#heart pangs worldbuilding

[wholegrainvore]

hello, do you have any recommendations for other vore blogs? ive only recently started looking for vore stuff on tumblr and its so hard to navigate bc of the ban :/ i like male pred and digestion stuff as well if that helps! thank you

ooo let me show a couple of my favourite blogs some love!!

@nombitenary - chris is such a good pred and has VERY rich lore hehehe

@teal-fiend - very good povs and well-written scenarios!!!! i eat their stuff up genuinely i don't think anyone puts more thought into the Implications of vore existing in a society so its really a pleasure to read their posts ^-^

@voraciousvore - VERY long macro/micro stories with awesome worldbuilding and overarching plots w/ vore as a recurring plot device 😳

@voraciousbeast - the lovable beast!!! look through his art and writing lots of good food here

@verydigestible - such good ocs ghjdjdgbhjdhgfd

@squirmifyoulike - LOTS OF FATAL VORE SCENARIOS!!!! squirm provides us our good good food. everyone say thank you squirm.

@monster-teef - go through its writing tags if u want to absolutely lose your mind. monster-teef is one of my favourite vore writers on tumblr ghkdghdfj

@ltsmoving - VERY VERY COOL OCS quality posts

@phantum - has old man vore yaoi 10/10

@mmmleckerlecker - BREAKING NEWS: BELOVED AUTHOR OF HEART PANGS ALSO HAS GREAT POSTS

@teefsntums - arthur is constantly serving quality art and groundbreaking new vore ideas never been seen before 😙👌

@dinnergirl - not exclusively a vore blog but uhhh... this bun tends to attract preds~ quality voreposts found here

if any of you want to be removed from this post pls let me know!! also if anyone knows more blogs that anon might like feel free to reblog and add them!!

[vinelark]

do you have any whumpy fic recs (ideally romance, but gen would do in a pinch)? Open to any fandoms. I feel like I used to see them a lot more, but they are harder to find these days. Bbts really hits the spot tho btw haha.

ANY fandoms? oh boy do i.

Hotel Heart by Laughsalot3412 (and its sequel Safe as Houses): not quite romance but not NOT romance ot3 leverage psychics au where eliot is a hitman who used to be under the control of a horrible empath who left him with major mental scars and huge trust issues. he reluctantly ends up protecting another empath (hardison) and thief (parker) and sloooowly starts to work through the aforementioned trauma while they take down the aforementioned evil empath together. excellent series with excellent pangy plot. also i knew nothing about leverage when i first read it and it’s what got me to watch the show.

Hold my Eyes to the Sky by myrmidryad: an enjoltaire/les mis longfic set in a 1970s(?) wizarding au in which grantaire is a very sad and lonely werewolf and the idealistic activist he’s hopelessly in love with just got himself turned as well, and grantaire has to help him navigate the changes while dealing with his own self-worth issues and tragic backstory. you want whump? look no further.

Occultation by Geese_in_flight & pineapplesquid: a novel-length au of the book Winter’s Orbit, in which the main difference is that kiem, not jainan, is the one dealing with a previous, horrible arranged marriage. somehow this simple switch brings so much fresh potential to the characters (i loved seeing how this played into kiem’s self-worth issues, and also loved this exploration of what jainan’s character would be like if he had been able to flourish the last few years), with a whole new set of pangs. i recommend both the book and the fic!

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie: a post-cql wangxian getting together fic with the classic amounts of yiqie pain & pining & h/c & devastatingly beautiful writing about the devastatingly beautiful experience of being in love. also blood. honestly most fics by yiqie probably fulfill this request (are you into vashwood, perhaps?)

Morning, keep the streets empty for me by feyburner: a wangxian modern au oneshot with self-sacrificing wei ying getting into trouble and landing himself in the hospital while pining very very hard for his cultivation partner. i’m reccing this one out of all feyburner fics because it has the obvious physical hurt but fey is so good at weaving pangs into fic that tbh there’s emotional whump to be found in most of them. also, god-tier writing in general.

the kite string and the anchor rope by fleurdeliser: a wangxian canon-divergence au that falls into the sickfic whump subgenre. the pangs! wangxian’s love for each other and for a-yuan and the way wwx’s desperation and powerlessness in the face of a sick child (and his own illness) clash with how the world perceives him at the time is so 🤌🤌. this is saved in my h/c favs folder for a reason.

The Long Way Home by itsnatalie: extremely whumpy batfam tim & jason fic, which i’ve definitely rec’d here before but if i’m reccing whumpy longfics it HAS to be on the list. good god this fic is a masterpiece, both for the angst and for the absolute beautiful worldbuilding/navigation of its horror tropes.

and since you like bbts, i’ll also self-rec a few of my older fics! i think you’d probably enjoy this river runs to you, a wangxian/mdzs modern cultivation longfic feat. (sort of) identity shenanigans, angsty backstories, self-worth issues, and the main character getting all manner of hurt. also: you’re the trouble that i always find, a wenzhou/shl dreamsharing/amnesia/sort-of-timeloop fic in which the main character is supposed to dream about killing his love interest but said love interest keeps dreamcrashing to change the plot.

this reclist could’ve been dozens of fics long tbh. i live for The Pangs which usually go hand in hand with good whump, and seek those fics out whenever possible, so as always this is a super incomplete reclist! also i welcome any and all recs in return.

[aquadestinyswriting]

The Origins of Selene's Name

Ok, so here's something completely different. This isn't necessarily a worldbuilding post or a specific story, so much as it is an explanation as to where Selene got her name. Thanks absolutely must go to @druidx for helping me with the folk tale at the end of this little explanation.

Tags: @druidx, @sparrow-orion-writes, @ashirisu, @blind-the-winds, @philosophika, @the-down-upside-finch

OK, so, I wrote about Selene's birth family a long while back and realised that Sel's name does not fit the naming conventions of the rest of her family. Of course I came up with Selene years before this part of her backstory, but I wanted to explore a more in-universe explanation.

Selene was born in the equivalent of early January, on the night of a full moon on a crisp and clear night. Her mother, Rosalie, recalled a word her grandmother had used to refer to the kind of moon present in the sky that night, and decided it would make for a suitable name for her newly born daughter should she survive the 4-5 months until her Name Day.

Selene, when she was a little girl, did ask her mother where the name came from, and Rosalie explained that her grandmother had said the name at one point and made mention of an old fairy-tale passed down through the generations that had been mostly forgotten. While the full story was no longer remembered, parts of it were, and Selene was told it was to do with the moon, mid-winter and this name. Skip forward a few more years, and Selene is talking with Yastromo after her arrival at his tower near the Darkwood. Yastromo notes how unusual Selene's name is in comparison to the rest of her family, and Selene tells him what her mother had told her. Yastromo, as much older and very learned man, realised that the fairy-tale passed down through Selene's family, was the same as an old folk tale from a tribe of nomads that had once lived in the area that the little town of Toreguarde now occupied. While the old wizard could not be certain that Selene's family had any connection to this nomadic tribe, he did decide to regale Selene with the full tale, which has been transcribed for your pleasure below:

A long time ago there was a fair young girl with skin as white as freshly fallen snow and hair as silver as the stars. She lived a simple life with her mother and father in a little house on the edge of the forest. One harsh winter night, the girl's mother got sick and the wise man of the nearby camp told her father that the only thing that would cure her was the heart of a pure white rabbit. The girl's father asked the girl if she would go out and look for this rabbit so he could cut out its heart to cure her mother. So, off the girl goes into the woods in search of a pure white rabbit. The girl spends a whole day searching the woods, but does not find a pure white rabbit. When the sun sank below the ground to go to sleep, the girl started to get very tired and hungry and curled up underneath a tree to rest. When she awoke, the night was lit by the soft, silver light of a full moon, and sitting at her feet, cleaning it's little pink nose, was a rabbit with fur of purest white. The girl slowly brought out her knife from her boot, knowing that the only way to save her mother was to kill the creature. But a pang of pity stayed her hand at the last moment. The rabbit looked up, twitched it's nose at her. The girl started to cry, for she loved her mother and did not wish her to die. But neither did she want to kill an animal so innocent and pure. The rabbit sat up and smiled at her, "Little girl, why do you cry so?" it asked. The girl explained her predicament, that she needed the heart of the rabbit to save her ailing mother, but that she did not want the rabbit to die either. The rabbit cocked its head to one side and looked up at the moon. So full and bright was it that it reflected perfectly in the rabbit's eyes. "You are a good and gentle child. If you promise to return home and never again return to this forest, then I shall speak with Selune to see that your mother's life is spared." it said. The girl looked at the rabbit in confusion, "Selune?" she asked. The rabbit nodded, it's ears flopping. "Yes, my mother. She lives upon the moon, you see, and watches all of Titan's children through the night." the rabbit explained. The girl thought for a moment, then nodded, "I promise never to return to your forest and disturb your rest, so long as my mother survives this sickness." she agreed. The rabbit thumped its foot upon the biggest root of the tree, then turned tail and hopped away. When the girl returned home without the rabbit, her father was furious. He took off his belt to beat her, but was stopped when his wife came through the door and asked why he was shouting so. While she was still tired and pale, the mother was in no danger of passing that night. The girl hugged her mother, then ran to the window and smiled up at the moon that gleamed in the night sky. She then told her mother and father of the promises she and the white rabbit had exchanged, and never again did the girl or her family ever return to the forest.

When Selene heard the tale, it resonated with her so much that, once she turned 16 years old, she officially began using the surname Frigidwake rather than the one she had been given by her birth family. The idea of promises kept also resonated, hard, and Selene has a personal oath to never break a promise she's made if she can help it at all. It also means that she can take sincere promises made by others extremely seriously, especially if they're made by friends or those she considers family.

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 41- Part 13

Oh yeah, the fact that she Hyper Beamed you folks on the lake- Xera didn't just hear what happened, she was more or less there for it.

Oh, so the fact that Team Meteor is consistent with partnering is an actual in-universe worldbuilding thing and not just some gameplay quirk, cool! Well- not that it helped them against a Dragonite here, but still.

You mean like you guys decided to ambush the sitting ducks in the mansion? 

Look, I get it, Dragonites are scary, but you guys have been causing all sorts of chaos across Reborn and now Chrysolia since the beginning, eventually more people besides Xera and co. were gonna start fighting back, what did you guys expect?

…oh.

...Oh, um…uh…sorry for your loss…?

…my point from up above still stands though, not to disrespect the dead or anything-

Hey, hey, settle down with the angsting for a sec, can we go back to what you said about “twice”-??

Buddy, you've got a long way to go before you're on Saphira’s level…I think. Though she could just Hyper Beam you without bothering with a battle, too…

I…have no context to what you're talking about, so I'll oblige and just leave you be.

I'm gonna be honest- I don't think Xera would care much about Tara being dead. After everything Team Meteor has done to her and her friends (as well the general masses of Reborn), the horrors she's had to witness…she's not gonna feel much of any sympathy for the deaths of some Grunts. Especially Grunts who were in the process of trying to capture a bunch of kids, who had already been captured by them before. In her mind, Saphira was 100% justified in using deadly force to protect her sisters, given Team Meteor's own penchant for violence and causing death and the fact that they…you know- attacked first. 

As for how I feel about Tara's unfortunate demise? Well, I…I'm not gonna dwell on it immensely like I have Corey and (to a lesser degree) Kiki, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a genuine pang in my chest when I read she was dead. I'm…surprised by that, honestly- the only thing that sets her and these other Grunts apart from the usual evil Pokémon team affair is giving them names, and make no mistake that's certainly not enough to make me invested in any of them, but…it's definitely a start, and the brief pang in my heart I felt at that text box is proof, I suppose.

Well, that'll make backtracking a little easier from here on out. Now, to deal with all the Meteors on the other side!

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[trash-gremlin]

Time and Again

a short story of grief, hope, and devotion

warnings for character death (very brief) and also probably the most on the nose character and worldbuilding you'll ever read (sorry)

Time waits for no one.

0841

In the heart of the abandoned cottage, Cadence set her father’s golden ornate pocket watch back down on the thick layer of dust that coated the floor. It seemed so out of place, too precious, to exist here. Its shiny surface reflected the bleak light coming from the flickering bulb that hung from the roof. Cadence huffed in frustration at being back here. Time seemed to stand as still as the dense and stale air that filled the room. The only sound was the ticking of the watch, mirroring Cadence’s own heartbeat. The rusty cogs and gears scattered carelessly around blended into the dull monochrome space that she inhabited. She looked around at what had been her only sanctuary for two years, and realised just how small it was. It had seemed more than big enough when she had first found it with Mallory. A sharp pang of fresh sorrow ran through her body as she was reminded of her only friend. She shook her head as if to clear it, her short chestnut hair whipping her cheeks.

Cadence glanced towards the only window in the cottage, feeling suffocated by the cramped walls as if they were closing in on her. Through the grimy window she could just make out the Academy, silhouetted by the morning sun. In the light, the building looked dark and menacing, reminding her of a prison. It may as well be, Cadence supposed. She picked up her pocket watch from the ground and kicked open the creaking wooden door of the shack, determined not to fail this time. She had lost count of how many times she had tried to stop fate. To try and save Mallory. She was the only one in that wretched place worth saving, with her laugh that brightened up any gloomy day, and her beautiful long pale hair and steel blue eyes to match. Cadence set off with a newfound resolve and tucked the pocket watch into her skirt, but not before checking the time.

0844

As Cadence moved through the gardens of the Academy to reach her destination, she couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of the looming building that she boarded at. Classy gold lettering set on the aged black stone as she walked towards the entrance read: “Appleyard Academy for Exceptional Minds”. Cadence scoffed. The only exceptional thing the kids at the college had was money. That was the only thing that seemed to matter to anyone. That, and reputation. If you wanted to be successful, you needed both.

The institution was littered with what must have been thousands of tinted windows, making the building almost glitter in the light. The pillars on either side of the extravagant entrance were engraved in a delicate lace pattern, similar to the one that decorated her gloves as part of her uniform. Her formal black leather tunic with brassy gold clasps, her long black skirt with gold detailing similar to her gloves, even her low-heeled boots with brass buckles were all a reflection of the place she was forced to call home, though she was only a pale imitation of the beauty held in the ancient building. Its towering presence cast a shadow over the gardens where she walked, and on her own life.

It had been 6 years since her father had shipped her off to the Academy, determined for his only child to avoid failure unlike himself, and she had despised every moment of it. He had the money, but had been broke in terms of reputation since he publicly embarrassed himself, and now Cadence was a pawn in his twisted game to achieve success. The weight of his expectations hung heavy on her shoulders. She suddenly became very aware of the pocket watch thumping against her leg in her skirt with every step she took. Mallory was the only one who made her feel like she was free from those expectations. Cadence entered the grand foyer of the Academy. Her footsteps echoed around her, bouncing off the ornate marble walls, only amplifying the loneliness she felt. The loneliness she would feel without Mallory. Which is why she had to do this.

0849

She quickly glanced at her watch. There was still time. Dodging other students, she crossed the grand foyer, past the hand stitched tapestries displaying the school emblem lining the walls and countless glass cases containing relics from when the Academy was first built, on her way to the imperial staircase. She had just reached the first step of the red carpeted stairs when a familiar voice made her freeze in her tracks.

“Miss Cadence.”

The owner of the voice stepped into her view, displaying her less than pleased expression. Ms Appleyard. Cadence silently kicked herself, she had done this enough times to know that she would have been here to scold her. If she hadn’t been so distracted, she would have been halfway up the stairs before the headmistress had even noticed her in the building, and by then it would be deemed unlady-like to chase a student up the stairs.

“Good morning, Ms Appleyard,” she forced out a smile, cooly running a hand across the artistic gold banister. “How are you this fine morning?”

“Don’t play this little game with me, not again. You and I both know exactly what you’re doing, and it ends now.” Ms Appleyard was a surprisingly young woman for her position, which was why it was surprising that she wore a black choker with a single pearl, the symbol of a widow, partially hidden behind her high collar. With an upturned nose, slim face, and pale, neatly kept hair, she would have been attractive, Cadence supposed, if it weren’t for the rather unattractive habit of butting into other people’s business.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she feigned innocence. “I only went out for a morning stroll.”

“When will you grow tired of this? Of pretending like your actions have any impact on what’s going to happen? How many times have you tried this now? How many times have you failed?” Ms Appleyard wasn’t trying to be condescending, she knew, but she still found herself clenching her jaw and inspecting the overhead chandeliers to avoid confronting the questions her headmistress was throwing at her. Surely, she knew just as Cadence did that it didn’t matter how many times she failed, she only had to save Mallory once.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She repeated firmly, her smile twisting into gritted teeth. The fight quickly died within her, however. There was no point arguing with someone who knew about her careless manipulation of time for her own benefit. “I’m sorry Ms Appleyard,” her voice was barely above a whisper. “But I can’t stop. Not now.”

The headmistress’s expression softened slightly at the edges, betraying her façade of authority. “I understand, but you need to recognise that using that watch recklessly will only lead to more trouble than it’s worth.”

Cadences resolve wavered for just a moment. She knew that time was slipping away with each wasted moment she spent with Ms Appleyard. The black clothes the older woman wore made Cadence realise that if she stopped now, she would end up just like her, wearing the mark of the bereaved.  Fresh determination burning throughout her, she took a step away and clutched the pocket watch in her fist. “I’m not like you,” she spat at the teacher. “I’m not going to just give up.”

With that she hiked up her skirt and ran up the stairs, ignoring Ms Appleyard calling her name from behind her, on her way to rewrite fate. A shaky glimpse at her watch revealed the time.

0857

Fire fuelled her body, driving her forward with the force of a thousand blazing suns. She raced through the twisting labyrinth halls of the school towards her destination. She wouldn’t fail this time. Each step she took reverberated through her entire body, orchestrating a rhythm as relentless as the unstoppable march of time itself. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock. Each footfall was a reminder of the time she was losing. The weight of the pressure to succeed bore down on her shoulders, but she refused to buckle. She ran down the hallways, each dark end glowing with the faint glow of hope. Rounding the last corner, she had made it just in time to witness the scene before her:

A breath.

A fall.

A body.

Mallory’s last breath, her desperate gasp for life.

Mallory’s graceful descent towards the ground.

Mallory’s body, her life slipping away like the grains of sand through an hourglass.

The clock had struck its final hour. Both Cadence and Mallory were out of time. Cadence sunk to the ground, a throaty wail escaping her lips.

0901

One hand was closed tight enough around the watch to leave marks in her palm, the other was closed in a fist pounding the ground in anguish. Each strike to the floor made pain flood past her wrist and up her arm. She didn’t mind. She knew the pain wouldn’t last. The weight of failure on her chest was almost enough to crush her completely. Almost. Just like it had almost crushed her the first time, and the second time, and every time after that. Cadence could only hope that next time she would succeed. With growing determination, she set the time back on her watch, and squeezed her eyes shut.

0841

Cadence set the pocket watch back down on the thick layer of dust that coated the floor of the old, abandoned cottage. She swallowed the lump in her throat and the cold feeling of being back in the cabin again. Finding it 2 years ago with her friend Mallory felt like a lifetime ago, and yet the time between then and now had caught up with her. Mallory, her only friend. Her lips tightened into a straight line; Cadence kicked the scattered mechanical parts out of her way as she rose from the floor. As she scooped her fathers golden ornate pocket watch of the ground, she tried not to think of Mallory’s steel blue eyes, or her pale blonde hair. As she hiked up her skirt and trudged out the door, she tried not to think of her lifeless body sprawled on the unforgiving ground. Making sure her precious watch was tucked away in her skirt, she set off. Time waits for no one.

[innocent-artery]

i just recently came across this series and OH. MY GOD.

i am so in love with the author's writing style??? you can tell it's made with so much love, and the attention to detail is amazing. in a lot of current fantasy/period works, even from published authors, you don't see a lot of attention to politics or worldbuilding, it's just solely romance or smut set in a vaguely victorian or fantasy time period. but there's so much attention to the lore of the kingsguards, the intricacy and influence of religion, the politics with the king; it's immersive, easy to follow, and intriguing to say the least.

i LOVE that the reader here has personality and is able to create friendships with the other kingsguards! even though she's a reader insert and as such is supposed to have somewhat of an ambiguous personality, you can tell from her countenance and her words why jisung would be drawn to her. she's a lovable character on her own and that's a very unique trait in an x reader story.

also the dialogue is so realistic! i love the way jisung talks here, the characterization for everyone so on point and so detailed that it feels like you can really imagine them saying these things. his chemistry with the reader is so palpable and the way that both reader and jisung are so utterly disarmed by one another??? i love seeing the male lead getting weak in the knees for the reader. he's not just turned on by her, he's quite literally at her mercy and that's exactly where he wants to be. this has been thus far a 1000/10 slow burn and the pacing is perfect. it's somehow so agonizingly slow (in the best way) and still so action-packed and entertaining in every scene.

this series isn't even done and it's already in the books for some of the best stories i've ever written. the amount of times i've laughed out loud, paused to silent scream into my pillow, or felt my heart pang just goes to show what good reading will do. i know this is just fanfiction on tumblr dot com but i genuinely believe the author could find a career in writing and i cannot wait to see how the story ends!

the kingsguard ; jisung x reader ; part i

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | tba | ao3 link

pairing: han jisung/reader summary: You are a queen. He is a kingsguard - a member of a holy order that vows to defend the king in the name of the gods. They forsake all earthly goods and swear a vow of chastity to avoid all worldly temptation. When he stands in as proxy for the royal wedding, all those vows are tested.

content info: later chapters get smutty. reader has some physical description: mentions of her having very curly hair and a more curvy body.

content warnings: a royal affair between queen reader and guard jisung. the king is a violently abusive man. this chapter contains a scene of physical violence and attempted sexual assault against the reader who later has a panicked reaction. reader also believes sex is not pleasurable (but learns different to say the least).

please proceed at your own discretion.

chapter word count: 5100 words.

-

There is no groom at your wedding.  Your betrothed is too hungover to attend the ceremony.

You are disappointed but not surprised.  Last night, your father hosted a welcome banquet but your husband-to-be ignored the lavish festivities in favour of drinking himself into a stupor.  It did not matter that banners were hung in the great hall, that a feast was prepared, that the palace glittered in anticipation of his arrival.  It did not matter that you were a vision, resplendent in ivory and pearl, prepared and perfected just for him. 

The house, the money, the bride.  It did not matter at all.     

Such insult would not have been tolerated in any other man, but he is not just another man.  He is a king.  Only the heavens can issue him orders, just as he commands common blood like yours. 

The king holds nothing but disdain for your union and last night it moved like a poisonous mist through your home.  There was nothing you could do.  You sat and watched your royal betrothed make a crude mockery of your arranged marriage.  He travelled to your lands with a contingency of courtiers and they filled your house with his contempt.    

They all detest you.  Your family is wealthy but your father’s land sits at the border.  Many at court consider you foreigners in all but paperwork. 

Regardless of that status, your family owns the most prosperous land in the kingdom – a kingdom with coffers long since drained from an overseas war that reaped nothing but blood. 

This arrangement will save the kingdom and your betrothed knows that, but he is not happy to marry for money when his bloodline is better.  He spent the night belittling your family name, sneering at you, and pawing at the servant girls between drinks.   

The king drank.  The courtiers laughed. 

Only one group extended any civility towards you at all. 

“His Majesty sends his regards,” the leader of that group speaks to you now. 

He is in black robes, a sword at his hip.  He is the leader of the holy kingsguard, an ancient order sworn to defend heaven’s earthly sovereign.  There is nothing holy about the degenerate king, but his kingsguard is an ordained ministry nonetheless.  They surrender all earthly goods and fortunes, devoting themselves to service and soldiership.  That includes a vow of total chastity, so they are the only men permitted to perceive the future queen prior to the ceremony. 

What little remains of the ceremony.   

The soldier – Chan, you recall – informs you the ceremony will now be conducted by proxy.  The king is bedridden today, but the wedding cannot be delayed as he is needed back at court and the return journey is long. 

Chan is polite and respectful.  He does not mention that the marriage cannot be delayed because the king wants money now.  You are certain your betrothed’s condemnation of his otherwise worthless bride was rather more unkind.   

You remember the cold eyes of his courtiers, his even crueler sneer, and you blink back tears.    

“I understand,” you say.  You are practiced at maintaining grace in the greatest adversity.  “Thank you, soldier.” 

Chan wears a pitying expression.  It looks like he wants to say more but he knows his place.  The kingsguard is the strictest order in the kingdom.  Only the most devout are granted the black cloth and silver sword. 

“Your Majesty,” he says with a bow. 

You are not a majesty yet.  You have weddings vows to swear to a stranger first.

Until then, you are just another woman.

-

You made the wedding dress yourself.  You have always enjoyed the craft of needlework, even where certain jobs could be passed along to a seamstress.  Growing up, you spent more hours alongside the working women than at your mother’s table, a behaviour that was indulged until the war. 

You run your fingers along every familiar stitch, tracing the embroidered floral patterns down your forearm.  You always wanted a spring wedding, but it was not meant to be.  You enter the hall with the hot summer sun pouring over the crystal and marble. 

It is an ostentatious ceremony.  Not even the king could afford such a spectacle.  It makes you think he absconded on purpose.  What better way to wrestle back his dignity than to disregard the expensive ceremony?   

The king’s absence is felt more than your presence.  It turns the grandeur of the hall into a theatrical farce.  Courtiers giggle behind their hands, the traditionalists casting you withering looks of disapproval. 

Your own family smiles and you smile weakly back. 

For all their faults, you love your family.  They thought they were doing something good by arranging this marriage.  A small, childish part of you even hoped they were right, but that hope is gone now.  You have resigned yourself to the sad reality of the world.  Life is a dreary wash save what small bits of colour one dares sew into its seams. 

There are flashes of black cloth around the hall.  Chan is not among the present kingsguards as the leader stays close to the king, but a handful of the regiment has been spared to witness the proxy vows.

You recognize a soldier named Hyunjin, standing apart for his beauty as much as position.  Several of the ladies tittered about him last night, lamenting that such a handsome form was sworn to a chaste life. 

You do not recognize the other two.  One is short and stocky.  The other has silver hair and a freckled face, smiling at you from the far corner.  You stare back at him, taking the proffered comfort of that open sweetness. 

You finally reach the front of the hall.  You step onto the dais.  The minister rises and a hush cascades down the congregation. 

You worry your pounding heart can be heard in the highest arches of the hall. 

The first words of the ceremony are a name.  “Han Jisung,” the minister says.  It echoes with a swinging reverberation. “As an ordained soldier of the kingsguard, you have been called upon by His Holy Majesty to stand in proxy for the swearing of the vows.”

Footsteps break the silence, beat by beat.  Someone ascends the dais. 

At first, you do not look at him.  You cast your eyes up to the arches of the great hall, tracing the grandiose architecture.  It carries cultural traces of the borderlands.  The art of this place is home to you, though it draws ire from the courtiers behind you. 

You think that you may never feel so at home again, then you turn and catch the warmth of deep brown eyes.  You see the man who will receive your vows on behalf of the king. 

Your racing heart stumbles over itself. 

Han Jisung.  You recognize this soldier from the banquet last night.   

The strange man stands beside you.  His nails are painted black, stark where he rests his hand on the silver hilt of his sword.  His hair is as black as his midnight robes, his brown eyes darkly lined, but his intimidating shadows are softened by the gentler slopes of his face.  There is a raw and open tenderness, even where he tries to stifle it with appropriate solemnity. 

Your eyes are drawn to his lips and you remember his smile last night.  Jisung strode into the banquet with a sword at his hip and a guitar at his back.  It is not unusual for the kingsguard to have a bard of sorts, someone who can conjure a flattering song at whim, someone who can perform as if the gods speak through his guitar strings. 

Last night, while people danced and drank, you sank further and further into yourself.  You smiled prettily but all the spring blossoms in your heart rotted as the summer sunset turned to a miserable black gloaming.  Torches were lit and the cackling faces on spinning bodies looked like demons in the lamplight.  The king ignored you so everyone else did the same. 

Jisung, armed with a guitar, was enchanting a crowd of courtiers and some local palace residents.  You watched from a distant seat.  You could not help but stare, captivated by this stranger, this combination of soldier and musician and holy man.  His glowing face in the torchlight was a solitary beacon, his smile more intoxicating than the ever-flowing wine.  His laughter rang out like a symphonic chord, travelling the air to touch your ears where you sat alone. 

The man was no one to you, just another stranger in your home, but there such a simple, honest delight to him. 

He just seemed so alive.   

You were not prepared for the moment he met your gaze.  His black robes swished as he jumped, his dark hair bouncing. His eyes seemed to flash gold in the firelight.  He stood on a chair above the crowd and said, “A song for the future queen!” 

He could not know you loved the springtime but that is what he sang.  Perhaps the gods really did speak through his guitar string as he sang of new beginnings and hopeful seasons and cherry blossoms.  You smiled.

It was your first real smile all day. 

He looks at you now, a flicker of something kind in his dark eyes.  You see that twinkle only briefly because he dips into a respectful bow.

You unravel at the sight. 

You imagine truly marrying this man, swearing oaths to him and not some wretched figment he serves.  You imagine the promise of laughter.  You imagine those warm eyes seeking you across the room.  You imagine a song every spring. 

You know it is a fantasy.  This man is a stranger and that version of him is a fabrication.  But your heart breaks because that version of you – the girl who is happy for the rest of her life – is just as much an impossible fantasy. 

Jisung looks up while bowing.  He meets your gaze just as a tear trickles down your cheek.  No one else notices, just like one else noticed you last night.

His eye twitches, his polite smile faltering. 

He sees you.  He straightens slowly.  His brow furrows ever so slightly, his teeth tugging at his lip with thought. 

You jump when he waves, flicking his wrist like he is batting a fly.  The discreet sweep of his thumb across your cheek is so fast, you only know it happened because the tear track dries. 

“In the name of the gods,” the minister speaks, “the ancient and the almighty, we gather here today to unite in matrimony the holiest of subjects.  This couple has been brought together through heaven’s all-knowing divine intervention.”   

You bow your head.  There is nothing else you can do.  You listen to the recitations and make your oaths when prompted.  You swear before gods and men to serve your husband, to obey him, to always be pure and faithful to him. 

“The gods grant you to speak on behalf of the divine blood,” the minister says to Jisung. 

You look at Jisung.  He is already looking at you.  His gaze darts down your dress, across the floral embroidery, and lands at your feet. 

Your breath catches when he slowly gets down on one knee, keeping his head bowed and eyes down.  A gentle murmur disturbs the congregation, but there is no outrage.  The king would not have bowed before the queen, but perhaps the genuflection of a proxy is appropriate. 

“I swear,” Jisung says, his theatrical voice replaced with a gentler rasp that tingles up your spine, “I will honour you as a wife and a queen.  I will revere you as the gods’ chosen consort.”   He looks up, his lashes long and dark, his brown eyes so big and warm.  You think he is so beautiful; it almost makes you sick.  That dizziness worsens when he smiles and says,  “I will be your protector.  Until the day I die, no harm will ever come to you.”   

He stands.  Blessings are made.  The minister pronounces the union has been sanctified by the gods.  The congregation kneels in genuflection, respectful of the rituals even if they don’t like you.   You stand on the dais above them all, maintaining a stoic expression.  

You are a wife and a queen, though your husband is nowhere in sight, and your eyes stray to a head of dark hair, bowed with the rest of them. 

Jisung looks up, a bit of hair falling over his eyes.  He flashes a smile. 

Your heart picks itself up and starts running again. 

-

You cannot do this. 

You thought you could try for the sake of your family.  You thought you could try for the sake of the gods.  You thought you could try for the sake of the kingdom and all the innocent people within it. 

Then the king came to your chamber.  He did not attend the wedding feast, just as he did not attend the ceremony.  It was a fair excuse to make an early departure, returning to your room while the music played and wine flowed.  You were exhausted, emotionally weary, and your face was sore from so many false smiles. 

You discarded your elaborate gown.  You were in a shift, sitting at your vanity and removing jewelry, when the king arrived.  He did not announce himself or knock.  He threw open the door and marched inside like a conquering force.  He looked over your room with a scrunched face of displeasure, grimacing as if he was standing in a barnyard.  He looked at you with the same hateful distaste.     

Your throat closed up as if you inhaled poison.

You stood on shaking legs.  You had practiced a speech for this moment.  You thought perhaps you could convince the king to regard you as a decent friend if not a cherished wife.  You were willing to compromise on happiness. 

He backhanded you without hesitation.  No one had ever hit you so hard.  It felt as though he struck you with hot iron, your cheek a stinging welt.  Bells seemed to drown out the music downstairs.   

“Sire,” you said, your voice shaking worse than your legs. 

You found you could not look at him directly.  Your eyes burned just turning towards him. 

“Get on the bed,” he said.  “Wife.”  He might as well have said whore for all that the word was spat. 

You never expected to enjoy your wedding night.  All women know there is no pleasure in acts of copulation.  But this was something else entirely.  You approached the bed like a deer skirts the edge of the woods.  One wrong step and you knew it would be over. 

He grabbed you from behind before you could sit.  You slammed your eyes shut, curled your fists tighter.

In the darkness, you heard music, a distant voice belting some sweeter tune.  You recognized Jisung, his crystalline voice soaring above the bells. Your heart chased the sound, a desperate stampede up your body.  It seized control and before the king could do more harm, you blurted, “I’ve started my monthly bleeding.”

He stopped, the hem of your shift in his fists.

“Just – just so you know,” you said. 

It was a lie.  You braced yourself for the worst.  If he chose to disregard it, if he chose to take you anyway, he would quickly see there was no blood and you were trying to deceive him.  He had rights as a husband and it was sinful to deny him. 

He made a sound like gagging.  He shoved you forward.  You collapsed in a heap on the bed. 

He walked away. 

“I will not have you on the road,” he said.  You are not sure if he looked at you again because you hid your face in the blankets.  Hiding, as if you could will the world away by not seeing it.  “You’re filthy enough as is,” he continued.  “When we reach civilized society, you will be made as appropriate as you can be.  You will be cleaned, you will lose weight, you will be made to look halfway respectable, not like some borderland animal laying in its own filth. I will have you then without exception.  Wife.” 

You shuddered when the door slammed shut. 

The sun was still setting when he left.  It has long since vanished from the sky.  You have not moved.  You fear if you lift your head, he will be there, waiting to strike. 

After a long, long time, you surface.  Your room is empty.  The lavender light of sunset is gone and there is a darker puddle of moonlight, trickling between the curtains, pouring down your back.  You shiver.  You touch your cheek and find it is still tender. 

You try to pray but you are surrounded by silence.   Even the music has ended. 

In the ringing silence, you stand.  Your body is sore from laying curled up for so long.  It takes some pacing to straighten fully.  Back and forth, across your room.  Back and forth, in the silence. 

I cannot do this, you think.  Back and forth, the same thought, again and again. 

Disobeying the king is unlawful.  Abandoning him when you have sworn an oath is treasonous.  Even the kingsguards are bound to their vows for life.   If a soldier breaks his oath, he is put to death, swift and sure.  The punishment for a disobedient wife is the same. 

The silence is agonizing. 

You know what you have to do.   It will not be easy. 

You have to try for sake of yourself. 

-

The risks are great but you would rather die a swift death than suffer the slow poisoning of contempt. 

Your adrenaline pounds.  You pack all your jewelry in a sack to sell.  You bring some clean clothes.

There are servants clothes in a stack by the unlit fireplace.  You mend their worn garments during the busy seasons.  They are always appreciative and you like helping people. 

You don a pageboy’s garb and tuck your hair into a hat.  The king commented on your build and you grant it gives you away, built with your mother’s curves with a cascade of your father’s curly black hair.  You hide all your prominent features as best you can. You will be more inconspicuous as a roaming servant boy than as a notable queen. 

You tip-toe into the corridor, uncertain if the hallway is guarded.  The palace is usually safe but you are a queen now, so maybe the king sent guards.  Protecting you was in his oath, after all.

Kings are not beholden to their oaths.  The hallway is empty but you are hardly aggrieved.  You seize the opportunity and let your racing heart carry you away. 

Down the hall, down the winding stairs, through the kitchen, past the door.  You slow to a nonchalant canter when passing other servants, making sure to turn your face down and keep to the shadows.  Everyone is either busy, drunk, or tired, so you manage to slip past without notice. 

Once you are alone outside, you break into a run.  You do not leave yourself a moment to think.  If you begin to doubt, you will falter, and this will all be over. 

You are panting and sweating by the time you reach the stables.  You are not exactly in the habit of great exertion.  You take a moment to catch your breath while scanning for guards.  There must be some.  The courtiers have their animals in camps around the palace but the king’s horses are stabled.  The kingsguards have alternated shifts to keep an eye on the king’s property.  

There are no guards to be found.  You approach the stable with cautious steps.  No one appears and you slip into the stables unseen.  There is a lit lamp, swinging as though recently bumped, but there is no one in here.  Just the horses. 

You step to the first stall.  Your heartbeat is erratic and it pounds harder when you find a horse already bridled.  Did they forget to remove the saddle?  This is one of your father’s horses and that is unusual, but you do not question it. 

You lead the horse out of the stall and into the middle of the stable.  You speak gentle nothings to him.  You have not often ridden this horse as he is one of the faster animals, but you will need that speed tonight.   

Perhaps the gods are on your side after all. 

You take hold of the saddle.  You are about to hoist yourself onto the mount when a zing of metal slashes through the silent night.   The tip of a sword touches your shoulder.   

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

You recognize that voice. 

Of all the kingsguards to find you, of course it would be Han Jisung. 

You are so startled  that your adrenaline turns from fire to ice.  You freeze solid. 

“Hey! Little boy!” He lightly jabs you with the sword, just enough to scratch the material of your stolen shirt.  “A kingsguard asked you something.  Answer me!  Now!”

Your hands are still raised when you turn around.  It is a slow, begrudging reveal.  Your eyes are on the hay-spattered stable floor.  You look at his black boots, the silver sheath hanging at his hip.  Up, up, up, your eyes slowly lift. 

You meet his gaze.  His brow is furrowed with frustration but it uncrinkles when he recognizes you.  That irritation is smacked off his face, shock changing his whole disposition.  The sword wobbles and he takes a startled step back. 

“You—” he says.  He looks at you, jaw-slacked, then rubs his eye as if he cannot believe what he is seeing. 

Finally, the sword lowers to his side. His long black robes swish with the movement.  His shock gives way to panic.   

“What are you doing?” he demands, his voice breaking on a harsh whisper.  He swiftly sheaths the sword and takes several determined steps closer to you.  “Are you crazy?  Where are you going?  And what are you wearing?”

“I’m leaving,” you snap back.  The burgeoning panic in your chest begins to putter, making you indignant in your desperation.  “And I’m obviously in disguise.”

“Oh.  A disguise,” he says, utterly dry.  His face is theatrical by nature, brows jumping and eyes widening as he speaks.  “Yeah, no one could recognize you like this.  Except for, oh, I don’t know—”

Audaciously, Jisung snatches the hat off your head.  You yelp, throwing your hands up to grab it, but he pulls it away faster than a blink. 

Your hair tumbles free, curls even messier than before.  You slap your hands over your head, frantically smoothing them down.  Your arms start to shake, all that panic and adrenaline bubbling, needing somewhere to go.  You feel as though you are going to burst, a screaming firework shooting through the roof of this stable. 

“I would have been fine with the hat,” you snap.  “I made it this far.” 

“Only because half this house is drunk,” he replies with equal verve.  “Look at you, your hair, your woman’s face, your – your woman’s body.”  He stumbles over that one, eyes flicking down your form and up again.  He clears his throat and shakes his head.  “You would have been caught immediately.  You were caught immediately.” 

“I’ll be fine,” you say.  “I know my way.”

“There’s no way a girl like you has ever ridden anywhere past your family’s land,” he says.

You are flushed with heat and aggravation.  You want to argue but he is not wrong.  You know the general direction to the nearest town but you have never ridden there on horseback. 

“I know my way,” you say again. 

“Do you?”  He takes a step closer.  “You go north – do you know which trail is overrun with bandits?  And the east – do you know which path to take to avoid the mountain lions?  Or the west – if you go over the border and the men who live in those woods discover you alone—”

“Stop it!”  You throw your hands up over your ears.  All that panicked heat simmers and spills.  It turns to tears. 

You sob.     

He’s right.  You know he’s right.  You let your desperation and your adrenaline carry you this far, but you are not prepared for an arduous journey.  You have a sack of jewels that are a greater liability than asset on dangerous roads.  What would you have done if they were stolen?  What would you have done if someone hurt you?  You have nothing.  No map, no direction, and no hope.

Jisung’s shoulders drop as he watches you cry.  His own passion tempers itself, his frustration cooling in the face of your tears.  He let himself get carried away too, but you don’t blame him.  He is a kingsguard.  He is duty-bound to protect the king and the king’s property, which you are. 

He found you committing treason.  You are lucky he did not hold a sword to your throat and drag you to the king. 

His sword stays sheathed.  He looks at you, expression morose.   

“I’m sorry,” he says in a soft voice.  “You know I can’t let you go.” 

“I know,” you whisper, gasping through your tears. 

If you were not so miserable, you might have laughed at the look on his face.  You are certain this man has encountered many adversaries, but never a sobbing woman.  He would have been happier dealing with a real thief. 

His hand lifts and falls as he wars with himself, evidently debating whether he should touch you or not.  You stand there, sobbing into your hands while he watches helplessly. 

When he does touch you, it is careful.  First, just his fingertips, light on your shoulder, then the slow curving touch of his palm as he gently squeezes.   It is the first kind touch in days and it sends a shiver down your spine.  You look at him, eyes wet with tears, imploring with no words. 

His mouth opens but he doesn’t speak.  A breath stutters past his lips.  Slowly, he takes back his hand, curls his fingers into his palm.   He swallows. 

You stare at each other in the dim lamplight.  You are not sure how long you would have stood there, silent, staring, but you are interrupted before you can find out.  There is a soft knock at the stable door and Jisung jumps as if it was an explosion.  His head whips around, looking between you and the door. 

“Fuck,” he says.  His brows jump and he covers his mouth.  “You didn’t hear that.  Quick.” 

He does not stop to explain.  You have no opportunity to ask questions.  He swiftly ushers you into the empty stall, closing the door behind you.  He races to the stable door to greet whoever is there. 

You hold your breath, hiding in the shadows as someone enters the stable.  Jisung and the intruder speak in hushed tones that you cannot decipher.  You inch closer to the door, peeking through the slats between the wood.    

 It is another kingsguard.  You recognize him as one from the ceremony, the silver-haired one with the face full of freckles, who smiled at you so kindly.  You would recognize such a unique face anywhere, even though he is out of uniform.  For some reason, he is dressed in civilian garb, even though you know the kingsguard is not allowed to wear anything but their black robes. 

“Thank you again,” the silver-haired man says.  You can hear better as they step further inside. 

“Don’t thank me yet, Felix,” Jisung replies.  “I still think you’re crazy, man.”    

“Still,” the man, Felix, replies.  “Not everyone would have helped.  You didn’t have any problems?”

Jisung is adjusting the saddle on the horse.  His eyes briefly lift and meet yours.  You duck further into shadow. 

Jisung sighs and shakes his head.  He tightens the reigns then hands them to Felix.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Jisung says.

Another figure steps into view, one who has been silent this whole time.  You watch as the person draws back their hood, revealing a woman around your age.  By the style of her gown, you can tell she is a courtier from the capital.  She smiles at Jisung. 

“Thank you, Han Jisung,” she says.  “The gods will reward your courageous heart.”

“Ah-ha-ha.”  He giggles nervously, scratching the back of his neck.  “I already have everything I need.  Some of us—”  He casts a withering look at Felix, though his tone is light and teasing, “—can keep our chastity vows.  I don’t need anything more than service.” 

Felix chuckles, holding out his hand to the woman.  She hurries into his arms. 

“If that’s your path, I hope it will make you happy,” Felix says. 

You watch as they help the woman onto the horse.  Felix swings up behind her.  They both pull hoods over their heads. 

Jisung reaches up, offering Felix his hand.  Felix clasps it.

“Brother,” Felix says. 

“Crazy man,” Jisung replies. 

Felix smiles.  They drop hands and Felix takes the reigns.  With an expert click, he marches the horse into a swift canter and rides out the open stable door.  Jisung strides forward to watch them leave, craning his neck to see further. 

Now you know why there were no guards.  Now you know why the horse was prepared.  Felix and Jisung must have been posted as guards and took the opportunity to sneak Felix away.  Felix, who has evidently committed treason, breaking his vow as a kingsguard to literally ride off with a woman.  

You doubt this was a whim.  You wonder how long the trio has been planning this.  If there was ever a time for a guard to steal a horse and sneak away, it would be in the busy chaos of a wedding week.  Like Jisung said, most of the household is drunk.  Others are tired and resting.  A long journey back to the capital begins tomorrow. 

A journey you will have to make. 

You nudge the door open.  Jisung’s shoulders jump, eyes wide as he looks at you, as if he forgot you were there.  He regards you warily as you step forward. 

“So,” you say.  “It’s okay for some people to commit treason.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Jisung answers quickly.  “And Felix can handle himself out there.” 

You have both witnessed the other commit a treasonous act.  You could rat him out to the king, just as he could drag you back and do the same.   Instead, you stare at each other, your gazes measuring.  They meet in the middle. 

“Do you think we understand each other?” he asks. 

He holds out his hand in offering.  You remember his quick but substantial touch at the ceremony, that moment he wiped the tear from your cheek.  For all that darkness circles the periphery of him, there is something warm at the centre of his character.  It compels you to trust him. 

You take his hand. 

“I do,” you say. 

[mmmleckerlecker]

I was reading the questions you've answered, and I'm curious now: you said that the co-existence between preds and prey is very recently. So I was thinking the HP world from years ago, when pred could snatch up whoever prey they wanted... How was the society in that time? How did they live? (Headcanon: prey lived underground?) Did the preds have no qualms in consuming whoever they could find? (prey children/teens or the elderly, for example?)... The harmony was founded by a prey or pred? (1/2)

What was the reason for the preds to make the jump from consuming indiscriminately to the public/private contracted prey? (another headcanon: preykind severely disminishing in numbers?) I find your worldbuilding so enchanting, I'm sorry for the avalanche of questions. You're awesome! (2/2)

AHHHH YES!!! THE QUESTION I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR!!! No need to apologize!!! I have considered making a post about stuff like this for awhile now but I’m always like “do people REALLY wanna hear all that?” But now i have the perfect excuse. Thank you, anon! You’re awesome too!! (WARNING this kinda turned into a chapter length read. So I hope y’all like to read history about fictional worlds.)

Okay so. This is all stuff I’ve sorta kept in my head and have built upon when I’ve had ideas, so sorry if there are some gaps currently haha.

So I imagine preds and prey started trying to “make peace” about five centuries ago but didn’t start living in true “harmony” until about two hundred years ago. And I use the term “harmony” loosely because clearly there’s still a lot of infighting happening. Before that, the preds and prey lived in two entirely separate cultures. The prey lived in larger, more stationary groups while the preds lived in much smaller, more nomadic groups. They also DEFINITELY didn’t speak the same language.

So for preds, the groups they would live in were more like traveling pods that consisted of maybe 1-3 families living/working together. Having groups of preds getting too large was… not sustainable. It would create too much competition for food. So each group would usually give other groups of preds a wide berth. Granted there were definitely still spats for territory, especially if said territory had a good supply of prey available.

Prey, much like in modern times, were never really the preds’ main food source, however. Preds would still hunt and gather like normal. It would usually take some organizing to get a raid together on a prey village (or a pred could just get lucky and stumble across one that wandered off alone). Consuming prey all the time was just too much effort. They weren’t a practical food source nor a completely sustainable one if they were over-predated. Also! Keep in mind, the more a pred consumes, the more their body acclimates to handling such a large meal. It would be better for the preds to consume every once in awhile and have their prey take longer to digest (hence, keeping them fueled longer) than to consume ALL THE TIME and risk addiction. I think consuming would probably become more regular in the cold months too, when it was harder for preds to find other food sources.

As for WHO the preds would consume? Definitely adults would make for the best meals. Children? Well, I imagine prey would be very protective of their children, first of all, making them difficult to obtain. But also they would just make… not as filling meals? Also prey children are mostly the same size as pred children so there might be that little hesitation there on the pred’s end as they’re reminded of their own kind. I guess if the pred is desperate? There’s always gonna be a time and place for special circumstances. As for the elderly… I imagine they also live in places that are harder for preds to get to. I also think if a prey managed to live that long, they would have a trick or two up their sleeve. But like I said, there’s always a possibility for things to happen.

Now for how prey live…. Like I said, they live in larger groups. There is safety in numbers, after all. These groups were basically villages, sometimes even cities where prey could really know their territory and set up defenses against any invading preds. (An underground dwelling is really cool idea tho! I also believe that prey evolved to be able to fold themselves up and be comfortable/feel safe in tight spaces that preds could never reach them in, so prey living in like a cave system might actually work really well!) Like it’s been stated in the story, prey tend to have a lot more children than preds for “just in case.” This could cause their towns to become rather large and populous sometimes.

Prey, also unlike preds, usually tried to keep in contact with neighboring towns/villages/cities. This was one of the key factors for what made it possible for the shift to both sides living in harmony to happen. Since the prey lived in settlements and kept in contact with other prey settlements, it allowed for a certain development of culture as well as the sharing and recording of knowledge that preds… just didn’t have. Prey were able to develop things like farming and running water. They could study math and science and share their knowledge in libraries and schools. They were really on their way to becoming an advanced society, they just had one big (both figurative and literal) problem holding them back. They constantly had preds attacking and killing off their people.

Despite their efforts to fight them off, the prey just weren’t winning. So they decided, if a war against preds wasn’t going to get them anywhere, then why not make peace? The first step for this was the prey learning the preds’ language. This was… dangerous, of course. But it was done enough that the prey were able to open conversation with preds. Just this move alone caused a huge shift between both sides. What are you supposed to do when your food, which for centuries has only babbled nonsense at you before you swallowed it down, suddenly starts speaking to you like an equal? It certainly gave preds pause, but not enough to stop consuming. Not that the prey didn’t expect this. They approached the preds with more than just a common language. Their first big move was offering them food. And not just any food, but GOOD FOOD. Cooked food, decadent food, spiced foods, foods that preds didn’t have the resources (nor the patience) to prepare.

Sharing food took… probably a little more effort than one might expect. Prey and preds view food fundamentally different. To prey, it’s sustenance but also something to enjoy and connect with. To preds, it’s simply something to stop hunger. There was a sort of learning curve for preds to actually learn to ENJOY food for its flavor, but once they got it… OH BOY!!! A door was opened! Because despite LIKING prey food, the preds weren’t always so good at preparing it, so it gave the prey something they could exchange for safety. (This is also something that persists into modern times. Preds are still often stereotyped as not having very refined palates and not being very good at preparing food. This is referenced a little in Heart Pangs itself as well as the one-shot I posted last week!) Once the food trade became established, it opened up relations enough to exchange other things!

The prey shared would they could with the preds in exchange for their own survival. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. Sometimes it SEEMED to work but then the preds turned on them and things went downhill very quickly. But the prey had the advantage of sheer numbers and determination on their side (that and if they didn’t keep pushing they would literally be eaten alive). It took generations of negotiations, but the preds and prey eventually came to a sort of truce, though consuming never stopped entirely.

The preds weren’t stupid, they saw the prey had a lot of good stuff to offer them. At first they took what they needed and went their separate ways, but as they gained more trust from the prey, the preds encroached more and more into their territories until both sides were more or less neighbors. There were some advantages to this. If both sides cooperated enough, they were able to make further advances as civilized societies. But there were also disadvantages… like the fact that the preds were always bigger and the prey were always making sure not to anger them so it became very easy for the preds to take whatever they wanted and leave the prey with less than they deserved.

The prey even began to lose their own language as most of the preds couldn’t be bothered to learn the prey’s language (although a lot of prey terms for food and science stuck around). The preds stopped being the enemy who lived outside the prey’s walls and suddenly became the bully who lived next door. Yes, technically the prey were a little safer than before, but the advantages they once held over the preds were slipping away as the preds claimed more and more of what the prey had until the preds were able to start developing their OWN advantages.

For a long time, the preds and prey operated as two different societies that lived in one space, meaning each group had their own leaders and their own laws. But as things began getting more and more strained between each side (as they tend to do when two natural enemies live side-by-side), the prey (once more) tried to make peace. They made the bold move of reaching out to the pred leaders in an attempt to work together and function as a singular society (although both sides more or less continued to live as two societies, just under the rule of one government). The preds were surprisingly open to this change, which was a relief to the prey… at first. But then it became clear that this was mostly just a power grab for the preds to acquire more status and wealth and power amongst the prey.

Besides the fact that a lot of prey were falling into poverty because of this, the most glaring issue was that the “unification” had made it even easier for a lot of preds to break the peace and consume prey with barely any consequences. This caused a lot of prey to flee and seek out safer, more remote places to live. Eventually it got to the point where the prey leaders threatened to break away from pred society completely. The preds didn’t like this, though, as they’d gotten very used to having prey within easy reach. They also knew that losing half the people in their society would cause a lot of problems in terms of keeping everything running smoothly. However, the preds very much did not want to give up consuming entirely. It was in their nature after all, they argued.

So after A LOT of negotiations, both sides came to a compromise. The preds would actually start enforcing consuming as something illegal UNLESS the prey being consumed had agreed to it beforehand. Obviously the prey leaders couldn’t see any prey ever AGREEING to being consumed, so they settled on the compromise thinking that was the end of it. This was the true beginning of the “harmony” between preds and prey, but of course, the preds always have something up their sleeves.

Rich preds began offering up money and food and shelter to all those desperate prey in poverty. Those prey could get everything they could ever want for, the only payment was their lives ending in said pred’s gut (after a specified amount of time). These ventures started slow, but once they started to catch on, BOY DID THEY CATCH ON. The desperate prey began hearing about certain preds who were practically giving away wealth, all it took was a signature written in (figurative) blood. Meanwhile preds began hearing about other preds who had found a loophole in the consuming law and wanted in on the action. Like any good entrepreneur, the preds turned their contracts into a business and started selling them to other preds.

The prey leaders, of course, despised this, but what could they do? It all aligned with the compromise they had made. The only thing they could do was stand by and help come up with regulations for this new practice. So they did. Over the decades, the contracting businesses grew to what they are today (large corporate monsters… although the smaller, more private contracts still exist) as well as became the core to keeping the peace. Even the government itself offers contracting services now.

Society has shifted considerably in the years since harmony was reached. The two sides have mostly learned to live with each other. Prey have fought viciously to be treated as equals while a lot of preds go their whole lives without consuming (particularly fatally) even once. And, as you know, the development of neutralizers allowed preds to experience consuming without having to hurt anyone. A lot of progress has been made, but a lot of progress still needs to happen.

And I think that pretty much catches us up to the setting of Heart Pangs (whew)! I keep thinking it would be really cool to write a story that takes places in an earlier time period to further explore how different the relations between preds and prey would be, but I have yet to come up with a plot haha. Maybe someday. I’m sure an idea will come to me at a proper time. Anydays, thank you for your interest! It was really nice to be able to (finally) type all this up somewhere!!

[alovelyburn]

i swear you and bthump are the best people to go to when to comes to berserk stuff

you guys just have such a great grasp on the story and really expose the ridiculousness of the western fanbase

The sad thing is, I can't even be proud of that because 90% of it is literally just reading the story (and interviews) without jumping through 15 hoops trying to explain to myself that everything characters (or Miura) said or did means the opposite of what they said or did.

Being in Western Berserk fandom is wild, it's like.....

Griffith: When I think about the dream and Guts, he is definitely more appealing. In fact he just made me forget my dream completely. Fans: He's saying that Guts is only a tool to him and he's only important because he's the best way to the dream.

Griffith: Do you think responding to royalty repeatedly trying to murder me by killing them first makes me a horrible person? Guts: LOL what, who even cares about murder, it's fine, you're fine, what a silly question honestly. Fans: Look at that fucking asshole Griffith what a sociopath. Poor Guts is such a kind-hearted gentleman.

Casca: WTF Griffith you let him do whatever he wants and don't even punish him when he does crazy things Fans: Griffith's so abusive to Guts.

Griffith: loses the most important person to him - eclipse doesn't trigger. falls into a deep depression - eclipse doesn't trigger. massively self-destructs - eclipse doesn't trigger. has a post-sex mental breakdown - eclipse doesn't trigger gets tortured for a year to the point where his body barely functions and his tongue is being used as a torturer's necklace - eclipse doesn't trigger. gets treated like a pile of baggage and a burden by the people he literally prostituted himself to support - eclipse doesn't trigger. overhears that the most important person to him is leaving AGAIN - freaks out, but eclipse doesn't trigger. hallucinates a nightmare of being a doll kept as a pseudo husband by the subordinate who always had a crush on him - eclipse doesn't trigger literally tries to kill himself - eclipse still doesn't trigger confronted by his completely hopeless feelings about a guy who keeps abandoning him - eclipse triggers, offered a sacrifice, just kinda sits there has his mind invaded by demon lords who use every doubt, insecurity, guilt pang and self-hating thought he ever had against him - still doesn't accept the sacrifice. reminded that if he stops he's wasted all the lives that he's been living to justify accidentally ending - bursts into tears, falls to his knees and repeatedly apologizes but still doesnt' accept the sacrifice has the specific words of the one person he loves most used against him by making it sound like that person would approve of him accepting the sacrifice - cracks but still hesitates told that the sacrifices will forgive him since that's what they're there for anyway - accepts the sacrifice Fans: He literally doesnt care, he would have said yes ANY TIME, like if the Godhand waltzed up to him when he was literally sitting on the throne, he would've been like, FUCK YEAH GIMME THE POWER, KILL EVERYONE! because only cares about himself and power.

The Actual Worldbuilding: Sacrifices only work if you love the sacrifice so much that losing them is like losing a piece of yourself. Fans: Obviously you don't need to care about people to sacrifice them because Griffith sacrificed the Hawks, who he didn't care about.

M E A N W H I L E

Guts: Ignores the eclipse as it butchers his friends in order to repeatedly try to save Griffith. Then jumps down and wanders around trying to save literally anyone. Fans (AND THE DARK HORSE SYNOPSES): Guts' primary concern during the Eclipse was saving Casca, he made a beeline for her like, tunnel vision whoa.

S O M E T I M E L A T E R

Guts' subconscious: Why don't you just abandon her? Better yet, rape and murder her so you can be more like Griffith and be closer to him and twirl yourself around him like a vine. Guts: [LITERALLY SEXUALLY ASSAULTS HER WHILE FANTASIZING ABOUT MURDERING HER SO HE CAN BE CLOSER TO GRIFFITH] Fans: Guts loves Casca more than anything in the world, shes all he cares about.

Guts: When I see him I'll ....... Puck: Man, when Guts thinks about this Hawk guy, he gets so mad, but also his feelings are super complicated. Guts: When I saw Griffith there, I totally lost my desire to kill him. Also Guts: What do you mean you don't feel anything, come on feel something [poke poke poke] Hey wait where are you going?! Guts: This sucks just as much as when I left the Hawks, except this time I'm the one getting dumped. :/ Also Guts: Anyway I should drop Casca on Elfhelm and then find Griffith and......................... Berserk Guidebook: Guts' feelings about Griffith include bitter hatred and an unending stream of other complicated feelings. Also Guts: Anyway so, when I see him I'll ....... Fans: Guts just hates Griffith so much and nothing else. It's just hate. He wants Griffith dead so much like its even more extreme than the normal wanting someone dead. SO much deathlust, and NOTHING ELSE.

Guts: /swings at Griffith and misses Casca: /gets kidnapped Guts: I couldn't hit him even a little, and my sword let me down, I have nothing to believe in or strive for anymore. Fans: Look at him he's so broken up about Casca.

I literally feel like I'm in fucking bizarro land when I read your average western berserk fan's commentary it is WILD.

[jaydick-week]

Owl Me Once You Graduate by @mlim8

Rec’d by @nerd-by-definition​ and dreamrecurrentdreams

Mel is a genius with such beautiful art, but this comic in particular truly blew me away with the detailed worldbuilding and hard work it must’ve taken to mix DC & HP so intricately (including multiple beloved cameos) meaning there’s always something new to discover and obsess over. Not to mention the absolutely adorable “rivalry” turned flirting between the boys.

26 pages of Mel's art is a gift and a treasure, especially a 26 page comic of magic in the form of beautiful art and storytelling. Readers will experience heart pangs and palpitations alike at Dick getting to know Jason under the candlelight and Invisible Cloak.

[natalieironside]

I have recently acquired both TLGS and Hunger Pangs, and just finished my previous book. Which one should I read first?

Well, I'm probably biased

Depends on what you're in the mood for. They are very, very different books. Read mine if you're in the mood for a swashbuckling trauma ballad that'll rip your heart to pieces and then sew it back together. Read Joy's if you're in the mood for the joyous queer romance, fantastical worldbuilding, and cool draculas but would rather not slog through the deepest pits of human misery in between the beginning and the happy ending.

I guess what I'm trying to say is Hunger Pangs is more of a body high while The Last Girl Scout is more of a head high.

[duelbell-fr]

Hello and welcome to “Dorian finally shows off the dragons he’s spent all the money he got selling his l25 dressing up” part 1, featuring the bosses of each major location in my Lore{not counting the leader I don’t have yet rip}!

My clan is a city known as Sinner’s Bane, a place where creatures of all kinds are encouraged to indulge in their every vice! In order, we have-

Johnny, the “king” of Sinner’s Bane and the leader of the Shining Hellfire Troupe, a theatre troupe taking roost in a theatre named for them known for their proud attitudes and their incredible performances. Even such details as the set and lighting work are noted by its audience as so great it inspires them to see past their own flaws! {Johnny uses he/him}

NEONDEVIL, the owner of a key part of the nightlife known as Dreamscape Nightclub. The music NEONDEVIL plays there is soothing and hypnotic as much as it is entertaining to listen to, and they employ magic to ensure that even when the patrons succumb to the music and fall asleep, they can dance even in their dreams. {NEONDEVIL uses they/them}

Hephaestus, the Champion of Crackskull Coliseum. Crackskull is an arena built to house professional fights between dragons, with magic designed to prevent its fighters from dying no matter the blows taken. Bets are taken on matches, yes, but to most of the fun is in watching the combatants tear each other to pieces. The “leader” is chosen by the fighter with the least losses, and Hephaestus is unmatched in that regard. {Hephaestus uses he/him}

Bettigan is the bastardly boss of the Silverthorn Casino! The casino is known in equal measure for its fabulous prizes and the dashing dealers who draw in just as many customers as the promise of riches itself. The Casino also functions as a mall- you can buy ancient treasures or genuine statuework or practically anything, and you can bet practically anything on the actual tables or races there- including your soul~! {Bettigan uses he/him}

Showstopper is the ringleader of Nonpareil Carnivale! It’s a circus- its performers are all stunning in ways that draw out the audience’s envy- doing things only just out of reach that nevertheless leave a baleful pang in its patrons’ hearts- not that that stops them from drawing a crowd...

{Showstopper uses he/him!}

Truffles and Rot, the husband and wife co-owners and head chefs of the Diner of Delights! You can indulge in any delicacy you like here, not just of the edible variety! Excellent fashion, the finest desserts, and the softest sheets all await you- though it’s said that unruly patrons are used to feed the patrons with more unusual palates....

{Truffles uses he/him, Rot uses she/her}

Narcissus Lounge s the only place that doesn’t have a set person running it yet{and rest assured once it does, it’ll be one of the workers acting as the sort of “head of council” for the workers there as a whole and not... you know, the thing people USUALLY do with this sort of thing}. It’s a lounge with a bar and lovely music playing, but the servers and the dancers there are all renowned not for their looks alone, but for their talents both in theatricality and... the more salacious end of their job. Any unruly patrons will be quickly shown the door, and while the job of inspiring lust seems to be simple on the outside, the staff take attentive care to ensure they do it better than anywhere else in Sorineth

...man the Lounge will be tough to worldbuild for huh

rip me

[soft-stormcloud]

My name is Patton, and I’m your Guardian Angel [Guardian Angel AU]

    Synopsis: Virgil tries to kill himself, but his Guardian Angel stops him. 

    Trigger warnings: Suicide attempt (not successful), crying, depression, pills, vomiting, 

    A/N: Really weird worldbuilding idk. This was supposed to be a high school type au but I’ve been listening to people playing DND so it’s a really weird mix between modern and fantasy. Wtv.

    Virgil came in through the front door, making sure to slam it loud enough for it to echo through the entire house. 

    He had skipped his last class and turned his phone off, not to do anything particular, but to walk around town. He wandered through the shopping district, stopping at a bakery to pick up a cupcake, and drifted to a park with a duck pond near the gates. He was half paranoid that the guards would see him on their break and send him back to school, but no one paid him any mind. He just sat and ate his cupcake and watched the ducks and the sunset. 

    He had turned his phone back on on the way home and it buzzed with three messages, all from the same person. 

    Did you get detention? 

    I’ll wait here another ten minutes before going home. I’m not waiting for all the sports’ practices to get out just to find out you left without me again. 

    I’m coming over later. Don’t do anything stupid. 

    He couldn’t help the sharp pang of disappointment. He knew it was stupid, and it was childish, but he just wanted to see if anyone would notice he was gone. Adam did, but that wasn’t really a surprise. They weren’t who Virgil was hoping to hear from. 

    At the sound of the door slamming, another one swung open down the hall. Remus’s little feet slapped against the tile and, before Virgil could blink, he had an arm-full of his little brother. 

    “Where were you?!” He whined, grabbing fist-fulls of Virgil’s hair and shaking a bit.

    “Ow, Remus, stop,” Virgil mumbled, settling him against his hip. 

    Roman came into the foyer, clutching his script. “Remus! Don’t be so loud, you know your dad just laid down.” 

    Remus pouted. 

    Roman frowned. “Virgil, did you just get home?”

    Virgil’s heart rate picked up. He nodded. 

    His eyes widened. “Where were you? Has Remus eaten? Remus, did you eat? How did you get home?” 

    Remus shook his head. “Nuh-uh. I walked!” 

    Roman pressed his hand to his heart. “You walked? All the way from school? Virgil, what’s the matter with you?” He tucked his script in his waistband and went over to them, cradling both of their heads in each of his hands. “I’ve never known you to be so irresponsible. What’s going on?” 

    He shook his head and looked away. “Nothing. Sorry, I’ll make him dinner.” 

    Roman kissed Virgil’s cheek, and Remus giggled when Roman kissed his nose. “Just be quiet. Logan’s taking a nap in the living room. I’ll be in our room if you need me.” 

    The resentment-mixed-shame built up in Virgil’s stomach as he made Remus dinner. While he was cooking the grilled cheese, he slipped on some water and reached out for anything to grab to steady himself- Like the hot pan. He prepared himself for the seering burn with a small cry, only for his hand to be pushed away and his body to be righted. 

“Vergie?” Remus asked with a frown. “Are you okay?”

Virgil caught his breath, breathing heavily. He was confused, but he tried not to think about it. “I’m fine.” He sat Remus’s food down in front of him and went to his room. 

    His phone buzzed as he sat on his bed. 

    Adam: I’ll be late. Don’t ask. Should I bring my camera? 

    Virgil: no 

    He flopped back on his bed, the wrinkled purple sheets a comforting, if albeit boring familiarity under him. His room was always very dark. When he was little, he had insisted, day in and day out, that he wanted to paint his walls black. He wanted it to resemble a cave, and he wanted to sleep upside down like a bat. Roman and Logan told him that he couldn’t do that, because if he painted it black he could never paint it any other colour, and that if they ended up wanting to sell the house, that would make it much more difficult. Virgil didn’t care. He insisted. 

    Finally, Logan did it out of spite. He bought all the paint and a bar you used for pull-ups and before he did anything, he asked Virgil if he was sure. Virgil was. So they painted his walls black together, and Virgil got it all over himself, and Roman nearly lost his mind when he got home but his parents were indestructible and Virgil had never seen them fight about anything serious. After his bedtime story, they both sat down and watched Virgil hang upside down on the bar for all of thirty seconds before he decided the black walls were enough and he wanted to sleep normally. 

    He now kept faerie lights to keep his room as light as he could, as many as he could find, all over his walls, purple and blue and yellow and green. There were ripped posters from bands he didn’t listen to anymore and photographs of him, his parents, Remus, and even a few of Adam, the short time they’ve known each other. By the only window, he had pushed his ferrets’ cage up against it so they got sunlight. 

    And as much as he loved it, he didn’t think he could bear to look at it any longer. 

    He reached between the wall and his bed and pulled out a bottle of pills he had taken from the medicine cabinet in his parents’ bathroom. 

    He had always thought he would be crying when he did this, but in truth, he dried himself out at the duck pond. He didn’t feel too much of anything, just a slowly increasing heart rate and some sweaty palms. It was like his anxiety was trying to poke through, but it was buried under wrapping muscle and bones and blood. It was all… Muffled. 

    He felt kind of sick after he took all of them, but that could be because of the overwhelming, chalky taste in his mouth. He grabbed the old Mountain Dew off his bedside table and downed the rest of it. 

    Then he went to sleep. 

    xxx 

    There were flashes of white, soft, soothing white, and he was floating. It was nice, until he threw up all over the carpet. 

    “Dangit,” someone whispered in his ear. He couldn’t recognize the voice, but he wasn’t scared. “Come on, a little further.” 

    Virgil collapsed against the toilet and dry heaved, ripping a sob from his throat. It felt like his body was trying to turn itself inside out, it was horrible. He had taken the Atarax to skip this part, sleep through it, but now it was like he was in a dream, the bathroom lights blurred and his skin tingling.

    “Sorry about this,” the voice whispered before something was shoved down his throat. 

    It disappeared, and he threw up again. He coughed and gagged, smacking the base of the toilet a few times. An eternity later, he slumped back against the wall, gasping for breath. 

    “Oh, it’s not working…” They sounded panicked. “Nng, they told me not to do this… Oh, well.” 

    Suddenly, Virgil’s throat was cleared, and his stomach was empty. He sucked in a deep breath, blinking away the tears. 

    “What…” His voice came out a horrible, ugly rasp. 

    “Oh, no, don’t do that! You’ll hurt yourself. Here…” 

    A glass of water was forced into his hands. He didn’t question it, just chugged the whole thing. When he finally got his vision back, he came face to face with a boy around his age in a blue cloth dress, perched on his sink. 

    “We should get you to bed,” the boy said. “You need to rest after all this.” 

    Virgil blinked. “Who are you?” 

    “Oh, introductions already?” He giggled nervously. Comically small, pastel blue feathered wings sprouted from his back and carried him gently to the ground. He grabbed Virgil’s arm and helped him to his feet. “I’m Patton. And I’m… Well, that doesn’t really matter right now. Gosh, I can see now why we aren’t supposed to do this…” He settled Virgil on the bed and pulled the covers over him. “Oh, wow, I love your room…” He giggled. “Purple was my best friend’s favourite colour.” His voice trailed off into a murmur as he wandered around, his wings fluttering as he looked at photos and trinkets. “Well, his and about fifty others in my class… Anyway, it’s a good colour. Strong.” 

    The Atarax was pulling him in again, but… He had to know. 

    “I need to know who you are,” he slurred. 

    “Oh, you really don’t-”

    “Now!” 

    Patton tensed up, and then sighed with a subdued smile. “Very well. Virgil Sanders-Rios?” Virgil nodded slowly. “My name is Patton, and I’m your Guardian Angel. But I’m new, so go easy on me!” 

    Part of him believed this was some Atarax-induced dream- He’s hallucinated before when he took too much. It’s never been this… Detailed, though. 

    “Huh?” 

    “I’ve been assigned to you for your lifetime to keep you safe. You trying to kill yourself isn’t quite something I’m allowed to let you do, so… Rest up! You’ll feel better in the morning.” 

    Virgil stared at him. He was asian, with a light brown pixie cut, peach-toned skin, and round, hooded blue eyes. Other than the ridiculous wings, he didn’t look like an angel. He just looked… Normal. Part of him wondered if the wings were pinned on, but no, he could tell they were real. They breathed with him, fluttered occasionally, and when Patton had bent over to look at the stack of books under his desk, they stretched like muscle. 

    The only thing he could possibly get out was an astounding, “But you’re… My age.”

    Patton giggled and shook his head. “Unless you’re 315, I don’t think so.” 

    Virgil stared at him. And then he rolled over, pulled the covers up to his ear, and said, “I’m going to bed.” 

    There was no answer. When Virgil looked over again, a few hours later and in between dreams, Patton was gone.

Tagging everyone who reblogged the intro post, lmk if you want on or off the tag list:

@larry-angels @themysticfae26 @comicsimpson @anxietea-and-insanitea @nonasidesstuff @coffeewithhaiku @arri-aspects @sanders-sister @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @anxiousmess82161 @iamthenewqueenofgames @ninjagirl9797 @luna--28 @a-deceit-salad @plunksaysnope @lovesupportandcookies @normallyaspen

[rentfreecat]

Final Fantasy and Kingdom Hearts Fanfic Recs

so yeah I figured I should get around to making a list of some of my faves to promote them, I’ve got a big enough collection of bookmarks now. in no particular order. not all of them are necessarily complete or alive

Final Fantasy VII

The Gold Saucer’s Golden Arches by belderiver

Before he doomed the world to ash and ruin, Sephiroth wanted a burger.

note: Sephiroth + sudden hunger pang = mcgold

Meetings by Yinza

Aeris reflects on her few encounters with Sephiroth over the years since her escape from the lab.

note: Aerith having known Sephiroth before is just one of my favorite headcanons

lather, rinse, repeat by annperkinsface

She knows she shouldn't confuse this act of kindness for anything else, but it's hard, when Aerith is draping a towel over her shoulders, when Aerith is warm at her back, humming as she works a thick lather across her hands.

note: adorable Aerti. Aerith being a weirdo. Tifa blushing and being kinda horny. perfect. in case you couldn’t tell I ship it.

In Circles by Larissa

Tifa hates Midgar, and yet she stays, and she stays, and she stays.

Character study/pre-game gap-filler. Written for the Tifa Zine.

note: beautiful mood piece

the nodding golden tansy by Kieron_ODuibhir

“You think this troubles me?”

“Yes,” said Cloud, without looking up from his tea.

note: one of my fave takes on Seph and Cloud’s relationship. wonderfully quiet and melancholy.

not one before another by Kieron_ODuibhir

1) Sephiroth almost corrected the first person who called Aerith his sister, a woman they’d met before they were even out of Midgar’s slums complimenting him on taking such good care of her, while their mother shopped.

2) The other half of Project S took after their father.

3) Blue eyes contemplated him narrowly for several seconds, and then Genesis’ smirk came back, lying on his face more easily, somehow. “So brothers-in-arms to the skirmish shall we hence?”

4) It felt wrong to be relying on anybody but Mother, but Mother…only cared about Sephiroth, and it wasn’t fair. Loz sniffled. “Will she take care of Yazoo, too?”

5) “I’m glad he’ll have a big brother,” she said, as Sephiroth crossed the room. “Little ones always need someone looking out for them.”

Sephiroth nodded, and bent forward, and peered at the squashed little pink thing until it stirred, objecting probably to cool air on its face. “What’s his name?”

“Cloud."

(Five times in five worlds where Sephiroth was somebody's brother, and one where he wasn't anymore.)

note: exactly what it sounds like. personal fave is 4.

Angels Still Have Faces by Kieron_ODuibhir

On the fourth day, Sephiroth looked out a window and spotted his two friends together on one of the outdoor training fields, once again exchanging harsh words, only for Angeal to wheel around and storm off at the end.

note: fics where someone other than the main character time-travels are amazing and this is that and also outsider pov mother bear Sephiroth who doesn’t know what pizza is

Final Fantasy IX

puppet play by zalzaires

starting a drabble collection for ffix. i mostly just write about kuja so hence the name.

note: my personal fave is "curtains, bookends, stars of the show” because Kuja is such so... Kuja in there

Final Fantasy XV

ffucc the wedding by Givethemtriumphnow

Gift for Victortor, inspired by their fabulous ffucc Universe.

Noctis and Luna are the same person, one soul split into two bodies.

In a world where everyone lives and nothing hurts, the wedding is still a symbol of the peace, and the show must go on. Noct and Luna just can’t wait for what comes afterwards: the Big Reveal.

note: I just really like the one person two body trope okay? pretty entertaining read!

Poor Wayfaring Stranger by lithos_saeculum

Out on a mission, Cor Leonis finds a teenager, lost and sick and partway to becoming an MT. Against the advice of all and sundry, he brings him back to Insomnia. There's not a lot of love lost for MTs in the Citadel, but some of its inhabitants may still be young enough to put aside their prejudices.

note: also on my list of likes is MT Prompto trope, and honestly fuck canon that’s just there for inspiration. TW for implied pedophilia and stranger danger in one of the later chapters.

Will You Be There, Standing at the End of the War by Adel Mortescryche (Mortescryche)

When they're attacked by the Imperial Forces at Tenebrae, Regis wasn't prepared to be rescued alongside Noctis, Lunafreya and Ravus by the Commanding General of the enemy forces. Not after the man already cut Sylva down before them.

He was even less prepared for the face lying in wait behind the mask.

He dropped down to one knee, and rather pointedly cupped the left side of Drautos’ head, delicate, making no move to actually hide the fury raging through him.

“Talk, Titus.” Regis whispered. “Before I take this airship down from the sky.”

note: Drautos time-travels and is an absolute bastard. I like seeing his and Regis’s exchanges!

For Want of a Flan by magicgenetek

For want of some patience, Ifrit never freed Ardyn from Angelgard to rebel against the Astrals.

For want of Ardyn, Nifleheim never invented MT Troopers.

For want of MT Troopers, Lunafreya and Ravus were able to escape with Regis, and Nifleheim never cornered Lucis in their war.

For want of a kidnapping, Luna, Noctis and Prompto were able to work together to get ready for the prophecy, and Ravus is ready to suplex an Astral to make sure someone survives the prophecy.

For want of separation, the four of them go to Angelgard to figure out what secrets lay there, and accidentally adopt Ardyn into their plans to save the world.

For want of 2000 years’ prep time, Ardyn’s going to have to get up to speed on the modern world fast if he wants revenge or to fulfill his half of the prophecy.

note: has a good deal of worldbuilding and linguistics nerdery. I like that. I also like the recovery element of Ardyn’s arc.

A Little More Time by Asidian

The sun is brilliant overhead – set in a blue sky dotted with clouds that float like wisps of spun sugar through the high arc of the heavens.

It's more than lovely. It's entrancing, and Noctis takes one long, final look before he turns his gaze back earthward. His vision dances with sunspots for a moment, afterimages from the blinding light – but when it clears, Noctis sees a small black dog there, patient and watchful as always.

Umbra has been waiting.

"Alright," Noctis says. "We're ready to go back."

note: short, punchy, and absolutely chilling

Eschaton by nirejseki

Sure, it's the end of the world, but that just means someone's got to fix it.

And then the world found its somebodies.

(aka, with Noctis gone into the Crystal and no one sure when he'll be back, Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto end up saving the world one piece at a time)

note: I like worldbuilding and MTs alright? and schoolteacher Gladio will never not be funny/great

Astra Inclinant by thekindmagic

“Look,” Aranea laughs, shaking her head. “I’m not trying to shit on your destiny. But the way I see it? A lot of the time, there’s no big mystery. You either keep going, or you don’t.”

note: how could I not rec femslash? beautiful melancholy mood. I’m so sad for Luna

Starlight and Shadow by ohmyfae

While Noctis and his friends are setting up camp, Ardyn Izunia happens to accidentally stumble onto the runes of their haven. The magic of the haven pulls him into two halves; One is Ardyn, a small child with a bit of an ego and a limited knowledge of the world at large, and the other is the Scourge, shambling and groundless, determined to seek out its former host and consume the light it finds there.

note: fun read!

On the Care and Keeping of Prompto by ohmyfae

Congratulations! You have been chosen to ensure the well-being of PROMPTO, who is: 1. An absolute darling. 2. Of more intrinsic value than you, your significant other, your ancestors, and the world at large. 3. Two years and four months old 3a. This is very important to remember 4. Behind you.

note: also a very fun and fluffy read! also the fic that introduced me to the amazing crackship of Ardyn and Cor, and I say crackship but... I want more of it

Kingdom Hearts

The Price of Melodrama by LawnNinja

Xemnas never imagined that one of the hardest parts of his plan would be the stupid names.

note: deny it all you wish but you know this happened. also XULORD

(i don’t need you to) Worry for Me by Cygna_hime

In a fit of defiance and desperation, Vanitas disobeys his Master's orders and goes looking for the missing half of his heart. He finds it, and something else as well, something he never expected to find anywhere...

note: I absolutely love this I’ve read this like... 3 or 4 times? go read it now

Bleeding Heart by keelahselai

Xemnas was fundamentally a bad person. Born from the fracture of Xehanort's heart, he had only caused pain to those he banded together with under the promise of finding a way to return all their hearts. He shattered the Organization he'd founded for his own gain, and he understood this with cool indifference. But beneath everything, carefully kept folded away and hidden from Xigbar's prying eye, he was also made from the other inhabitant of Apprentice Xehanort's body. And as troubling as it could be to their plan, he kept it hidden from all.

(Or, how Terra managed to keep his head above the water for thirteen years)

note: I absolutely love the.. I don’t know what it’s called, but let’s say Terramas even though that sounds like a ship name... I absolutely love that trope. this one has such just a great mood y’know?

By Choice or Chance by Six_Piece_Chicken_McNobody

Lazy afternoons are a universal phenomenon.

note: I just love Xehaqus’s tragedy. this is nice, fluffy, and one of them is going to murder the other in his own selfish lust for power. (I know III said Xehanort had other motivations but I just love the “he’s such an utter bastard that all his relationships are going to end disastrously” interpretation)

Whatever Will Be by NanakiBH

Once I tell you the words I've been unable to say, it will be goodbye.

note: more explicitly melancholy mood than last one, still great.

[b12gummies]

Seige and Storm

I started reading the Grishaverse series recently! I was going to post a lengthy review on Shadow and Bone but I decided against it because it was mostly complaining (i’m sorry). Nonetheless, I rated the first book a solid 2.5/5 stars for a multitude of reasons but mainly the worldbuilding, Alina and Mal being annoying, and I found it kinda boring. BUT I just finished Seige and Storm and I found it to be soooooo much more enjoyable than the first book. So here’s a brief review (SPOILERS):

Rating: 4/5 stars enjoyment // 3.5/5 stars quality

What I LOVED:

- Alina’s character development; she irritated me considerably less in this book. I genuinely enjoy the fact that she has started to stray away from whining about being powerful to embracing it, even if it she’s embracing it a bit ~too~ much. The potential for her to become an anti-hero is my cup of tea and though I don’t have hopes of it happening, her internal struggle with her own power and the lure of the Darkling are very compelling to me.

- NIKOLAI. That’s all, I love him and every time he opens his mouth I laugh. (or my heart pangs a little, depends)

- The politics and strategizing. I found it to be more compelling than the angst and action in Shadow and Bone. This book had a much better balance of both. Even if every scene with Mal made me want to punch a whole in my wall

- The last 3 chapters, WHOOOOOOOO I was feeling a lot of emotions.

What I hated (not quality-of-story related):

- MAL oh my god Mal drives me insane. He is so whiny and selfish and annoying. There is nothing in me that feels bad for him. I didn’t like the way him and Alina became lovers (I think he’s a prick) and I definitely can’t stand him in this book LOOOORD like cry me a river. If he dies, I won’t even care for him. I’ll maybe care for Alina but not for him I literally cannot stand him OOOOOOOH he makes me so angry. If the author’s goal was to make him so insufferable, than she Very Much Succeeded and that alone deserves applause.

- Genya. I love Genya and despite how little she is shown, she’s one of my favorite characters. When it was revealed what the Darkling did to her, my heart shattered into pieces. I LOVE HER UGGHHHHHH I’m so heartbroken. I think her and Alina should kiss.

Overall thoughts

Despite the fact that I feel like this series isn’t extraordinary in comparison to the rest of YA Fantasy, I enjoyed this book sooo much more than the first. I don’t love the writing, but there are moments that are good enough to distract me from the bad parts. I think I’ve just reached a point in my life where I’m tired of reading about the orphaned-and-ugly-yet-all-powerful-protagonist and their whiny-normal-love-interest/brooding-alluring-mysterious-second-love-interest love triangle. SO, this book was better than the first in the way that this dynamic didn’t take up so much of the plot. I’m enjoying Alina’s internal struggles with her own power and the last three or four chapters had me on the edge of my seat. Also, Nikolai VERY MUCH contributed to the story for me. I LOVE HIM. If Alina doesn’t (consentually) kiss either Genya or Nikolai, I’ll kiss BOTH of them myself. 

[exilevilifyrp]

Congratulations JJ, you have been accepted for the role of ROBYN KANE with the face claim CHLOE BENNET! This was an incredibly difficult decision for us, but JJ, the tone of your Robyn is what ultimately won us over. It is so perfect to what we had in mind when we wrote her. And not to mention the details of worldbuilding and of Robyn’s life poured throughout--do I dare say your application is perfect? Congratulations! We are so happy to have you. 

Make sure to check out our checklist and send us your blog within 24 hours!

THE AUTHOR BASIC INFO: JJ, 21, they/them/theirs

IN CHARACTER CHARACTER YOU’RE APPLYING FOR: Robyn Kane AGE AND GENDER IDENTIFICATION: 27, intersex + female identifying, she/her/hers GENESIS: Organic SPECIAL SKILLS: Cleaning, Climbing, Parkour, Spatial Memory & Analysis. FACE CLAIM: Chloe Bennet, Karen Fukuhara, Stella Maeve

IN DEPTH

ANALYSIS: I think rose-colored and strong of heart define Robyn best!

STRENGTHS:

COURAGEOUS: No person is fearless, as much as everyone would like to be. In general, Robyn demonstrates less aversion to physical threats than the average person, though this change wasn’t made overnight. What differentiates her from most is her drive to work and overcome - another meter, another dive into the deep. If doing the right thing means jumping headfirst into something that terrifies her, she’s likely to steel herself down and move forward. Her heart had always been stronger than the forces that palpitate it, and willpower alone often allows her to stay upright.

HARD-WORKING: Bruised hands, aching legs, and rows of sparkling fifty-floor buildings always meant Robyn could go home with her chin held high. Slacking Wash Captains were met with veiled slights and ignored words in conversation, and she, as was customary for her line work, earned her seat at happy hour by shadowing superiors and helping greener kids finish their tasks without pay. Working the tough grind was always the baseline of expectation, and that’s why much of Robyn’s satisfaction stems from going above and beyond tasks, taking additional responsibility, and finding ways to make herself useful - often without being asked. She prides herself on her aptitude and ability to endure.

EMPATHETIC: Care is a landscape that, while confusing to Robyn, has always been navigated without force. Comfort comes in hand squeezed and consistent, reliable company, but sometimes she gets so overwhelmed by her fondness for others she’s left wildly distraught. In these instances, she’s often compelled to gift miscellaneous pieces of garbage - chalk…candy wrappers…useless items she compulsively passes or leaves outside someone’s door with “from Robyn” scribbled next to them. She’s not sure exactly where this habit stems from, but it’s her way of saying, “oh, you, you you! I’m so, so happy you inhabit this planet too!”

STRONG OF HEART: No matter how many times hardship strikes, Robyn always finds a way to spring back. Her heart, as with most people’s, changes shape with every rough occurrence, but she loves fearlessly and endlessly despite pain. Her hope can spring back after anything, and is characterized by boundless stamina and capacity for good. She believes fiercely in the kind potential of humanity, and even if the world isn’t as kind a place as she’d like it to be, with enough work from enough people, knows it can get there.

WINSOME: Chivalry, kindness, and relentless positivity make for a personality that, in Robyn’s case, often comes off as just the right blend of charming. Holding doors open, admitting fault, and remembering names come as second nature to her, and her zest for life comes through in starry eyes and enthusiastic nods of agreement. Sure, she’s never going to overcome people with class or genius knowledge, but she’s genuine and approachable, and sometimes, that’s all a person really needs to be.

DEVELOPMENT AREAS:

MEDDLESOME: Other people’s problems leave Robyn sleepless more often or not. She tosses above her covers when she senses even the slightest hint of conflict, turns when she sees a drop in energy in someone she cares about. She has a way of unsolicitedly inserting herself into conflicts and can become somewhat of a nuisance until they’re resolved. This becomes especially problematic when the conflict is heavy, or when she projects a problem that doesn’t exist upon people.

ROSE-COLORED: So firmly does Robyn believe in humanity’s goodness that she becomes starry-eyed in her conception of everyone’s morality. She believes even the worst can change with enough tangible support and cheerleading, though this isn’t always the case. She’s taken advantage of easily because of this, and blames herself when things go wrong. Sometimes, investing so much in people only leads to heartbreak, and for those who give chance after chance, it will time after time.

NEEDY: While somewhat capable of keeping herself up by herself, Robyn’s likely to withdraw without enough outward compliments or affection. Her lip droops, her self-esteem withers, and her outlook towards the day can become fairly morose. If she doesn’t feel useful, her motivation rapidly loses steam. Sometimes people will have to fake a problem to get her back up again, though something as simple as a dropped pen or misplaced item will often do the trick.

CORNY: Spending too much time with a fake hero can make anyone feel like they’re stuck in a bad cartoon. “Keep you chin up, hero,” “a team who cleans together, dreams together,” and “evil never wins” are only a few phrases folks who hang around Robyn tend to experience daily, and she seems blissfully unaware of her tendency towards the cliche. Sometimes, it’s hard to see past the stock imagery of her, especially as a co-worker, and this can lead to people to perceiving her as a joke or a simpleton.

SOMEWHAT OF A HUSTLER: While not always conscious of the fact, Robyn has a way of soaking up or compelling people to give her their resources. She’ll charm people into giving her a snack or buying her a drink, but the expended credits pile up before most people know. It’s good to cut her off after a while, as she’s likely to drain more than few pockets if not.

BIOGRAPHY:

TW: Guns, hospitals. blood, death

Robyn Kane dreamed of mangoes.

Sweet, sap-fleshed fruits she could describe in such vivid detail you could feel their gold-yellow dripping down your throat. They had, Atticus rationalized, been her mother’s last meal request; three mangoes, halved, (pits still in, please!) cubed at about one inch in diameter. Such a tremendous yearning this must’ve been that it found its way to her daughter, who in turn ate up washers and packing peanuts, swallowed down marbles and screws in her futile pursuit of sweetness. “Normal toddler behavior,” articles on his armlet read. “Just whack ‘em hard on the back if you see ‘em gulping away anything important.” Of course, Atticus never whacked Robyn, but the idea of normality washed relief over the father. “Still,” a voice nagged, often late, often red-eyed on the pull-out couch of their rusted apartment. “What could be said of the planets?”

Well, for one, they were huge! Vast, sweeping expanses Robyn dreamed up with forests high as the SungX building and deserts red as the setting sun. Sands that stung in sporadic blizzards. Skybirds who soared over archipelagos in triangular formations, fighting fish over seafoam, their hunger a constant, bitter pang. Such were the untrekked settings that congregated heroes to Robyn’s stories, that in turn congregated ruddy-faced factory cleaning kids, their stinking mops forgotten, around her during their glorious hour of lunch break. “Pew pew pew!” Robyn would say, her small voice teeming with life, “and then the heroes and the villains became best friends, and no one’s mom had to die, and the planets weren’t lonely for anyone, anymore. I accept tips via my dad’s credit account or in mangoes. The end.” And then, in the same tidy fashion as always, everyone would pack up and get back to scrubbing floors.

The crowds dwindled after parents caught word. Scrap metal never fell far from the ship, people said, and everyone and their android knew that Kane kid was going to turn out bad. That monster - Clemence Kane’s - child had those same foxlike eyes, lips the same raw swath of ochre…a gaze that flickered time to time with the same strange, insatiable hunger. “Stay away from that Kane kid,” workers warned, their fingers shaking, their grey uniforms all the same. Fathers cursed and flicked cigarette butts. Mothers pulled their children to the other side of the litter-caked road. And so the crowd on the back steps of nutripowder factory, which had once overflowed like steel wool from a storm cloud, shrunk to the size of one lonely droplet.

Robyn kept herself steady by looking upwards. She’d work hard, she’d be so helpful they’d all have to come around. Tears found it harder to squeeze by when her face was lifted towards the ceiling, and muscle memory kept her mouth pulled into the same sweet, little grin. At lunch, alone with her flavorless mix of powder, though, her lips would tremble - until her eyes caught sight of the strange heroes who, day in and day out, would flip and fly above her city.

Wash Captains. That’s what her dad said when she asked him. And they weren’t villain fighters - they were actually cleaners like both of them were. Still, hearing their hoots and howls as they tumbled from building to building, their washbots flocking behind them like rafts of ducklings, sent a rush up her little spine. The Captains grew into her new idols, another reason for her to dream. And every day during break, she’d make it further up the walls of her own building, brave a further jump from height to height. All until one day, she plucked up the courage to follow her heroes, trying to keep up, but finding herself slipping behind.

“Talia, you’ve got a tail!” A Captain signaled for the group to slow down. The lot of them, adults between their early twenties and late forties, decelerated to a pace that wouldn’t endanger the kid, though they did this surreptitiously enough that the twelve-year-old thought she was catching up.

“What’s your name, speedster?” The youngest one, Talia, asked.

“I’m Robyn Kane!”

“Well, you’ve got guts coming up here. I like that.” The rest of the group didn’t shiver or scowl, instead, they just shared a kind, collective laugh. “What’s good?” “Nice to meet you, Robyn,” voices chorused. And when they darted off to work on their respective building groups, Talia gestured for Robyn to follow her. She stopped at the edge of a metallic skyscraper, her washbots swarming to wipe the windows of the behemoth adjacent. From dawn until dusk, she let Robyn shadow her, explaining what a Wash Captain’s duties were, the test it to become one, and difficulties the job brought with it. Long hours, limited work lifespan, days without rest…the ability to problem solve and stay cool under pressure was paramount. But if you were the right kind of person, you’d find family here like no other. And Robyn hoped, hoped, hoped that with enough effort, when the year’s test came around, she’d be ready to join them.

Setbacks were inevitable. Sprained wrists, lack of formal training, exhaustion after back-to-back days at the factory…nothing, though, that could quite prepare her for the sickness. A flu, its origin the lungs of a machine operator, spread through the adults, then the children, then to her. Everyone and their uncle hacked up phlegm for two weeks, their faces pale green from the night sweats, though none fell quite so ill as Robyn Kane. A hospital rush led to injections, led to IV drips, led to peals of hushed conversation, led to the sound of a final lamp smashing outside her door.

“The warden promised they’d treated her!"

"The CD4 count-”

“Fuck the CD4 count!”

“Sir, can you just…”

Robyn shivered. What was her dad talking about with that doctor? Was she going to die? And what had made him so angry? Her eyes had already begun drooping shut when Atticus came back in, though, his face shaking with anger.

“What’s going on, dad?” Robyn tried to roll to face him, but he shushed her.

“You’re going to be okay, kid.” He kissed her head, sitting gently at the side of her hospital bed. Only when he thought she was asleep did a sob leave him, the sound of heartbreak, of betrayal, of an uncertain man.

In truth, the doctors weren’t sure how she’d survived so long. ARHIV - or advanced resistant human immunodeficiency virus - was livable with treatment, but going nearly thirteen years without, especially after being born with it…well, complications usually reared their heads sooner. Still, the NRTIs seemed to be lowering the viral load in her blood, and with the aid of intensive anti flu meds, her immune system managed to struggle through.

“Take your meds,” Dr. Ota said, as Robyn and her dad breathed fresh air for the first time in three weeks. “And remember, any fluids that come out of you are not to be touched by others.”

Atticus wanted Robyn to rest. She was still weak from her bout of illness, but almost a month had gone by without any exam preparation, and she wouldn’t let anything get in the way of her dream. She pushed herself to jump farther, to climb higher, to memorize every protocol in the Washbook. And when test day came, she gave it everything she got. “We’ll call,” her examiner promised, though the stern look on his face was airtight. “We’ve only got room for about three people this year, so don’t get your hopes up too high, okay, kid?” But when the buzz rang out on her armlet that evening, her hopes had already soared through the roof.

“Hello?"

"Hey, is this Robyn?” Talia’s voice drifted in through the speaker.

“Yeah, yeah, this is me, Robyn- Robyn Kane - Kane, Robyn - I-”

“Marks Building, speedster. Tomorrow. 5AM.”

And then the call clicked out, and a teenage squeal woke nearly half of the building.

The job wasn’t all games and glory. Most days, she went home with limbs that threatened to tear off, but how many people could say they ended a shift by skydiving off a building? Magnetic gloves carried her to the very top of the city, reminding her of her smallness, though a hoot from one Wash Captain to another reminded her she was never alone. Skyscrapers rushed together as air gave way to metal under her feet, running upwards and downwards, leaping from one to another with an expert’s grace. This was, save for her, the kind of movement reserved for heroes, and shadowing other Captains to get the hang of more advanced techniques ensured she continued to grow. From this vantage point too came new insight on the city - inequity others more often chose to ignore. Apartment Piles - swaying stacks of low-income housing - were collapsing. At first, it seemed accidental, but then the breadth of the falls seemed more sinister. Factories bought out the land. Overwatchers failed to check the sites. And since a lot of first responders wouldn’t set foot in the rougher neighborhoods, the Captains took it upon themselves to search and rescue.

Such was her transformation from girl to hero. Pulling injured folks from buildings, keeping kids safe…it was this grit and responsibility that matured her. Time with her dad became precious. Happy hours with friends began to mean more. But youth was still youth, after all, and when time brought on an admirer, Robyn’s heart began to palpitate.

There’s was a typical teen meeting - boy watched girl soar from building to building, boy plucked up the courage to wave, girl told him she’d come say hi during her lunch break. And so said boy appeared day after day, wonderstruck in crooked glasses, his hand outstretched to offer a cool bottle of water. A Harbor boy, Deek Jenkins. When they talked, her lies grew from goosebumps to mountains - yes, her mom was nice, yes, she’d eaten a mango, yes, her dad was a world-saving space pilot and, if she disappeared for a few days, it was because she helping him fight off evil. Truth be told, she wanted to keep Deek around. But how could a Harbor boy remain interested if he knew about her dark origins, her sickness, how a job washing windows was the most exciting thing that’d ever happened to her? Instead, she told him about the skybirds, the archipelagos, the burning sands. All while the virus inside her was shifting, overcoming her medications, and threatening to overcome her as well.

Time passed. Deek began bringing two water bottles. Robyn always finished the one he brought with a still-thirsty gulp, then gobbled down two, then three, and he was about to bring four when she stopped showing up.

“Check the clinic on Fourth, kid,” the Wash Captain, Talia, who visited in Robyn’s stead offered. So check Deek did.

“Hey,” he greeted, pulling a whole cooler of water bottles to her hospital bed. She uncapped one.

“You’ve found me out, Jenkins.” The twenty-year-old’s lips quirked upward, falling as a hack expelled from her lungs. “I’ve caught an ‘opportunistic infection.’ Tuberculosis. Not fun stuff. And while we’re at it, I’ve got another disease called ARHIV, which my doc just said’ll probably kill me by 35. And my mom-”

“Was a rebel terrorist,” Deek finished for her. “Who killed upwards of a hundred Overwatchers and their associates. She was sentenced to death six months after being turned in by a man named Thomas Martineaux, and would’ve been sentenced immediately had she not been pregnant with you.”

Robyn nodded. “Happy?”

“No.” He paused. “I mean, yes, that you were honest with me.”

“Why’d you hang around then, if you knew?”

Deek shrugged. “I guess I just liked you.”

“I guess I just liked you too.”

Robyn got over her infection. Time went on, work continued, and she was back on the rescue grind. The number of collapses grew, and the public’s anxiety grew with it. Her dad, who’d been promoted to a managing janitor inside the factory, spent time cleaning the inside of apartments despite danger, and three times, buildings collapsed with him in them. Each time, Robyn would hold her breath, her body trembling, her boots pounding miles to find he was okay, but there was never a second to spare for a hug or a word of relief when she got there. Every moment was instead spent pulling people from the wreckage, searching for help, until one day, a shard of glass changed everything.

“Don’t-” Robyn tried, but Talia had already reached in with a cut hand to pull it out. She jerked her leg away at the last minute, preventing contact, but it was in this moment that she realized her own body was a danger, herself a hazard that could be spread on. How could she have been so reckless, so stupid, to endanger everybody? Any time, she could’ve gotten cut. Any day, she could’ve spread her disease. Rescue efforts were abandoned, and happy hours avoided for fear of being seen as a coward. Until Deek Jenkins, again, came to her aid.

A birthday present - the big twenty-five. Robyn was huddled up on the couch, watching a livestream of an apartment collapse from her armlet, when Deek came in.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” She asked, but he just grinned at her, extending a parcel from his hands to hers.

“I, uh, made this.” His eyes sparkled as she unwrapped it, a costume of fine, black material, cape included. “I know the design is kind of corny, but you’ve always been into the hero thing and you’ve seemed so down ever since Talia, um…the fabric’s cut proof. In the case that something gets through, though, there’s a compound on the inside that’ll immediately clot your blood, so people are safe, no spread. And I also wanted to tell you that I-”

“I love it, Deek.” Robyn’s lips rose, then fell as her eyes honed in on her screen. A pair of Overwatchers, their bodies too small to be seen clearly without zooming in, moved in the corner.

A familiar face, familiar gait, familiar everything. Suddenly, it all made sense. She checked her armlet.

“8:30. Pile A7X.” The apartment her dad was suppose to be cleaning. Time to put Deek’s outfit to the test.

The rescue mission was a rush of pure adrenaline. A building scaled, a fire alarm pulled, and hundreds evacuated in the nick of time. She gave no name - a vigilante, in and out before anybody could ask. And now it was time to get to the bottom of the collapses.  

She made her way to the factory. Dark, no people or stars to be seen. If she could get into her dad’s office, maybe there’d be a list, some way to predict the next Pile falls. She’d save hundreds of lives, expose a massive conspiracy -and then a dot of red light materialized on her chest.

“Robyn.” Her father’s voice broke the silence. “I can explain-” “Explain what? How you’ve been killing innocent people for years?” All those apartments cleaned, how she thought he’d actually been in danger.

“Rebel suspects, Robyn. They’re killing thousands. Hear me out, I-”

Her eyes hardened. “You’re going to pay for this.”

Atticus’ lip twitched, another Overwatcher making his way beside him.

“We’ll kill her off, Martineaux. Don’t worry about it.” The man raised his mass accelerator, his finger draped on the trigger and then… five shots. A dropped body. But her dad’s weapon had made the blast.

“I’m sorry, Robyn.”

Another rustle. Deek- Deek had followed her. Maybe they could overpower him, find a way out, but Atticus whipped around, firing a shot before the boy could even blink. His body fell, an innocent who’d given his world for her. And then another shot. There was no time to think, no time to process, only dark.

When her eyes opened, they saw earth.

EXTRA MUSE: I have a pinterest board here!

POSSIBLE CHANGES: none!

[mmmleckerlecker]

Heart Pangs - Highly Recommended (Part 48/70)

Read this story on Wattpad - Read this story on Ao3

Table of Contents - First part - Previous part - Next part

Summary: Lux once more seeks out unorthodox methods of sating his hunger.

Contents: Lux is hungry; power imbalances; questionable business practices

Wordcount: 3,378

* * * * * * * * * *

It's been two days since that night in the hotel, and Lux and Benji have hardly spoken. The only words they share are formal and minimal. Just enough to communicate what needs to be said. Not only that, but Lux and Benji have hardly seen each other. The only time they spend in each other's company is during their car trips to another town, another place to hide.

The distance between them weighs on Lux. He glances at Benji from the corner of his eye. Benji focuses on the road ahead. The radio plays, drowning out the awkwardness of the silence between them. Lux thinks he should say something, but what? He'd already confessed all that he could two nights ago. The only thing left to talk about is the fact that they need to make a new plan. They need to hide somewhere that isn't within a two hour's drive of the Facility. Or they at least need to go their separate ways. Sticking together has grown incredibly unsafe.

But despite this, Lux keeps his mouth shut and returns his gaze to the passenger side window. His fingers are curled tight in his lap. He's afraid of making the wrong move, he's afraid of hurting Benji. So instead he stays as still and quiet as possible.

That night, Lux sits alone in his hotel room. It has been this way ever since that night. He and Benji had been staying in separate rooms. It had been helpful for keeping Benji safe from Lux's hunger. It had been less so on their rapidly dwindling money supply.

Lux leans back in his chair and surveys the room. Besides the perfectly made bed, there's a nice TV and comfy looking couches. Before him is a table that could be used for eating or perhaps a makeshift desk. The price for this hotel in particular had also required a sizable chunk of money. Benji had complained, but Lux had assured him that he knew what he was doing. He had his reasons.

Lux lets out a long breath, trying to slow his racing heart. He indeed had his reasons, but it isn't a reason he would dare share with Benji. With a final rush of resolve, Lux pushes himself to his feet. He had been staring at his hotel room door long enough. Benji's not coming over. He hadn't come over the past two nights. Nothing would change tonight, Lux assures himself. Besides, he can't put it off much longer. It's already getting late.

Lux crosses the room and opens the door. The hall beyond is clean and luxurious. Lux frowns as he heads down the hall and towards the back exit. He'd spent far too much money on this hotel, and he's about to spend even more of it tonight.

He is nearing the exit when one of the hotel room doors opens. He freezes. A young, beautiful prey woman slinks out into the hall and begins walking his direction. Her clothes look expensive and they reveal a tantalizing amount of skin. Lux attempts to avert his gaze as he begins walking again, trying to look as natural as possible.

As the prey woman draws near, he can feel her eyes on him, taking in every detail of his body. Almost against his will, Lux's gaze slides back to her. She gives him the most brilliant of smiles as she passes. She raises a hand to push her hair off her shoulder. The movement is deliberate, practiced. Lux's eyes catch on the wristband she's made sure to show off. It's just like Benji's aside from one detail. Instead of a brilliant orange color, this one is blue.

Blue wristbands are difficult to acquire. Exclusive. They require the petition of a variety of preds vouching for the necessity of such a thing. Unlike the orange ones, which force a regurgitation on anyone who isn't the prey's contract holder, the blue ones will force a regurgitation on any and ALL preds who try to fatally consume them. Usually only important prey like politicians and celebrities can gain enough support to earn a blue wristband, but there are other prey with certain jobs that appease preds who can earn one. Of note there are collectors and, of course, latchers.

Lux politely returns the latcher's smile. Because he now knows that's what she is— a latcher looking for clients, and judging by the hotel she's inhabiting and the clothes she's wearing, she's not one Lux can afford right now.

Not that he would if he could. She wouldn't be smiling at all if she knew what he was, what he really wanted. A few hours on neutralizers with her wouldn't be enough to satiate him. Yet knowing that doesn't stop him from glancing over his shoulder as she walks past. It doesn't stop the way his skin grows warm as she glances over her own shoulder and meets his eyes.

Lux swallows and his stomach twists into knots.

He grits his teeth and forces himself to turn away. He keeps his gaze pointedly forward as he power walks the rest of the way to the back exit. He doesn't stop until he's outside and the cool night air hits him, clearing his head.

The feeling doesn't last long, however, as a sharp pain shudders through his core. He flinches involuntarily. It's almost as if his stomach knows he's just passed by a perfectly filling meal. He digs his fist into his abdomen to smother the twinge. Soon, he assures himself. He'll find relief from all this soon.

But the promise of relief isn't enough to stop the guilt of what he's about to do from weighing on him with each step he takes.

He's doing this for a good reason, he tells himself. He's doing it to end the pain. He's doing it to stop the dreams where he wakes up in a cold sweat, thinking he's finally done the unforgivable. He's doing this to protect Benji.

Lux has to laugh at that. It wouldn't be the first time he's used "protecting Benji" as an excuse to do something terrible. But, he argues, this time is different. This isn't desperate and unplanned. He knows what he's doing now. Everything will be okay.

Lux walks in silence for about ten minutes before his destination comes into sight. The lights on the sign for the storage facility flicker eerily ahead. There's a closed gate and a security booth blocking the road leading to the facility. Before he can lose his nerve, Lux approaches the booth's window .

The guard inside is a prey man. He raises his eyes from the magazine he's browsing and settles them on Lux with a look of annoyance.

"Can I help you?" he asks, seemingly not at all intimidated by the approach of a strange pred.

Lux nods. "Yes, I'm here to— to see your collection."

The guard's eyes widen almost imperceptibly. "On whose recommendation?"

"Drass Drexel," Lux repeats without hesitation.

The guard's eyes narrow. "And you are?"

"Lux Feuerbach."

The guard scans Lux's face intently. "One moment, please." Then, without waiting for a response, he slides the window shut and turns away.

Lux watches anxiously through the glass as the guard pulls out a phone and begins speaking to someone.

Lux had taken a risk by giving his real name. Not that he believes anyone here has any connections to the Facility. Places like this are no where near legal, but they're none of the Facility's responsibility. The Facility only gets involved if the illegality is directly harming other preds, which this place is far from doing.

No, Lux's connection here has nothing to do with the Facility and everything to do with the consuming dens he frequents. Drass Drexel is another pred man who enjoys the dens nearly as much as Lux does. Lux wouldn't consider him a friend, but preds who consume together, stick together. Drass had mentioned this place to Lux on occasion.

"It's good to have an awareness in case the dens stop being an option fo you," Drass had told Lux once. "You can tell them you have my recommendation if you ever need it."

At the time, Lux had nodded in agreement, though internally he hadn't ever thought he'd need it. Drass didn't know Lux had been a Facility worker. Nobody at the consuming dens did. They didn't know he always had a steady supply of prey. And Lux had never expected that to change.

But it had.

And now he needs this more than ever.

Lux shifts uncomfortably on his feet. He had always suspected Drass Drexel to be an alias. Now, as the guard speaks on the phone, stealing occasional glances back at Lux, he fears he'd been right. He fears he's just given the wrong name and he'll be turned away, and he has no idea what he'll do if he's turned away.

Finally the guard hangs up. He turns back to the window and slides it open.

Lux leans forward in anticipation.

"He'll meet you at building 17," the guard announces without preamble.

Lux blinks.

The gate next to him suddenly buzzes and begins opening.

"Go on now," the guard tells him with a dismissive wave.

It takes a moment for Lux to realize this is it. His recommendation had been accepted.

"Thank you," he manages, breathless with relief.

The guard only rolls his eyes and returns his attention back to his magazine.

Lux doesn't need further prompting. He practically skips past the now open gate. He almost can't believe it worked. He only hopes now that he'd been right and this place really does have no connections to the Facility, otherwise he's just trapped himself.

As if to emphasize this thought, the gate closes and locks behind him with an air of finality.

Lux's heart races as he walks soundlessly down the roads of the storage facility. The place had clearly been constructed to be navigated by car and the journey down to building 17 feels endless. By the time Lux passes the buildings numbered 14, 15, and 16, he feels like his heart is about to beat right out of his chest. He gets to building 17 and stops.

His stomach flutters to life, furiously demanding satisfaction.

Lux steps forward against his will.

And then he takes another step. And another.

He's almost surprised when, the next thing he knows, he's reaching out for the door. It's ripped open before he even has the chance to touch it.

Lux stumbles back awkwardly. There's a prey man standing in the doorway, looking up at him.

"Mr. Feuerbach?" the prey asks. The man has a sort of greasy, weaselly quality about him that, even in Lux's half-starved state, makes him distasteful to look at.

"Yes?" Lux answers warily.

The prey man's mouth curls into a thin smile. "You come highly recommended."

Lux waits a moment for the man to expand on that statement, but when he doesn't Lux says, "That's good to hear."

The prey looks at Lux with an odd glint in his eye. The silence drags on uncomfortably long.

Lux is searching for something else to say when the prey raises his hand in a gesture to follow and turns back inside the building.

For the second time that night, Lux notices a flash of blue. He grimaces when he sees it. Like the latcher in the hotel, it's clear this prey wanted him to see the wristband, but unlike the latcher, showing off the band was less of an invitation for a good time and more of a warning. It's a reminder that, though Lux is here for a certain kind of business, he can't simply take what he wants from this prey man.

Because this prey is a far cry from the latcher at the hotel. This man is a collector.

This man is the very thing that prey fear most. Lux isn't even a prey and yet he knows. He knows that prey parents tell their children not to venture off alone or they might be snatched up by a collector. He knows, that for a prey to be collected, it is a fatal condemnation.

Collectors are willing to betray their own kind for money. They put aside their morality in order to take and imprison helpless prey. They ignore their conscious to sell prey to any willing preds, and there are always willing preds. Because, although the safety and legality of contracts is preferable, it is not always attainable. If a pred wishes to consume but does not have the funds to do so within the law, they turn to collectors to buy easy and untraceable meals.

It is a dark business, but in the most desperate of times, a necessary one.

Lux ducks in through the entranceway and enters storage building 17. The door closes behind him of its own accord.

"What are you looking for tonight?" the collector asks as he begins leading Lux down the concrete hall.

Lux squints about as he follows the slim prey man. The fluorescent lights that illuminate the long hall are a stark contrast to the dark night outside.

"I was thinking a woman," he mutters absentmindedly as he eyes each roll-up door they pass. Is there a prey imprisoned in each one of those units? "I don't care how old. Preferably a runaway."

The collector slows and glances back over his shoulder. "I see you are a man of taste," he comments, a hint of amusement in his voice. "A runaway will cost you extra."

"I don't care," Lux responds without hesitation.

The collector tilts his head back. "Hmm," he hums idly in thought.

Lux can already feel his patience growing thin. He hadn't taken any neutralizers since the day before. He had wanted to be prepared for tonight, but he's paying the price. Not only has his stomach been growing increasingly impatient, but his imagination has been growing steadily out of hand. Even now, despite the fact that he knows the collector wears a blue wristband and despite the fact that Lux finds the man's entire demeanor physically repulsive, he can't help imagining how good it would feel to simply shove the collector down his throat right here and now. He can practically feel the relief of having a live and filling meal stuffed into his gut.

Lux's pulse quickens at the thought. He thinks he can even taste the collector on his tongue now, but no... No, that's not right. The collector could never taste so exquisite, so perfect. The taste Lux imagines now is familiar. He'd sampled it only two nights ago...

"Wait," Lux says before he even realizes he's made a decision.

The collector pauses and gives him an inquisitive look.

"Make that a man," Lux goes on. "My age. Preferably still a runaway."

For one moment, the collector seems surprised at the change, but then his mouth rises into a horrible, crooked grin. "I have just the prey."

Before Lux can respond, the collector sets off down the hall, taking long, confident strides that even Lux has to hurry to keep up with. He nearly trips over the collector when the man stops suddenly in front of one roll-up door in particular. The collector hardly seems to notice. He pulls out a key ring and flips through it until he finds the one he's looking for. He crouches at the base of the door and shoves the key into a lock. A moment later, the door rolls up and the light inside is flicked on.

Lux steps forward to peer into what can only be described as a prison cell. It's stuffy and hard and barren except for a sorry looking mattress in the back corner. It's not a far cry from one of the cells at the Facility.

Sitting on the mattress is a young prey man, blinking in the sudden light. His eyes fall on Lux, and Lux freezes, breath caught in his throat. The prey's hair is a little too dark and his eyes are a little too green, but this is it. This is just the prey Lux had been searching for, a perfect second best for the prey he truly desires.

"Is he to your liking?" the collector asks, carefully watching each detail of Lux's expression.

Lux approaches the young prey and crouches down. The man shrinks away, pressing himself flat against the concrete wall behind him. Fear scent radiates off him, nearly sending Lux into a frenzy.

"He's perfect," Lux manages to answer.

His gaze flicks to the prey's ears. They're cropped cleanly and professionally.

Runaway contracted prey are more sought after by preds who buy from collectors, hence the higher price. Unlike most other prey that collectors snatch from the street, consuming them is legal, so they're a safer option to purchase. But collectors are also known to steal uncontracted prey and crop their ears simply to get a better price. So either this collector is very good at cropping ears, or this prey is truly a runaway. Lux also notes with interest that the prey's ears are completely healed and scarred over.

"A younger one will also cost you extra," the collector warns.

Lux doesn't take his eyes off the prey. "I don't care."

The collector makes a satisfied huff. "Then we have a deal."

What little color the prey has drains from his cheeks.

Lux eases off and returns to the collector. They stand in the entrance to the storage unit for several minutes, negotiating the price before Lux shoves a wad of cash into the collector's hands. The prey doesn't move the entire time, although Lux watches from his peripherals as the man's eyes dart to the hallway beyond his cell several times.

"You can't consume him here," the collectors states as he tucks the cash away. "You'll have to take him off the premises."

"What if he tries to run?"

The collector shrugs. "It's not my responsibility to provide secure transport for your prey. Our business is concluded the moment I hand him over to you."

Lux turns to the unmoving prey. "Very well," he mutters. He beckons for the prey to approach. "Come," he commands.

For the first time, the fear dissipates from the prey's expression and twists into a look of distaste.

"I'm not a dog," he mutters so quietly Lux nearly misses it.

The collector lets out a cold chuckle.

"No," Lux agrees, "but you do have to come with me now."

A spark of defiance ignites in the prey's eyes. "I don't have to do anything," he challenges.

Lux breathes a slow sigh of frustration. He doesn't have time for this. He doesn't have the patience for this. His hunger gnaws at him, makes it difficult to think. It begs him to pounce on the prey right now, while it's still trapped and vulnerable. But he can't.

"You can't stay here," Lux tells the prey man. "You can make this as difficult as you want, but in the end, you will come with me. I don't mind consuming prey with a few broken bones. It wouldn't be the first time."

A flicker of doubt clouds the man's determination, but he keeps silent.

"Very well," Lux mutters. He draws himself to his full height and advances on the prey. The man stiffens and his eyes grow impossibly wide as Lux looms threateningly over him.

"W-wait," he stammers.

Lux pauses and lifts a brow.

The prey pushes himself to stand on shaky legs. He leans heavily on the wall for support. "I'll come."

Lux eases off. He knows the rest of the journey won't be easy, but he's won this first round.

He turns to the collector. "Thank you," he says, tone even.

The collector tips his head. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Let's go," Lux tells the prey before heading out of the unit and into the hall. For one tense second, the prey doesn't move and Lux fears he'll have to make good on his threat. Then, thankfully, the prey follows.

Lux lets out a silent sigh of relief. He can only hope the rest of this ordeal can go as smoothly.

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