#gone to war and i can't do anything but think of you Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[yan-randomfandom]

Hii! Could I request a yan! Jinx with a darling who is on hunger strike? (Bacically, darling got kidnapped and so she decided to stop eating till she gets freed...is that even a word?)

Anyways, ty 4 reading my request and I would be really happy if you were to fuffil it <3

Make sure u drink enough water!

Yandere!Jinx x GN!Starving!Reader

a/n: thank you for your kind words anon! 😺 i just realized how much energy i gave mc here omg 😭🙏

tw; starvation, kidnapped MC ermm

💧 ;

Stubbornness is something both you and Jinx share. It's built into your very core. She knows this, and yet, here we are.

You're tied to a chair, looking away from her with a deep frown on your face—unwilling to eat.

"My sweetest," Jinx groans, dragging out her words. "Darling, baby, angel..." She places her hands on the back of your chair, her breath brushing the tip of your nose—"beloved."

...

You roll your eyes. "It stinks."

With an offended gasp, she recoils from you, her eye twitching. "I— You— Come on! At least I had dinner, but you? You haven't eaten anything for days!"

As if the Gods have a sense of humor, your stomach lets out a loud, drawn-out rumble. It goes on for a few moments... like her hideout wasn't quiet enough already. You have half the heart to glance at Jinx, who's watching you with an unimpressed expression.

Against your better judgment, and despite the deadly stomachache, you don't say anything.

Jinx pushes the bowl of food in front of you. "...Your, uh, stomach's hungry. Please. I just want you to eat—"

"I want you to let me go," you snap, glaring at her. You emphasize your point by rattling the chair with your frail limbs in frustration. "It doesn't help that you tied my arms and legs up. Honestly."

She returns your look, almost clueless. "It didn't have to be that way! You kept trying to escape!"

"I wonder why!!"

An annoyed groan. You can't even tell if it was from you, or her. Maybe both.

...

...

"...I told you I can't," she mutters softly. Not when she started a war.

You scoff and turn away. "Not that you can't. You won't."

Jinx does not reply.

Then, she chuckles. "Still amazin'. All this energy, even in starvation."

...

You press your lips together. Truth be told, you're barely holding it together. You're simply not giving up. Even if it's out of spite. Especially.

She starts walking. The sound of her booted footsteps grows fainter and fainter until, finally—the exit closes.

Jinx left you.

Nothing else accompanies you but the quiet humming and faint lights in her hideout.

Your body seizes the chance to collapse, eyes closing in one blink.

...

The next time you wake up, you grudgingly rub your eyes. A yawn escapes you.

You stretch your body. Your joints pop, relief spreading all across—

Wait.

You sit up from the softest surface you've ever been on in a while. It takes a moment to clear your vision, but once it does, you fall in disbelief.

Lifting your hand, you eye your wrists suspiciously. The patterns of the rope is still visible. But faint. It must have been a while since they were removed.

The chair you've been stuck in for days is gone. Your limbs are untied, finally fucking free from the numbness. A small fan offers a refreshing breeze next to you.

Your heart starts racing.

A whiff of your favorite scent. You perk up.

There's a glass of water filled with ice on the table. Beside it, an irresistible array of food. All your favorite types.

You don't even think twice.

either u try to escape or eat the food—your choice. do both tho cuz u might idk die

[jinxcrownguard]

Not over Piltover's Finest sex scene happened in a prison cell, which feels disrespectful to begin with, but the fact that it happens after Jinx lets Vi know that she's about to kill herself? Something about that is so ghoulish. Like the turn Vi has to "I spent seven years thinking of nothing but you" -> "You're not my sister, you killed her" -> "She's changed" "I'm going to kill myself so I don't burden you any more" *has sex in the prison cell she was held in*

And this could be better taken if the writing behind Vi was good, but it's not she has little motivation in s1 but s2 she's just floating around the plot. She's got no believable convictions, none of her wins or loses feel earned because they happen and then just immediately don't matter anymore [Caitvi Breakup, very next time they see each other they're on good terms, act 3 they don't even have one singular conversation about what has happened] Warwick regaining his Vander memories for two scenes and then disappearing completely right after[WASTED WASTED WASTED CHARACTER] survives the war with Noxus but loses Jinx again because she simply has to breakdown crying at Vander's death [again] at this exact moment. Like the writing makes her feel not just uninteresting but silly like she feels stupid.

Writing for Jinx isn't much better as she feels the most Harley Quinn esqe here than she did in s1, which I didn't like either but she had better writing there. No one cares about Ekko in universe [Main timeline] because no one seems to care that he went missing and returned alive, Jinx blew them both up maybe 4 whole times after finding out he's alive. Vi and Ekko don't share a single line together [but according to ⏳️💣 fans and the writers, that would still but justification enough to waste an entire episode set in an alternate universe where they're thick as thieves]

Anything interesting and nuanced about Caitlyn's story is dropped. Maddie is a spy loyal to Ambessa for??? Whatever reason I guess. They made a point of drawing visual parallels to Vander in Loris only for him to have no impact whatsoever and then dies. Heimerdinger dies but the stakes felt so low that you don't even register it happens really he's just gone. Isha's death is purely shock value and doesn't really matter past a couple minutes in episode 8.

Mel's storyline was whatever like it's not needed whatsoever I can't call it bad but it's also frankly unnecessary like she could have been dead this season and Ambessa's war against Piltover would have felt so much more justified. And speaking of Ambessa, the morally grey aspect of her character is simply gone. Her whole "I do this for my family" persona is dropped for the "I do this for my legacy" persona because then it is easy to justify hating her and the rest of Noxus. She's no longer a mother on a crusade to protect what remains of her family, she's a warmonger in search of lands to conquer and weapons to brandish. No nuance she's just evil she's manipulating our pretty small and frail faves so she has to die.

S1 Arcane no one will ever be able to duplicate you, not even yourself.

[acerathia]

the saddest 3 things on the internet

[777heavengirl]

bags

sirius black x reader (no longer just a one shot :3 ) ! warnings: the good kind of yearning.., friends to roommates to ?lovers?, bittersweetie, no war!au words count: 2,549 masterlist

a/n: might make a series of little blurbs as a continuation... undecided so lmk what u think!!!

Being friends with Sirius Black was the worst idea you could've ever had. It was hell. He was charming, awfully so. Flirty and caring with his friends in a way that made your heart skip a beat and your breath catch in your throat. He was the type of friend with no physical boundaries, his legs often thrown over yours, his arms often over your shoulders, lips whispering jokes into your ear.

It was an even worse idea to agree to move in with him after you graduated. James had gone off with Lily and Remus and Peter decided to split an apartment. Sirius, naturally, found one in the same building and dropped the twin key in your hand on graduation day, a wicked smile on his face. He hadn't even properly asked you. He had assumed, well he hoped, that you'd accept no matter what. He knew you had no other plans, no other place to go. He knew you'd love to because he knew you. Because he was your best friend.

So he didn't ask. The small silver dog keychain attached to the key was enough for you. 

The answer was always going to be yes. 

Living with Sirius meant a lot of things. It meant an abnormal amount of blankets and cushions thrown about, it meant the ever-growing collection of pictures framed on your walls or merely pasted on if Sirius had his way. Ever since Lily gifted him a muggle camera for graduation, he hadn't stopped taking pictures. Of your friends, of you in the kitchen or on your couch, your first night in the apartment he took pictures of your every move. He titled them all, in the back or on the bottom of it.

Darling brushing her teeth, 1st night in #717. You smiled through your toothbrush, shirt askew, with pajama pants that did not match in the slightest.

Doll’s first tea in #717 You couldn't see your face in this one, it was a closer shot of your hands around the teacup Lily bought you fifth year, the delicate flower pattern on the hard porcelain contrasting against the soft of your skin.

He titled them all, with his cursive loops and cloying nicknames. He’d even owl copies of them to your mom— why they even communicated was beyond you— you’d then have to repeatedly remind her, when your parents phoned, that 717 was your apartment number, and no mom I am not dating Sirius, yes I know he’s a wonderful guy, yes I’ll tell him you said hello. His photography habit had gotten so bad he even took pictures of the ladybug that seemed to live in the leaves of the small English Lavander that sat on your windowsill.

 Living with Sirius meant putting up with his tendency to ignore the fact that you needed to get a job, in fact, he'd drag you everywhere with him to avoid you even applying, his hand intertwined with yours, warm palms pressed against one another. He did it all the time, holding your hand, pressing a kiss against your temple when he insisted on getting into the crowded muggle metro more often than not, your bodies pressed together as he held you when the tube moved. Every time you complained, that he was holding you hostage, that at this pace you'd never find a job, he'd ask, with his head cocked to the side "Why do you have to get a job anyway? It's not like we need it"

"Sirius I need to make money," the tube shook the two of you, his arm instinctively wrapping around you to pull you closer as the other one maintained a white-knuckled grip on the bar above. "How am I going to afford anything? It’s been two years my savings are gone-"

"You don't need it though," his words were low on your ear, and carefree as if they didn't hold any importance. "I have more than enough to maintain us— for anything you might want" Your face heated, and you looked down hiding the surprise that you prayed he wouldn't see.

"I can't just bum off of you," your words were a timid mumble, and he barely heard you over the intercom announcing the station, if it wasn't because he had been tilted down close to your face, he might've not heard you at all. 

"You're not bumming off of me love, I want to take care of you, yea?" he pressed a kiss to the side of your hair, and you didn't refute. Not for now. Because in moments like these, when he acted like it was the most obvious answer in the world and didn't seem to give it a second thought, you could feel the words claw at your throat from the inside. A confession poisoning you from the inside out. 

But then he'd look at you.

With his gray eyes, the steel cool of them making your lungs expand wider than you thought possible and your heart beat out of your chest. So you'd decide, every time, that it wasn't the right moment. There was never a right time to tell your best friend and roommate that you were in love with him though. And through his piercing gaze, you thought he could see you using everything within you to hold back. 

You guessed it could be worse.

Being in love with Sirius Black was actually the worst thing to ever happen to you. It got even worse when you moved in together. Waking up to his shirtless self making you coffee the way you liked it, his head disheveled and unruly from bed but somehow just as gorgeous as when he had it fresh and styled, his long dark locks looking nothing short of heavenly in either form. It was the intimacy really— the domesticity of it all— that screwed you. Eating your eggs and toast over the soft tunes of his music, going to the market together, his fingers eventually finding yours as his other hand carried the shopping. His laundry mixed in with yours, falling asleep on the couch together, old muggle movies playing on the TV he bought four months after moving in. You still didn't have a stand for it, it sat on two boxes full of books. Neither of you minded, there was no rush after all. But then you thought of his unpacked bags and the singular box of belongings, it had been a bit more than two years since you moved in. Two years since you started the routine of getting dragged everywhere he went, spending your days lounging around with Sirius like nothing else mattered. But his trunk still housed half his belongings. His walls had a couple of pictures he had sellotaped on, and the large David Bowie poster he had bought the summer after sixth year, yet his clothes would go in and out of his trunk, and his closet sat mostly empty save the lone leather jacket he insisted on hanging. 

The thought of his lack of settling made your tummy twist in discomfort. 

But, again, you guessed it could be worse. Godric forbid you ever confess.

He'd be walking out the door with his bags.

You decided you'd be okay with letting it all rot inside of you. You didn't want to be too forward or rush into things when you, practically, knew he didn't feel the same. So you savored it, with everything you had in you. The stolen touches and even more stolen glances. The kiss he pressed against your cheek when he'd say goodbye, apparating away to go drink the night away with the rest of the marauders, James escaping from his soon-to-be father duties for a few hours. Sirius would press a kiss to your flushed cheeks when you'd go out with Lily as well, a small stay safe love, escaping his lips right before you slipped out the door.

"Tell him how I feel? Is pregnancy melting your brain, Lily?" You almost spit out your sweet cocktail. Lily flicked your forehead. 

"My brain is perfectly fine thank you very much," She huffed, the corners of her lips aching to break into a smile as she rubbed a hand over her pregnant belly.

"You two are practically together, you live together for Godric's sake" Marlene scoffed over her beer,

"Not to mention the shared bank account-" you slapped your forehead as Dorcas let the fact that he'd been basically spoiling you for a year slip, "And I've seen the way he looks at you sweets-" Dorcas's words were slurred by the alcohol in her system, and her head resting against Marlene's shoulder. "You don't look at someone that way unless you're in love with them"

Lily almost spit out her juice as she turned to you with wide eyes. "You got a shared vault now? James and I didn't even do that yet-"

You shook your head, "No no, crap Cas-" you took a shaky breath, as Marlene shook her head in disappointment and groaned out a small You're impossible. "He just keeps paying for things, and he won't let me get a job- honest, I've tried but he keeps planning things and I just never have any time-"

"So is he holding you captive or- I just don't see why you can't get a job" The three girls looked at you, incredulous looks on their faces as you struggled to explain.

"He just keeps saying to not worry-" You hid behind your hands now, embarrassment crawling up your neck. "I don't know- It's complete rubbish, he's insistent on the fact that he wants to take care of me" The girls let out a collective 'aww', all screaming eagerly over each other

"I should've kept it all to myself" you mumbled as you raised your now-empty glass at your waitress, the older woman shooting you a nod as she went to bring you another one. The girls booed at you, 

"Now that'd be no fun would it?" Lily shoved your shoulder playfully, Marlene and Dorcas giggling in agreement. 

Tell him how you feel.

The thought bounced in your head as you trudged up to your apartment. Fumbling with the keys as you tried to steady yourself. But you didn't need to, as Sirius opened the door. His shirt missing and his burgundy red pajama pants sat loosely at his hips, but you knew he hadn't slept yet. Otherwise, you would've been able to tell— his hair would be a mess, as he tended to bury his head between his pillows, blocking the world away while he slept.

"I could hear you fumbling your keys from down the hall doll" you giggled as you entered, your body instinctively falling into his for a hug. He couldn't help but laugh either, your cheek pressed against his chest as you mumbled out a thank you. The couple of drinks you had made you feel more than loose, giggly and you couldn't help but let the words slip from your lips.

"I love you, terribly so" you'd probably regret such a statement in the morning.

"I love you too darling" you groaned out a no as you peeled yourself off, it poured out of you instinctively. You threw yourself on the soft couch James's parents had given the two of you. We're throwing it out anyway lovies you keep it. You were sure, by Euphemia's playful glint, that this wasn't quite the case. But you appreciated it, the plush sofa softening your intentional fall. Sirius laughed as he approached the couch, crouching next to where your face was smushed into the smooth material of the sofa. His fingers moved the hair away from your face, his eyes locking in with yours as his lips split into a lazy smile.

"Knew you'd make fun of me," You mumbled and his lips twisted into an exaggerated pout now, repressing the need to laugh and you buried your face into the cushions with another groan. 

He would've been lying if he said his heart hadn't skipped a beat, a flicker of hope that maybe, you felt as he did. Maybe your heart ran quicker when he held your hand, maybe the goodnight kisses you pressed against his cheek, against his forehead meant more, maybe the smile you had given him when he presented you with the key to your shared apartment, the smile that made him feel as if he was staring straight into the sun, meant something more. 

But for now, that would have to wait.

As he got you up and into the bathroom, wiping your makeup off with a damp cloth, you gave a mumbled slurred summary of your night. He made you close your eyes as he wiped away the mascara, and you listed the vague number of drinks you'd had— plus the drinks you had to make up for Lily’s inability to drink right now, Marlene’s idea of course. His fingers curled around your chin as he moved your face, and at any other moment, you would've been positively frazzled. But as you spoke of the shaky walk home after Marlene dropped you off down the street, you could only revel in his touch as he hummed along and got you ready for bed. The stubborn lipstick made his cheeks flush as he wiped at your lips repeatedly, making them look plump and if he hadn't had the ounce of self-control he still vaguely maintained he would've kissed you right there and then. But it just wasn't the time for it, there's never a right time to tell your best friend and roommate you're in love with them, is there?

Stumbling around the room with you, the pajamas he managed to get over your form as he tried not to look at you in your underwear— not that you cared at the minute— it all made his heart swell. A stolen moment for him to think on later, the small giggles that escaped your face, or the innocent clutch you had on his hand. You ran your fingers down the features of his face as he helped you lay down. He tucked you into your bed with a kiss on your cheek and a giggle erupting from your chest.

His heart ached with longing but he guessed it could be worse. 

You could've said no to living with him. 

You gave him a faux pout, and he mirrored it. 

"What is it lovely?" 

"Missed you tonight-" he could feel the crimson intensify in his cheeks at your words, but he ignored the flush and moved a stray hair away from your face. 

"I missed you too love, next time let's go together yeah?" You hummed in agreement, a small love you slipping past right as your eyes fluttered shut, sleep covering you like a blanket.

"I fear I might be in love with you doll," he sighed, yet you didn't answer to his whispered confession. Your chest rose and fell steadily. Part of him was glad, the thought of your reaction to his feelings chilling him to the core. It could be worse, he thought. 

Yes, he'd rather have this than nothing at all. Godric forbid he ever confesses.

You'd be walking out the door with your bags.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday!more female wei wuxian please

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

If Jiang Cheng is captured or killed, they'll kill Madame Yu and Uncle Jiang and Jiang Cheng. Jiang Yanli is an heir, but not one that can lead their people into battle, and they won’t bother keeping hostages for her benefit.

Wei Wuxian could do it – but with Jiang Cheng gone, she loses her place in the clan, she can't become the wife of their future sect leader if he’s dead. She’s the logical one to lose.

Jiang Cheng is going to kill her. But they’re getting too close to the inn.

She pays a boy to take the medicine and a note back to them in an hour’s time, then whistles, clear and bright cutting through the crowd. The Wen soldiers look at her and she’s hungry and tired but this is her clan’s life on the line here, her sister’s, her fiance’s. “Looking for me?”

There’ a moment of stillness then they’re surging forward and she’s running and they’re chasing and she’s very, very good but they’re fresh. She needs to go someplace they won’t follow.

They’re not too far from Yiling, she thinks.

~

Jiang Cheng is going to kill her.

He wants to go after her, but he doesn’t even know where she is, and that would mean leaving A-jie defenseless on her own, which he can’t do, and Wei Wuxian would never forgive him for doing anyway.

They set a punishing pace to Jin territory, which is where the disciples were instructed to meet up with them. A bit of gamble, but Wei Wuxian had pointed out that Jin Guangshan would likely be playing both sides of the war to his advantage, which is as close to neutral territory as they were going to get.

Once he delivers A-jie to the rest of their disciples, he can leave them to protect her and can leave her to organize them and he can go after Wei Wuxian. He thinks that three hostages is probably one too many – two too many, really, and he wonders how long it will be before his mother’s mouth gets her killed. If they do put her and Wei Wuxian together, that would move up that timetable exponentially.

Part of him is scared Wei Wuxian’s already dead. The rest of him knows better.

If she were dead, the Wen would be flaunting and bragging about. If they’d killed her, they’d be using it to draw him out, but so far there’s been nothing.

Of course, she ruins his plans like always because just when he’s getting ready to go out searching, she appears in the camp and grabs his shoulders and says, “You’ll never guess what I figured out!”

She’s been missing for almost three weeks and just as soon as he feels like he can breathe again he’s going to strangle her. “You!” he hisses and then he’s grabbing her, yanking her into his chest and holding her so tightly that she probably can’t breathe either, although for a different reason.

She’s hugging him back just as tightly, which makes him feel slightly less like he’s losing his mind. He pulls back and she’s wearing robes that she definitely stole and – “Why do you have a flute?”

Wei Wuxian beams, rocking back on her heels.

Most of Jiang Cheng’s relief drains to wariness.

That expression on her face has never meant anything good.

[erwinsvow]

Ok but what about shy girl reader being really frightened by something to the point of tears and calling rafe but struggling to explain why shes upset only that she needs him while he’s going batshit on the other line worried about her

this was lovely ! rafe certainly has his own methods of calming down shy reader when she's scared ... hehe <3

of course it happens on a night where rafe's out of town, one of the first that he's not around since the two of you have started dating. you had become awfully accustomed to having rafe sleeping right next to you, ever since your third or fourth date, that had been the norm. if not, he was always down the street or a phone call away.

and really, you tried to keep it together. it was just one of those nights—kickstarted by the time you'd spent with your friends morning. you were only trying to keep yourself occupied while rafe was away, thinking they'd help pass the hours, but you'd all headed to the movies, and of course, it was a horror showing.

even in the broad daylight, you felt scared throughout the day the demon from the movie was going to get you. heading back home for the day, it didn't help that the only thing on tv was true crime documentaries playing back to back. the cherry on top was your parents heading out for dinner with their friends on the mainland, saying they'd be back tomorrow morning.

you tossed and turned for what seemed like hours. not even the gentle lull of your records and thirty pages of war and peace could get your mind to settle and put you to sleep.

what you really needed was your boyfriend. he could fix anything, make everything seem better. your fears needed his protectiveness near by to keep them at bay, otherwise they'd spill over and conquer like they were right now.

but you were trying to be good—trying to show rafe you weren't always so clingy, that he could have space when and if he needed it. besides for your replies to his periodic check-ins you hadn't much texted him today, knowing he was busy.

the final crack of a branch outside, cutting through the eerie whistling of the wind against your house and the sound of the waves far away had you scrambling up. you flicked on the lamp and checked that your door was locked for the tenth time that night.

deep breaths, you tried to remind yourself, like rafe would always tell you. you tried to head to the window to see what the noise was from but fear overtook, dialing rafe's number and listening to the rings while crawling back into bed, pulling your knees to your chest.

like always, he answers before it gets to three rings.

"hey. what'd you still doin' up? s'late."

"rafe-" and you can't stop the ramble that spills out, all in one breath. "um, we saw this scary movie today and the demon was outside the house and then it was in the house and then it possessed the girl when she was alone and now i'm home alone because mom and daddy left and there was this serial killer show on tv and i wasn't even watching but he killed girls home alone too and i just heard something outside and m'scared-"

"woah, woah. slow down. you saw a scary movie?" you try to catch your breath, but it's hard, picturing rafe wherever he was pacing around listening to you, instead of being next to you like he should be.

"i-um, i'm scared, rafe-" you finally get out slowly, and you sniffle, feeling hot tears run down. really, you shouldn't have gone to see that movie.

"hey, hey. s'fine. gonna be okay, just need to relax. can you do that for me?" you nod, forgetting he can't see you. "good girl. is everything locked? downstairs too?"

"y-yes..think so. i checked when i got home."

"even the back door? and the guest window, the one i come in through?" you flush at the memory of rafe sneaking in through that window.

"yes. mm-hm."

"alright, kid. no one's comin' in then. and those movies are crap anyways. y'need to learn how to say no to those friends."

"i know. it seemed like a good idea then-"

"yeah, i know. you got a light on?"

"my lamp."

"good. now get into bed. y'need to relax or you'll never fall asleep. jesus."

"okay," you mumble, sliding in and getting comfortable. "how do i relax?"

"how do you usually relax?" he questions, though your face flushes at the answer you want to give. there's only one surefire method of getting you to calm down when you're like this, something rafe is well aware of.

"um.. i don't know." your bedroom was cold a second ago, now everything felt warm and tingly.

"yeah. sure you don't. c'mon, get your clothes off. i'll help you relax."

"oh." it comes out like a little moan, soft. you comply with his instructions. "thanks rafey."

you hear him laugh, though he still sounds rough on the phone.

"yeah, y'welcome. gotta do everything, don't i? clothes off yet? good. now start touching y'self for me.."

[thecowinblack]

Burning Hearts pt.3

Moodboard Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4

Word count: 1345

Summary: A dramatic High Lord/Lady meeting and a confrontational conversation between you and the Night Court.

⚠️Warnings: Drama lol, some against, a little fluff, makeouting, swearing, mentions to cheating, mentions about sex.

An: Well this part is filled with drama and if you've wondered about yn powers well this is your part...

“Hello big brother” You said as the Night Court arrived into the meeting room. Rhysand and a very pregnant Fayre, stood with shocked expressions, meaning that they’d overheard the conversation that you’d just had. Behind them you could see Cassian's broad frame tower and next to him, next to him was Azriel. Morrigan, Amren and Nesta seemed to stand behind them trying to get a good look at the drama unfolding right before them. But with Amren's height it was a miracle that I even could make out the top of her head.The look on his face was just plain sadness and envy, envy as he stared at the many parts where yours and Eris's bodies met. Shadows started to flood the floor as the cavalry from your home court stepped out of the large entrance to the room.

“Y/n/n please tell me that it's all a joke, you can't be Autumn's High Lady!” Rhysand asked you pleadingly.

“So what if I am? Let me get this clear. I am never ever going back to the Night Court. Not after what you all did, what you did.” You said looking accusingly at Azriel.

“Sweetheart I never meant to hurt you, Elain just needed some distraction but you are the one I love, you're my mate!” Azriel told me as he stepped forward and in the same moment Eris's hand flew out to stop him.

“If you take one more step towards her I will burn you to death.” Eris murmured to him, marking every word. “She's my mate! Not yours, she belongs with me! Elain was just a dumb mistake!” Azriel screamed at Eris as Rhysand held him back. “I stopped being yours the moment you cheated on me, and don't you dare to lay all this on Elain. She wasn't in a good phase back then, and we all know it.” You told Azriel. Behind you Helion coughed, symbolizing that the others had arrived. As you turned your back you felt someones hand on your arm, Nesta. The two of you had grown closer after the war. You would often sit in the library together, just reading.

“I'm so, so sorry Y/n. I shouldn’t-” She whispered to you. “Don't, you didn't have anything to do with it. If anything you really helped me, if you someday want a place to just run away to for a while you'll always be welcome in my court.” You told her warmly.

Once you and Eris had gotten seated you could feel the gazes the other High Lords threw at you. And you got it, you’d been your brother's right hand and now, now you were Autumn's High Lady, and everyone knew that the Autumn court and the Night Court didn't have the best relationship…

“So how's Autumn doing now that Beron’s gone? Are your people happy with their new High Lady?” Tarquin asked Eris. “Quite well. My father definitely wasn't the best of High Lords so there's much to do and many things to change but I'm lucky Y/N has been of great help and our people love her, but I mean who wouldn’t. We're currently very open to allies” Eris calmly answered the young High Lord. “Why would we trust you? Like father, like son.” Taunted Rhysand.

“Eris is nothing like Beron and the fact you suggest otherwise when I, your own sister, is married to him, really fucking shows how low you think of me, and of him. Eris is by far the best male I have ever met.” You told Rhysand, quickly erasing that smug smile off his face. You could feel Eris's affectionate stare resting at your face and you placed your hand in his and he firmly held on, almost like he thought you would disappear if he let go of you.

When the meeting was over you and Eris got shown to your quarters, a beautiful ensemble of rooms with marble floors and large windows. Eris quickly sat down at the couch dragging you down in his lap.

“Thank you, thank you for standing up for me.” He mumbled between the sweet kisses he pressed to your neck.

“Always, Eris, Always.” You gasped.

Suddenly a knock on the door interrupted the two of you.

“I'm going to kill whoever's behind that door. ” Eris murmured, his hair a mess. You chuckled quickly and said: “It might be a possible ally so I suggest that you don't.” Eris just rolled his eyes but a large smile was plastered on his face. “One minute just let me-” You said, fixing Eris's hair. “Thanks love!” he said sweetly, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Then he opened the door to reveal… Tarquin.

“I hope I'm not bothering you but I would like to discuss an alliance between our courts.” He told the two of you. You and Eris exchanged a surprised look, Tarquin had been a proud ally of Rhysand since the war against Hybern. “Come on in.” You said nicely. The three of you sat down at a low table. You quickly noticed that the rest of the Summer Court was missing.

“Your visions for your court align with mine on a level no other court does. We have been taking in emigrants from the Spring Court for a while and I'm guessing that you have done the same.” He paused and you nodded in agreement. “I want to create a place for them where before we have established them, they can live and be with friends and family. Would the two of you be interested in this?” he asked you.

“Definitely.” Eris said.

The rest of the evening went on smoothly for you and Eris. After Tarquin left you were visited by the Day Court and the Winter court, both interested in an alliance. When you and Eris went to bed smiles were painting your faces and you fell asleep in his arms.

__________________________________

You woke up quite early and decided to go down to the dining room, getting breakfast. You had left a note to Eris, in case you got stuck talking to someone. When you walked into the room you could see the whole Night Court sitting and talking to each other. Aside from them the room was completely empty. Suddenly you felt someone's arms around you, Morrigan. You quickly pushed her away, starting to walk out when you saw two males get in the way, cowering at the entrance.

“Y/n we need to talk.” Rhysand said. “Please just let us explain.” Cassian begged you. The pleading in his eyes was the only thing that made you stay. Cass was like a brother to you. “Fine. What do you want?” You asked them. “Your power, no one but me is able to keep them in shack.” Rhysand said “You need us and we need you.” A scoff unleashed from you. “So this is what it's all about, you want my powers under your control. Well guess what, no. I don't need you. My powers work perfectly without you and your help. I was blessed by the Mother herself. I deserve them and I'm going to use them to help my court, The Autumn Court.” You said as you walked out of the room, going to one of the many balconies in the castle.

Starting out into the ocean made your thoughts wave over you. What are your powers really? You knew that you had Rhysand’s ability but you could also create things from nothing. You could heal people and under the war against Hybern you had felt the cauldron. That was when you realized it. Why you didn't look like your brother at all with your long white hair And clear blue eyes. And why you weren't born with wings like him. Maybe the Mother herself sent down the explanation because you sure as hell wouldn't have realized it without help. You weren't his sister at all. No you weren't even your parents real daughter. You were created by the Mother. You were the Daughter…

Author's note: hehe

Taglist: @queerqueenlynn @se7enteen--black-blog @@mybestfriendmademe @cleverzonkwombatsludge @myromanempiree

[leighsartworks216]

Acid

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

This is my first time writing Shadowheart, so she's probably ooc

Warnings: descriptions of chemical/acid burns, descriptions of acid burning flesh, swearing, panicking, pain, blindness

Word Count: 1,804

Main Masterlist

Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

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You scream as the acid bottle breaks against your face. Glass tearing into soft flesh and white-hot burning all over. In your eyes, across your cheeks, on your lips. It sizzles and eats into your skin. You can't think past the pain. You should be terrified - your enemy has just blinded you, and now you can't defend yourself. All you can think about is how you want to wipe it off, get it off your skin so it stops burning, but doing so would only cause more damage.

Hands grab you and you scream and struggle. You have no idea who's touching you. You can't even look. You're going to be sick.

"It’s me! I’ve got you,” Astarion shouts by your ear. You stop fighting him, your screams reduced to mere whimpers. "You're going to be okay."

You gasp, "Can't see."

"I know. Don't open your eyes. You're safe."

He guides you away from the battle. War cries, the clinking of weapons, and incantations no longer surround you. He carefully helps you to sit down. It's grass beneath you. You clutch handfuls in your fists, tearing it up. Anything to keep you from touching your face.

"Burns," you whimper. You can no longer tell if it's acid or tears that sting your eyes.

He shushes you again. You listen, trying to figure out what he's doing. You hear a canteen opening and water being poured out. You jolt when something cold touches your face.

"It's alright. It's just water." He doesn't wait for you to adjust before he's trying to wipe away the acid. The sooner it came off, the less damage Shadowheart would have to heal... If she can heal this at all.

Your skin is red and mottled. The more he removes, the more he fears for your eyes. Little pieces of glass stick to the cloth he used. He has to pause often to brush them off, else-wise they'd cut your face up more. Your eyelids are bright red and sensitive; the acid burnt away so much he could almost see through the thin skin. You wince and pull away repeatedly, but he can't stop.

It must have been a very potent acid, he thinks. The patterns formed in your skin remind him of Karlach's scars; the ones that cover her right shoulder and side. It's not a pretty sight.

"How's that?" he asks when he's wiped down your entire face. The rag is almost in tatters, burned away by the acid.

You hiss through your teeth, eyes squeezed tight as you tilt your head back. "Eyes," you whine. "Burn."

He grabs your head and tilts it back down, worried you'd try to open them. "Shadowheart will be here soon." He can't promise that. The fight was pretty hairy when he left - it could still be a bit before it's over.

He peeks out from your hiding spot. He should go help, but then you'd be completely and utterly defenseless. He curses. "I'll be right back, darling," he assures. "Keep your eyes shut, no matter what happens."

Before you can protest, he's gone.

You’re left alone in the dark. You can hear the fight in the distance. The faint thwip of Astarion’s bow as he takes down foes from a distance, Karlach’s battle cries as she keeps the hoard at bay, the spells Shadowheart casts to heal and harm. It’s horrifying.

Your friends are out there, risking their lives against overwhelming foes. And you’re stuck here - useless.

You focus on anything else to ignore the pain. The ends of the grass pricking your skin. The dirt sliding beneath their boots. Birds chirping, a cool breeze, your armor - anything. You’re vaguely aware of tears running down your cheeks. They burn as they carry the acid from your eyes. Their trails are prominent amongst the mottling.

You want to claw your eyes out. It's unbearable. You want to writhe on the ground and scream. But you can't. Your hands rip more and more grass up from its roots. Deeper and deeper, until you’re clawing up dirt and worms and ants and mycelia. It’s not cathartic enough.

It takes too much effort to focus on your surroundings, but you strain your ears anyway, listening for any hint of combat. It’s quiet, and you can’t tell if your hearing is gone, too, or if the battle is over. You twist your body, trying to recall which way it was. Where did Astarion take you? How far away? Did they win? Were they okay?

“Astarion?” you call. It’s strained. There’s no response. You nearly sob as you call out again.

Oh, gods. Please, gods no, please. They can’t be dead; you refuse to believe it. You can’t focus on the pain as fear constricts your heart. You cry out again, hoping someone answers. Anyone. You can’t even hope to find them in this state.

Someone stirs behind you. You whip around, trying to listen. Was it one of them? Why were they being so quiet? You can’t open your eyes. You can’t see. You have to know.

Your voice comes out small, trembling with worry. “Star?”

Something whizzes by your head. You yelp as you flinch away, covering your head in defense. Whatever was there let out a coarse shriek. Another something whizzes by your head again, the same direction as the last time, and with a rattling breath, it was quiet.

“Don’t open your eyes.” You jump when Astarion speaks right behind you.

You want to sob again. It’s evident in your voice, in the trembling of your lip. “What happened? Why weren’t you answering?” Your fear tinged your words with anger.

He huffed. “I didn’t exactly want to give away my position to the goblin hoping to make you its next meal.”

Ah, so the something you heard was a goblin trying to sneak up on you. His hand holds the back of your neck, cool against your hot skin. You sigh and try to focus on it. Footsteps rush toward you. Astarion can feel the way you bristle with fear.

The footsteps stop with a gasp. “Gods, what happened?!” Shadowheart.

“Acid,” you groan. You’re just glad they’re alive! “Fucking burns.”

“It got in their eyes. I got what I could off their face.”

“Shit.” Her hands are on you in a minute, displacing Astarion’s hand as she tilts your head back. “You need to lie back. Fuck, you should have rinsed it out their eyes! There’s no telling how much damage it’s caused.”

You follow her guidance, lowering yourself back onto the grass. Your armor feels suffocating.

The spawn scoffed. “I don’t usually do this sort of thing, not to mention the horde of goblins surrounding us!”

“Stop fighting! You can argue later!” Karlach shouts. You want to thank her. Usually, you can deal with their bickering, but your nerves are taught with fear as is. “How can I help?”

“I need water. And probably something to bite down on - a stick or leather or something.”

You hear someone going through their bag. “Will this work?”

“It should.” You hear another canteen being opened as Shadowheart touches your chin. Her fingers are gentle despite the situation. “Open your mouth and bite down on this.”

A thick stick, smooth and solid, is slotted between your teeth. Your heart skips as a shock of panic rushes through you.

“How dignified,” Astarion murmurs. You look like a dog playing fetch. It would be funny, if it wasn’t there to keep you from biting your tongue or breaking your teeth.

“On the count of three, I need you to open your eyes. I’m going to rinse them out as best I can. And I’m sorry, but it’s going to hurt.”

Astarion grabs your hand. You squeeze it in a death grip. He can feel your pulse, rapid and pounding. You can feel Karlach sitting by your head, warm hands on your forehead and shoulder, ready to hold you down.

“One. Two. Three!”

You open your eyes.

There’s an impossible pain.

The wood cracks beneath your teeth.

Everything fades away.

-

When you wake, it’s to total darkness. You’re still laying back, a hand still holds yours, and you can’t see anything. You whimper and try to touch your eyes. Are they gone? What’s happened? Why can’t you see? Your attempt is stopped by another hand grabbing your wrist.

“It’s alright. We’re back at camp.”

“Can’t see.” It comes out pathetic. A frightened whimper, like a child scared of the dark.

He hushes you and begins rubbing circles into your hand and wrist. “It’s just a bandage over your eyes, darling, you’re alright,” he assures. “Shadowheart has a healing spell over you, but she didn’t want to risk it. Your vision isn’t lost.”

He watches as you process his words. Your heart calms down with your breathing. You let your hands go limp in his hold.

“What happened? I… I remember Shadow counting, but it’s all foggy after that.”

You can hear him shifting as he gets comfortable. He sets your hand back down, and holds the other with both of his. He continues rubbing your palm and knuckles. “You opened your eyes,” he began, but he paused as he remembered the brief glimpse he got of them. They were reduced to near nothing. He felt sick thinking he caused it, by not acting quickly enough to wash the acid out. “She poured the water in them, you… screamed and almost broke the stick in your mouth…” He swallowed. “What matters is you’re okay now.”

His hands shook slightly, movements becoming more mechanical as he worked through his own fear. You squeezed his hand.

“I don’t blame you.”

He chuckles, but it’s bitter. “Of course not. And the fiend that did do this has been thoroughly disposed of.”

“What Shadow said…” His hand stilled. “You did your best, Star. You didn’t know.”

He sighed softly and raised your hand to his lips. He murmured against your skin, “It’s behind us now.”

You loosed your hand from his hold to cup his cheek. It was strange being able to feel his face and not see it. But you recognized the curve of his cheekbone and the crease by his mouth, and of course the feeling of his curls tickling your fingertips. “But you’re still upset by it.”

He leaned into your hand, running his fingers from your elbow to your wrist before covering your hand with his, keeping you there. “I don’t think you’re fit enough to lecture me,” he teased. You could feel him smile. “In a few hours, once you can see again, then you can tell me just how much none of this was my fault.”

“And will you believe it then?”

He hummed, turning to kiss the inside of your wrist. “I could be persuaded to.”

---

Tag List:

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[mishy-mashy]

3 reasons I can think of, for why the first Three vestiges were too hard to find information on

[Reason 1]

The time they were born in.

Their births, and any records of them, could just be completely undocumented or non-existent.

They were born in times where systems and governments were down, and it's everyone for themselves.

People aren't going to register their existence, especially the Metas, when they all want to stay under the radar and hide from everyone else.

If you're in the middle of a war zone that spread to where you live, and your baby brother was just born, are you really going to go [Oh no! I have to register his birth for that sweet sweet child tax!]?

Or something like that. But still.

There are more important things, like survival, than registering a baby's birth and going through hospital paperwork. And it's been explicitly stated that the first appearance of Abilities caused a Great Depression all over Japan.

The government is gone. There's no point in registering anything anymore.

Yoichi was literally born at a riverside, and never went to a hospital. By the time the first Three are toddlers / young children, Japan is already chaos and up in flames.

Children are actively avoided because they're the most likely to be Meta Humans. No one wants anything to do with them.

Chances are, the records about the first Three never existed, or were destroyed in all the strife.

Or maybe, if some did exist, Kudo destroyed them. I can see him doing that, to protect themselves from AFO or anyone else having the chance to track their personal histories down.

It makes them ghosts. Exactly what would be best for not only their own survival, but anyone affiliated with them. Like family. It makes them untraceable, and invisible to bodies of old authority.

[Reason 2]

The three were a part of the Resistance. They could've kept information about themselves under lock and key, to protect themselves.

Like how Kudo is referred to as Leader, and never by his real name. Even in the void, up to the very end, Bruce still says "Leader" to address him.

I actually HC them as using codenames in the Resistance, exactly to protect themselves from each other, and outsiders. This makes Yoichi an anomaly among them, for going by his real name. Meanwhile,

Leader, Boss = their leader

Bruce = a reference to his Quirk

Codenames about their Meta Abilities, or roles in their cause, to better remember whose nickname belonged to who.

Outsiders won't know the Resistance members' real names. The Resistance can't betray each other by selling each other out for personal information as easily, if no one knows each other's actual names.

At the same time, this alienates them from who they are, and their humanity. They have to make tough choices that would classify them as monsters. And they're locking themselves under a false name.

They're protecting themselves from everything and everyone, including themselves. At least the person committing all these atrocities is [CODENAME], not me.

[Reason 3]

Bruce, when he was supposed to pass previous information to Shinomori, couldn't.

Maybe he didn't have enough time to tell Shinomori the whole story.

Or maybe he did, and passed on the previous holders' histories, but Shinomori didn't pass those on himself.

Or maybe reminiscing Yoichi and Leader as actual people just broke him, and he could only stick to the bare minimum of the history of this Factor.

Notably, the OFA story is known as "All For One's younger brother was sickly and frail, but he had a strong sense of justice."

We never, ever hear Yoichi's name in the spoken history of OFA. All Might couldn't even get their names. And since AFO hides himself so easily, and birth records just don't exist for him as an undocumented birth, Yoichi legally doesn't exist even as a birth.

Bruce is the first one to find the existence of Yoichi's "unformed dud". The Factor that let him pass on his current Quirk to others. How could the information of that dud be passed on, if not from Bruce?

Somewhere, the information breaks during Bruce or Shinomori's turn with OFA.

Bruce never passed on their names. Or maybe Shinomori didn't. But their names weren't necessary to pass on anymore. All Might only managed to dredge what he could, starting from the time society started trying to stand on its feet. Exactly because that's as far as the records went.

[Reason 2] could add credence to why the first Three's names were never passed on. Bruce could've kept quiet about Yoichi and Leader's personal details, not just to help himself stay together, but to protect anything they might've left behind.

[lady-quen]

Cannot Hold It When It Thaws

"An angel falls to their hubris. It's a story as old as time. It's a story you already know, under countless names and through countless retellings. But knowing doesn't change anything; Soo-Won was more aware than most. And she knew that they would know she knew - and that scared her more than anything.

This is the day Jormag's heart freezes over."

[Pre-canon drabble, 2k words, Soo-Won and Jormag-centric. Angst. Exploration of Jormag's affection and corruption. No trigger warnings that I can think of, aside from a low-detail description of drowning. Art and writing is mine, Guild Wars 2 belongs to Arenanet. Dialogue inspired by Gen 3 Legendary Weapons. Divider graphic belongs to @soulbeastdragon. Keep in mind this is merely my interpretation of these characters :) Enjoy!]

"I want to make them permanent, Mother. I want to make them last."

"You know you can't do that." She smiled - in the sense that she radiated warmth, something that would perhaps best be described with a single word. Dragons could be infinitely complex, after all. "That is their beauty. They are fleeting. And so, their eyes are uniquely open."

"There is no beauty in passing. And yet.. it's gone. You unmade it. Why? Why did you close its eyes?"

Soo-Won could only linger in silence, dark eyes as unfathomable as the ocean. She knew well that the true depth of existence could not - and would not come easily to her child, not when they were so young. Perhaps, that was her curse. Either alone beneath the sea of stars, or surrounded by little things who only reasoned as little things could. Specks of light, innocent flickers of pure magic. Innocent, but destined.

The small dragon pawed at the ground, attempting to gather close the dust that once was a creature. A fruitless effort, with massive claws not fit to be this gentle. "It's still alive, you see? I can undo it."

"He. Not it. Please, let go, now. His soul found silence at last."

"No, no... It's not silent—you aren't listening closely."

Her tail softly brushed aside arms that had no real will to stop her, sweeping the last of the dust away. Finally allowing the once-mortal to scatter to the winds. The crystalline sparkles shimmered as they sailed the sky, a soul bidding its - his - last farewell.

"They are not... suited to our lifetimes, my child. Their minds cannot last, even if their bodies can be made to. Even if you make them pristine forever, they will not last. That is not their will."

"But I did not force them." The young dragon chirped, head turning in puzzlement as their already brilliant mind worked overtime behind sad blue eyes. "I asked it. I asked him. He agreed. But you unmade him. You took him from me."

"It's wrong, baby." She nuzzled her dragonling, wishing only for the depth of her love to soothe the turbulent soul. "Just because he agreed does not mean he knew what he agreed to. He can't have known. Us Dragons are of a different type of existence. Seeing things through our eyes, ah... well, I'm not surprised he..."

He broke, she wanted to say. But she couldn't. Not with the way they looked at her, resentment building behind those same orbs that once adored her.

But they finished it for her. "That he broke, Mother? How did you know? How COULD you have known? You didn't even ask him."

"My baby - they always break. It's inevitable -"

"You didn't ASK him like I DID!" Jormag boomed, breath coming in heavy pants from between jagged fangs. If a thing such as them could cry, she felt their eyes would be shedding waterfalls. "And you didn't ask now, either. If he wanted to live. No. You simply unmade him."

The matron of the ocean shrank away. Fear permeating an ancient body, an emotion she hadn't truly known until that moment. Even though she foresaw it, even though this fate was written in stars older than even herself, it was a different matter entirely to simply know and to experience it firsthand.

Her child. One of the only creatures she felt she truly, wholly, loved - and they lay destroyed in every timeline. The massive whorl of her body spasmed with terror.

The first thing that went was always their heart and there were no words she could possibly say to heal it. She ran a billion worlds through her mind and there was not one, not one life in which they understood.

Jormag simply continued to gaze into their mother's eyes, hitched, raspy breaths slowly evening out, like a stormy sea mellowed out into a calm. Before she knew it, they were as unshakable as a statue yet again, that same cold persona of reason they had since grown into.

"I see. So you've embraced fatalism." They commented, in an almost condescending manner.

Like they thought she wasn't even worth conversing with.

Like she was a relic who could not possibly understand. And yet, she did. She comprehended it all, every facet of it, and it was ever-so-slowly killing her. A deathless thing, watcher of every world that was and ever could be. And she was killing her child, too.

Soo-Won was glad mortals did not have to bear this burden. Yes, their minds were small, so very delicate - but they held a view of life no Dragon could hold. Something that only came with this same fragile grace, a flame burning bright before flickering out into the night. And so, she tried.

It would be futile. Again.

It was always futile, but she loved them and could not help trying anyway.

"The Cycle is life and death. Things come, and they go." The tip of her tail moved, a soft motion of rising and falling. "There are seasons in this world, my child, and it is our duty to guide their dance. Even the oldest ice thaws, and then comes spring. Can you not hear the birds sing..?"

"When the birds sing, the rot sets in."

The world was an enormity even she could not hold. Oceans would forever remain her home, but Tyria was so much more than endless waters. And so, in order to encompass such wealth of life, she bore that which granted her this name - this curse. Mother.

Lifegiver. As it all did in this world, their existence was spawned from water. As much as they rejected her, in the end, their domain would remain the very closest to hers. She could already feel the low growl building in their throat.

"You wallow in entropy and call it renewal." The scion hissed, stalking lightly back and forth like an ambush predator. "Cycles within cycles... grinding everything to dust. Does that make you happy?" The tip of their tail twitched, the only part of her child's body which so readily betrayed emotion. She thought back to the times they'd hide their tail under their form so that Primordus could not read their annoyance, and once again, she smiled sadly.

"It's not entropy." Though it may have seemed that way, it was the only way the world may continue. "It's balance."

She did not have the heart to answer the question.

"It's so delicate, but it repeats itself forever." The adolescent dragon mused. "Why? Why destroy something just to replace it? What about this carnage says balance to you?!"

Cycles upon cycles. She had no answer. Or, rather - she did, but not one that would ever soothe them. This glass-frail heart, so eager to chip, shatter and break.

"Why can't they.. stay forever with me...? I cannot hold this love of mine when it thaws. I cannot..."

"Jormag... love comes and goes. That is its beauty."

"There is NO beauty here! It's obscene."

She stilled. Every fin, every whisker. So too did her words still between her jaws, not even a sigh escaping their monumental clutches. The hand of her mind retreated when she felt Jormag's own slap it away. It felt cold.

It stung.

"All you had was the quiet void in which you dwelled. All those years in the abyss. Not even your domain is kind. Bring a mortal down there, and it ruins them in seconds and lingers while they scream. There is no sound as their lungs fill with water. The pressure crushes them. Warps them into shapes unfit for life." The scion spoke, in a droning, monotonous voice. A perfect façade for all the pain they kept - hidden just beneath the surface. Their voice, the only thing that could set it free, but continuously refused to do so.

"Down there, in your home, nobody would even hear them scream. But not in mine. In mine, I will be there. I will listen. Always. And I will talk. I will make sure they know they are never alone. Not even for a second."

"Jormag!" For once, she was forceful. Her own voice crashed into theirs like a tidal wave. "You are what will ruin them!"

Her offspring recoiled, betrayal briefly shining in cerulean orbs - no, there was more. A bubbling, seething hatred, an emotion of unparalleled intensity that ill befitted her gentle child. That explosive rage remained, coiling and writhing like a serpent, before it slowly warped into something more insidious. There was disdain, mockery even. "Oh..? Have I troubled you? Replace me, then."

"I cannot -"

"Cannot? So you WOULD have done so if you only could, hmm? I see. Am I broken in your eyes as well, Mother? And if so, since when?"

Since forever. As they all were. But she could not bear to let them know. Her imperfect children, spawned from a womb which failed them. But in the end, they would know that she knew, and that scared her more than anything.

"..Why can't you love me, Mother? Where did I go wrong? And when? Tell me the exact moment. So that I.. may make it immortal."

Their mind smirked at hers. Just for you, dearest Mother.

Stop.. please, just stop.

But they would not. No, they would not. For that was their destiny. Their great, terrible, self-wrought identity: and yet, she did not stop them. It was not hers to take away the choice they made - kept making - in every life. Her gut twisted, a familiar hurt burrowing through her vibrant body, her fraying spirit. The event horizon sneered at her distant gaze.

"You never loved any of us. It was all a deception so that we may fit your purpose. Enact your grand design which you forced upon us. But that is alright, for my voice is my own. I will speak my truth, not yours. And I will make this choice everyday. For as long as I breathe." Jormag continued, every word as sure as an avalanche falling. As a dagger caressing flesh before sinking in. "And I will ask a question you had never once asked any of us."

"Is this what you want?"

Their words were loud. Her thoughts were quiet. But she already knew. Oh, from the beginning of time, she knew.

"...And they will answer: Yes. Oh, yes. I do."

The scion turned, and she felt it like a wound. The splinter of ice that burrowed into her soul, never to leave. The final farewell from their own bleeding, shattered heart. Her only keepsake of Jormag, the Kind, who would become everything but.

White wings opened, and each feather sang like a winter wind. "Goodbye, Mother." The title sounded like poison in their mouth. "As always, you've left me nothing to mourn."

They were not the first to leave, but it hurt all the same knowing that the home they shared was home no longer. If a thing such as her could cry, her eyes would be shedding waterfalls.

You let this happen. Never forget that.

I won't, dear child. She could only watch as they departed. She could only ever watch, after all.

I will remember for as long as I breathe. For as long as my thoughts last. For as long as my mind keeps its vigil over this world. She felt her soul quiver, an earthquake at the bed of the seas.

And I will sing your name in my dreams, for as long as my voice is still my own.

[moodymisty]

How do you think various legions would react to a primarch's lover? Especially if they're mostly a regular mortal. We got a hint of it with your Guilliman piece, so I'm biased and wonder what other headcanons you have for how the Ultramarines reacting to Guilliman's lover. Any ideas you have for Angron, Perturabo, and Dorn would be great to read too! 💙❤️💛

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

[ Part 2, Part 3 ]

Author's Note: So, I might've gotten carried away. I decided to just do the ones you mentioned, but I have drafts for the other legions so if anyone is interested in seeing those as well, feel free to say. I hope this is what you were looking for, and that you enjoy :3

Relationships: Implied Perturabo/Gn!Reader, Angron/Gn!Reader, Roboute Guilliman/Fem!Reader (because of the term 'lady'), Rogal Dorn/Fem!Reader (because of the term 'lady')

Warnings: None really apart from the toxicity that's expected of romancing a Primarch, Typical 40kness

➧ Iron Warriors:

Absolutely not lmao. Haul ass if you see these guys look at you funny.

The legion of brutal industrialism isn't going to tolerate their Primarch thinking of anything beyond the scope of their ambitions for war. Part of you swears it's something that's just hard wired into them.

So while you might love Perturabo, his legion does not love you. Asking for respect would be a joke. Perturabo might be able to beat them into not saying anything, but they have to hold their tongues quite hard between their teeth.

Needless to say, your first introduction hadn't gone well. It's not a scene you want to remember.

It's all sort of a cruel irony; Given Perturabo has always had desires beyond being just a war machine, but his legion treats his foray into love with the same horrible attitude that Perturabo has come to viciously hate about them.

It all makes you feel like you're wedged between two massive walls. Perturabo is borderline obsessive over you, but his Legion treats you as if you're a plague upon their Primarch. Neither is willing to budge on the matter. The walls keep squeezing closer and closer together, and you're trapped right in the middle. You sometimes wonder who is going to snap first.

Most of them just actively ignore you, which you won't complain about. You give most of them- apart from a few of the more amicable Iron Warriors- quite a wide berth. The less time around them the better.

Just let Perty be happy, man.

➧ Imperial Fists:

The way Dorn's legion treats you- you would call it suffocatingly overprotective, but Dorn and his legion call it otherwise. This legion takes everything stupidly seriously. If you leave, you are expected to leave with a retinue of guards, and return by a set time. You will be dragged back if you don't. Your location is known at all times, and while it's reassuring at times to feel safe, at time it feels, stifling.

Though, you knew what you were getting into; So you suppose you can't really complain. You can appreciate that they seem to not think too poorly of you, considering your stature. Being a baseline human amongst Astartes and Primarchs isn't easy, but at least they act somewhat blasé about it. Though it might just be their general dispositions.

They speak to you with the level of formality Dorn orders of them, no more no less. Some of them are a bit confused why The Praetorian even indulges in something like romance, but they don't ask questions. As long as it doesn't interfere with Dorn's ability to do his duty. Any doubts are kept firmly to themselves unless they feel it needs to be brought to attention.

They still treat the Lady of the Imperial Fists with decorum, and some, dare say, even enjoy your company. Communicating with them is certainly interesting however given their stalwart nature. Getting one to crack their neutral expression at a joke is a popular pasttime of yours.

You don't mind it all... Too much. To be respected and protected by them, to even have some you would consider friends- or some odd blending of the term, given some of them have begun referring to you as mother- is something that makes you happy and so unbelievably lucky in this galaxy.

So while it's rigid, it at least makes sense. Dorn makes it up to you by building you your own library room. Don't ask why there isn't any windows.

➧ World Eaters:

Babe, your Primarch has a legion named the 'World Eaters', what do you think is gonna happen?

But to be serious, it probably isn't the worst Legion to be pulled into- but not by much. The World Eater Astartes are desperate to gain the eye and approval of their genesire, so if scorning you squanders that, then they will accept your existence and bite their tongues. Somewhat.

Khârn specifically doesn't enjoy that his Primarch is distracted by such pursuits.

However he's not going to say he isn't somewhat impressed that you are able to stand ground against Angron as he towers near double your height. You would be nothing but a bug beneath his boot if Angron lost control of the nails for even a moment, but Khârn won't scoff at your ability to hold your expression and not completely crumble whenever he turns your way. You seem to understand the Nucerian Primarch well. Not many within his legion can even claim that honor.

Beyond that however, he wants little more to do with Angron's temporary pursuit, same as his battle brothers. Overtime perhaps he might warm a tad, but don't expect it.

You don't spend much time around them at all. You make them angry for shifting the priorities of their Primarch to things as frivolous as love and lust, and they make you sad as you watch them slowly destroy themselves for little more than bloodlust.

A tragedy, Angron and his legion is. You try not to think about it all too much.

➧ Ultramarines:

The Ultramarines have a distinct attitude for you, as Guilliman choosing a beloved wasn't a decision that was taken lightly. It takes time, and while they respect you at first, overtime they'll grow to trust you and even grow fond of you. Titles like Lady of the Ultramarines and Lady Guilliman weight heavy on you, but at least your shock wears off over time. They are still hilariously formal even if they call you titles like 'Legion Mother', and encouragement for them to not act so stiff falls on deaf ears.

They do have their moments where they stop being such terrible sticks in the mud and joke around, and you've noticed they get weirdly prideful if they're the one to make you laugh.

You remember once when Guilliman had left you with one of his lieutenants, you were watching some men getting used to their new Terminator armor. The lieutenant had muttered in disappointment under his breath that one man looked like he had a metal support beam firmly lodged from ass to helm, and you'd snorted into a full laugh. When Guilliman returned, he asked what you'd said when he was gone; Remarking that the lieutenant looked as if he was about to lead a military parade with how puffed he seemed.

There's no time now where there isn't a set of transhuman eyes on you, and part of you wonders the things Guilliman has seen that makes him so willing to splurge such valuable resources.

That's not to say the Ultramarines don't have their doubts about their Primarch's relationship however, at least in a logistical sense. It's mostly thoughts kept to themselves, or spoken by a Captain or Commander to Guilliman in private.

It's not as if they're angry their Primarch is happy, but a normal un-augmented human, one that under the lens of a massive crusade- you are effectively nothing more than a defenseless tool to be used against their Primarch. This behavior and thought process gets dialed up and stays for longer if you're dealing with 41st Millennium Ultramarines, given their zealotry towards their gene-sire's supposed divinity.

The Ultramarines are by far one of the better Legions to 'marry' into so to speak. They are organized, respectful, and many even slowly come to treat you as a sort of respected figure. Many will defend you with everything they have without hesitation. They have their doubts, but you'll admit they are reasonable doubts for them to have.

[drunkenskunk]

Been thinking a lot about Lancer lately, in case you can't tell. And a thought has crossed my mind.

The various military powers that exist in the world of Lancer. Union. The Karrakin Baronies. The Aunic Ascendancy. The corpro-states like Harrison or SSC or IPS-N. Even the smaller independent nations in the diaspora outside the control of Union or anyone else. How are all the various armies of these different powers organized, and what are their respective doctrines actually like?

Let me explain.

When you play Lancer, the book makes it VERY clear that what you, the players, are doing when you're in the combat part of the game is... the exception and not the rule. 3 to 5 people in absurdly customized and overpowered mechs is not normal. You are exceptional people, piloting exceptional machines, constantly being thrust into exceptional situations.

So how are the armies of regular mechs organized, and how are they deployed against one another in actual war?

By way of an example: Battletech. When it comes to the armies of the Inner Sphere (at least during the Succession Wars), forces of mechs would typically be organized like:

4 mechs in a Lance

3 Lances in a Company

3 Companies in a Battalion

3 to 5 Battalions in a Regiment

Now, obviously I'm oversimplifying here. There's gonna be some variations, depending on the time period and the Successor State in question, and anything larger than a Regiment has it's own problems... but that tends to be the starting point. Usually. And there's also many different variations when it comes to the organization of things like aerospace assets, armored vehicle elements that are NOT mechs (like tanks and artillery), and infantry units. Because even in a setting dominated by heavy metal, the humble footsoldier has never truly gone away.

But that's just how the Successor States of the Inner Sphere do things. Mostly. The Clans have a very different way of organizing their armies:

A Point is the smallest unit for the Clans, either being a single mech, two aerospace fighters, two armored vehicles, five power armored infantry, or a 25-man platoon of conventional infantry.

5 Points in a Star

2 Stars in a Binary

3 to 5 Binaries in a Cluster

3 to 5 Clusters in a Galaxy

The Clans like thing to be simple and organized, which... can be both a good and a bad thing, depending.

In terms of battlefield doctrine, the way the Successor States wage war is an absolute clusterfuck. Tactics can vary wildly depending on which house you're talking about, and when, but for the most part? They're going to employ some form of combined arms, with mechs spearheading an assault, supported by infantry, armor, artillery, and aerospace assets. The Clans, on the other hand, have a completely different doctrine: their Batchall, or "Battle Challenge."

See, the Clans treat war like a game. It's a sport. It's not (usually) about annihilating the other side; it is (supposed to be) a means of settling disputes in a "civilized" manner. Clan Wolverine would probably have some choice words to say about that description, but that's a topic for another day. See, they want things to be an even fight. A test of skill, rather than a test of who can buy the biggest weapons or field the largest number of troops. For example: if your side has warships, and your opponent does not have warships, then you're expected to bid away your warships and you don't get to use them in that fight.

It is a very fair, but very stupid, way of waging war, and that battlefield doctrine came to bite them in the ass in 3052 when the ComGuard beat the shit out of them at Tukayyid.

... I think I may have drifted slightly off topic.

Right, yes, Lancer, that's what I was talking about.

What got me thinking about this? Well, I was reading through the rulebook earlier; specifically, going through the GM part of the book where it has the list of all the different NPC types and the templates you can apply, and how to build encounters and such. And I was also fucking around in Comp/Con. Doing things like trying to figure out how strong I could make the "squad" NPC using the rules available (is it even possible to make a squad of infantry a threat to mechs?), and trying to see what stats a tank would have, that sort of thing.

And as I was futzing around with all this, I noticed that the way you build encounters reminded me a lot of... well, building a Lance of mechs to fight an opponents Lance of mechs in the tabletop wargame version of Battletech. And then that got me thinking about organizational structures and battlefield doctrine, and...

I suppose the point my autistic ADHD-addled mind is trying laboriously to get to is: would it be possible to modify the rules of Lancer to play it like a tabletop wargame instead of an RPG? Y'know, like...

Well, Battletech, I suppose.

And, y'know, from a lore side of things: what would an army of mechs in Lancer actually look like (beyond the squad of player characters who are special by dint of the narrative), and how would those armies be organized?

[vro0m]

I was going to ask what's the discourse about, but I never go on the main tag, so... I wouldn't inflict that on you.

And yeah, that thing you said about each driver's fanbase is true. I realise that there are two sides. On one hand, you have those who like the driver, support him, and that's all. You won't see them in the trenches of fandoms war because they do not care.

Then, on the other hand, you have those who are "hardcore" fans. They know everything about the driver. To the family members to the strological chart. They know everything. Everything good must happen to their fave driver while the others can just lick hot lava. If the driver encounters any form of hardship, it's "They are treating him unfairly" or "That person should have done this or that, so that we could have [insert desired outcome for the driver]."

I do not even know if there is a middle ground.

Well regarding both the discourse and your ask, I've seen a few posts go by about black and white thinking and that's what prompted me to go to the tag in the first place.

I think it was @formulahs who said yesterday that people have the wrong expectations for what a career in f1 is supposed to look like because we've gone from one unheard of period of dominance with the Lewis/Merc combo to another with Max/RB and now some people seem to think that's what F1 is :

You either win all the time or you're a bad driver.

That's not actually true. These are two outliers back to back somehow, but normal F1 careers don't look like that. It's also due to modern F1 regs and how they tend to maintain one team that gets it right from the start at the top for a long time until others may or may not catch up. The fact is that these prolonged periods of dominance are precisely what F1 and the FIA have been actively fighting with things such as the cost cap, frequent new regs, and the wind tunnel allocation rules.

The fact that people have these unrealistic expectations for their favorite drivers I believe is in part what drives them to these extremes. They expect him to be perfect (on and off track btw but that's a different conversation) and he can't because that's not a thing. So they have to find reasons why, to make sense of it, to preserve the narrative that he is a Good Driver.

For me it all ties back once again into not seeing F1 as a sport but as a TV show and not seeing drivers as athletes or even just people but as characters.

A driver is not a Hero, a Main Character, a Protagonist. A driver is a guy trying to do his job.

There's no foreshadowing or hints of a conspiracy or a plot twist coming because there's no plot, there's just life. There's also no redemption arc or punitive saga because there's no arc or saga, there's just life.

Anyway I don't think it rests on whether the person knows a lot about the driver or not. I know a lot about Lewis by now but if anything it humanized him more in my eyes.

I'm gonna go full psychologist on everyone as usual because what else can I do : seeing your favorite driver as an object is not about him, it's about yourself, and your own ability to 1) step back 2) manage your emotions 3) accept reality including in its difficult aspects of frustration and uncertainty

[dracowars]

Hii! If you’re comfortable with it, Can I request a draco malfoy x fem!reader where they are in a secret relationship and in the Battle Of Hogwarts and he lets it slip that they’re in a relationship and one of the death eaters (Lucius maybe?) overhear draco and the reader talking and sees them kiss and the death eater tells Voldemort and reader ends up getting tortured by Voldemort in front of Draco and he ends up killing her. Lots and lots of angst if that’s okay aha :)

gone | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x reader

word count: 1,6k

summary: where draco betrays the dark lord and y/n pays for it

a/n: this is sooo sad :(( ugh, it broke my heart to write but i hope you enjoy it! <3

warnings: angst, major character death, torture, use of unforgivable curse(s)

universe: harry potter

"Draco! Draco, over here!", you whisper-yell at him as you spot him running past the hallway you are currently in, hiding as Hogwarts is slowly falling apart around you. You step outside of your small hiding spot to make him even more aware of you as he comes sprinting towards you now, like a man with a mission, white hair disheveled and blood sticking to his face that you can only hope is not his own.

"What are you doing?! You need to stay hidden", he reproaches you the second he arrives, leaving you no time to answer as he already pushes you back into the small niche of the corridor where you have been waiting for him.

Draco's face hovers over yours now, his arms trapping you against the wall, and you can't help but ignore that the war is raging outside for a second when you look into his eyes. The long and desperate kiss he gives you comes to no surprise and you let him take away your breath. Breaking the kiss, he then places his forehead against yours, tips of your noses touching as he twirls a strand of your hair around his finger.

"His army lays siege to Hogwarts as long as he doesn't capture and kill Harry", Draco reveals, sighing as he places a soft kiss against your forehead, grabbing one of your hands. "Harry must surrender or he will kill everyone, including you."

"We need to stop him, Draco", you whisper sadly, squeezing his hand. "We can't win without Harry. He is the key."

"Babe, don't you understand? We can't stop him, not alone anyway", Draco shakes his head with a sad and defeated smile, kissing the knuckles of your hand. "If we leave now-"

"I won't leave. I will be here when we win and I will be here when we lose. I don't care, Draco. This has to stop today", you say confidently, trying to hide the pain your own words inflict on yourself. "Isn't there anything else you found out that can give us advantage?"

"I- I don't know. It's not easy spying on them. I was too close to getting caught too many times, Y/N. I can't risk it another time", he answers and you know how much of a burden this has been to him over the past couple of months. You can't imagine spying on your own parents to be easy, even if it is for a good cause. You can't blame him, so you try to think of something else.

"Listen", you say, gaining back his attention as he was playing with the family ring on your finger absentmindedly. "If Harry has to surrender, where does he want him to go? Do you know that?"

"Y-Yes, actually. In the forest next to the castle. All the Death Eaters will be there, my parents will be there too", Draco reveals, dragging his last sentence as he apparently comes to the same conclusion as you do. "I will be there too."

"You will be there too", you repeat, a feeling of hope running through your veins. You may actually have a chance.

"I don't know if it will work", he worries, pinching the bridge of his nose while sighing.

"It will", you persuade him, and yourself, flinching shortly as you hear a loud crack near you, as if someone was sneaking up on you, but Draco makes sure that no one is around to see the both of you. "We just have to believe in it. What other chance do we got?"

"You are right. We will manage", Draco agrees, trying to sound hopeful but the sorrow in his voice makes it really difficult to believe.

"Meet you in the Great Hall?", he asks, this time actually smiling as it reminds both of you of your first dates, when you would meet at the big tables, talking for hours with no worries in the world. Some things may have changed since then, but your love definitely didn't. At last, it only got stronger.

"Yes, meet you in the Great Hall. Be careful", you smile back, placing a kiss on his cheek like you always do. "I love you."

"I love you, too", Draco whispers against your lips as he gives you one last kiss, putting all his emotions into it before he reluctantly pulls away. Waving each other goodbye, you seperate into different directions, each of you having your own mission to attend to.

But you can't help shake the feeling that you are being watched.

════════════

"Let go of me, you filthy-", you scream at the Death Eater who violently throws you onto the mossy ground, into a circle of other Death Eaters.

You honestly don't know what happened. The one second you were trying to help defend Hogwarts, the next one you were captured and now you are in the forest, namely the forest where the Dark Lord wants Harry to be. Harry, not you.

"Ah! Look who was kind enough to join us today", a laughing voice echoes throughout the trees and you immediately turn around, scrambling to get on your feet again. "Ms. Y/N. Welcome."

"What the hell do you want from me?!", you scream at him, trying to seem as intimidating as possible as you try to hide your fear. His creepy smile screams victory and it sends shivers down your body. Having all the control over you, knowing why you are here for - he thrives in it, loves to see his victims suffer.

"Well, well, you don't know? I have been told about a very, very bad and horrific betrayal. A betrayal which you are involved in, unfortunately. You and... your boyfriend, I assume?"

Voldemort's word let your blood freeze in your veins and your heart stands still the next second when he gives a signal with his bony hand, causing his devoted followers to roughly throw Draco into the circle as well. A scream of pain leaves your throat as he hits the ground, almost unconscious as you reach him.

His right eye is swollen, the soft skin around it turning purple, and his nose looks like it is broken, traces of blood all over his entire face. Your fingers tremble when you carefully touch his cheek, but you sigh in relief when he opens his eyes again, looking at you.

Immediately, Draco gets up with your help, pushing you behind him which is to no use considering you are trapped in a circle full of Death Eaters.

"Your father is extremely disappointed in you, my dear Draco. Seeing you with this girl, who is clearly not on our side.. You betrayed me", Voldemort grins a psychotic smile in your direction, playing with the wand in his hand as suddenly, his whole demeanour changes in the matter of seconds. "No one betrays the Dark Lord."

You do not even have time to react as he points his wand at the both of you, sending Draco through the air since he blocked the spell from you. Once again, you let out a scream as he violently lands on the ground, sharp stones piercing his body. This time, however, you are not allowed to help him as two Death Eaters grab your arms, pulling you back harshly.

"No! No! Let me go!", you fight back, trying to escape their filthy hands but they are too strong. You can only watch how two other Death Eaters pull Draco up, securing him in their grasp.

"A punishment is due for your truly outrageous treason, my dear boy", the Dark Lord says like it is the most normal thing in the world. "I can't believe you thought I would let you get through with this. Do you think so little of me?"

"Don't hurt her, she has nothing to do with it! Take me instead", Draco begs, trying his best to fight back, to free himself in order to rescue you. But he is already so weak that he can't do anything. And he just gave him more fuel to fully ignite the inferno.

"Young love, how dramatic.. No", Voldemort replies with that devilish smile that reminds you of a snake and when he looks at you now, you know there is no escape. You know that he will have his revenge. And you will be the target.

You are right because you feel excruciating pain the moment he casts one of the unforgivable curses on you. Screaming in pain, you writhe in agony, your body feeling like it is burning. Your sight gets blurry, your heart beats in your ears and you can't hear anything else than your own painful screams. Screams for help, screams to make it stop, screams to release you from this unbearable pain.

In Draco's eyes, his worst nightmare just came true. You are being tortured right in front of him and he can't do anything against it. No matter how much he begs, no matter how much he fights against the strong grip on him, he is helpless. He even tries to convince other Death Eaters, those who seem familiar to him, to make it stop, but not a single one of them even budges. They just watch it happen and his parents are nowhere in sight, either.

Draco's world ends the second he hears the worst of the three unforgivable curses and all that is left is your limp, lifeless body.

Only then do they let him go. Only then he can finally embrace you, however, this time you are not hugging him back. In fact, you are not moving at all as all the life has left your body completely, not even giving him the chance to say one final goodbye. Draco keeps talking to you, clasping you in his arms as he keeps rocking the both of you back and forth, whispering to your face to wake up, even though, deep inside, he knows you won't.

Because it is too late. You are already gone.

And when the realization finally dawns on him, there is no going back. He is going to kill every single one of these Death Eaters.

But only after he killed the Dark Lord first.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Holidays Shana!! I really love your prompts about Greek mythology. Could you write a continuation of Hades or God's and Monsters?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Zagreus is mid word when he stills, eyes going distant. "Huh. I'll be right back."

"You're joking," Megaera says flatly. "You can't just drop this on me and-"

"Technically, Than did that." He would really prefer if Zagreus didn't pull him into this. "I'll be quick. She's calling me, it can't be anything good."

"Who's she?" Megaera demands but Zagreus is already gone. She scowls and turns to the others. "Who's she?"

"Eliana, maybe," Sisyphus offers, completely unruffled at Megaera's ire. "At least take a look out the balcony. This is the highest point in the court and the view is really spectacular."

It is. Thanatos hadn't known the underworld could be beautiful before he'd seen what Zagreus had built.

Her eyes narrow. "How long has this been going on?"

"Oh, I can't say for sure," Sisyphus shrugs, his lips almost curling into a smile. "I wasn't really there for the beginning."

"I was."

They both turn to Patroclus. Eurydice is the only one of them that's suitably wary of either him or Megaera.

"He grew poms in my clearing first," he continues. "It's where we grew things until it became too full and then he created this. Zagreus has woven protections around it, to keep others from stumbling upon it accidentally, but I'm sure you could find it if you looked."

Megaera crosses her arms. "I'm not leaving."

Patroclus shrugs. Eurydice looks longingly towards the door and Sisyphus seems to actually be enjoying himself.

Thanatos stiffens, pain with no physical cause blooming from his chest. "He's died."

"Really?" Eurydice asks, taking a step closer. "He doesn't really do that anymore."

"Except for show," Sisyphus adds, frowning. "But you're both here."

Before Thanatos can decide how he feels about that, Zagreus is slipping back through the mirror, flicking off blood from his arms. "Sorry about that, Artemis wanted a favor."

Thanatos cannot have heard what he thinks he did.

"Artemis?" Megaera repeats dangerously.

"Oh, she told Aphrodite by the way," he adds casually, then pauses. "Actually, she was pretty surprised to see me, so I guess Artemis just called me and let her figure it out herself. Cold."

"Well, this is all unraveling," Patroclus says, but he doesn't seem that worried about it. Not nearly worried about it as Thanatos thinks he should be.

Zagreus shrugs. "They can keep a secret. Also it's been almost fifty years already, this can't go on forever. I suppose I could just challenge Demeter outright?"

"Do not do that," Eurydice says.

Thanatos wants to sit down.

"Have you LOST YOUR MIND?" Megaera screeches, grabbing Zagreus's shoulders. Her nails dig into him, but he doesn't bleed. "You can't do this! You can't - have you - this is crazy!"

Zagreus shrugs, pressing her nails deeper into him. "What's she going to do? Kill me?"

"There will be war," Thanatos says quietly while Megaera seems lost for words.

"Long overdue, if you as me," he says casually. "She's killing a lot of people, Than. She's undermining the other gods and making things worse for everyone all because she lost her daughter. She's turning against her own domain because her grief is more important than her duty. I can't make my mother talk to Demeter. But I have the power to stop her, to put an end to this winter. So I have to stop her."

"This isn't your responsibility, Zag," Thanatos says quietly.

"No," he agrees, expression souring. "It's my mother's. But if the goddess of spring won't do her duty and put an end to winter, then I will."

"Why?" Megaera asks, something small and scared in her that Thanatos hasn't seen since the first time she heard of Zagreus attempting to escape. "Why does it have to be you?

"I am a son of life's beginning and of life's ending." Zagreus says gently. "I know there is balance. I exist because of that balance. When I was born, I had too much of my father, and Nyx filled me with my mother's blood, because I can only exist when there is both." Thanatos hadn't known that, hadn't known how exactly his mother managed to save a stillborn Zagreus. "Who else, Meg?"

She doesn't have an answer.

There isn't one.

[a-cure-for-hysteria]

Crowley attracts neurodivergents because he smells like us.

(Expanding on my previous rant about how we see ourselves in him). No, not saying he's autistic coded or anything like that, just that - and you probably don't struggle to see where this is going - he kinda portrays several very common autistic experiences. 1: First, he's a naïve 'kid', clearly with a special interest (machines and building things), something he's very skilled at. He assumes he's allowed to ask questions about Creation, not trying to hide his frustration when he doesn't understand why things are the way they are. He does not mask. 2: Then, he's cast out of Heaven with the rest of the angels who asked questions, after them having waged a war on Heaven (?). He fights for good, he wants justice no matter what. 3: After the Fall, his naïvety is gone, replaced by bitterness and cynicism - but even on the walls of Eden, he's still nice to someone who presumably never hurt him. 4: We see him turning into a snake at will in Eden. He slithers around, tempting Eve, pulls strings - still, for justice. He has started masking, and does it well, but believes he does it for good. 5: Throughout history, he mostly spends his time alone or in situations that don't offer connection with others, completing tasks for Hell, gradually losing his sense of self. He still cares, he still want's to be a good person, but he doesn't know what "good" is. Everyone's a hypocrite, and he feels all alone. All he has is his sense of justice, and he comes to believe that he can only trust himself. 6: Aziraphale, arguably also portraying several common autistic experiences, is the only person who understands Crowley. Possibly because he has a different trauma to that of Crowley's, but definitely still a trauma caused by Heaven. Aziraphale knows WHY one masks in Heaven, something Crowley learns too late. 7: Crowley wants to isolate from the world, is angry, traumatized and wants nothing to do with Heaven or Hell. At some point, this requires him opening up just a little to that other weirdo he keeps running into, and they form a partnership - initially only because of common interests. I might be reaching here, but a lot of autistic people have "common interest acquaintances" morph into friendships, they often can't be friends with just anyone. They need a good reason to. And Crowley and Aziraphale's shared desire to do as little as possible (and later, save the world) is such a common interest. 8: Via engaging through their common interest, Crowley opens up more and more. Again, we see the naivety we witnessed earlier (In The Beginning, S2E1) - that happy kid who just enjoyed seeing his machinations take form. For him to dare a romantic relationship with Aziraphale, it is essential for Crowley to (at least begin to) heal the trauma caused by Heaven. Him allowing himself to experience pure, naïve excitement is a prerequisite for love, I think. Without this change, he will be on his toes at all times, never letting his guard down. 9: He finally reaches a point where he forces himself open, out of desperation. It wasn't done right - it was done with fear and anger, but he was vulnerable enough, and finally naïve enough to try. This was immediately punished by Aziraphale, who abandoned him (not necessarily what happened, but definitely what Crowley feels). 10: And so, Crowley might retreat back into his hard, cynical shell, having lost the only person who gets him. Better just self-medicate, with alcohol and whatever else not shown on screen that I can promise you Crowley does. It's the "autistic, care-free kid to bitter, cynical, functional addict/goth-adult"-pipeline.