#he was camp so I had to make it more camp

[batmanlovesnirvana]

Money in massive amounts is never clean.

To amass a certain level of wealth, there’s inevitably a little blood on your hands. That's why I prefer the Wayne family with a touch of moral ambiguity—keeps things interesting.

Sure, we can say Thomas Wayne was a good guy (I mean, "good billionaire" sounds like an oxymoron, but I’ll let it slide since he's fictional). He’s a surgeon, sometimes a co-CEO, and in some versions, he even takes a shot at being mayor. But let's be real—his wealth didn’t come from rainbows and fairy dust.

No, the Wayne fortune wasn’t built on saving puppies and planting trees. Somewhere in the family history, there’s probably a dark corner filled with skeletons, or you know, a handful of emerald mines for exemple. I wouldn't be shocked if Thomas's great-great-grandfather named a labor camp after his wife—romantic, right? Sweet sentiment aside, you don’t just wake up one day swimming in billions without a few questionable "business decisions" sprinkled in.

Yeah, the Waynes are old money, but we’re talking about billions—like "richer-than-Queen-Elizabeth" money. Battinson alone is worth what, 9.2 billion? And in the comics? Bruce is probably a trillionaire, and that fortune didn’t just materialize from charitable bake sales.

You can’t convince me that all of the Wayne money is squeaky clean. Even if Bruce himself isn’t aware of it, some of that fortune likely came from, oh I don’t know, oil deals that were less "above board" and more "we took it from the Middle East." Because, like I said, you don’t build an empire like the Waynes’ without some shady dealings. Let’s face it, billionaires don't get to that level of wealth by being saints.

Now with the new Penguin series, we’re about to see how wealth is really made—without the rose-tinted glasses. Sure, Oswald Cobblepot is a mobster and criminal, but money is money. You can work hard, play by the rules, and become a millionaire—that’s fair, that’s normal. But billionaires? I guarantee you they’ve done worse than Penguin to reach their fortune.

Fictional or not, it makes for a more grounded and realistic Gotham and I do hope Reeves will explore this idea.

In Nolan’s trilogy, we had the shiny, perfect Thomas Wayne and his oh-so-virtuous family, but we never really dug into how the Waynes probably weren’t doing great things for, you know, the rest of the world.

In the Snyderverse, we got that backstory about the Waynes being hunters and building their fortune by selling furs to the French, if I remember right—but still. You don’t become that filthy rich by just selling that.

We always pin the morally questionable label on the Kanes or the Arkhams (Martha Wayne's family), but the Waynes? They’re consistently portrayed as Gotham’s golden dynasty.

Anyway, that’s my ramble for the day.

[velveteenprayers]

11:11

pairing: percy jackson x gn!demigod!reader

summary: percy stumbles into your apartment at 11:11

word count: 1k+

a/n: none! first fic pls be kind 😔

The neon green casts an eerie glow over your room. Frustration grows within you as you realise how late it is. Beneath him, you shuffle, clearly trying to make an escape from his hold, to soothe him, to no avail. You grumble and sigh. And again. And once more, for good measure. Until a weak groan of “Percy….” finally escapes you. The sound of your voice seemingly breaks the spell cast on him by your Hello Kitty digital clock. 

“What are you doing up so late?” you ask, exhaustion laced in your voice. 

“Nothing Bug,” he responds, burning holes into a dark corner of your room. His index finger is tapping against your arm in a way he knows makes you drowsy. “Go back to sleep.” 

It’s not been that long ago since he walked into your bare downtown apartment, nothing with him but his skateboard. He provided no explanation, and you didn’t ask. 

You groan again, and look up at your ceiling. Your ceiling creaks under the steps of your upstairs neighbours, going about their evening.

 “Well, I can’t sleep unless I know you’re sleeping, so…”

A few minutes pass, nothing to be heard except the sound of your fan whirring and a few hoots outside. New York, the city that never sleeps. His city. Sometimes you wonder how you used to think of it in any other way.

Finally, he relents, and collapses next to you, quite a feat for your small mattress, disturbing your toothpaste green sheets, but you find a way to make it work. You always do, for him. A few beats of silence. You reach for his forehead, and he leans into your touch instinctively. Finally, he relieves himself from his ever-busy mind, “Where did you get that clock from?”  

An innocent question, truly, but you know better

“Don’t ask questions you won’t like the answer to.”

He sniggers, and rolls his eyes, and warmth fills your chest, golden and all-consuming. He’s back, your boy, and at this moment that’s all that matters to you.

“And the saying is “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer too.””

You frown, mentally cursing yourself for growing up in a pagan military camp as though you had a choice. Your fingers delicately run through his locs, through those cursed grey strands. (Maybe you would despise them less if you had the other matching half.)

“What difference does it make?” You ask, trying to hide the soft desperation in your voice. To no avail, as it always seems to be with him. Your ugly heart pulled from your chest and displayed for him, always.

“It’s nothing.” He shakes his head, and stares at the ceiling. Irritation gnaws at you, but most of all, a sense of hopelessness, one that stirs within you more often than you’d like to admit. You want to swallow him whole, encase him in your ribs, and never let any monster or God get to him ever again. You want to know him inside out, for it to be indistinguishable without you. But most of all, you want him, in any way he’ll let you have him. You want to be to him all that he is to you. Everything. But you’re only half a god, and you will have to live with whatever you can get. (You think of all you don’t know of him. Bile rises in your throat)

He glances at you, sharp eyes softening. You’ve always thought Pecry had the prettiest eyes you’ve ever known, like waves meeting the sun, the forest marbles you used to play with the Hermes cabin. When camp was different, and you were too. He reaches for your hand, and you let him. He squeezes it. 

“I’m sorry, that was mean. I guess, I just get paranoid sometimes.” 

And you understand, because you’ve seen time and time again how he gives himself to the world and is met with cruelty in return.

“Of what?”

He shrugs, a distance between the two of you reached instantly. “Of, I don’t know, you. You’re just kinda a mystery to me sometimes.” (You wanna laugh at the irony. But you’ve never been as cruel as the world.)

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.” 

Your eyes meet his for the first time this evening. You're grateful you’ve always had this in-syncness that seems to be innate. Why did you even worry in the first place ?

“I mean,” he begins, “why did you and your sister stop talking?” The question hits you like a knife to the stomach, conjuring the enraged face of your half-sibling in your mind.

“You see what I mean?”  His voice is gentle, like the sea dying down to meet the shore

“Oh.” Is all you manage to say, burying your face in his neck. He smells like generic lotion and the cologne you got him for his birthday, peppermint and lavender. “I see.”

“Why do you steal so much?”

“How else am I supposed to get the things that I need ?”

“Name, no-one on Gaia’s Earth needs that many porcelain statues.”

You frown at that, but with a newfound myrth. “Don’t talk about my collection like that. It’s very impressive.”

“Whatever Grandma.” he says, grinning, shaking his head in disbelief

You gasp “Grandma. Really. That’s the best that you, Perseus Jackson, saviour of Olympus, could come up with?

You continue, “But it’s the same with you, What was your life like before camp? You never tell me.”

He frowns, before he laughs softly, a sound like rain on pavement. 

“Wow, I guess we’re both bad at this.”

You nod, face still hidden within him.

He just grins, shark teeth on full display, a sight so lovely you have to turn around to fight the feeling in your stomach. You can feel his arms snake around you from behind.

“Let’s make a deal? To be more…open with each other.”

You look up at him, fingers gently contouring his face,  (The world is cruel to him, so therefore you won’t be.)

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

With that, the tension in your body gives, the knots in your stomach untie and you lay next to him. His hand finds your back, rubbing soothing patterns.

“But stop robbing aunties in Chinatown of their antiques.” “Screw you.”

His laugh is the last thing you hear before you doze off again, a sound you hope you can hear until the end of  your short, cursed life.

[sonik-kun]

Why are Jiang Cheng antis unable to accept JC's canon positive traits whilst completely denying all of Wei Wuxian's canon negatives? Lmao.

WWX is canonically reckless. In his first life, he made stupid decisions and made enemies on his own which even he acknowledges.

JC did correctly predict WWX's downfall. He warns him about walking the crooked path, and WWX just laughs and shrugs him off.

JC also correctly predicted that if he stood with the Wen, the rest of the world would turn against WWX, and JC wouldn't be able to protect him.

The whole thing about JC is that he is pragmatic. He is politically savvy, and he is very perceptive. We see this in the Wen indoctrination camp also, when JC warns WWX not to draw attention to himself or anger the Wen. We all know that he does draw attention to himself (even if doing so saved the lives of all the sect heirs at the camp) and not long after, the Jiang were targeted next after the Lans, with the Wens determined to shame WWX for his "insolence."

We also see that JC is more socially aware of the political situation. He is street smart and a realist. WWX, on the other hand, was more of an optimist, believing he can save everyone, even political enemies, and somehow, no one would bat an eye.

Now, no one is saying that WWX is wrong to speak out against the injustices of the world. On the contrary. Everyone in this fandom is very much on his side and agrees with him because he is correct to call them out and challenge the sect leaders. But that doesn't mean his methods were right, nor were they considerate. They were still reckless and still endangered many lives. His decisions often only thought about the short term and never the long term.

You also seem to forget that his DC also made him rather reckless and irritational. JC didn't only warn him of this, but LWJ, too. His actions via the use of DC lead to the deaths of JZX and JYL, not to mention the many disciples that were present at Nightless City.

WWX's actions, although pure and noble, put JC into a very difficult situation, and ultimately, they took away the last immediate family JC had left (JYL). That is a fact. It's not even a fanon headcannon. I don't know why I'm seeing antis insisting that we're completely ass pulling all of this. It's literally there in the book.

To conclude, no one is making up JC's canon good traits. You just refuse to see them because you're blinded by WWX's protagonist halo. So much so that you can't even see his own canonical flaws. Talk about hypocritical, much?

Also, no. MXTX doesn't care what JC fans think or even what JC antis think. She's moved on from this story years ago. It hardly crosses her mind anymore. (Even then, she was baffled by the hate JC got and claimed that he isn't a bad person. It's there in the interviews if you want to read them, straight from the authors mouth!). But sure. Pop off. Keep on justifying being vile, nasty haters. Let's see where that gets you. 👋

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2024: 19 Taken

(Violence, fantasy racism, kidnapping, death)

His side twinged, but he winced and kept tracking his quarry. It was not difficult, given their vehicles and the way they marched the troops and their prisoners.

A surge of anger rolled through him and he pressed on, the pain in his side forgotten. It had been his own fault, when his mentor had pushed him out of the way of the attacking soldiers. It had saved his life, but his mentor’s had been lost.

Along with most of the village they protected; the warders had failed. His shame in surviving could only be alleviated by finding the children that had been taken.

In the smoldering wreckage he had found his dying mother. She had weakly cried out for his sibling, using their diminutive nickname for the child—Ijna. When he made his occasional visits to the village—as a young man, he made more frequent trips than his elders tended to—he would be sure to visit his mother, and had been fond of Ijna, with skin as coal-dark as Mother’s. Their dark hair had turquoise streaks to match their bright eyes. A small, slight child, but he had once been, too, and had often assured the little one that someday they would grow as large and strong as himself—perhaps moreso, if they were a girl.

His sibling was among those stolen.

His nose caught the stench of ceruleum. His lips twisted in a snarl and he took to the tree branches.

The chief had defied the imperial officers who came to make demands, and the warders had harried them. They thought they had made the Garleans leave their valley. They had been terribly wrong, as the invaders had returned in force.

He did not know what he would do, when he rescued the children. He would figure that out once safely away from the camp.

They had stopped for the night, a pavilion set up for the officers to dine and sleep in. Troops who were not attending to their superiors patrolled the perimeter, or guarded the vehicle where the children huddled. They had been allowed to relieve themselves in a trench, and given some rations to eat the same as the soldiers. Then returned to the bed of the truck, where they huddled together for comfort and warmth under not enough thin blankets.

“Wretched little beasts,” one of the soldiers under his chosen branch said to a fellow. “And the Praefectus thinks they can be citizens?”

The other shrugged. “That’s the Emperor’s idea. If they will not submit, make them wish they had, as one way or another, they will be civilized. These brats shouldn’t be as feral as the adults, and there’s a school where they’ll be tamed of their savage ways.”

The first made another derogatory sound. “Even so, no one will mistake them for anything but beasts with those ears.” The two laughed and continued on their patrols.

He grit his teeth and waited.

Eventually the camp settled in for the night. There were soldiers taking their turn at patrol, at guarding the children. They were more lax than they could have been, thinking they had dealt with all of the village’s adults.

He handled the wandering patrols first, with careful, silent arrows for the first, and a dagger across the throat of the second. The high collars of their lightly armored uniforms, in addition to the rounded helms they wore, made it difficult, but there was hardly any sound, and no one came to investigate. He deposited the bodies in the woodline and crept toward the truck.

The children heard him coming, even if their Garlean guard did not. He gestured for them to keep quiet, uncertain if they could see him in the dark. Even silent, their stirring and looking around put their guard on alert. He would have to be swift. He drew his bow and—

A light snapped on, blinding him as he was exposed. “I knew it!” one of the officers growled. “Kill him, and search for more! He may be a scout for a war band!”

They were already firing their weapons as he dashed into the woods. The children screamed and shouted, their guards yelling at them. His ears picked up Ijna’s particular keening cry before it was cut off, the child struck by a guard.

A bullet hit his calf, another his bicep, and one tore a long graze along his side. He cried out as pain erupted through him and he fell, tumbling down a bank, bruised and cut from the fall. The soldiers were above him, he had to move but gods help him everything not bruised was on fire, and his older injury had reopened.

“Been awhile since I’ve been on a rabbit hunt,” a distant voice said, cruel laughter answering.

He tried to crawl forward, into the thorny bramble and the swift stream he heard on its other side. He had to get away, had to heal, had to pick up the trail later and find the children. He owed it to his mentor, he had promised his mother…

More gunshots, more fiery pain blooming across his body. His blood flowed freely, pooling around him, his leathers and green clothes stained. He couldn’t move, no matter how he wanted to.

He had failed.

Boots tromped close. His vision faded.

“Ijna, I’m sorry,” he tried to say, hardly enough breath for it.

“Damned savages,” a soldier said, pressing the muzzle of a weapon against his head.

[yanderes-galore]

Oooh how about yandere scenario where Macaque grows obsessed with the platonic female travel healer reader who’s also a monkey demon , who was around him when he came back from the dead, and nurse him back to health, but what if reader had to leave after his treatment was done👀 (if you want to include a prompt , maybe 1 “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” From ddarker-dreams)

I assume you meant they're both platonic with each other and not just the obsession being platonic. Either way, I struggled on this plot-wise... but I hope it came out okay.

Familiar Face

Yandere! Platonic! Macaque with Healer! Monkey Demon! Darling Scenario

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Possessive behavior, Macaque has a thing for scents, Kidnapping, Forced companionship.

Macaque was a face you haven't seen in a long time.

You already knew of him, as a fellow monkey demon you naturally knew of the others. You were on friendly terms with Wukong and Macaque when the two got along with one another. Yet after their falling out, and Macaque being sent to the Underworld to suffer, you took up the job of a wandering healer.

While Wukong became a hero as the Monkey King, you wandered the lands helping those in need. Many knew you as a helpful monkey demon compared to your more mischievous compatriots. Always finding those in need to help... before leaving on your way again.

You've had many patients. Human and demon alike. However... you don't think you could have ever been prepared for meeting who you did today.

Macaque himself, a thousand-yard stare on his face as he looks... lost? Confused?

You kept your distance until he collapsed on the ground, then you felt obligated to help.

Your usual routine was to set up a camp to help your patients. Quickly you got to work setting up a tent with two bedrolls before doing your best to pick up the other monkey demon. Once setting him inside... you got to work.

You started with an herbal remedy for exhaustion, making a tea before waking Macaque up. Naturally... your old friend was... combative. You should've expected that from someone supposedly straight out of the underworld.

It took a lot of reasoning, bickering, and some restraints before Macaque calmed down. It appeared the other monkey didn't recognize you at first. Yet once you calmed him and passed over your remedy, you saw a glint of recognition in his eyes.

There's a long silence as Macaque recovers. You let him keep quiet, sitting back in your tent as he sips your remedy. What feels like a half an hour passes before he acknowledges you properly.

"... So... it's you...?" Macaque murmurs, still recovering as he sips the tea you gave him. It's not entirely his thing but it is helping. You snort, looking him over as your tail sways.

"Yeah, you're lucky I crossed your path when I did...." You sigh, curiously watching the shadow monkey. "You aren't supposed to be here... How'd you even get here?"

There's a long awkward pause before Macaque laughs nervously.

"Long story! I guess you could say I got some help... I promise I'll... behave this time." Macaque laughs softly, although you can tell it's a bit forced. "Geez... You're doing this now? Running around doing...?"

"I help people, Macaque." You answer, checking over your supplies. "That's what I've chosen to dedicate my time to. I roam and help people."

"You're playing hero?" Macaque scoffs, immediately reminded of the fact you and Wukong got to be helpful while he was cast into the depths. "You taking after him?"

"It's nothing like that." You huff, sitting in front of him. Macaque can't help but watch you intently... despite the edge in his tone. "I get restless sitting still. People look to me for help. I enjoy doing that."

Macaque merely gives a grunt of disapproval as he curls his tail around himself. It was... pleasant to see a familiar face. He's just... envious he had to suffer for so long.

You're still just as helpful as he remembers... it's both pleasant and infuriating.

"Right, of course, free spirit and all...." Macaque murmurs, golden eyes trained on you before freezing when you came closer.

"I'm checking you over for wounds...." You reassure him, taking note of his suddenly flicking tail. "Stop acting so damn grumpy... I'm trying to help...."

Macaque is stunned by your comment but reluctantly relents. He can't deny he always enjoyed your scent and touch. You were always soothing... always easing his stress even around Wukong.

The word fate flashes into his mind but he flinches and ignores it. He was simply... lucky. Lucky to have met you again... one of his best companions...

Fate and destiny are such silly concepts.

But as Macaque lets you check him over, he can't help but... admire you still. You two weren't just on "friendly terms" to him. To him... you two were true friends.

Yet when he confronted Wukong and the two fought... He saw his female monkey friend nowhere.

At the time, and a little now, Macaque resented you for that. You were no doubt either told by Wukong to leave or were off helping someone else. All while Macaque was left to suffer without your presence.

Smelling your scent, the distinct scent of herbs and female monkey, only brought up memories. Memories of he, Wukong, and you together. Memories before all the hurt.

The thought nearly brings tears to his golden eyes but he hides it. He shakes a bit at the feeling, causing you to look up at him confused. Macaque merely glares... even when he doesn't mean it.

Having you help him felt like no coincidence...

If fate... destiny really brought you two together...

Macaque would be a fool to let you slip out of his grasp again.

---

Recovery didn't take long for Macaque. Yet the fellow mystic monkey managed to drag out your stay for an entire week and a half. He excused it as 'catching up'... all in hopes of seeing his healer monkey friend again.

You often monitored Macaque carefully throughout his recovery. While normally cunning and mischievous, he seemed strangely behaved with you. He took every remedy you gave him with no complaint and overall just acted playful.

It reminded you of old times when your only concerns was eating fruit with your friends. You could tell Macaque was particularly fond of those times. Throughout the week he kept bringing them up, smiling as he clung to you.

Your reunion was surprisingly sweet with him. You were so caught up in remembering those pleasant memories you nearly didn't notice his change in demeanor. The longer he was with you... the clingier he was.

Despite being friends, Macaque often wrapped his arms around you. His tail always right around your waist or entwined with your own. You don't recall him being this clingy before...

But you could only guess what he went through.

Your time with him was pleasant yet you couldn't shake the thought of there being something... off. Not only was his appearance suspicious, but he seemed way too... clingy. You enjoyed seeing your old friend again...

Yet you should really continue on your way....

"You're all healed." You comment, putting your things away. "It was nice to see you again, old friend... Behave, will you?"

Macaque watches you pack up your supplies, dread pooling in his gut for a moment. He... had originally made it his goal to get revenge on Wukong... but he didn't want you to leave. He should let you leave and go about his original plan...

Yet the idea of losing your scent, your warmth...

You freeze when Macaque grabs your tail, peeking over your shoulder. He forces a grin when you glance back at him. You feel intimidated immediately as his grip tightens.

"Leaving so soon, friend?" Macaque purrs playfully, his voice barely hiding a dangerous tone. "I thought you liked me around?

"Macaque, let me go. We'll meet again some other day..." You reason, only for Macaque to shake his head with a chuckle.

"Sorry, girl..." Macaque whispers, pulling you close. "Don't think I can let you do that...."

"Let go, Macaque...!" You growl, earning another chuckle from the shadow behind you.

"Why ever would I do that?" Macaque muses, slinking in front of you. "Don't you know I missed you, my friend? I missed the girl of our mystic friend group... and how she always helped people..."

Macaque steps closer, his stance predatory.

"Even if the person she helped was dangerous..." Macaque coos, leaning in to place a hand on your shoulder. "She still helped... even if it got her into trouble... isn't that right, friend?"

"Wh—?" You go to respond, yet dark hands erupt from your own shadow and trap you. You struggle the best you can, panicking. Macaque only watches with a grin, tail swaying.

"So sorry to do this... but I can't just let you go now, can I?" Macaque pouts, circling you. "I haven't seen you for what feels like millennium. Being lonely really hurts...."

Macaque then embraces you from the front after he finishes his circle, his tail wrapping around yours securely.

"Don't you know we were meant to meet again?" Macaque whispers with a mischievous grin. "You were meant to help me. Us, two friends, together again...!"

You still try to struggle, but Macaque's grip tightens.

"Afraid I can't let you go anywhere, friend." Macaque purrs, patting your head.

"You're stuck with me now... destiny demands it...." Macaque hums, playful as he nuzzles into your fur.

"You've always been too naive for your own good... Helping people can be dangerous, y'know...!"

[swordoffrivolousthings]

Rick Riordan has no scale for what it means to give characters positions of power or influence

I have seen a trend recently while thinking about the positions of power in PJO and HOO and who occupy them. A post that I can't find again also has breached this topic on a much smaller scale, so credit to them. (I'll try to find them and tag them.)

What I mean by positions of power and/or influence is this: positions from where a demigod has the ability to control organisations (i.e. the Hunters of Artemis and Camp Jupiter) or influence how and why things are done in a certain way (i.e. Annabeth's redesigning of Olympus and Jason's designing some of the other gods' cabins).

The first example is THALIA and how, upon becoming a hunter for Artemis, she is instantly catapulted to the top of the chain. Artemis bestows upon her the role of Lieutenant of Artemis. She is Artemis's second in command if the goddess herself isn't present.

But what does Thalia know of the inner workings of the Hunt? Next to nothing, because until a few days before, she hated them and what they stood for. She gets over her hate, which is part of her development, but it doesn't make her any less informed. One can't speculate that at some point she and Zoë have talked about the Hunt, because we have no hint of that happening in the books. One can headcanon that they'd had such a conversation, but we are speaking about canon. So she is blind. That would be fine, because she is a newbie, and has time to learn.

But no. Riordan gives her the most important place a hunter can occupy in the hierarchy. Why? The way I see it is Riordan decided that now that Thalia's completed her arc, she needs a physical reward. But going by book logic, I would also assume that Artemis was displaying some major nepotism. Because look, that is her sister, and she is in a meeting with daddy and she'd already crossed a line when interacting with her father. (I mean that she wants to reward the heroes while Zeus, most probably, just sees what they did as their duty and not something to be rewarded.) So Artemis boosts her sister up in the hierarchy so she wouldn't slight Zeus again.

Also, we've been ignoring the fact that there are far more experienced and reliable huntresses in the Hunt. Some of them have been with Artemis for many, many years bordering on millennia.

Next up is ANNABETH, about who I've already vented my frustrations, but let me say it again: Annabeth, while inspired by architecture and wanting to be an architect, is not trained and has no experience with it besides a few books and what I can assume is trying her hand at drawing potential projects. She isn't fit to redesign Olympus and certainly not able to think about all the facets of what it would entail, because she doesn't have the practical knowledge and the studies.

Yet Riordan writes it so that the gods offer her the opportunity to redesign their city state (is Olympus considered a city state??? Because it's what I've been thinking of it as). Why so? Because she has survived the war? (not like he was going to kill her, and I didn't think he would do it at any point in TLO.) And therefore she should get what she wanted besides all the PTSD and other disorders that most survivors get?

Because this is what I see.

We already know that the structure within Camp Jupiter is hinging on the child soldiers they train. The Senate is made out of centurions and ghosts and older citizens of New Rome, and we weren't shown that there had ever been adult Praetors. This is what Riordan intended, because this is what he wrote.

But it begs the question, why have REYNA and JASON specifically done to be awarded the position of Praetor that early in their lives? We are told that they went on at least a quest together, so they must have been pretty close before being made partners, and they seem to have worked well together.

We know that Reyna is a highly capable leader and managed to lead Camp Jupiter on her own for roughly 6 months. Jason was raised as a leader, so it is natural to assume that he knew how things worked. But that doesn't show why they were specifically chosen, especially after such a big conflict.

Just because Jason defeated a Titan single-handedly, it doesn't mean that there weren't any more capable hands for the duty to fall on. Also, has Reyna's POV ever revealed why she was chosen? Because I can't remember.

What I mean to say is that there were other, adult, people for the reasonability to fall back on. Because there had been said to be adults in the Senate. But Riordan, like before, has decided that the duty should fall on hormonal teenagers that have dumb ideas (not referring to Jason and Reyna, but more like stereotyping) instead of the adults. The excuse that demigods older than late teens and early twenties doesn't exist in New Rome. And don't tell me that not one of those people would take the duty, because there is shown to be influence and political power associated with being Praetor.

Alongside this, lets go to PERCY. Riordan decided that the Romans would raise Percy as Praetor because they'd seen him fight and the fact that he kind of saved their asses. Cool, I could understand this reasoning if the Romans had more time to get to know him. Because Percy's great! but he still is a child of Neptune, who they don't trust, and they don't trust him, because he was there for only a few hours a few days ago.

There is no basis on which to raise him straight from probation to praetorian-ship.

But Percy saved them! So Riordan decided, against all common sense, that he should get a position of power somewhere he knows next to nothing about, because of plot reasons and drama. Why couldn't Percy have just been seen as a great help and on that the Romans would build their trust upon him? To start to value his opinion?

But the plot of HOO moves so fast is was no room to take a breath and let things unfold naturally. So Riordan gives political and military powers to characters willy-nilly because it will help the story along.

Again to JASON, the cabin design things is the same as Annabeth's, so there is nothing to really say again. Other then the fact that they parallel each other in this way, and not in the good way when talking about writing.

Riordan has no scale of what it means when he gives his characters power and authority where they hadn't achieved it. He gives them upgrades in authority as a way to pay them for their good behaviour and character development, or simply because he hadn't thought all the way through what their positions would entail, and their ramifications.

I hope that I made a great job at explaining what I wanted. If you didn't understand what I said at some point, please do reach out. I can talk about this for a while.

[sufferu]

Thinking about the Anastasia Camp in Arc 3 because holy shit, practically that entire camp was legitimately going out of its way to try and yank Subaru back to his senses and he has NO IDEA.

Julius is obvious, everyone knows at this point that his entire duel was him trying his best to prevent Subaru from getting dragged out and slaughtered in the street. But like, Anastasia did not have to go THAT FAR out of her way to try and teach Subaru a lesson. Girl literally set up the most obviously identifiable trap in the world with all of the tells perfectly aligning with the flaws she believed she saw in his character, told him to his face where he screwed up and what he needed to work on in order to not screw up next time, and then made a show of walking out as a group with all of her mercenaries just to point out the very obvious signs that the flaws she had just pointed out had prevented him from noticing. And also — someone else pointed it out, but it’s arguably implied that she only decided to do that after hearing that Subaru had picked a fight with Crusch Karsten like THREE DAYS after Julius had apparently completely failed to teach him that very necessary lesson about MINDING YOUR TONGUE. Which is just — she heard about that and went “Od Laguna that boy is legitimately going to get himself murdered ten times over if I don’t do anything to stop him isn’t he” didn’t she?

But it’s not just them because Ricardo was ALSO fucking in on it. We don’t see him until the final loop, but when we do he seeks Subaru out almost immediately and starts subtly gauging him out, seeing how he reacts to him mentioning Julius and the Royal Selection Ceremony and the White Whale and everything, clearly weighing his conclusions about Subaru’s reactions to all of that to the story he obviously heard from either Julius or Anastasia after the Incident at the ceremony. He even starts giving Subaru bits of advice because it becomes clear that Subaru is SO fucking stupid. Like, Subaru asks him what is. Probably a really racist question about whether he feels weird about riding a Liger — being a demihuman and all — and Ricardo makes a show of being very casual as he answers it by saying that “ah, well, this is an animal and I’m not, so there’s that” before moving on to basically say “word of advice: never ask anyone that again” and he does it nonchalantly enough to not make a big deal about it while also getting across that what Subaru just said could very easily be taken as an insult worth fighting over. And then he goes out of his way to save Subaru from the Whale at one point, getting his mount sliced in half and himself very seriously injured in the process.

And then to top it all off, the minute Julius sees Subaru again he gives him such an obvious test that Mimi almost ruins it by calling him out on it, in a way that very much mirrors the test Anastasia gave him in that failed loop, goading Subaru into a negotiation about Why the Anastasia Camp should continue to help them fight the Witch Cult without telling him that they were already planning on doing exactly that anyway. He even ends by nodding and saying that he’ll give Subaru’s efforts a “passing grade.”

Like, the Crusch Camp was helping Subaru a bit more explicitly — healing his gate and all — but that was very much a transactional exchange, with Crusch even explicitly stating that she will only ever help Subaru with his endeavors if there is something in it for her and her Camp. Meanwhile, for someone known as the Merchant Princess, Anastasia and her companions were being way more altruistic in their attempts to actually do Subaru some good. Aside from Rem, the Anastasia Camp may genuinely have been Subaru’s closest ally within that entire Arc, from start to end.

(Fuck, even in the IF route connected with this Arc. It might say something that Halibel is the one who houses Subaru and Rem (and even helps Subaru land a job) in Sloth:IF, considering that he’s got very strong ties to Anastasia.)

[novasintheroom]

123. Desire

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 1.4k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: Vash slowly realizes that he wants to be yours.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3 (will post there and add link once AO3 is back up)

It comes up first one hot day in the town of Gargantan.

The bag of doughnuts crinkles in your grip as you weave through the morning bustle, heading toward the column of red at the end of the street. Vash knows he’s in trouble as soon as he smells it. You walk up to him, already giving a strange look. “What’s did you get?” You ask.

Vash laughs nervously. He keeps the two bags of doughnuts he already bought behind his back. “Just some bullets!”

You sniff the air. Lean forward and brush his cheeks with your fingertips. It comes away with powdered sugar. “Vash, did you get more doughnuts?”

He feels his stomach clench with guilt and hunger. Looking down, he gives a sheepish smile. “I just…wanted to try that other shop too.”

“Vash,” your mouth works, words forming and dissolving as you think of what to say. You’re fighting a smile. “We agreed we only had enough fun money for one bag of doughnuts.”

“I know.”

“We have three bags of doughnuts now, birdie.”

“I know,” he says again. He pouts, wondering what got into him. He’s usually much better about his money, but, lately, being with you…he feels…he doesn’t know. Like it’s okay to get food again. Even if it hurts the wallet a bit. “Hey, we don’t have to split a doughnut now, though! Look,” he pulls out a chocolate glazed doughnut, then another. “Two for one! BOGO!”

“You’re such a problem,” you groan.

He knows you’re joking. He knows. But something inside him shudders, and he wants to fix it. Make you feel better after his mistake. “Well, I’m your problem.” He says it as a joke. Tests the waters. See if there’s blood in them.

Your smile is genuine as you punch him in the shoulder, hitting the plating of his arm. “Yeah, you are. Heaven help me, but you are. Now give me a doughnut.”

The stirring of crickets in his stomach is the only warning he has of what’s to come. Your problem, he smiles, handing you a jelly-filled doughnut and eating his second with you. He likes the sound of that.

--

He toys with the idea. Handles it around and around in his head like a child with a very delicate antique, so clumsy with his hands but knowing how special it is.

It comes up again.

Nothing goes right all day, and by the end of it, you’re both tired and in a bad mood. Camping out in a buried, derelict ship is the last thing either of you want right now, but the ghost stories will keep the locals away. You set up your sleeping gear nearby. No fire tonight; there’s too many eyes searching for you two.

Vash can feel the breeze blowing through the holes of the ship. Cool, cool air that will turn to ice once the suns fully set. He looks over at you and sees the goosebumps rising on your arms, eyes picking out each individual hair standing on end. Vash chews the inside of his cheek. “Wanna sleep closer?”

It takes a moment for you to register he’s talking. Blinking, you look up. “Hm? What?”

 “Do you want to sleep closer tonight? For warmth, I mean.”

Your eyes flit across his face. You’ve always been a fan of your personal space. Vash isn’t sure you’ll accept. Then, you shrug. “Sure. Why not.”

The day must have really taken it out of you for you to say ‘yes,’ but Vash isn’t complaining. You drag your stuff over to his and set up sluggishly. “I’m mad about what that mayor said to you on the way out,” you say, baring your feelings like you do, always an open book. “He shouldn’t have called you that. Especially after we saved his daughter.”

He doesn’t feel like talking about it, a fresh wound on his heart that will heal anyway. So he hums and lays down. “I’m just glad we got away before they pulled out the whips. That was…weird.”

You laugh and scoot over to his side, and Vash can feel your warmth. “You think they’re into the freaky stuff?”

He laughs with you and shakes his head. He’s about to respond when you curl up next to him and place your head on his shoulder. Mouth drying out, a strange feeling in the back of his throat forms. You press your side shyly closer into his.

“You don’t mind being my pillow for tonight, right?” You mumble it, and he can hear the embarrassment in your tone. This is hard for you.

He clears his throat and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I’m all yours.”

It goes quiet, and Vash wonders if he said the wrong thing. But then your breathing evens out, and he realizes you’re asleep. The day really took it out of you, then. Carefully, he brings his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer. He doesn’t want you getting cold. “Yeah,” he mumbles, “all yours.”

--

What exactly is it that he wants?

You ask him this on the road. The suns are cresting some cliffs to the side, fall season turning the temperatures just a bit cooler – only just. And he says, “For love and peace to rule.” Typical.

“But what do you want? When love and peace is achieved and everyone’s happy?” You walk ahead of him, minding your steps, toeing an invisible line, kicking pebbles off to the side. “What do you want to be?”

He watches. Your figure curves as you bend over to pick up a white rock, throwing it up in the air and catching it again. You handle it, looking at the tiny crystals within that make it sparkle in the light. A habit of yours, he’s noticed – how you handle everything and everyone carefully, twisting them this way and that to find their hidden facets. You do it with him all the time. You’re doing it now, digging into his psyche, making him wonder about his own desires and wants. His eyes trace the shape of your lips as they purse.

Vash shakes out of his stupor when you glance at him, waiting for an answer. “I’ll probably be some kind of Plant engineer. Keep my sisters safe and healthy.” After all, what else is there for someone like him?

“Do you want to be an artist? An historian? You can’t just be an engineer all the time. What else do you want to be?”

His lips curve up. “I’ll still be with you, right? You’ve got the historian and artist bit down for the both of us.”

You groan and throw the rock away. The sands eat it up instantly, lost once again to the dunes of time. “Without leaning on me, Vash.” You look at him, eyes roving over his face for something he isn’t sure of. “When everything else is stripped away and accomplished, what do you want to be?”

Something in his chest erupts into butterflies. He knows the answer, cheesy as it is. Yours, yours, yours, his heart murmurs. I want to be yours.

--

It comes out in the quiet hours of the night, between dusk and midnight.

Your kisses are slow, sensual. He can’t get enough. The soft sand underneath, the cave overhead, the glow of worms in the distant sky through the mouth. You’re safe. He’s safe. His hands rove your sides, traveling under your shirt to massage the tender skin at your ribs. Your own hands travel from his neck to his stomach, back to his hair, feeling, feeling.

In a pause, a way to catch your breath, you look up at him in the blue gloom and grin. Your eyes are so full of love, twinkling like close stars. “Vash,” you murmur, petting your hand through his hair, tugging at the ends, his growing undercut. Your chests heave together, touching then retracting. Your nails scratch gently behind his ear, and goosebumps hike up his neck. “My Vash.”

It sends a shiver up and down his spine. Yes, this is what it is; this is what he has been searching for. And he should say something like ‘my mayfly,’ but what tumbles out of his kiss-swollen lips is, “Your Vash. Yours.”

Your laugh is deep and happy. He surges forward to catch it, feel it in his mouth as he kisses you again and again. “Yours,” he keeps murmuring, settling it in his own head, his own heart. “All yours. I’m yours.”

This is what he wants to be.

A place to belong. A place in your arms.

Yours.

[daisyofwaterdeep]

Magical Intrusion | Chapter 1

!NSFW! male companions x cisfem reader This chapter contains: Gale Dekarios, sexual fantasies

Gale tries to create some magical relief for his lonely nights

~~~

Everything is in place. Gale turns the padded sleeve in his hands, tugging at the seams that close it off at about 7 inches, then turning it again to inspect the entrance, padded fuller to the point of stiffness. He delves two fingers in, pleased with the water repellent spell he had cast on the silk lining. Everything seems to be in order.

Now, the tricky part.

He had been tinkering with the set of spells for the past several tenday, to various degrees of success. But now, Gale feels that they're ready to be put to proper action.

A warming enchantment goes first, and works perfectly. A water creation spell now, with a few tweaks that makes the liquid more oiled and viscous. That goes well also.

Gale stops for a moment, heart hammering and mouth far too dry. This last charm is far more complex than the other two, and far more likely to go awry. He has to do this perfectly, elst the rest of his work will have been for naught. It had taken him nearly the whole trip to get the supplies he needed, and he doesn't know if he has the heart to start again if this goes wrong.

He takes a deep breath and places his hands over the makeshift sleeve as he begins reciting the enchantment. A blue light spreads in his finger tips and transfers to the material, casting a faint glow. He pictures in his mind a fantasy that he's harbored ever since he met you, leaving no lurid detail unthought. The grip of your cunt, the flutter of it, how it would feel and taste and smell. He channels all of his desire into the object, your name chanting in his head as he feels volatile energy start to crackle at his fingertips.

Gale?

Your voice cuts through his thoughts and at first he thinks he's manifested it, but then he feels the familiar prodding of another mind against his. The spell in his hands dies out instantly, afterimages of the blue light dancing in his now dark vision. He quickly shuts his mind to you, shooting back his own mental words.

Is something the matter?

No, I just thought I heard you say my name.

Gale wipes a bead of perspiration from his forehead, trying not to let his panic consume him.

Through the tadpole?

No, through your tent.

Oh gods, how embarrassing. With you being his camping neighbor, he should have been more cautious....He thinks quickly on how to rectify the situation.

My apologies. I was reading a rather engaging book...I suppose I may have muttered a few words out loud.

I figured as much. Just wanted to be sure.

Of course. Do try to get some rest.

You as well. See you in the morning.

He feels your presence slip from his mind, and only then does he allow himself to breathe--quietly, of course, so as you don't hear him struggling from your laying spot nearby.

The enchantment...he has no idea if it was a success or not, and he's not brave enough to light a candle and see if it did, rattled as he is.

With his heart still beating too fast for comfort, Gale takes the sleeve and tucks it securely into his pack before laying out on his bedroll.

He'll have to wait until tomorrow to see if his hard work has produced any fruit. At the very least, it'll give him a chance to set up camp a bit farther from the rest of his companions.

Gale has waited this long to try out his little contraption....waiting one day more will be easy.

NEXT CHAPTER (coming soon!)

A/N: this is just a short set up, all the real juicy stuff will be in the next chapter ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ (shoutout to anyone who knows where this is goingggggg)

[allzelemonz]

Bears: Bill Williamson X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘guy’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: reader mentioned to be a bigger guy, honestly just two bears fucking, real simple, robbery, forced proximity, groping, oral sex, face sitting, anal sex Summary: After being split from the gang, you get lost between Bill’s legs.

It wasn’t the intention of Dutch to get the gang split by the tracks, but that’s what happened. He, Arthur, and Javier on one side while you and Bill ended up on the other. The train roars past after the failed attempt to stop it and law is already shouting over the hill. Whatever orders Dutch yells are drowned out by everything else. The horses were spooked, leaving you to push Bill along the hill to hide in the trees as the law scrambles to find whatever outlaws linger. They spit the others through the passing train cars and bolt around, forcing the others to run.

“Ah, shit.” Bill grumbles. “Ain’t no way ta catch up now.”

“Camp’s that way, can’t even risk running into trouble without Dutch finding out.” You glance around, looking for a solution. “There’s a cabin.”

“Spendin’ the night? All the damn whiskey’s in my saddlebag”

“Do you want to risk running into the law right now?”

Bill huffs, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and beginning the trudge into the trees. You look back towards the tracks and take note of the minuscule retreating figures. Your horses should find their way back here now that it’s not so loud and you’ll hopefully be back at camp by noon tomorrow at least.

Following after Bill, you find the cabin you spotted to be more of a small shack. Big enough for a single hunter out here alone, but certainly not for two grown men. Bill eyes the bed as you step through the doorway and falls onto it before you can even suggest an alternative.

“Think I’m entitled to a good nap.” Bill sighs, putting his arms behind his head.

Not even a second later, the weak legs give out under him and bed planks fall to the floor. Bill flails, ending up a pile of clothing and hair among the broken wood.

“Looks like no one gets good sleep, great job.”

Bill scoffs at you, rolling himself out of the mess of wood. “Ah, shut it, thing’s made like a cheap shelf.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have jumped on it.”

Bill scowls up at you from the floor, his face already red from the situation. “I ain’t jumpin’! Damn thing just ain’t built right!”

“Just sleep on the floor, Williamson.” You sigh, kicking the wood against the wall to make room for both of you on the floor. “Ain’t like we don’t both sleep on the ground most nights anyway.”

Bill grumbles as he does when sober and grumpy, but he curls up on his side and tries to sleep all the same. You settle yourself next to him, not much room with all the broken bed taking space. Still, you both find sleep easily after the long day of failed robbery.

Sometime in the night your eyes open, moonlight blinding you for a moment as it streams through the cracks in the poorly built shack. There’s a weight on you, nothing that hasn’t happened before when bunking so close to another member of the gang. Bill has his arm slung over you and his body pressed to your back. Not as clingy as Arthur the last time you ended up sharing a tent with him, but still not easy to wiggle away from.

Nonetheless, you try. But after just the slightest movement, you feel that all telling hardness poking at your leg. And when you still, Bill cuddles closer, bringing the feeling of his whole length up against you. Even from sitting against his softer leg, you can guess how big it really is. Just the thought of it makes your own dick twitch to life in your pants. When bunking with other gang members, you had never been presented with this situation, but something about Bill getting hard and cuddling up to you makes you want to take care of two problems in one.

You twist on the floor, turning onto your back and shake Bill awake. He groans and grumbles before opening his eyes and staring up at you sleepily.

“Wha’ is it?” He slurs.

“You got a hard problem, Bill.”

Bill’s brow furrows for a moment before he feels it against his leg and his face instantly goes a little pink as he blinks rapidly. “I… that… that happens to every man at some point, i-it don’t mean nothin’!”

“Relax.” You say softly. “You have no idea how okay with it I am…”

“You…” Bill stares for a moment. “You’re…”

“Let me help you. Whatever you want.”

“…ain’t a trick?”

You shake your head. “Ain’t a trick.”

Bill shuffles a bit on his side. “So… so I could just… maybe, uh… get on ya an’…”

“Yeah.” You nod, settling onto your back and letting your legs part naturally. “I’m just as hard, don’t worry.”

Bill’s eyes trail past your gunbelt, his hand not hesitating to reach out and squeeze at the bulge like it had a mind all its own. You let your head rest back against the floor, grinding gently back against Bill’s squeezing hand. He seems transfixed by it, just watching the bulging fabric move as he plays with the hardness underneath.

His voice comes out like a croak, quiet and hoarse. “Can… Can I sit on yer face?”

The thought of getting lost between Bill’s thighs and drowning with his dick down your throat makes your voice shake. “Yeah…”

Bill looks up at you like he expected you to beat the shit out of him for giving the suggestion, but in the next few seconds he’s frantically tugging his pants off and throwing his gunbelt aside. You place gentle hands on his thighs as he climbs over you. The thick legs settle on either side of your head and his length dangles just above your face as he looks down with such lit up eyes you’d think he found a million dollars.

You give his thighs a gentle squeeze and Bill shutters as your fingers cling into the thick skin. He takes himself in hand, leaning down to press his tip to your lips. You open without question and press a soft kiss to it, bringing a choked moan from Bill. He leans forward, pressing himself into your mouth as he leans over you. It slides in like it’s home, his hips keeping it out of your throat for now but quivering in anticipation. His stomach presses against your head, giving you the perfect chance to inhale the deep scent of sweat and strong body odor from his groin.

The quivering gives way as he starts to move, letting all his weight onto you as he thrusts down your throat. You relax yourself, letting everything swallow you as Bill simply loses himself in fucking down into the wet hole between his legs. He loses it fast, frantically chasing the feeling building in his gut as he drowns you in thick skin and bushy hair, both topped with sweat and now messed with spit.

You grip onto his ass, stilling the jiggling skin in your hands and squeezing hard as you try to get him as far into your throat as possible before he finishes. Bill encloses thick thighs even tighter around your head, his balls settling down across your chin as he cums down your throat. Little thrusts and twitches escape from his hips as he tries to milk himself through whimpers muffled by his arm. Then he settles, spent and satisfied.

You rub gently at his ass, letting him recover before he picks himself up. He sits up, looking down at the sight of his dick slowly withdrawing from your mouth with hooded eyes. You take a breath through your nose and close your eyes, letting the taste of sweaty gunpowder linger while it can. Bill shifts above you, his weight moving down to your legs from your chest and you can feel his hands unfastening your pants.

Just as he’s pulling you out, you open your eyes. A string of spit falls from his mouth and lands perfectly on your tip. You shudder at the cold, but Bill's hand follows to spread it over you and the shudder is joined by a groan. Bill pumps you a few times with hard squeezes before he climbs over you again, this time settling himself over your legs. Words catch in your throat as he sinks down onto you, his ass so warm and tight it makes your vision white for just a second. You sink into him until he’s sat right on your legs, his hole so wet it must have been pre-prepared.

“Bill…” You groan as he lifts himself up. “You… you’re wet?”

He drops his hands to rest in your chest, squeezing your pecs through your shirt as he starts to bounce in earnest. “Yeah…” He groans as you hit that spot just right. “Stretch before a job… then find something big after…”

You watch, a bit in awe as Bill bounces on you. His body moves in turn, stomach and all jiggling in a way that makes your own stomach twist closer to release. “Damn, you’re so good, Bill… soft and— shit!”

He sinks down into you again, grinding down into your lap and squishing your balls against his ass. “Yeah, you like a big man, don’t ya?” He chuckles, a hand coming up to unbutton his shirt so you can see his hairy torso properly. “Knew you would… heavy guy like you just wants someone that can take him.”

He starts his pace again, the sight of his bare chest and stomach jiggling with each bounce makes your hands reach out on their own. You grip at his stomach and watch as your hands disappear into his chest hair on the way up. It takes only a few more bounces, just a handful of times to sink into Bill, before you’re cumming into him. He makes sure to put all of his weight into you, taking you as deep as possible while you coat his insides.

Your vision is blurry for a moment after, but you feel the loss of heat and know Bill has rolled off. Between rapid blinks, you can see him on his back beside you, a hand on his bare stomach as he pants but with a huge grin plastered on his face. You shuffle closer, tugging his arm until he’s rolled on his side and cuddling into your chest. He’s sweaty and overheated, but everything is too blurry and your brain is still buzzing. You just hurry your nose into his hair and press a kiss to the balding spot on his head before drifting to sleep.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 73

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Thursday, March 24; 8:30 AM – Camp Wiegman

I’ve never seen such organization. Mr. Johnson has planned everything down to the smallest detail. Everything except maybe the bus being late. Still, we know the time to leave is approaching quickly. Our management teacher, along with Lucy and Ingrid, are our chaperones for this trip, which is seeming more and more boring. Through a small note, we found out that the company we’re visiting isn’t even in Manchester, so we’ve got quite a drive ahead. I made sure to pack my headphones for the trip after confirming with Lucy that it was allowed. I have a feeling I won’t enjoy any of this. The company selected is an industrial one. To be honest, none of this interests me at all. Seeing that nothing was happening for a while, I slipped out of the group standing by the grills to go see Lucy.

"Are we leaving soon? This is getting long."

"I know. The driver’s on his way. Your teacher just spoke to him on the phone."

"Okay," I sighed.

"Come on, don’t complain, you’re getting out of a whole day of classes."

I shrugged. Honestly, I think I’d rather stay here, given what’s waiting for us. Lucy laughed at my lack of enthusiasm.

"Oh, come on, it could be cool. It’s interesting to see the world of cars."

"Speak for yourself."

From her perspective, it’s definitely different. She really likes motor vehicles. At least there’s one person who’s going to enjoy this trip.

"Go join the others, we’ll be leaving soon."

I sighed but did as told, heading back toward my friends. At least she was right. After a few more minutes, the bus finally arrived, much to everyone’s relief, especially the teachers, given how my class was starting to get restless. After one last headcount, we were finally able to board the bus. As for me, I hung back with my friends, as well as Lucy and Ingrid. We figured everyone would rush to get the back seats, and that’s exactly what happened. Johnson had to shout to be heard over the commotion. Poor guy, he’s going to lose his voice at this rate. Our turn came, and the only thing that mattered to me was sitting near my girlfriend, which luckily, I did. I sat with Alessia, just behind Ingrid and Lucy, but in front of Lotte and Leah. At least we were sure we wouldn’t be bothered. Our teachers sat in the same row as Lucy. She took the window seat, which was fine by me. At least I knew my management teacher wouldn’t bug her. I’d already noticed he’d been trying to cozy up to her since this morning. I’m not jealous—okay, maybe just a little. He did one last headcount before giving the driver the green light. The noise in the bus was deafening. I was going to get a headache before we even reached the factory. I was already not feeling great anyway.

"Sorry for the delay. Traffic is terrible this morning," the driver explained. "There was an accident on the road I took. It was too late to turn back."

"It’s not your fault," my teacher sighed. "But this means it’ll take us longer to get there. We’ll probably hit rush hour."

Wonderful! That was the last thing I wanted to hear. My exaggerated sigh made Alessia laugh.

"Wow, you’re really not excited, huh?"

"Next time, I’ll fake being sick."

"Not in your wildest dreams," I heard Lucy say from the front.

I made silly faces, making my friend laugh, but it caught my girlfriend’s attention. She raised an eyebrow, but I just gave her an angelic smile in return. Luckily for me, she quickly gave up.

"You didn’t wake up on the right side of the bed, did you?"

I shrugged. Not really, no. I got my period this morning, and it’s been a while since I’ve had such bad cramps. That’s not something I was about to tell her, though. If this was the price for restarting my whole system down there, then so be it, although I could have done without it. I sighed, leaning my head against the window. This trip was going to be long—I could feel it.

"You’re really pale. Are you sure you’re okay?" Alessia asked.

She placed her hand on my forehead to check my temperature. Her comment seemed to alert Lucy, who turned around again.

"I’m fine," I sighed. "Just feeling a bit off."

"What’s wrong?" Lucy asked. "You look like you’re about to be sick."

Now that she mentioned it, my stomach wasn’t the only thing bothering me. I shrugged in response.

"Do you mind switching seats, Alessia?"

"No, not at all," she replied.

Within minutes, Lucy was sitting next to me. She touched my forehead, but I didn’t think she’d find anything. I didn’t feel like I had a fever.

"Did you eat anything this morning?"

"Yeah."

I blushed, looking down at my hands. I didn’t know how to explain what was wrong without saying it out loud.

"Does something hurt?"

There it was—the opening I needed.

"My stomach, but it’s not because of what I ate..."

She raised an eyebrow at my confident tone. Then, I saw the light bulb go off in her head.

"Oh. I see. Did you take anything?"

"No, I didn’t have anything on me..."

"Okay, hang on."

She bent down to rummage through her bag. All I wanted to do was collapse onto her, but we both knew that wasn’t possible. Johnson, who was sitting a row ahead, started asking Lucy about me, but she quickly brushed him off, saying she could handle it. Usually, when my periods started like this during my teenage years, the pain would escalate, which was what worried me. I still had cramps sometimes, but not this intense. Normally, you couldn’t tell by looking at me, and I rarely complained.

"Here, take this."

She handed me a pill along with a bottle of water. I swallowed it without even asking what it was, especially now that even my head was starting to ache. I would have taken anything to make it stop.

"You’re usually not in this much pain, are you?"

"No."

I blushed again. I didn’t want her to think it was her fault. She just nodded.

"Rest up. We’ve got at least an hour before we get there, thanks to the traffic."

I nodded and leaned my head against the window. It wasn’t the best idea, considering the way it was shaking my head, but I didn’t have much choice.

"Don’t be silly. Come here—it’ll be more comfortable."

She surprised me by inviting me to rest my head on her shoulder. I wasn’t going to complain. It was clearly much more pleasant. With that, I closed my eyes, hoping the medicine would kick in.

Thursday, March 24; 9:50 AM – At the company 

"And here we are," my teacher announced.

We had just arrived at the company, a full half-hour behind schedule. I was cold. Lucy had woken me up just before we arrived, and my body was struggling to warm up again. All I wanted was to be in my girlfriend’s arms. I hated being so close to her yet feeling so far away.

"I expect you all to behave impeccably during this visit. This is one of the few trips that’s been approved by our school, so don’t make the principal or me regret it."

Oddly, everyone had calmed down. I’m not sure what had happened, but the last thing I remembered was the incessant noise of my classmates, which had kept me from sleeping properly. Lucy was by my side, and I don’t think she was planning on going anywhere. She was so sweet to care this much about me.

"As I mentioned in class, you'll be divided into four groups of six or seven people. We'll assign the groups, and then we can begin."

Everyone is called one by one. Lucy kept me by her side, assuring me that we would spend the day together. To be honest, I tried hard to get her to reveal who was on her list, like Alessia, but surprisingly, she didn’t let anything slip. So, it would be a surprise. The surprise didn’t last long though. Ingrid was the first to form her group, and Alessia and Lotte were in it. I realized Mr. Johnson had purposely separated us. My other classmates weren’t with their usual groups either. Well, at least he ensured we were with someone we knew. Then it was Lucy’s turn. I was right—Leah was in my group, along with a few others I barely knew. I don’t tend to talk to many others, but being with Leah is fine. Though she didn’t seem too pleased, judging by the sigh she let out as she joined us.

"Try to contain your joy, Leah," Lucy teased.

"I’m doing my best," she replied, rolling her eyes, making my girlfriend do the same.

Some people laughed, but it didn’t last long. Lucy commands respect and asked us to form a line, two by two. Mr. Johnson, who had another group beside him, couldn’t help but comment.

"Well. You’re a woman who knows how to command respect."

I’m going to punch him soon. Lucy, noticing my frustration, discreetly grabbed my wrist to stop me from saying anything.

"The important thing is that it’s mutual," she retorted.

Her reply made him look away, and she let go of my wrist. I hated how he acted like he had the right to flirt with her. She really needs to put him in his place. If she could tell him she’s taken and mention she prefers women, that would be perfect. But, unfortunately, according to her, it doesn’t need to go that far. Maybe I should show her what it feels like to be hit on in front of your partner and not be able to do anything about it... My period is really messing with my emotions. I took a deep breath to calm myself. Lucy gave me a soft smile as she stepped ahead of Leah and me.

"Alright, we can head in now," announced my teacher once the groups were formed.

"Let’s go, and quietly," Lucy instructed when it was our turn.

Without resistance, the group obeyed. We entered, and to my surprise, the interior was quite welcoming. I had expected something much more industrial, given the environment. We were greeted by a man in his thirties. He spoke briefly with our teacher before giving an introduction. I realized he was the director. Given his age, it was likely a family business, and that’s exactly how he introduced it. Since some were already taking notes, I followed suit, fighting off the headache that was starting to form. I wasn’t sure I’d make it through the day. Lucy seemed to understand how I felt, but apart from a small, sympathetic smile, she couldn’t do much.

"Alright, now that the introductions are over, we’ll begin the tour."

I started to panic. I hadn’t written much compared to Leah’s notebook. She smiled at me and said she’d share her notes with me at the end of the day if I wanted.

"We’ve divided you into four groups. We’ll be exploring the different departments of the company. There’s the administration, the design office, the factory itself, and the logistics section."

I jotted down what he listed. Those would be the four key areas. Based on the questionnaire we had received, I began to understand much more. He wanted us to grasp the management aspects of a business.

"Each area is vital to the smooth running of a company, so it doesn’t matter in which order we visit them. I’ll personally be following one of the groups today. The others will be guided by my colleagues. I hope you enjoy the tour of my company."

You could really sense how proud he was of his business. I could easily see Lucy reacting the same way someday. She was about to join the other instructors, probably to decide which group would go where, but I stopped her.

"I think I need to use the restroom before we start all this..."

My stomach was still hurting, and the medicine hadn’t worked. She nodded.

"I’ll ask about it."

I watched as she walked off to speak with the director. And there was another man staring at her a bit too much. I’m really going to lose it with all these guys. 

"Still not feeling any better?"

"No," I sighed.

I glanced at Leah, who was fidgeting beside me, her hands stuffed into her pockets. I could tell something was bothering her. I was glad to be with her today. Since I started dating Lucy, she’d distanced himself, and I had to admit it hurt a little. She was one of the first I’d managed to befriend since I came here. She’s a really good person, even if she doesn’t believe it himself.

"Everything okay?"

"Not really... I feel bad."

"Why?"

"I wasn’t fair to you and your girlfriend."

"Oh... Leah..."

"I feel guilty for judging you too quickly. You two seem really solid, unlike what I thought."

I smiled softly. For her to admit her mistake, she must have given it a lot of thought. I was surprised, but happy at the same time. Maybe not all was lost. She really cared about our friendship after all.

"I don’t hold it against you, don’t worry."

"I was thinking, maybe we could plan something together, with her, sometime."

"Yeah, we could do something at the end of the year if you want. I don’t think she’ll be up for it before then."

She nodded understandingly. She finally dared to look at me after all that. She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes.

"Are you sure you’re okay? You really don’t look good."

I shook my head. I’d been trying to hide it, but I was on the verge of vomiting right there. I barely opened my mouth.

"Hey, Bronze," Leah called out. "She’s about to throw up."

Thank goodness she understood. Immediately alarmed, my girlfriend pulled me into the restroom. Luckily, the door was just behind us all along, and I hadn’t even noticed. She barely had time to open a stall and save my hair before I threw up my breakfast into the toilet. The scene felt like déjà vu. She sighed as she tied my hair back with a hair tie.

"Do you feel any better?"

I didn’t even have time to answer before it happened again. All Lucy could do was rub my back. I’d never been this sick before, and I was starting to wonder if it was really my period causing this.

"Okay... You can’t do the tour like this."

"Is everything alright in here?"

I sat on the bathroom floor as this voice echoed. I must have looked pathetic. Lucy grabbed some paper to wipe my mouth before flushing the toilet as she stood up. I looked over at the man I recognized as the director.

"No," Lucy answered. "She’s been feeling sick since this morning, and it seems to be getting worse."

My stomach was hurting so much I had tears in my eyes. I held it with my arms, but it didn’t help. I didn’t dare look at them either. I preferred to stare in the opposite direction to avoid them seeing me like this.

"It’s been decided that I’ll lead your group through the tour, so I suggest going ahead without you."

"I’m not sure that’s the best solution. Students can be difficult sometimes."

"Oh, I don’t doubt it," he laughed. "I have four kids and I run a business, so I don’t think six students are going to give me much trouble."

Hearing that, I noticed the wedding ring on his finger. I felt foolish for thinking he was eyeing Lucy earlier. Now that I saw him up close, he also seemed slightly older than I had initially thought. He looked to be in his thirties, but probably closer to forty.

"You can’t leave her alone, so take care of her. Maybe she’ll feel better, and you can join us later. We’re visiting two departments this morning, and then it’ll be time for lunch," he explained.

"I need to check with Mr. Johnson first."

"It’s already been arranged. He agreed to this."

"Alright... Well, thank you. Hopefully, we’ll join you later."

"My pleasure. Good luck," he said before leaving.

Once we were alone, Lucy crouched down in front of me again. I felt better, or at least relieved, but my stomach pain wasn’t going away. Lucy gently cupped my face.

"Are you sure it’s your period? This seems a bit extreme."

I shrugged. I wasn’t sure anymore.

- "The pain isn't just in my lower stomach..." I admitted after noticing it.

- "Alright," she murmurs. "I'll call the school. Maybe you’ve eaten something that didn't sit well, and if that's the case, you’re probably not the only one."

- "I had the same thing as usual," I complained.

- "I know, but you never know. I'll be right back."

She kissed the top of my head before leaving to ask for a phone. Apparently, she didn’t have hers. I groaned when she left. Judging by the silence, I assumed the others had already left the lobby. Something like this always has to happen to me, especially during my only class trip. I'd pay good money just to get a hug from Lucy right now. I waited a while, and during that time, my stomach continued to rumble. Maybe she was right. It probably wasn’t just my period causing this. It felt like hours passed before she finally returned.

- "Did you have hot chocolate this morning?" she asked.

What kind of question was that? Of course, I had. I nodded.

- "Well, looks like we have our answer. The milk was expired. They forgot to check the date. Didn’t you notice anything odd about the taste?"

- "N-no."

Since I usually dunk my pastry in it, I hadn't noticed anything strange. I groaned again as the pain persisted. Lucy sighed and sat down next to me. I wasted no time collapsing into her. She chuckled, wrapping her arms around me, and I sighed in contentment. I had been waiting for this moment. She kissed my forehead again.

- "You’re burning up. Looks like you’re in for a rough day, poor thing."

- "It’s not so bad, since you're here with me."

She chuckled softly, tightening her embrace.

- "For once, you’re being optimistic…"

I nudged her playfully in the stomach, making her laugh. I could stay here for hours. Of course, she had to shatter my hopes.

- "Come on, we can't stay here. The ladies at reception offered us a room to rest in."

- "No... I'm fine right here," I mumbled.

- "Come on," she teased. "We’re not staying on the bathroom floor all day."

I groaned as she stood up, leaving me without anything to lean on. I had no choice but to stand, with her help. The only positive thing was that my nausea had passed by now. Lucy supported me as we walked to the reception area where two women stood behind the counter.

- "Is the room still available?" Lucy asked.

- "Yes, of course. I’ll open it for you," said the younger woman.

She stood up immediately, offering me a small smile that I struggled to return. She led us to a door opening into a large conference room.

- "Feel free to ask if you need anything."

- "You’ve already done a lot. Thank you."

She nodded and left us alone. Lucy guided me inside and closed the door behind us. At least we’d have some privacy.

- "Alright, lie down for a bit. It’ll help."

She made a makeshift bed by lining up several chairs in a row.

- "Come on."

I sighed but complied. I took my time, a bit afraid of the setup's sturdiness, but once I lay across the chairs, I realized it wasn't too bad. Lucy even gave me her scarf as a pillow. She couldn’t have picked anything better—I could still smell her scent this way. She then covered me with her jacket. I felt like I was freezing, but Lucy said it was due to the fever.

- "You’re staying, right?" I murmured.

- "Of course."

She pulled up a chair across from me and sat down. I smiled as she ran her hand through my hair to move it out of my face. I clung to her other hand, wanting to make sure she wouldn’t leave, though I knew she wouldn’t.

- "I love you," I murmured before drifting off to sleep.

Thursday, March 24; 12:10 PM 

I woke up to some commotion. Several voices stirred me from my deep sleep. I blinked a few times, trying to remember where I was. I hadn’t moved from the chairs. My first sight was Lucy, still sitting across from me, talking to someone I couldn’t make out. Our hands were no longer linked, and I soon understood why, recognizing the masculine voices in the room.

- "Looks like she’s waking up."

Lucy immediately turned her head toward me. She smiled as I stretched slowly, still gripping her scarf beneath me. Something felt off about the room, but I couldn’t place it.

- "How are you feeling?" she asked.

I shrugged, still groggy. I wasn’t sure how I felt yet. I thought my fever had broken since I wasn’t as cold as before.

- "Your classmates are having lunch. Are you hungry?"

A wave of disgust washed over me. Any mention of food made me nauseous right now. Lucy laughed at my expression, which must have been amusing.

- "Alright, I get it," she smiled softly. "But I’m hungry. So either you come with me, or someone else will stay here with you."

I groaned, trying to sit up. She quickly stopped my abrupt movements.

- "Take it easy," she teased. "I’m not going anywhere."

A cold draft hit me as I lost the warmth of her jacket. I slowly sat up and glanced around. Mr. Johnson was there with the company manager. I was glad they didn’t bombard me with questions. However, I noticed my teacher giving me a rather stern look, which I ignored. I ran my hand through my hair to smooth it down, shivering in the process.

- "Can I keep your jacket? It’s still so warm."

My voice cracked from disuse. Lucy nodded and helped me put it on to preserve the warmth. She also draped her large scarf over my shoulders like a shawl.

- "Alright, let’s go."

She guided me with a hand on my back. I ignored the men in the room, sensing that they understood this wasn’t the time to talk to me. Lucy must have filled them in before I woke up. We walked into another, larger conference room. The company had prepared sandwiches and muffins for lunch, which was nice of them. My classmates were gathered around the table, but Lucy led me to the far end, where the teachers were seated. I still felt a bit out of place, but I didn’t want to leave Lucy just yet.

- "Hey there," Ingrid greeted me. "You always get sick at the worst times, don’t you?" she teased gently.

I groaned in response. Lucy laughed as she pulled out a chair for me between the two of them. I sat down, gripping her scarf tightly around me.

- "Stop bothering her. She’s already grumpy enough."

- "Oops, sorry," Ingrid said with a playful grin. "Do you know what caused it?"

- "The milk this morning. Wiegman was furious. Several students got food poisoning."

- "Damn, that sucks for you," she said, patting my shoulder. "Though now we know you’re the only one still drinking hot chocolate in the morning. Maybe it’s time you switched to coffee," she joked.

I shrugged off her hand and rested my head on my arms on the table with a soft groan. Lucy chuckled, running her fingers through my hair.

- "She’s just kidding. Calm down."

I didn’t respond. They continued chatting, but I lost track of the conversation. I felt like I could fall asleep again in any position. However, Lucy didn’t give me the chance. She gently rubbed my thigh, discreetly keeping me awake.

- "Looks like someone won’t be feeling better this afternoon," Ingrid remarked.

- "No, it doesn’t seem like it."

- "Do you want to switch?" Ingrid offered. "I can stay with her if you want to do the factory tour."

I glanced over at Lucy. I didn’t want to keep her from the tour, but I’d rather have her stay with me. As if to reassure me, Lucy’s touch became more soothing.

- "No, it’s fine. I’ll stay with her."

- "Alright, as you wish," Ingrid didn’t insist.

I felt relieved. I love Ingrid, but she couldn’t replace Lucy’s presence. The break was brief. My class soon resumed the tour in their groups. I didn’t even get a chance to chat with my friends. I hope they don’t hold it against me for ignoring them during that short time. I’ll catch up with them once this is all over.

[woozivrse]

um hi here are little bits of wips :3 all of them are like, kinda abandoned rn but i'm trying!!

popular! seungkwan x introvert! reader

digging through his bag, seungkwan pulled out a jacket for you. “here, wear it. if you're going to be here to keep me company then you will do it warm!”

“but won’t you be cold once you’re out of practice?” you held the jacket in your hands.

how svt cuddle, hoshi!

hoshi loves loves LOVES nuzzling into you. doesn't matter where, the neck? nuzzle. the top of the head? nuzzle. he also likes laying on top of you, he treats you as a personal pillow at all times, though it's usually just his head on you so he doesn't hurt you.

summer camp! (i don't actually have any ideas for this, so send some in if you have any!) it's all of svt but im considering making it a series where all the boys have an individual fic?

you looked fondly on the clearing, recalling so many memories from your childhood. soon, the campers from the city would be pouring into the field, excited–or maybe, just a little peeved that they had to be separated from their family and friends– for the start of the summer.

wonwoo x implied aromantic! reader! (this is pretty self indulgent tbh. also, not all aromantic ppl never end up in relationships! it's a spectrum)

books and other hobbies occupied your attention. it's not like you never noticed cute people, you had eyes of course, but you chalked it up to just aesthetic attraction and not romantic. and when your college literature class first began, you assumed it was the same thing. jeon wonwoo was, objectively, really cute.

girl group stan! seungkwan x boy group stan! reader— smau! (heavily HEAVILY wip. don't expect this anytime soon)

reader: “WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT [IDOL] HUH???”

seungkwan: “JIHYOS BETTER. JEALOUSY IS A DISEASE GET BETTER SOON😘”

legally blonde au! elle! dk x emmett! reader, based more on the musical than the movie!

“sorry! i- that came out wrong. i don't mean to judge but, for a girl? who doesn't even like you?”

“it's love!” he argued. “i love her and she loves me,”

“...you sound insane, you know,”

“i know…” he sighed, holding his head in his hands, “just, we dated for years before this, we were together since senior year of high school!”

college au! both reader and dk are leads of the same musical! dk x reader (yes this is also legally blonde based PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE I WAS IN A PHASE) (also, HEAVYYYY WIP. NOT CURRENTLY BEING WORKED ON)

soulmate au! no one rn actually x reader! (this is the final boss of all my wips i started this back in october of last year so we'll find out if it makes it out of the trenches)

he grabbed your wrist, your compasses calming down at the touch.

“found you,” he grinned, eyes bright and breathless.

and that's it! feel free to come talk to me about your favs, maybe they'll make it out of the trenches<3

[xxvalkyriesxx]

Death's End - Chapter One Nessian Week | Day Six | Legends and Destiny

Masterpost

Read AO3 or below

@nessianweek

Summary

News spread of Illyrian rebels raiding villages and war-camps across Illyria. Nesta and Cassian are sent to Shadeborn to rescue any survivors and deal with any rebels that reamin. This is the most northern village of the whole country, standing at the tips of mountains that live right above the sea.

However this village goes by a different name by the locals.

Death's End.

But this village is known not only for the fae to meet their end, but the birthplace of the most fearsome warrior in millennia.

The Lord of Bloodshed.

CW: graphic descriptions of violence, violence against women/children

Snippet

NESTA! The voice screamed her name over and over again. The eldest Archeron looked up to the starless night, a single tear dripping down her face.

“From here on out you will not be allowed to use or give the Trove to anyone unless agreed upon first. That is the only fair way I can protect you, Nesta. Without having my mate wanting to hurt you, or worse.” Her sister’s words rang through her mind of the bargain they made over five years ago after The Mask was returned.

If he dies, you can keep me on forever. You will never not have your mate with you.

**

Nearly a decade of serving the Night Court as a Valkyrie leader through war and countless battles, the horror of corpses was now just a mere passing thought as if Nesta looked upon a white meadow of poppies. Her armor was drenched by the enemies’ blood. At her feet lay four Illyrian rebels, bodies hemorrhaging from wounds Ataraxia delt. The Made sword dripped in scarlet, dying the snow.

A lingering voice weaved through Nesta’s mind.

Use me. Nestaaaa, use me. 

The voice was cold like the snow she stood in, but it was all too familiar. Silently Nesta pushed the desire down, the voice fading.

Illyria had rebels which were nothing new, but as of lately more and more appeared. At least three war-camps were raided in the mountains over the course of the month. Each time the Night Court arrived, they were too late. Destruction and chaos ran through the crimson soaked camps. Eventually Azriel caught a rebel who eventually told him and Rhysand when the next one would be. Unfortunately it took almost four days for the Illyrian male to crack.

Which brought Nesta and Cassian to Shadeborn. It was the furthest northern village in the country, where the Illyrian mountains met the sea. The village was left empty for decades, however before the caught rebel met his end, he apparently mumbled something that over the few months, Illyrian mothers and their children escaped from their own dreaded camps to the abandoned one.

“They were so desperate to leave their husbands and their lives that they traveled to Death’s End, and for what? Just to be slaughtered like pigs in mere hours.”

Hearing the male’s voice in her mind made Nesta twist in discomfort as Rhysand showed her and Cassian what he and Azriel discovered in their integration. 

“What’s Death’s End?” Nesta asked, her hand already on Ataraxia's hilt.

“It’s a village, straight north through the Illyrian mountains.” Rhysand answered, his brow furrowed.

Nesta tilted her head, something lingering between them all. Her gaze traveled to Cassian, his jaw clenched. Something darker than rage, bloody than war, rolled off her mate through the bond. Gently, Nesta pulled on the bond, the gold string that tied them together. Cassian shifted before he looked back at her.

“It’s where I was born. Where the title, Lord of Bloodshed was bestowed upon me.” His voice laced in murder, but between his words and lines, Nesta saw the inkling of guilt and fear strung through.

“The death count in Shadeborn is the highest out of all Illyria, maybe even the Night Court.” Rhysand added.

Nesta crossed her arms. “How so?”

“The environment alone can make anyone intensely depressed. It snows almost year around, there are months where the sun is barely visible. The violence is intensified there as many struggle to actually live there.” Rhysand sighed, his violet eyes dimming. 

“Believe it or not, it's not violence that stacks up the death toll, although there’s plenty of it. Many Illyrians end up committing suicide. There’s a cliff that stands right above the sea. When the fighting spirit dies, some of these Illyrians fall to their death.”

Flashbacks of her time in taverns and her apartment surfaced from her memories. There was a time during all of that she felt the same as the Illyrians who chose to end their lives. It seemed they fought against their own nature to stick to the idea of death, that being if they could fly.

A tugging motion pulled within her soul a few times. Nesta looked over to Cassian, a small smile on his face. She tugged back, three times to be exact. It was their code when words weren’t enough.

I love you.

“I’ll winnow you both there. Az and I discovered that the rebels split their group. Half would be heading up north, but the rest were traveling west from Windhaven. Azriel, Emerie, Gwyn and Mor will go there. I’ll see if there’s anything I can do to find their leader.”

Nesta didn’t have time to provide anything to Cassian as the world flashed before their eyes, traveling from the dungeons of the Hwen City to the snowy banks of Shadeborn, Death’s End.

‘Stay alive, both of you.’ Rhys whispered into their heads before fading away.

As soon as he disappeared, screams from females and children echoed across the empty camp.

“Nesta!” A feminine voice called out to her. 

The Valkyrie turned to see Morrigan standing near her. Her armor was tinted with brick coloring. There was a fresh cut slayed on her forearm.

“Where’s Cassian?” Morrigan asked.

Nesta nodded to the other side of the village. “He saw a few rebels go that way. I heard the females and children scream so I ran over here.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to grab any surviving females and children. Rhys is moving them to the outskirts of Velaris where they’ll be cared for.”

Nesta winced. “Cassian and I arrived too late for some of the folks here. But I managed to find some survivors in one of the tents nearby.”

Sadness pooled in Morrigan’s eyes. “We can save at least some people today.”

The Valkyrie nodded. “Come with me.” 

The two walked to a tent mere feet away. Nesta could see the faint outlines of several figures inside, huddled close.

“Morrigan of the Night Court is here. She’ll take you to somewhere safe.” Nesta’s voice was encouraging yet it layered with urgency. 

A moment passed before three Illyrian women, each with at least a child, if not two, came out of the tent. 

Dirt, grit, blood, and sweat, stained their faces. They shivered from the cold, wings tucking in tight. Morrigan smiled at them, her presence warm. They clung to one another, afraid.

“I’m taking you all to a safe haven by order of the High Lord. I should be able to take all of you without making a second trip.” Morrigan held out her hand. “Everyone take my hand. For the babes, mothers hold on tight to them. We’ll be winnowing in a few seconds.”

The mothers and the children who were a bit older were hesitant to reach out to Morrigan. The third-in-command of the Night Court kept her hand still. As Morrigan stood waiting for them, an all too familiar yell erupted at the same time the mating bond was yanked. Utter horror filled her heart, tearing her arteries apart at the feeling.

“Cassian.” She whispered his name, dread laced in his name.

“Find him! We’ll be back soon!” Mor nodded before looking at the Illyrians. 

“If you want your children to survive, take my hand.” It wasn’t an order, but the suggestion was hard to ignore. Nesta watched the women and then children take hold of Morrigan’s hand. Then the group along with Morrigan disappeared into nothingness. 

Her chest lightened only slightly before she felt the tug of the mating bond again. Quickly Nesta turned around, running fast through the snowy woods. As her feet carried her through the trenches, the voice from earlier crawled back into her mind.

Use me, Nestaaa. I know you miss meee.

‘Shut up!’ Nesta screamed at the voice before iron proofing her mental shields.

Running downhill, Nesta followed the path of footsteps and blood splatter down the trail. Her feet were light as she tried not to breathe too loud and make too much noise with the frozen ice and snow. As she spotted a clearing to the right, yells of struggle erupted close by. Dread weighed Nesta down as she ran over to the clearing, her speed failing.

“CASSIAN!” Nesta screamed, terror laced with his name. She watched as at least six males surrounded her mate who held her mate down. Cassian lifted his head up, his face already bruised. His hazel gold eyes found her silvery blue’s, a silent plea being spoken.

Go Nes. I can handle this. You’re needed elsewhere.

But Nesta stood where she was. She had lost so much in her short immortal life, but the half of her soul would not be meeting the stars tonight. 

Nesta.

Nestaa.

Nestaaa.

NESTA! The voice screamed her name over and over again.The eldest Archeron looked up to the starless night, a single tear dripping down her face.

“From here on out you will not be allowed to use or give the Trove to anyone unless agreed upon first. That is the only fair way I can protect you, Nesta. Without having my mate wanting to hurt you, or worse.” Her sister’s words rang through her mind of the bargain they made over five years ago after The Mask was returned.

If he dies, you can keep me on forever. You will never not have your mate with you.

She blinked the remaining tears away, her hand reaching through the magical weave, grabbing the Mask where she last put it, knowing full well Feyre and Rhysand would be able to feel the shift. A raging fiery sensation shot through her arm. Talons ripped at her shields right as she put the Mask on. The familiar call of power drove through her body. 

Everything went numb as a sickening sense of dread took her over.

[cuntlos]

girlhood is a struggle fr

[egophiliac]

Hi it's just to let you know that the official romanization of Revaan's name is Raverne ! Also they have romanized Baul's name to Baur !

Twst coming back at us again with the least expected romanization! thank you everybody (oh god my inbox) (no it's great, I literally asked for this and the reactions have been INCREDIBLE, thank you all!)

I do like Raverne though, I think it's got a nice fancy sound to it! (I had kinda suspected it was going to be an R instead of an L, so the fact that it's SO close to Laverne except for that is hilarious to me personally.) and Dragoneye Duke is honestly probably the best translation for his title, I wasn't envying the localizers that one. :') Baur instead of Baul I was NOT expecting, but in retrospect I think his name's supposed to be a reference to the Bauru crocodile, so that actually makes way more sense!

someone else also said Meleanor has become Maleanor, which is the REALLY weird one to me, because I was so surprised it was written as Mel instead of Mal in the first place?! oh god no I can't decide which one I like better. 😭 (I wonder if they might change it to Mal...they have made romanization changes before) (like I remember House of Distraction being corrected to House of Destruction in Playful Land) (I did check and she's still Mel for now, but I dunno, they might Mal her up and some point and save me from having to make a decision about which one to use) (HECK I CAN'T DECIDE)

uhhhh thank you for letting me ramble about anime names, let's just say MONOGRAMMED SWEATERS FOR EVERYONE

[gingermintpepper]

In my Zeus bag today so I'm just gonna put it out there that exactly none of the great Ancient Greek warrior-heroes stayed loyal and faithful and completely monogamous and yet none of them have their greatness questioned nor do we question why they had the cultural prominence that they did and still do.

Jason, the brilliant leader of the Argo, got cold feet when it came to Medea - already put off by some of her magic and then exiled from his birthland because of her political ploys, he took Creusa to bed and fully intended on marrying her despite not properly dissolving things with Medea.

Theseus was a fierce warrior and an incredibly talented king but he had a horrible temper and was almost fatally weak to women. This is the man who got imprisoned in the Underworld for trying to get a friend laid, the man who started the whole Attic War because he couldn't keep his legs closed.

And we cannot at all forget Heracles for whom a not inconsiderable amount of his joy in life was loving people then losing the people around him that he loved. Wives, children, serving boys, mentors, Heracles had a list of lovers - male and female - long enough to rival some gods and even after completing his labours and coming down to the end of his life, he did not have one wife but three.

And y'know what, just because he's a cultural darling, I'll put Achilles up here too because that man was a Theseus type where he was fantastic at the thing he was born to do (that is, fight whereas Theseus' was to rule) but that was not enough to eclipse his horrid temper and his weakness to young pretty things. This is the man that killed two of Apollo's sons because they wouldn't let him hit - Tenes because he refused to let Achilles have his sister and Troilus who refused Achilles so vehemently that he ran into Apollo's temple to avoid him and still couldn't escape.

All four of these men are still celebrated as great heroes and men. All four of these men are given the dignity of nuance, of having their flaws treated as just that, flaws which enrich their character and can be used to discuss the wider cultural point of what truly makes a hero heroic. All four of these men still have their legacies respected.

Why can that same mindset not be applied to Zeus? Zeus, who was a warrior-king raised in seclusion apart from his family. Zeus who must have learned to embrace the violence of thunder for every time he cried as a babe, the Corybantes would bang their shields to hide the sound. Zeus learned to be great because being good would not see the universe's affairs in its order.

The wonderful thing about sympathy is that we never run out of it. There's no rule stopping us from being sympathetic to multiple plights at once, there's no law that necessitate things always exist on the good-evil binary. Yes, Zeus sentenced Prometheus to sufferation in Tartarus for what (to us) seems like a cruel reason. Prometheus only wanted to help humans! But when you think about Prometheus' actions from a king's perspective, the narrative is completely different: Prometheus stole divine knowledge and gifted it to humans after Zeus explicitly told him not to. And this was after Prometheus cheated all the gods out of a huge portion of wealth by having humans keep the best part of a sacrifice's meat while the gods must delight themselves with bones, fat and skin. Yes, Zeus gave Persephone away to Hades without consulting Demeter but what king consults a woman who is not his wife about the arrangement of his daughter's marriage to another king? Yes, Zeus breaks the marriage vows he set with Hera despite his love of her but what is the Master of Fate if not its staunchest slave?

The nuance is there. Even in his most bizarre actions, the nuance and logic and reason is there. The Ancient Greeks weren't a daft people, they worshipped Zeus as their primary god for a reason and they did not associate him with half the vices modern audiences take issue with. Zeus was a father, a visitor, a protector, a fair judge of character, a guide for the lost, the arbiter of revenge for those that had been wronged, a pillar of strength for those who needed it and a shield to protect those who made their home among the biting snakes. His children were reflections of him, extensions of his will who acted both as his mercy and as his retribution, his brothers and sisters deferred to him because he was wise as well as powerful. Zeus didn't become king by accident and it is a damn shame he does not get more respect.