heart, but neither of you knew that the oracle lied to the Imperial family, that you were not his heart, not his other half, but the very sword that would pierce his heart instead. Neither of you knew that the true enemy— and the downfall of the Empire— was far closer than you expected.

When your brother became the lord of your noble house, he once asked if the Emperor was ever unkind to you. It was a question you vehemently rebuffed, for Satoru has been nothing but kind to you throughout your marriage. ("And even from before," you reminded your lord brother with a smile. "Have you forgotten how deeply he cherishes me so?")

And when the coup reared its ugly head once more, you couldn't believe your eyes when you saw the leader of the fray— your kind brother, his eyes alight with a vengeance you couldn't recognise. Your digging through the Imperial archives proved fruitful when you finally realised the depth of his rage. ("—Eyes led the annihilation of the ⬛ family, the decimation of their bloodline, save for two of their house's offspring—" said the words on the weathered book.)

As the Imperial castle burned down at dawn, your brother dragged you out kicking and screaming in the pretence of rescuing you. Satoru searched everywhere for you and saw the ensuing struggle, so he rushed to you. He was faster than your brother and had his blade at the ready, but he did not expect your jewelled knife to be the one to pierce him first.

You thought he was going to kill your brother.

"My heart," he mustered with his laboured breath. "I suppose this is a fitting end for a liar like me."

The knife was for your self-defence. It fell from your hands the moment they were stained red. "You knew?"

"I knew," he nodded at you. "I knew and yet was still so foolish to think that I could change my... our fate."

In the summer of your twenty-eighth year, the Empire of the Six Eyes fell to the hands of other high houses. The young Emperor perished in the onslaught and the Empress was nowhere to be found. (In the summer of your twenty-eighth year, Gojo Satoru is lost to you. He does not know about his parting gift to you, and neither do you. The grief that burdened your heart nearly stole it from you, too.)

The coup concluded but the internal war for the throne raged on for many more years to come, and it came for you and your peaceful life, too, in the summer of your forty-fifth year.

A silver-haired boy enters the fray, wielding an ancient power thought to be long gone. He says he will take back what is rightfully his, what was stolen from his parents, and he will not be as kind as his father was before him. ("Perhaps the oracle was wrong," he stated before the men who cowered under his cold gaze. "Perhaps...")

[entamewitchlulu]

thoughts about the yuuri event so far

The main thing that gets me about this event is the realization that at Yuuri’s core, there’s something....strangely innocent about him. It’s proof that “innocence” in and of itself isn’t an inherently good trait. He's innocent like a badly socialized dog who just thinks its playing but was never taught how hard is too hard to bite, and is confused and just a little bit miffed that people are complaining when he hurts someone. Like, that's how you're supposed to play, right? Don't complain, don't you know how the game works?

Like, Yuuri knows he’s mean, at some level. Because that's how he's been treated his whole life. People tell him he's cruel, he's vicious, he's a monster. Clearly, that must be what he is then! So he'll keep feeding that expectation and be the person people think he is (cough cough zarc is that you cough cough)

He does take some glee in being a nuisance, in the reactions he gets from people. But because it's fun. That's part of the game! And he's so good at the game, obviously. He's the best at the game. He's the Strongest, after all. He genuinely seems confused by people holding a grudge against him, because as far as he’s concerned, that's just what happens when you're Weak. That's just how the game works, if you don't like it, you'd better just git gud! Only then do you have a right to say anything.

There’s not actually much active malice in it. He was raised to think this is the proper way for him to interface with the world and for the world to interface back. People are scared of him or angry at him, and that’s normal and natural, because he was basically taught to see everyone around him as a toy. he's the predator playing with his food, not out of malice, but just because that’s what strong people do, and that’s what he is: the strongest one. So when people start to challenge that concept, he’s just genuinely confused by it, and his response is always “well if you’d just won, if you’d just been stronger than me, then of course this wouldn’t have happened. But you’re weak, so that’s just what’s supposed to happen. Get with the program.” Obviously, no one else read the rule book and they're just butthurt. Just get stronger then, if you want to complain so much. 🙄

What Yuuri does isn’t out of an active cruelty or malice. It’s just the way things are, of course. And he doesn’t get why no one else understands that.

It’s innocence in possibly the most dangerous way possible, because how do you untangle that level of unhealthy thinking? How do you unpack the kind of childhood someone had to have in order to have swallowed this worldview down so matter of factly? It's terrifying, and it's fascinating.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

💋ྀིྀི 𝐒𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

Synopsis: Split Rivers Sweetheart, a sweet little Junior who’s the lead singer of the schools show choir. The only issue is a certain head cheerleader has made it her life’s mission to disband your club with her family’s money. Unfortunately for her, you seem to have more support than you realize, maybe even from the golden boy himself. Wally Clark.

Notes: Modern AU! All characters are alive! Mentions of Alcohol, Drugs, partying! Reader and all characters are around 17-18 ish! Most of my inspo for this was from Glee since I’m rewatching the show. 80’s References & so on.

Masterlist // Chapter Three

The air in the show choir room is thick with the buzz of anticipation. The bright fluorescent lights overhead hum quietly, casting an almost surreal glow across the polished hardwood floor. The choir room smells faintly of sweat, a mixture of freshly baked cookies from the nearby home economics room, and a faint trace of perfume from the girls who had just come from their last classes. The large mirrors on the wall reflect the tired yet determined expressions of the students, as they all gather around for yet another practice. Their uniforms are mostly casual today—sweatshirts, sneakers, and leggings—but it doesn’t lessen the focus in the room.

The chatter dies down as you step to the front of the room, smoothing the wrinkles out of your shirt before addressing your team. Maddie leans against the far wall, arms crossed, clearly not enjoying the lack of progress, while Yuri sits cross-legged on the floor, casually flipping through his phone but watching everyone closely. Dawn and Charley are already discussing their dance moves with each other, and Simon is stretching in the corner, half-heartedly practicing some basic footwork that’s clearly not his strongest suit. Janet is next to you, her hands on her hips as she waits for the meeting to start. Ryan, usually quiet, sits on the bleachers, looking as if he’s already tired but still present.

“Okay, guys,” you begin, glancing at the whiteboard where a list of potential songs and ideas is written down. “We need to narrow down our options for Regionals. We’ve got some good ideas, but I think we need to settle on something that’s going to really showcase what we’ve got, especially since we’re not exactly the biggest group anymore.”

Nicole, who’s sitting next to Dawn, stretches out her arms before speaking up. “How are we supposed to showcase anything with only half of us here today? We need more people. More voices. More dancers.” She sighs, glancing around at the group. “Not to mention, it’s hard to even know who’s coming back next year. Some of us have been carrying the load for a while.”

The frustration in her voice is palpable. It’s true. The club has been hanging on by a thread for the last few months, and sometimes, it feels like no one really cares enough to keep it alive. You can see the exhaustion in everyone’s eyes, and it’s clear that the weight of Regionals is already making things feel harder than they should be.

Maddie rolls her eyes from her spot at the wall, her usual cynicism making an appearance. “Honestly, what’s the point? We barely made it through Sectionals. I don’t think we’re getting anywhere near Nationals if we’re going to be this outnumbered.”

“We’ll get there,” you say with more confidence than you feel. “We’re just going to have to work harder than everyone else. Every single one of us needs to give it everything we’ve got. We can do this if we just push through.”

Ryan, who’s been quiet so far, raises his hand with a hesitant expression. “What about the choreography? If we don’t have enough dancers to make it look clean, it’s going to feel… awkward.”

You turn to him, nodding. “Yeah, we’ve got to make sure we’re not just throwing things together. Simon, can you step it up and work on choreography? I know it’s not your main thing, but we’ll need everyone contributing if we’re going to pull this off.”

Simon looks up from his stretching, clearly reluctant, but nods. “I’ll try. I mean, I can’t promise it’ll look like something out of a Broadway show, but I’ll do my best.” His voice is teasing, but it’s clear he doesn’t mind being asked. He’s always had a quiet kind of reliability, even if it doesn’t always come in the form you might expect.

Dawn, who’s been quiet up until now, raises her hand and shakes her head. “Wait, I don’t mean to ruin the mood or anything, but have we figured out the setlist yet? Are we still going with the same songs from Sectionals or—”

“I don’t think we can go with the same songs, right?” Janet interjects, frowning. “I mean, we need something fresh. Something we can really build on.”

“Agreed,” you say, quickly flipping through the notebook in front of you that’s filled with half-finished lyrics and ideas. “I’ve been thinking about adding a couple of 80s hits to mix things up—something classic but with enough energy to grab attention. I know we’ve been on the pop route for a while, but it might be nice to switch it up.”

Maddie looks at you, eyebrow raised. “You’re really going for it with the 80s theme, huh?” She’s skeptical, but there’s a playful glint in her eyes that makes you smile. You know she’s just teasing, but you also know she gets excited about these kinds of ideas.

“I think it could work,” you say. “It’d add some real showmanship. We’ve got the talent for it, we just need to believe it.”

Dawn grins widely, her usual upbeat energy popping through. “Yes! I love the idea. It’d be so fun! We could totally make it work, especially with our voices. Who’s got ideas for songs?”

“Here’s what I was thinking,” you say, stepping over to the whiteboard. “We start with something classic, like ‘Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)’ by the Eurythmics. It’s catchy, it’s iconic, and it’s got enough of a vibe that we can really make it our own. Then, maybe we add a ballad for a softer moment—’Take My Breath Away’ by Berlin?”

“Perfect,” Charley chimes in from the corner. “I can already imagine the choreography for that one. It’ll be beautiful.”

“And then,” you continue, “to keep things fun and fresh, we can do something fast-paced. How about ‘Walk Like an Egyptian’ by The Bangles? We need something with a lot of fun energy to get the crowd going.”

Maddie raises her hand, and you can see her mind working. “Not a bad idea. I think the choreography could work for that too. We could really play up the quirky movements. The crowd would love it.”

Nicole rolls her eyes at Maddie’s comment, but she can’t hide the small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You might be onto something.”

Charley, always the dreamer, chimes in enthusiastically, “I can already picture the routine for that one. Lots of sharp movements, fun formations… and definitely a little flair for dramatic entrances!”

Everyone nods in agreement. Even Simon, who’s typically a bit reserved about choreography, seems like he’s starting to warm up to the idea. You can see the shift in energy—suddenly, it feels like the weight of the competition isn’t quite so heavy.

As the group breaks into smaller sections to practice their parts and experiment with choreography, you can’t help but feel a surge of excitement. It’s all starting to come together. The energy in the room has shifted, and you’re beginning to believe, just a little more, that this might actually work.

You catch Maddie’s eye across the room as she practices some basic dance steps. She gives you a nod, a silent understanding passing between you. The road to Regionals won’t be easy, but for the first time in a while, you feel like you’re not alone in this.

This show choir may be small, but it’s still standing. And maybe—just maybe—it’s strong enough to win.

Claire stood in the gym, the echo of basketballs bouncing on the court filling the space as she stared down at her cheerleading squad. Her eyes scanned over the girls stretching on the bleachers, some of them chatting nervously, while others seemed completely focused on the upcoming halftime performance. She could feel the weight of the situation hanging over her, making her stomach twist.

“Okay, ladies,” Claire began, her voice sharp, a little too much stress leaking into her tone. “We need to talk about Friday’s game. We’ve got a huge halftime show, but… we have a problem.” She paused, biting her lip, trying to steady her nerves before continuing. “Three of the girls are injured. That’s a third of our squad. They’re out for the count.”

The girls around her exchanged looks, and the anxiety in the air was palpable. Claire could feel her heart rate picking up. “I can’t do this. I can’t let everyone down,” she muttered under her breath, almost to herself.

Jenna, one of the more level-headed members of the squad, spoke up from across the gym. “We don’t have to do it alone. We could always ask the show choir to help us out.”

The mention of the show choir made Claire freeze for a moment, her thoughts catching. “The show choir?” She repeated, a little incredulous. “What, you want to ask them to come sing for us while we perform? Do they even have enough people to cover that?”

“Yeah, why not?” Jenna replied, shrugging. “I mean, if they’re short on dancers, we could always just dance while they sing. They’ve got a lot of vocal talent, right? It might work out better than scrambling for last-minute replacements.”

For a moment, Claire was still. She hadn’t considered that idea. Show choir, despite the rivalry she felt with them, was full of capable people. And if they could balance things out, maybe the cheerleaders could pull off a halftime show that didn’t fall flat.

Claire chewed on her lip, glancing at the cheerleaders around her. She could feel the pressure building. It wasn’t just about the performance—it was about proving to everyone that the cheer squad could handle this, despite the setbacks.

After a beat, Claire sighed, pushing the worry out of her voice. “Alright, we’ll ask them. It might be a long shot, but we don’t have many options. Besides, we need something to make this performance worth watching, and if they can add to it, then… fine.”

The cheerleaders around her nodded, some visibly relieved, others a little unsure. But Claire could tell that the tension had eased just a little bit. The idea wasn’t perfect, but it might just work.

“Okay,” Claire continued, her voice firmer now. “We’ll give them a shot. But you know we can’t let this slip. We’ll make sure we bring our A-game, no matter what. Got it?”

The squad nodded in unison, more confident now. Claire turned, making her way toward the bleachers with a new determination. As much as she hated to admit it, this was the best idea they had. She just hoped the show choir was up for it.

The sound of the door to the music room creaked open as Claire Zolinski stepped inside, her posture stiff and her expression as cold as ever. She scanned the room, her eyes quickly landing on you, Simon, Maddie, and Yuri, who were gathered at the front near the piano. The soft hum of the room died down as everyone turned to her, the tension in the air palpable.

“Claire?” you asked cautiously, raising an eyebrow. It wasn’t like Claire to approach the show choir without a reason. Usually, she avoided the group altogether, especially after what had happened freshman year.

Claire stood there for a moment, almost unsure of how to start. She shifted from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of being in the same space as the show choir, but the weight of the situation seemed to push her forward.

“I’ve got a proposal for you guys,” Claire finally said, her voice slightly more clipped than usual. “It’s… not exactly the kind of thing I would normally ask, but you need to hear me out.”

You exchanged glances with Maddie and Simon, both of them already frowning at the mention of a “proposal.” Yuri, however, seemed intrigued, leaning in slightly, while your own curiosity piqued. The air in the room was thick with suspicion, but you gestured for Claire to go on.

“Go ahead,” you said, trying to remain neutral, despite the unease rising in your stomach.

“Alright,” Claire started, her tone a little more serious now, “I know we don’t exactly get along, but listen up. The cheer squad’s in a bit of a bind. We’re down three people, and Friday’s halftime performance is coming up. We were planning a big show, but now we’re short on dancers.”

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly, and you glanced at Yuri, who raised his own eyebrows in interest. Maddie crossed her arms, looking skeptical, while Simon simply leaned back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest, already prepared to shoot down whatever Claire was about to suggest.

Claire continued, “So here’s my idea. We were thinking you guys could help. The cheerleaders will dance, and you’ll perform as the main act. You’ll sing, we’ll dance. This way, we don’t have to worry about our numbers being short, and you guys can use the opportunity to get your name out there. More exposure for you, more interest in the club, maybe even a few new members.”

The room fell silent for a moment as everyone processed her words. It wasn’t the craziest idea in the world. In fact, it kind of made sense. But, of course, it was Claire Zolinski, and that made it complicated.

Maddie was the first to speak up, her voice sharp as she leaned forward, clearly annoyed. “Wait, hold on. You want us to help you out, just like that? No offense, Claire, but you’re not exactly… known for playing fair. You want us to basically throw you a lifeline and just pretend that everything’s fine after everything that’s happened?”

Claire stiffened at the accusation, her expression hardening. “I’m not asking for charity,” she snapped. “This is a business deal. You help us out now, and we help you guys get the attention you need. Simple as that.”

Maddie wasn’t having it, but you could see Yuri starting to warm to the idea. He pushed himself off the piano bench, his expression thoughtful. “I mean, it’s not a terrible idea,” he said slowly, looking at you for confirmation. “We could definitely use the exposure. And if it means helping out the cheerleaders, then… it’s something to think about.”

Simon, however, was still clearly unconvinced. “You really think this is just about exposure? You’re asking us to risk our reputation, our time, all for a little ‘help’ from the cheerleaders? This feels like another one of your schemes, Claire,” he said, his voice skeptical.

You could see Simon’s point. You weren’t exactly eager to trust Claire, especially given the past tension between the show choir and the cheerleading squad. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny that this could be a unique opportunity for the club, especially if it was going to bring more attention to it.

“Look,” you said, breaking the silence, “I get where Simon and Maddie are coming from, but Claire’s right about one thing—if we want to stay relevant, we need to get noticed. And a collaboration like this could be the push we need. If we can pull it off, we get more eyes on us, which means we might get more members. That’s the bottom line, right?”

Maddie shot you a look, still unsure. “But at what cost? We don’t know if we can trust her. This could be some way for her to make us look bad in front of everyone.”

You nodded, understanding her hesitation. “I get that. We’ll have to be careful, but I think we can make it work if we play our cards right.”

Claire seemed to breathe a small sigh of relief, her gaze flicking from you to Yuri, who was clearly on board with the idea. “You don’t have to make any decisions right this second,” Claire said, her voice softer now. “Just think about it. I’m not asking you to join the squad or anything, just to help out for one performance. That’s it.”

Simon grumbled under his breath, clearly still not convinced, but you could tell he was starting to warm up to the idea, albeit reluctantly. “Fine,” he muttered. “But don’t expect us to make it a habit, Claire. This better not come back to bite us.”

Claire gave a small nod, her expression tight but grateful. “Understood.”

Maddie crossed her arms, still uneasy, but she seemed to realize that there wasn’t much to be done about it. “We’ll discuss it,” she said, voice cool. “But you’re not off the hook. We’re not exactly jumping into bed with you just yet.”

“Fair enough,” Claire replied, offering a tight smile. “Just let me know.”

As she turned to leave, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the decision settling in. It wasn’t going to be easy. There were a lot of risks involved. But it could also be exactly what the show choir needed—a chance to prove themselves, gain some respect, and maybe even recruit some new members. If they could pull this off, it could change everything for the club.

But as Claire stepped out of the room, you turned back to the rest of the group, still feeling uncertain. “Alright, guys. Thoughts?”

Yuri was the first to speak, his tone thoughtful. “I think it’s worth considering. I’m in. We can use this to our advantage.”

Simon, still frowning, crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not so sure, but… I guess it wouldn’t hurt to at least talk it over with everyone.”

Maddie, who had been quiet for a while, finally spoke up, voice uncertain. “I’ll reserve my judgment for now, but if we do this, it needs to be on our terms. We’re not here to just make them look good.”

You nodded in agreement. “Exactly. But I think it’s worth trying.”

With the tension lingering in the air, the meeting ended, and everyone left with a sense of uncertainty, but also a new understanding of the challenge ahead. Whether or not the show choir would agree to help the cheerleaders at halftime was still up in the air, but one thing was certain—the decision would have a lasting impact on everyone involved.

The locker room was filled with the usual chaos after practice—pads slamming into lockers, water bottles clinking, and the sound of sneakers squeaking across the polished floors. It was a typical post-practice routine for the football team, but today there was an edge to the noise, something that seemed to have everyone on edge.

Wally Clark, the star quarterback of the team, sat on a bench in the corner, running a hand through his damp hair, his expression unreadable. He was usually calm under pressure, cool in the face of the game, but today? Today, the weight of everything was starting to wear on him. He had already been dealing with the usual pressures—scouting, the expectations, and the endless game footage—but now, there was something new in the air. The coach had barely spoken to him the entire practice, which left Wally with more time to stew in his thoughts.

Across the room, a group of players clustered near the door, talking loudly, their voices rising over the hum of the room. Wally couldn’t make out all of their words, but the tone was unmistakable—frustration mixed with confusion.

“Wait, hold on,” one of the players, Chris, shouted over the noise. “Did you hear? The show choir is performing at halftime on Friday.”

The murmurs in the locker room grew louder, voices overlapping in disbelief. Wally’s eyes narrowed, trying to block out the chatter, but he couldn’t ignore it. It was becoming clear that the news had hit everyone hard. He could already tell this wasn’t going to go over well. The players were already starting to complain.

“Show choir?” Evan, a lineman, scoffed. “Are you serious? We’re playing a game, not a freakin’ musical.”

“You know they’re just trying to use the game to get more attention, right?” another player, Tyler, chimed in, rolling his eyes. “Typical show choir stuff. They’re gonna make us look like idiots.”

Wally’s grip tightened on his gym bag. He didn’t like where this was going. They were already getting enough heat from the other team for being a winning squad, but now they were going to be the butt of jokes for letting the choir take over halftime? It wasn’t sitting well with him.

“I mean, we’re supposed to be the focus, right?” Evan’s voice rang out again. “And now we’ve gotta share the spotlight with a bunch of singing nerds?”

The locker room grew louder, players throwing their opinions back and forth. The tension was rising fast, and Wally could feel the pulse in his chest throb, the pressure weighing on him. It wasn’t the show choir’s fault. He knew that. But it still felt like something was out of his control, and that alone was enough to make him tense up.

The coach, Coach Ramirez, had clearly been trying to keep his distance, but now, hearing the noise reach a boiling point, he strode into the middle of the room, his presence immediately commanding silence. He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the group with his signature no-nonsense expression.

“Alright, enough!” Coach Ramirez barked, his voice cutting through the chatter like a knife. “I don’t want to hear another word about this. You’re not going to spend the next three days whining about it, you hear me?”

Wally exhaled sharply, letting his shoulders drop as he focused on the coach. He could feel the frustration in the room still simmering, but Coach Ramirez was used to handling moments like this. He wasn’t going to let the team’s mood derail their focus.

“We’re not worried about who’s performing at halftime,” Coach continued, his voice hard and commanding. “You’ll do your job, and that’s it. We’re not here to entertain the crowd. We’re here to win, and nothing, not a single thing, will distract you from that.”

Wally nodded, his gaze steady but tired. He could tell that this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. He hated when the team got sidetracked, especially with something that seemed so irrelevant. But Coach Ramirez was right. They couldn’t let it get to them.

The coach’s eyes scanned the room, making sure everyone was listening, before he added, “And just to keep you all focused, we’ll make a little adjustment. Next practice, we’ll take a fifteen-minute break. You’ll go watch the show choir rehearse, and you’ll get it out of your systems. After that, we’re back to football. Got it?”

Wally’s eyes flicked up to the coach, surprised. A break to watch the show choir? That wasn’t something he’d expected. But he knew there was no point in arguing. If it helped, it helped. He’d rather deal with it now than let it hang over them until Friday.

“Fine,” Chris muttered, looking like he wasn’t happy about it. “But I’m not going easy on them. I swear, if they think they can just take over halftime…”

Coach Ramirez held up his hand to silence him. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Chris. You’ll go, you’ll watch, and then you’ll forget about it. We don’t need distractions right now.”

There was a pause, a slight shift in the room as everyone began to come to terms with the coach’s order. Wally took a deep breath, letting the tension in his shoulders loosen as he processed the plan. Watching the choir rehearse wasn’t exactly what he wanted to do, but if it meant ending the conversation here and now, then he’d take it.

“Alright, alright,” Tyler muttered under his breath. “But if they screw up the performance and we lose, I’m blaming them.”

Wally shot him a look, shaking his head. “If we lose, it won’t be because of them. It’ll be because we didn’t do our jobs.”

The room quieted down after that, the tension slowly defusing. Wally gave a small nod of approval as the players began to drift out of the locker room, their conversation turning back to the game. He had a lot on his mind, but for now, he had to focus on the task ahead: making sure the team stayed focused and didn’t let anything, even a halftime show, throw them off.

As he stood up to grab his bag and head out, he couldn’t help but think about what Friday would bring. Whether or not the choir could pull off their performance, he had no idea. But if it meant keeping the team on track, then so be it.

[mother-above]

The Golden Warrior | Chapter 11

Azriel x Reader

Summary: To you, love was a poison that slowly killed. It was something that could make the strongest of warriors and leaders weak and vulnerable. You had successfully evaded romance and relationships for a century until the day you realized it had been plaguing you from within.

Chapters: 11/?

Warnings: 18+, fluff, and suggestiveness

*masterlist*

That fluttering feeling in your stomach was unnerving. It happened whenever Azriel was near you. You’d managed to avoid actively garnering interest in anyone for decades, and you’d forgotten what it was like to feel butterflies in your stomach. After a couple of days of contemplation, you determined that whatever you felt for Azriel was better than having feelings for Tarquin. You rationalized that having feelings for Azriel wasn’t the end of the world, he was a good friend who was there when you needed him. You were sure anything you felt for Azriel would die off since you were friends, nothing more.

Confusing feelings aside, you were thankful for Azriel for never mentioning your conversation by the river. He saw what you felt was bothering you, so he shut his mouth and gave you some distance. While slightly upsetting, avoiding the topic was a gift, it gave you the chance to pretend you never admitted your fondness for the Illyrian.

At first, Azriel was nowhere to be found and then he was suddenly everywhere. It didn’t help that you were now hyper-aware of him whenever he was in the room. You would be on the training ring with Cassian and Nesta and all of a sudden, Azriel was there needing to speak with Cassian or doing some combat training. It took incredible willpower to ensure your eyes don't wander off to Azriel’s sweaty and muscular form. You’d walk into the kitchen looking for a snack and Azriel would already be there making something for himself. You’d sit with your coffee and try to lose yourself in a book, when you looked up, he was gone but a plate of what he made was placed near you. 

The two of you barely talked, the only words you spoke to each other were greetings and goodbyes but Azriel’s gaze was heavy. You felt this cool caress whenever he spotted you, this always threatened to make your cheeks turn red because you had no idea what Azriel was thinking.

On the other hand, Azriel oscillated from pure joy to deprecating anxiety multiple times a day. When you told him that you liked him, he almost shot up into the air in glee but then he remembered his sobering reality. You still didn’t want a mate and you looked like you were about to hurl after your admission. This was not what Azriel fantasized, he imagined the minute you realize your feelings for him, you would jump into his arms and he’d declare his feelings for you.

In the few weeks, you spent in the Night Court, you had regained your usual weight and your muscles were more toned instead of sinewy. That golden glow had yet to make an appearance but it was miles better from when you first arrived. 

He was giving you space but he couldn’t take it anymore, he wanted to talk to you and be near you. Nesta told him that you had asked Cassian to train together and Azriel burned in jealousy. There was no reason for him to feel like that but he hated the idea of another male coming into close contact with you, even if it was his mated brother. So every time you trained, Azriel was there too, keeping a close eye and making sure Cassian wasn’t pushing you too far.

You were fighting well for someone who was recently injured, Cassian was so impressed that he didn’t have to hold back. With Feyre and Nesta, he had to be mindful not to go too hard but with you, he was having fun and used you for a proper workout. The two of you were practicing hand-to-hand combat and you were destroying him, raining down punches and kicks in a flurry. Cassian gleamed with sweat and he could barely breathe but that didn’t stop the competitiveness, when you met his eye with a cocky smirk, Cassian launched an attack.  

At first, you were able to defend but Cassian was determined to beat you this time. He was throwing everything at you, and finally, with a disorienting punch, you were thrown off before a hard kick to your chest sent you flying. You land on your back with a thud and it takes a second for you to catch your breath. You see a grinning Cassian approaching you on your peripheral only to see Azriel’s towering form take over your vision. 

He kneels and gingerly helps you sit up. “Are you okay?”

Your head was swimming but you weren’t mad, instead you started laughing. It’s been a while since anyone has knocked you down while sparring. 

You stabilized yourself in his arms. “I’m fine! Cass and I just got away with the training.” Laughter halted when you saw Azriel’s grim face, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

He gave Cassian a withering glare and the usually tough General wished he could disappear into the shadows. 

“What the hel were you thinking, Cas?” said Azriel as he thoroughly looked you over. “From now on, I’ll spar with you.”

Your jaw went slack before gaining control of your body. “Oh– there’s no need. I’m fine with Cassian. He’s the general and I wouldn’t want to impose on your du-”

“It’s fine!” chirped Cassian. He should have expected Azriel to act like this if you ever got hurt. “He’s the spymaster, he’s sneaky and will teach more than I could at this point.”

You looked between Azriel and Cassian with a lifted brow. The General was biting the inside of his cheek hoping you would just say ‘yes’ so he could avoid Azriel’s deadly glare while the shadowsinger’s eyes were practically begging you.

“Okay,” you sorely got up from the floor. Shaking out your limbs, you got into a defensive stance. After eyeing Azriel’s glistening tan chest, you went for the attack.

***

Your first spar with Azriel broke the tension, and everything returned to normal. Neither of you mentioned what happened by the Sidra or the night he spent sleeping next to you and you wanted to keep it that way, it’d be easier to forget about your feelings if you ignored it. Your twisted logic surmised that exposure therapy was what you needed. The ultimate goal was to be around Azriel without feeling those butterflies in your stomach.

Since the two of you were finally interacting normally, the inner circle could breathe a sigh of relief no longer having to deal with a broody Golden Warrior and shadowsinger. Rhysand and the others knew something transpired between you but no one dared to ask what happened. Family dinners were much more pleasant whenever you joined in on the banter. 

Tonight’s dinner was full of complaints, Cassian had to deal with the war camps and he always had stories to tell at the end of the day. Rhysand and Feyre were frustrated with the task of finding Bryaxis, Rhysand, and Azriel’s contacts had no idea where he could be. Remembering your short conversation with the death god, Amren suggested that you could help find Bryaxis. Azriel bristled at the thought of you near the creature again, biting his tongue when you enthusiastically offered your help.

The next few days were relatively uneventful and you were thankful for it, since Amarantha’s wrath you haven’t been able to relax and do nothing. Back in Dawn Court, there was always something for you to do but here, you could breathe. You and those who lived in the House of Wind had adapted into a routine, you had melded seamlessly into their lives; it didn't feel like you’d only been there for a few weeks. 

Every night you ended up in the library with some sort of drink in your hand and a companion who you’d sit and read with until it was late and eyes were fluttering close. Sometimes Nesta, Elain, and Mor would join you but they always went to bed early, leaving you alone with Azriel. At first, you were afraid of spending more time alone with him but you thought of it as good practice to teach your body not to react when he was nearby. You had your designated spot on the loveseat while Azriel stretched out on the couch across from you. The House was rowdy during the day so it was nice to spend time with your friend. Half of the time spent in the library was the two of you having a quiet conversation and the other was spent absorbed in the books.

Nesta had lent you a stack of romance books from her collection, and you were flying through them. You might not want to be in love yourself but you liked reading about fictional people falling in love and having tender and fiery moments. The book in your hands had you slyly looking behind to make sure no one could see the pages. The love interest had wings similar to the Illyrians whose wings were extremely sensitive when touched. Your gaze flickered to the male in front of you, your eyes looking directly at the membranous leather illuminated by the fireplace. Clearing your throat, you flipped a page and tried hard to focus on the story. It was going well until the character's blonde hair began to morph into inky black hair with similar features to Azriel. 

You bit your lip trying hard to think of someone else, but the image had already been branded into your imagination, even thinking about Tarquin didn’t help. The scenario in the novel was getting steamy, you imagined it would be hard to do but it was so outlandish that heat flashed through you at the thought.

No amount of magic was fast enough to cover the scent of your arousal. You looked at Azriel hoping he hadn’t noticed but it was too late. He was already smirking.

“What are you reading?” said Azriel, his voice low. “It must be fascinating.”

You sat there stunned, you’d never heard his voice that deep, and you’d never heard him purr.

It took everything in you not to stutter. “None of your business, shadowsinger.”

His demeanor had changed, his hazel eyes darkened and his jaw clenched as if he was restraining himself. You looked at him curiously and then it hit you, his musky scent of cedar and night. Attempts of deep breaths to collect your thoughts were a bad idea because now you were hypnotized, the musk and woodsy smell of you and Azriel intertwining together. 

“It’s one hundred percent my business if I’m going to sit here for the next hour with you sitting there blushing and smelling like that.“

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.”

Azriel’s smirk stayed as he sat up and fully faced you eager to hear what you had to say.

“The love interest in the book has wings and he and the main character are attempting to have sex in mid-air. It’s so ridiculous they ended up crashing into a mountain, I'm just glad they did it in an unpopulated area. The only logistical way of that successfully happening is if both people had wings and even then, I’d imagine it would be difficult to do…” 

You cursed yourself as intrusive thoughts of you and Azriel in that compromising position filled your head. You stomped it down and saw an amused smile on his lips, it was as if he knew what you were thinking. 

Azriel clicked his tongue and his eyes bore into yours. “That does sound rather arduous and inconvenient. Couldn’t they wait?”

“I guess not, desire is desire.”

He shook his head, “That wouldn’t do it for me. I’d need a hard surface to lay my lover down.”

The Shadowsinger held his breath, he couldn’t believe he said that but he couldn’t help it.

“Agreed, it’s hard to have some control when you’re up in the air.”

Azriel leaned forward, and he found himself actively holding himself back from reaching for you. Your scent of rich lilacs and morning dew made him feel intoxicated. “What do you know about control?”

Instinct moving you closer, you met his gaze with the same intensity, feeling his cool gaze trace your lips and cheekbones. Gods, you wanted to reach over and take him on that chair. The thought of you straddling and having Azriel beneath you made your breath hitch.

“I know enough that I like control and to be controlled,” you said softly.

You swear a rumble was heard from Azriel’s chest. He wished he could cross over and kiss you but he knew you wouldn’t appreciate that.

“How peculiar, I like control too… although I don’t know how to feel about being controlled.”

No longer thinking straight, you grinned wickedly at the handsome man before you. “You should try it sometime, it may be euphoric for you, something you may end up liking.”

The two of you sat in silence, gears turning in your head while you fought internal battles. The air inside the library was thick, hot, and reeking of you and Azriel. Combined with your magic, it was making it hard to breathe. Azriel refused to touch you first, he could smell that you wanted him but you had to be fully onboard, and he knew you weren’t there yet. 

While Azriel restrained himself, you were screaming at yourself for wanting this. You could scent that he wanted you too but you couldn’t make him a fling, he already meant too much.

You broke eye contact first, your arms feeling like lead as you reached for the stupid romance book. The faerie on the cover had feathered wings, their familiarity jolting and reminding you of the unusable ones glamoured on your back. Azriel was still looking at you with blown eyes, the hazel barely peeking through. He could not believe the two of you had admitted those things to each other.

You bit your lip as you slowly gathered your belongings scattered around the library, an air of embarrassment hanging in the air. This interaction was going to put a rift between the two of you and you wanted to avoid that, things were finally feeling normal. 

Without thinking, you turned to him once again. “Azriel,” you said, breaking the silence. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

He blinked, your clear voice pulling him from the heated trance. “I have some tasks to do for Rhys but I’m free in the morning.”

“At sunrise, I’ll meet you on the balcony. You’re going to help me fly.”

Surprise flickered in his features but a genuine smile made its way to his face. “Whatever you wish, little dove”

***

You woke up just before the sun rose, slipping into leggings, a backless long-sleeve, and a jacket. You trudged over to the kitchen where Azriel was waiting for you with a light breakfast. The anxiety of flying had quelled any awkwardness about last night's conversation with Azriel, you were radiating with nervous energy and he noticed. In an attempt to distract you, he told you that he had learned how to fly past the appropriate age, his days in the cellar had stunted his growth in many ways. Talk of his past fully woke you up, heart-wrenching at the thought of little Azriel being deprived of a childhood.

You clung onto his neck, his warmth easing your worries as he flew directly to a discreet spot. He told you this was also where he gave Feyre flying lessons. When he placed you on the ground, you realized that your friends hadn’t seen the horrible scars on your back. 

“Azriel… you haven’t seen my back or wings yet… the skin looks bad and the left wing healed a little strangely.”

He smiles softly, “Look at who you’re talking to, dove. Your scars will never scare me.”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you took off your jacket and slowly turned. It’s only been a few months so the scar was still red and angry. Azriel stepped closer and couldn’t help the gasp that escaped.

“It looks that bad, huh? 

Azriel immediately shook his head. “No. It just makes me think of all you’ve had to endure.” Without thinking, his scarred fingers traced the jagged lines, his warm hands leaving goosebumps on your skin. “Dove, you’re stronger than you think. Let me see your wings.”

He stepped back and then you unglamoured them, hissing at the weight and strain of your wings.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

Azriel tells you to flex them out and bring them in, let the wings get used to moving again. While doing your exercise, Azriel saw what you meant by your left wing looking a little different, some feathers growing crooked but it was barely noticeable. Your white and gold feathers were still as beautiful as ever.

You were struggling since your back hadn’t moved specific muscles in months. Once Azriel was satisfied with your warm up he told you to practice lifting off the ground without any aid from jumping or using your legs. You strained but managed to rise a foot off the ground, gaining confidence, you kept trying and lifted off 5 feet in the air. 

Azriel thinks you need a big push so he brings you to a large landing 10 feet in the air. Never in your life did you think you’d be scared of heights but there you were trembling at the 10-foot drop, the spymaster looking small from your vantage point.

“Lift off and then slowly fly down to the ground. You can do it!”

You looked at him warily. “What if I fall?”

“Then I’ll catch you.”

The way he said it made you gasp, it was earnest and you wholeheartedly believed him. Four simple words but in that moment, you knew you could trust him with your life.

Emptying your mind, you lifted off and shakily made your way down to Azriel with the grace of a five-year-old Peregryn child. Azriel let out a cheer the moment your feet touched the ground, his excitement making you smile. 

“Do you think you can do that someplace higher?” he said pointing to a larger cliff nearby. 

Fueled with how well you’ve been doing, you agreed. In no time, you were up top and Azriel was waiting in the bottom. Taking a deep breath, you lifted off and tried hard to fly gracefully. Your wings were flapping hard and about halfway down, a muscle contracted, and nerve pain shot out from your back. You let out a yelp and then began falling, Azriel was quick enough to catch you before swerving into a tree.

He carefully placed you on the ground and your hand immediately went up and glowed, trying to detect what had happened. When you couldn’t find anything wrong other than temporary muscle spasms, you ground your teeth together. Frustration coursed through your body making you burst into tears.

Azriel’s eyes grew wide, he was never good with crying females and now he had no idea what to do with his bawling mate.

“Are you okay?” he asked shakily.

You raised your hands to gesture to yourself and the world. “No, I’m not okay! I’m a fucking failure and everything is going wrong!”

Your outburst took Azriel aback. “What do you mean?”

“I shouldn’t be here. I’m the High Lord’s godsdamned second, I should be in Dawn taking care of my court but I’ve made so many mistakes my cousin had to send me here to sort myself out. On top of that, I’m a Peregryn who can’t freaking fly because of some stupid mental block. How pathetic can I get?” 

The tears don’t stop coming and you cover your face, mortified that Azriel was seeing you cry like this. Weeks of built-up frustration had finally found its release, you sobbed until your breaths stuttered.

Azriel couldn’t stand hearing you talk so negatively about yourself. He watched you crumpled on the ground and his heart clenched at the sight. “No...” he whispered as he lowered himself to your level. He took your hand and gently pulled you to sit up. Azriel slung an arm to support your sore back while one hand stroked your cheek. “You are anything but pathetic. You were doing so well and I pushed you too hard today, we shouldn’t have done that last drop. I’m so sorry, dove.”

“Don’t be sorry, Az,” you blubbered out. “I checked and nothing’s wrong with me. I’m sore but it was all in my head.”

You leaned against his warm chest as the words sank in. Azriel’s large hands rubbed small circles on your back, his touch soothing you into a calm state, your breathing slowly matching his. Cool wisps stroked your feathered wings and your lip twitched, Azriel remembered that Peregryns loved getting their wings stroked.

“This mental block…” you began, “I’m scared of losing my wings. Aside from my sword, my wings are all I have left of my father. It’s so stupid but I hid my wings for fear of losing them. I feel foolish because my Peregryn soldiers aren’t part Fae like me. Like you, they can’t retract their wings and here I am complaining about feeling vulnerable.” 

Azriel continued to smooth your skin, his touch leaving tingles. His brow was furrowed, hazel eyes looking at you with so much intensity you couldn’t understand it.

“You must think I’m pathetic.”

He vehemently shook his head. 

“No,” his hand traced the scar on your cheek. “You’ve lost so much and all you do is give. No one blames you for acting like this. Let’s end today’s session and pick it up when I come back from my mission. I told you I'd help you fly again and I would never break a promise.”

You merely nodded and let Azriel hold you close as he flew to the House of Wind. He landed gently on the balcony and to your surprise, you see the inner circle eating their breakfast. You bristled at first, wondering if you should glamour your wings but Azriel’s little smile and comforting hand on the small of your back stopped you. You nodded towards your friends and made your way to a chair. The inner circle did their best not to gape at the sight of your wings or the partially hidden scar on your back. They notice your red blotchy eyes but no one says anything when they see Azriel discreetly shake his head, asking his family not to bring it up right now.

You remain quiet during breakfast, your mood slowly improves with every joke amongst your friends. Once the meal was over, Cassian had managed to successfully rope you into the ridiculous banter, your eyes shining with tears of laughter. 

Nesta was brave enough to bring up your wings, she called them lovely and you drew them out a bit to show more feathers. Cassian who was finally able to freely look at your wings burst out with words that sent everyone into screaming laughter.

“So, whose wingspan is bigger?”

The group had decided the age-old question was finally going to be answered. Amren cackled with glee when the House provided a tape measure on the table. Mor squeals in excitement and one by one, she carefully measured every winged fae’s wingspan. From smallest to largest, it went from Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, you and then Azriel. Upon hearing the results, Azriel’s eyes snapped to his brothers and then to you with a wicked grin. You rolled your eyes because the Peregryn’s must have the same thought about wing size and male bodily appendages.

The lord of bloodshed growled in dissatisfaction, insisting that everyone gets measured again. His pout grew when he realized that Azriel did have a bigger wingspan than him. Cassian was never going to hear the end of it.

He looked over to your white and gold feathers and his frown deepened. “If the Golden Warrior was a male, that’d mean her manhood would be more grand than mine.”

This sent everyone into hysterics, Rhysand was howling in laughter as Feyre clutched your arm, making you double over. Azriel was shaking his head but even he couldn’t help reacting to Cassian’s comment. 

As the merriment died down, Rhys and Azriel looked at their watches, their faces growing serious at the thought of the Shadowsinger’s mission ahead. Azriel disappears into the shadows only to emerge a minute later dressed in full Illyrian leathers, his chest, and legs strapped with weapons. 

Waving you over to the balcony, Azriel towered over you, the playfulness from earlier was long gone. Something in your heart twists and you suddenly feel nervous for Azriel.

“Where are you going?”

“I can’t tell you that…but Rhsyand will fill you in later.”

You peered inside to look for the High Lord only to find everyone had left, leaving you and Azriel alone. 

Eyeing the glinting hilt of Truthteller, you lift a brow at him. “Will you be okay? You’re armed to the teeth… are you going to need back-up?”

His heart leaps at the thought of you worrying about him. “I’m just being cautious, it’s a quick reconnaissance trip. I’ll see you by lunch tomorrow.”

Your mouth twists, something didn't feel right even though there was no reason to feel like that. Azriel was more than capable of a reconnaissance mission so you smiled up at him and wished him luck. Feeling bold, Azriel grasped your hand and gave it a little squeeze before swiftly turning around and taking off from the balcony.

Your fingers tingled and warmth seeped onto your face as you watched his figure grow smaller against the cool blue sky. It was odd but you found yourself looking forward to seeing Azriel safe and sound back at the house. You startle when your thoughts about Azriel are interrupted by an obsidian claw knocking on your mental shield. Leaving a crack open, you let Rhysand’s voice fill your mind.

“Meet me in my office… Thesan and I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

a/n: I am so so sorry for the long wait. life has been crazy and I hope you're all doing well. thank you for reading xoxo

taglist: @inloveallthetime , @phoenix666stuff, @books-and-lit, @fightmedraco, @annamariereads16, @gorlillaglue25

[morathicain]

Buried dreams - just so I can support your fucking hopes

Fandom: ThamePo - Heart that skips a beat Jun is the master of shenanigans but this time he's fallen victim to his own plans. This, no one could have predicted ... [you can also read and comment on AO3 <3 <3 <3]

With how smart Jun claimed to be, he’d never suspected the situation to come to this.

Teasing Po and testing him, pushing him, after he’d found him looking at Thame with those doe eyes, had been part of the plan.

Pushing Thame by clinging to Po and provoking each of them to make sure it was serious for both of them, had also been part of the plan.

A fun plan, a desperate one. One he’d been completely in control of.

Sitting at his secret bar now without Po, his messages of provocation still on read but without a reply, indicating that there was in fact, a date happening, and feeling like utter shit, hadn’t been part of the plan.

Jun sat there, a glass of beer forgotten on the table, staring at his last messages.

Yes, he’d sent them as another test. As another push to make Po give up before the catastrophe would come back to them all.

This had been his original plan, his sole goal.

Or had it?

Bile rose to his throat and his whole chest seemed compressed into a tiny box full of raging demons.

He wanted Thame to be happy, he reminded himself.

He even hoped for Po to be happy, if it didn’t get into the way of MARS’ and Thame’s happiness. Heck he’d give them the world if he could, making sure they could be together without a worry in this world. After all, he worried enough for all of them.

Jun had to remind himself because it didn’t feel like worry any longer.

The way his heart had stuttered earlier when Po had told him about the date, his momentary glee stumbling across the sudden disappointment that hadn’t been sudden at all.

It had, after all, been quite obvious, hadn’t it? That Thame was gone for Po and Po was gone for Thame and that they’d spend time together, if there was only a sliver of hope. It had been more of a surprise that Thame hadn’t mauled Jun to death till now with all those bombastic side eyes he’d given him for dominating Po’s time.

That had been part of the goal as well, after all. To test Thame and how far his feelings and patience would go. Whether he’d give up on Po and let go or not.

But somewhere, sometime along the plan, Jun had lost the path it seemed.

He’d forgotten that it was all a play and he’d started caring for real. Getting close for real. Wishing for a shared celebration with Po for real.

Somewhere along the line, Jun had gotten his hopes up for something that had never been part of any goal or plan.

And that realisation shook him to shards.

The thought crossed his mind like a forbidden treat, lethal and meant to die.

Jun had fallen for Po.

While testing the man to make sure his best friend wouldn’t be heartbroken, that they would be able to overcome the strongest opposition, he’d made himself the fiend and had fallen for the very person he’d tried to keep away from Thame.

What an irony, what a horrible mistake, how absolutely insane.

Jun took a big sip and turned off the screen of his phone, wishing to neither know or learn about what those two would be up for now. It wasn’t his right and he shouldn’t think about it, not in the way he did, with grinding teeth and a heartache he had never known before.

Wasn’t it him who had spent all those days and nights with Po to work on the MV and documentary? Wasn’t it him who had made sure to care for Po’s comfort and had gotten up close as often possible? Wasn’t it him who Thame should be jealous of?

But memories of Po’s wide grin came back to his mind, whenever they talked about Thame. The spark of hesitant hope that would never be part of Po’s thoughts about Jun. And why should it?

It was humiliating for sure, how thinking back to Po’s annoyance of Jun’s interventions, his eye rolling and constant snark made Jun’s heart race. It should have been a turn off, there shouldn’t even be a flutter. He’d seen how Po was next to Thame, how he seemed to soften up and melt into a goo of sunshine, just the way Thame did vice versa. That should have made him fall for the man but it hadn’t.

No, Jun realised, he wasn’t jealous of that kind of treatment Thame got. Maybe of those eyes, maybe of the attention but he wanted his own. He wanted to biting remarks, the way Po barely tolerated him and kicked ass with a stubbornness without equal.

Jun wanted all of that directed at himself but more and different and constant.

What a loser he was, Jun thought and took another sip that had been more of a gulp, half of the glasses emptied at once.

Fuck.

Brushing his hair back in frustration, Jun picked up his phone again. This time, he ignored the empty chat and went right for his pictures. There they were, MARS and Po, separate entities that had been morphed into one most recently. There was Thame, smiling as he hadn’t smiled in a long time, giving Jun hope that they could go those next steps together.

And there was Po, raised eyebrow at Jun, shoulders wide and dependable, push-able, pull-able. Po’s smile at the others, his little laugh when he watched the lot of them.

There were, in the end, a surprising amount of pictures with Po in it. And only a little part had others in there, too. Maybe sometimes as a reason, maybe sometimes by accident.

Jun huffed as he thumbed through them until there was no Po any longer because he hadn’t been there yet. There was also no laughing Thame, barely any band pictures at all.

Going back to one specific picture with Po laughing out loud while watching them, Jun stared at it long enough to burn it into the back of his eyes.

Then, he turned off his phone and leaned back with a deep sigh, his chest loosening up a little.

Maybe, he thought, Po was meant to be loved. To be loved and cherished and cared for. Maybe there was no way but to fall for him. Po had, after all, brought the light and sun back into their group. Maybe their love and devotion was their pay for his deeds and neither had realised when they’d subscribed to the contract.

Jun knew he was smiling, smirking maybe, the joke on himself, the humour not lost even though there was only him laughing about it.

Here he was, amused by his own failure after crashing through the roof and developing feelings for the one person his best friend was in love with. Had ever been in love with.

Jun might not have taken as long to get it but he called himself an idiot none the less.

For a second, he thought about sending all those pictures to Thame and tell him they were from Mike but almost at the same moment he decided against it. Those were his treasure, Thame could collect his own. And he probably had already.

Those, Jun would keep, the one thing he’d allow himself while trying to get rid of those feelings, the unnecessary weight he’d accidentally found himself with on his travels.

Feelings for Po, pah.

But there they were, settled into his chest, snuggled behind his ribcage, glued to him against his will. And with them came the wishes to dominate Po’s time further, to care for him before anyone else could.

All while there was not a sliver of hope. Not for him.

Jun downed the rest of his beer and rubbed his temple, wishing for a headache to take his thoughts far away. As if there was any chance to turn off his own brain.

He wouldn’t do anything about it, at least not against Thame’s wishes.

He would, however, carve his own spot into Po’s life somehow, teasing and pushing him until he’d equally be burned into Po’s memory as he was into Jun’s.

And he’d find out more about the man who had come into their lives like a tender thunderstorm, turning everything and everyone upside down with softness and determination. And puppy eyes.

Jun tried not to think of those wide shoulders again, the heat punching into his cheeks without mercy.

There was no way he’d be as casual with Po again next time, not overthinking their next touch although he’d be alone with it in his own world.

There was no way but he’d try.

What a fool, he thought to himself and ordered another beer.

What a fool, he thought as he downed the next, the image of Po with his infecting laughter and his fond frustration still stuck in his veins.

What a fool …

The End

[crimson-sorrow]

@traittor suggested: ∗ 1o﹕ sender  wields  a  [ gun / knife ]  at  receiver . @ He Xuan

He Xuan knew better than to get involved. He had no desire to ever set foot in the Heavenly Capital again, hell, he would be a happy man if he never had to face another Heavenly Official in the next hundred years. Unfortunately he was indebted to Hua Cheng and once word reached him that the White Calamity would possibly take advantage of the opening of Mount Tonglu He Xuan had to promise to lend his support. He would keep his distance, act from the shadows, it was what he had always done, the last thing he wanted was to travel with Crimson Rain and his merry band of Heavenly Officials. No, that was not quite the truth. The last thing he wanted was to be here at all, but he owed it to Hua Cheng to play his part, and therefore he would.

The opening of Mount Tonglu had been unpleasant. The tremors that shook the earth had awoken him from his well-deserved rest, but they also kept torturing him as they grew in intensity. Every time the earth trebled his stomach ached and cramped, eventually making him clutch his middle to keep himself from falling over. In a way it was hilarious. He was one of the strongest ghosts in all of the three realms, yet a few earthquakes could bring him to his knees. He Xuan remembered the time he had spent inside the kiln, he remembered how everything he had done was out of hatred and spite, and he had hoped he would never have to return to his place. Not only did he not hold any fond memories of the time he spent here, travelling these woods also filled him with a slight feeling of unease. Black Water was made to rule the waters, he felt like a fish thrown onto dry land.

Suddenly there was a noise. At first it was quiet, it sounded very far away, but it approached quickly. It was the sound of laughter. But this laughter would make one’s hair stand on end. There was no glee in it, it only sounded sinister. When He Xuan turned around he saw him there. The White Calamity. A mask was hiding his face and concealing his expression, but his spiritual energy felt hostile, like he was eager for a fight. And He Xuan was not wrong. He managed to dodge the attack, but he was obviously at a disadvantage here with nothing but forest surrounding him.

The knife in the White Calamity’s hand glistened dangerously in the sunlight, it was a fine blade, but it looked almost as sinister as the man that was wielding it. This was just He Xuan’s luck. Coming to Hua Cheng’s aid and being forced to face one of the remaining calamities. Reaching into his sleeve He Xuan pulled out a dagger of his own, blade and hilt carved out of the bone of one of his bone dragons, but he did not use it to attack, he simply parried the other calamity’s attacks. He did not want to fight, he was hungry.

“It looks like this time all calamities have come to Mount Tonglu. What is it you seek?”

[fluffypotatey]

WIP Friday

i think it's also called Fuck It Friday but i'm not sure

thanks for the tag @thiamsxbitch <33333 (sorry it took me awhile to get to this but i'm posting it now!) so far i've got a little bit of my tgm hunger games au!

The president gave another smile before moving his hands to pop open the seal. A calloused hand laid on Maverick’s knee, stilling the shaking the man could not help. Maverick and Bradley both inhaled together as the President’s gleaming smile returned to facing them. “For these 75th Games, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.” Deafening silence. Not even a screech from the critters outside was heard before the screams and cheers of the Capital returned. The camera now panned to the colorful and affluent people who jumped and celebrated in the stand but Maverick couldn’t hear them. He couldn’t even see them. “May the odds be ever in your favor.” The president kept his eyes to the camera while his plastic smile morphed into one of true glee. “Happy reaping.”

no pressure tags <3 @sourdough-morbread @sundaeserenade @botanicallyinclinednerd @mythicalmagical-monkeyman @thrandilf

[bluebellhairpin]

Erwin Smith X Fem!Reader

Summary; Erwin decides he wants more from life, but he needs you on his side to accomplish his new goals - and that comes with a large apology.

Warnings; Canon-typical blood/injuries. Descriptions of reader's injuries. Erwin groveling. PTSD-like themes. Female reader.

Listening to; 'Suspicious Minds (Vocal Intro)' by Elvis Presley - "... Let our love survive, I'll dry the tears from your eyes. Let's don't let a good thing die."

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Ko-Fi

The Golden Rule; The beginning move where the Pawn that’s directly in front of the King is moved two spaces. It immediately helps control the middle of the board, and puts into play two of the most powerful pieces - a Bishop, and the Queen.

Erwin knew it. After the basement, he knew he’d need something else to sedate his hunger. A new end goal. 

Getting to Grisha Jaeger’s basement was a feat deemed impossible by his few superiors, but Erwin lived and breathed to prove the impossible possible. He had a mind that worked faster, better than most. He had a drive so powerful that only one, Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, could rival. When it came down to it, Erwin got shit done. When he set his mind to something, nothing stopped him - not even death. 

Which is why, even before the battle to reclaim Shiganshina, he had planned ahead. What happened if he did die was mostly out of his hands - but if he lived? He needed something after the basement. That was a cause based on curiosity. Before then he’d been driven by a need to serve, but after that - after that was done and he could walk away mostly unscathed? He would know more. Even if he couldn’t prove some theories, they were still only ever based on straight facts. Things he’d seen and heard with his own ears. 

Or thing’s she had seen or heard. As far as he was concerned, her word was fact. 

She had known him since their first days as cadets. She had always been there, lingering on the outskirts. Before him she already knew she wanted to be a Scout, but after that she seemed content following him. Trusting him. He had used her, ignored her, let her blend into the background - and she’d done so easily. Always around but never seen. He decided if they both lived that he would change that. He decided she deserved more, and that he wanted to give her more. 

Then there was Levi Ackerman. Humanity’s Strongest. Loyal to a fault. Erwin’s dog to command if nothing more. But he was more. Levi wasn’t just a soldier, he was a leader, but most important, he was a survivor. He was dangerous, deadly, and he knew exactly how violent he needed to be to be able to walk away if backed into a corner. Really, her and Levi were the same in that one regard - that brutality, ruthlessness, their way to find a way straight to a point was shared, and really Erwin had it too. It’s why they were so similar despite being so different. 

And the final remaining true veteran of the Survey Corps. Hange Zoe. The wildcard with a mind like no other. Hange was unlike anyone else Erwin had met before. But in many ways, Hange reminded Erwin of himself. The curiosity for things beyond their borders was something they shared, although Erwin found himself thinking about this in private far more than Hange’s public displays of glee. But Hange was fearless - reckless maybe - however they had yet to place their foot wrong. There was no reason not to trust Hange, especially when they were so willing to follow what Erwin said. 

With these close friends and comrades behind him, Erwin knew what he wanted to do next. He knew what he could do with them as his loyal generals. 

He could become a king.

Read the Full Chapter on AO3! <3

taglist; @pockcock @xxruinaxx | if you'd like to be added to the taglist let me know, and remember to show some support (reblogs and comments are appreciated) <3

[aihoshiino]

what are your thoughts on the trailer!!! I was excited before but I'm really hyped now to see how they take on this arc (especially since it's one of the strongest in my opinion) it looks like the team having a lot of fun bringing out each characters acting quirks and expanding on what they did in the last season, I'm really looking forward to how they adapt everything! the scene at the end is soooo cool....agh doga kobo really loves onk and you can FEEL it lol

FROTHING AND FOAMING AT THE MOUTH ABOUT IT!!!!!

i've been desperate to see how tokyo blade would get adapted to the anime since episode one last year and like. i'm trying not to get my hopes too high but even just going off what we've seen in the trailer, I'm so incredibly excited. It already seems like the team are making a ton of incredibly creative and fun directing and staging decisions to punch up the imagery and ideas of the manga's version of events (I literally hyena laughed out loud in sheer Wow! Fuck! The Power Of Animation!!! glee when i was watching live and saw that paint splatter effect and the half-Tsurugi half-Kana shot for the first time). In general, I think the Tokyo Blade arc is really uniquely suited to being adapted into an anime format over any other arc in the series and it easily has the potential to top season 1.

The new OP also whips ass??? i honestly thought betting on bringing Yoasobi back would have been free money so this really took me out lol (tho since GEMN seems to be a unit made specifically for OnK season 2, I've heard speculation that Ayase of Yoasobi and Avu are part of it? time will tell ig.) I loooooove Fatale even in the snippet we've heard so far, though - I think comparisons to IDOL would've been inevitable so going in a really different direction was probably the best thing to do. I also love that it feels almost more like an OP for Tokyo Blade, the in universe fiction, than it does OnK itself - that's such a fun touch!

Augh. Wuagh. I'm just so excited. I've been daydreaming about what season 2 of the anime would look like ever since I got hooked back into the series and it feels so surreal that we're so close!!! on god i gotta finish my s1 rewatch by july...