#hint: it makes me violently unhinged

[xgoldenlatiasx]

I’m not even gonna apologize you all already know how reincarnation trope makes me feel

[voiidlizrd]

Dorm Leaders With (slightly) Chaotic Star Child!Reader

Includes:

Riddle Rosehearts, Kamil Al Asim, Leona Kingsholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Vil Schoenheit, Iida Shroud, Malleus Draconia

Note: Reader isn’t the main character Yuu, gender neutral reader, fluff!!! Fluff all around. Im feeling particularly Found Family Today. Bit of angst because why not

Spoilers: Many include the Overblots in the game so major spoilers for some!

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

You were just something that got caught in the middle of the summoning spell that lead you to Night Raven College. Upon summoning, people immediately noticed how… Odd your magic was. Well, it wasn’t like you were doing magic right off the bat trying to set the place on fire (yet), but it was the fact you didn’t even HAVE to show off your powers for them to know that it was simply chaotic in nature. To the students upon your arrival, even Headmage Crowley, they felt that your magic was a pure vortex, your aura simply radiated pure, unhinged energy that couldn’t be contained.

Your appearance was relatively normal, well, aside from the pure white color that would sometimes tint your (e/c) eyes. And how sometimes people could see a faint glow where your heart was from underneath your ragged shirt that was four sizes too big and went down to your knees.

Yuu, who was already having a mind at how they even got to this weird magic school and was told that their world was basically nonexistent, kinda stared at you for a while but also felt a little bad when they noticed how you stared at every one else. It wasn’t that you looked sad, it was more the fact you had those wide eyes and blank face, like you hadn’t even seen people in a while.

Crowley felt like he was about to pass out. Not only did a magicless human show up (along with some fire breathing cat who almost set a student on fire), but another student showed up who’s not even NEAR the age to attend college!

There was a moment of silence before Crowley simply said, “Uhm… Well…” What was he suppose to do in this situation!? Send you home, he guesses. It’s far too dangerous to have a child here, even if they had some powerful magic on par to even Prince Draconia.

Crowley kneeled down to you with a soft smile, well, as soft as he could make it from how close he was to breaking down crying. How could this even be happening at his school!?

“Hello little one!” He said. “I am Dire Crowley, the Headmage at Night Raven College. It is a pleasure to meet you…” He trailed off, giving you a hint to tell him your name.

You were silent. Blinking at him with those big ol eyes. Then, “Y/N.”

“Ah! Y/N! Lovely name.” He smiles, taking your limp hand in his and shaking it gently. You blinked again and gripped his hand.

WHY IS YOUR HAND SO WARM ITS LIKE A DAMN FURNACE. Crowley thought his hand might be on fire now from how hot your hand was, as tiny as it was, and he could hear his leather gloves even sizzling under your grip. Meanwhile you just rapidly moved his hand up and down in a handshake like his, just more violent. He wretched his hand away from your hands and tried to keep a smile but it was very strained, he was sweating as he lightly chuckled.

“Now… Uh….” He cleared his throat. “Well, unfortunately, you are very young looking, if you don’t mind me saying,”

After all, some of the students looked like they could be in middle school!

“So, I’m afraid I’ll have to send you back home to your parents, alright?”

You said nothing. He decided to take that as a “yes” to get this night over with. He put his hand on your back and lead you up the stairs to the mirror, who’s face looked down at you.

“Magic Mirror! Send this child back to where they came!” Nothing. Oh for the Sevens sake- “…Mag-“

“The Star Child has fallen.” It said simply. “It burned too bright and fell from the sky. During its fall, it ended up here. The Star has no home to speak of to go to.”

…Well shit. Even worse! The room was tense and Crowley looked down at you. You didn’t seem to be bothered but you stared down at the floor, those eyes still big but a little dimmer now at the mention of falling. And now you had nowhere to go! What kind of man would he be if he just said; “well that sucks, anyways, off you go little one!” He sighed heavily again and rubbed his temple.

“Well… That’s… Fine!” He crouched down again. “Change of plans, little one, how about you just… Stay here until we figure out a proper home for you to be in? Maybe in one of the dorms!”

He picked you up and held you up to the Magic Mirror. The Mirror hummed for a moment.

“The Star Child is very bright. Their soul is shapeless but full of light to where it is hard to see past. They suit all of the dorms, yet none at all.”

“Well… That certainly is a predicament…” Crowley mumbled, setting you down, but you immediately looked back up at him and started to crawl up his body. He almost screamed at how terrifying it was to see your tiny body basically see him as a tree and scale up him to grab on his shoulders. He was sweating bullets now. It reminded him of those kittens that basically claw their way up your leg and you can’t even decide if you want to laugh or cry in absolute fear. He was pretty much wanting to scream and cry. Those stupid big eyes staring at him.

“…Alright then.” He patted your back awkwardly. Was this your way of asking to be held!? He basically had to force you down onto the ground.

“So! Change of plans. Since I am having to deal with this magicless human predicament because no dorm suits them-“

“I have a name y’know!” Yuu yelled, but Crowley didn’t even see to notice.

“And you are in a different situation. The Mirror said your soul was unshaped but full of potential to be in any one of the dorms…” He put a finger to his chin. “Yes… Yes! Yes this will do!”

“You will be sorted in one of the dorms to learn and be molded into a fine magic user! With that aura you have, you might go so far as to be the youngest mage to ever make it into Night Raven College and learn from the best! Ooohhh I am so generous!” Crowley was gushing at his own words as he looked down at you with promise, you simply just stared at him and the others who were staring at you.

“The dorm you shall be in is…”

╔══════╗

“Heartslabyul!”

What.

No. Seriously. What.

Not only does he have to deal with a literal child, he also has to deal with these new freshmen who clearly do not understand the sacred Queen of Hearts rules! Riddle isn’t all too happy with this situation, but it here is a chance he can shape you to be a well refined student, then he will do so!

But first he has to do something about your appearance. Your clothes are partly singed at the ends and you definitely need to be freshened up! He won’t have you looking untidy.

Crowley had brought you over to Riddle, who stood calm and poised with his hands behind his back.

“This is Riddle Rosehearts, the dorm prefect of Heartslabyul. He will be watching over you and teaching you about Twisted Wonderland.”

You stared at Riddle. He stared back at you. You didn’t even blink for a whole minute, then, you walked up to him and tried crawling up his body what the fu-

He promptly yanked you off of him and your grimy child hands were gripping his robe and he was clenching his teeth as you stubbornly held onto him. He managed to get you on the ground, but he had to hold back from using his signature spell on you. This was your one time to ever make this mistake. You clearly do not understand. But he shall teach you proper manners.

“Ahem.” He cleared his throat. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. However, please refrain from ever climbing on people. It isn’t polite.”

You stared at him. “No.”

No? What do you mean ‘no?’ Huh???

“Ridley.” Huh??!!?? That’s not even close to being his name!?

“It’s Riddle.”

“Rib.”

“Riddle.”

“Dil.”

He’s about to lose it. He breathes in deep as he pinches the bridge of his nose, then, he hears your low cackling, like you’re holding back yourself from giggling too loud. He looks at you, a mischievous grin looking back at him, your eyes that (e/c) color glowing a bit white as you snicker at him. He sighs internally. Another rule breaker, he can smell it, and he’s not gonna have it. His mother raised him to be a proper man, to follow the rules and have order, and he will teach you just the same. He won’t tolerate you antagonizing him.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Now, I shall teach you the manner of ‘rules’ here in Heartslabyul. We follow the great Queen of Hearts, who ruled over Rose Kingdom with order. I know all 810 of her rules and now, so shall you. Do you understand?”

One day after coming here to Night Raven you learn that Riddle sucks the fun out of everything. As soon as you got to the dorms with the freshmen and the returning students for their new year, he immediately told you that it was way past bedtime. Something about “rule 67 of the Queen of Hearts, one shall go to bed at exactly 8:30 on a weekday.” And then today, he sat you down in the dorm lounge and brought a heavy book.

“This is what you need to learn in order to be able to go through life. Rules here are very important and it a way to maintain absolute order over your kingdom. As a prefect, it is my job to uphold the Queen of Hearts rules to a tee. Though, since you are a bit younger than the others, I’ll give you some time to adjust. But do not think I will tolerate you actively rule breaking! There will be consequences to your actions, do you understand?”

You didn’t like this one bit. You frowned with a pout, Riddle clicked his tongue at you and crossed his arms.

“Do not pout or whine. You are not a toddler. Now, open to the first page and get to studying. I’ll be here the whole time to make sure you actually do it.”

This sucks. This really sucks. You burned up so bright in the sky when you thought about the universes out there, needing to see them all, despite all your siblings telling you to relax. You couldn’t help it! You burned so bright the colors exploded and stretched beyond the infinite space. When you ended up here you wanted to have some fun! Not be forced to read these stupid rules!

Turning the page to the first rule you wanted to die. You didn’t wanna read! Also…

How did you know how to read?

Whatever! It didn’t matter. You didn’t wanna! Your face scrunched again and looked at Riddle, who looked back at you with that typical “no nonsense” look. You stared at one another for a long time.

Then you ran.

“Y/N!!”

He chased after you and you ran through the halls with speed. How were you so fast!? Sure you were a child but you’re so fast! Other students moved out of the way as you ran, cackling down the halls as you did so. Trey was making tarts for the upcoming un-birthday party when he heard those giggles come into the kitchens, your figure darting in the kitchen and then out past Riddle when he entered, red faced and panting. He was sweating and grabbed the counter.

Trey chuckled at bit at Riddle. “…going well?”

Riddle growled a bit at Trey and swallowed. That’s when Trey noticed a missing baked tart from the “test tarts” he made. That’s when Riddle gritted his teeth. How did you manage to evade him AND get a tart in the process!?

“Get back you you little brat!”

Trey didn’t mind the little theft of the tart and watched as Riddle ran out of the kitchen. He laughed a little under his breath. You were gonna be an interesting addition to the bunch.

“Y/N DO NOT BRING THAT BOOK ANYWHERE NEAR THE FIRE! PUT THAT DOWN THIS INSTANT!”

…Maybe he should help…

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You’ve been at the school for maybe a few days now and you like Riddle! You really do! Even if he is a big party pooper, he’s still really fun to mess with! Which is why you like him. You pull simple, harmless pranks every now and then. Salt in his tea rather than sugar, taking a shoe from a set pair of his and hiding it and having him chase you for it, dangling off the chandelier in the lounge and listening to Riddle yell at you while his face gets a beat red, putting glitter in his hairdryer, the works! It’s so fun messing with him and they aren’t doing damage to him, so it’s okay!

Then there’s the un-birthday day. You’ve never heard of it and it sounds like a big deal. With the dorm uniform Carter managed to get for you thanks to Crowley, you fit right along with the others! Though, it wasn’t helping that Riddle kept trying to fix your uniform. Or kept trying to check you for any of the hedgehogs you somehow keep hidden on your person at all times. You just love the little guys! Yuu was even there at the party too!

You were sat beside Riddle, mostly to stick to his side so you don’t try and cause something. Ace had walked over to Riddle and presented the walnut tart to him and things just went downhill from there with you in the mix.

“And you!” Riddle screeched during his rant, pointing an accusing finger at you. “You are nothing but a useless weed here! You do nothing for the kingdom with your stupid pranks and disgusting attitude! If it were up to me, you would be thrown out at once and left with the rest of the trash!”

You watched at the others fought against the now blotted Riddle with a slightly broken heart. By the time Riddle was finally defeated and sobbed openly in front of others, you kinda stood there in the background.

You’ve never felt this way before.

This much hurt made your chest ache inside and you began crying. You’ve never cried before. You ran off chaos and were a big buddle of energy, all full of light and little darkness in your heart without a need to feel any negative emotions. But now you were here in the world.

You sniffled a bit and rubbed your eyes, a little confused and very… sad, if that’s the word. Riddle was suddenly in front of you, standing awkwardly there, then he hugged you.

“I’m so sorry.” He said, clinging to you tightly. “I’m really sorry… I- I actually enjoyed your pranks a little! I liked when you smiled afterward. I liked when you made me chase you. It reminded me of playing outside with friends… Something I rarely did.”

“You aren’t useless at all! I didn’t mean those words at all.” Riddle frowned and almost started crying again. “I won’t be so harsh on you anymore. You don’t have to study the rules all the time. You don’t have to be like me.”

“Just… Don’t cry. Please. I don’t want you to cry because of me…”

You sniffed again.

Then you punched him on the chest.

“Your mean! I’m taking all your tarts! All your sweets! I’m taking everything from you!”

Riddle only smiled and held you even tighter while you shouted empty threats.

Since then, he’s more lenient on you. He doesn’t need to shape you to be just like him, like his mother wanted him, he can at least try to raise you the way he would want to be raised, with some freedom. Trey helps him because sometimes it’s hard to try and do something you weren’t taught to do.

“Savanaclaw!”

No.

No. Absolutely not. He has his brothers brat to deal with back at home. He does not want to deal with another brat here. He seriously wants a nap.

“This is Leona Kingscholar, prefect of Savanaclaw. He shall be looking over you and guiding you along your way!”

He stared at you with distaste. You stared back at him with those big eyes of yours. Then, you stared at his ears, which twitched, then, to his tail that lightly swayed behind him.

You then promptly grabbed it with your hands and had it in a tight grip, yanking the tail.

He hissed at you and lightly shoves you back. You stare at him. Then try to grab it again. He grabs the back of your shirt and lifts you up off your feet.

“Knock it off.”

“Are you a kitty? I’ve never seen them before.”

“I’m a lion.”

“Then you are a big kitty then.”

He sighs. He dislikes you already. He might just throw you into the care of Ruggie, the guy has plenty of siblings to speak of so he can take care of you. He seriously does not wanna deal with you, but, he has to keep you from making his form look bad. What a pain.

“Come on, brat.” He said, still carrying you by the back of your collar, which you didn’t seem to mind based on your grinning, trying to grab at his ears with your grubby mitts.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

He was just laying there peacefully in his room, the night was upon them after arriving back to the dorm. He was happy to sleep until…

He cracked one eye open and saw your glowing eyes in the dark staring back down at him. Leona swears, he started to dislike children even more. You were super creepy in the dark.

“What are you doing.” You asked.

“Trying to sleep. Which is what you should be doing. I gave you a room, didn’t I.”

The room he gave you was a vacant one only a few doors down from Ruggie’s room. If anyone should deal with you, it’s him. Please. But here you are, in front of him.

You continued to stare at him. “How do you sleep.”

“By closing my eyes and sleeping.” He groaned with a sigh and fully opened his eyes at you. “What do you want.”

“…I dunno.”

He felt a headache coming on. He turns his body over for his back to face you. You tilt your head at him and then caught eye to his tail again. You grabbed it with your hands and he immediately wanted to scratch you, but you weren’t gripping it like you hated him this time. You messed with it as it wriggled in your grasp and giggled lightly at the tail and then poked at the end, looking at it with fascination. You’ve never seen this before!

Then you climbed onto the messy bed and then started messing with his ears, which he lightly shoved your hands away, but then you went back to messing with them again.

“Stop.” He growled.

You remained silent, then lightly started petting him a bit. He huffed and sat up, grabbing you and putting you off the bed.

“Go to your room and go to sleep.”

“I don’t know how.” You said. “I’ve never slept before.”

Huh. You never slept before? Well if you are some star… thing… it sounded about right. He groaned for what seemed like the fifth time tonight and sucked his teeth and laying down on his back.

“Cmon, lay down,” he said, which you crawled back into the bed and mimicked his position, staring at him.

“Now shut your eyes.”

You shut your eyes and then waited, like he was, but nothing was happening. You felt antsy just waiting here in silence, but you kept your eyes firmly shut. Leona peaked at you and saw how you were tense, but said nothing. Eventually after a few moments, he heard you yawn and then move over to grasp at his arm. He looked at you and saw you completely passed out asleep.

Finally.

He yawned himself and fell asleep with you gripping his arm.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“YOU DAMN BRAT!”

You were giggling and laughing when you snatched away his favorite sandwich Ruggie got for him from the dining hall, running away from the botanical garden with the sandwich in hand. You didn’t wanna eat it, but you wanted to mess with him a little since you were bored.

You had been sitting on his chest for like a whole hour trying to wake him up but he’s been ignoring you. You tried napping with him to maybe get why he naps, but you got bored of that quickly.

Now you were escaping a cranky and hungry lion!

“GET BACK HERE!” You turned a corner down the hallway, pasting a bunch of students who moved out of your way, then you saw a beast man seeing Leona chase after you and tried to grab you, but you were a slippery thing and manage to dodge him!

Then you were suddenly tackled to the ground with Leona holding you to his chest as you were squealing with laughter and trying to wiggle your way out.

“Give me back my damn food.” He growled at you, trying to snatch it from you but you kept moving it away from him, even with him holding you.

Then you gave up and gave it to him. “Thank you for playing with me Leo!”

He doesn’t even correct you on his name. “Go bother someone else!”

He tried walking away, maybe hoping that you’d try and find Ruggie, but no, he looks over his shoulder and sees you happily following him.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

It had been after Leona’s Overblot and you didn’t even bother to leave the infirmary to see the Magift game, whatever it was. You sat a bit away from Leona’s bed in a chair with your knees against your chest, staring away from him. During his Overblot he called you a nuisance, which, you won’t bother trying to deny you were being annoying to Leona, but it still stung a bit. Leona could tell you were off based on how quiet you are and the fact you had a certain smell about you, as if your magic had dimmed a bit and it was clear by your eyes that you weren’t glowing as bright anymore.

He sighed. He hated apologizing but he would do it if you stopped having that sad look about you. “Hey, brat,”

You looked up to him, pouting a bit. He sighed again, more agitated.

“What I said… Uh…” He swallowed his pride. “I’m sorry.”

You blinked at him and tilted your head, like a confused puppy. And looked away. “Do I really bother you…? Do you really not like me? I promise I’ll stop. I’ll be better.”

Okay now that hit him harder than it needed to.

“You don’t need to ‘be better’, not for a guy like me. Sure, you are annoying,” he watches you deflate a bit. “But… If you stopped with your antics, I’d probably get antsy just waiting for you to do something. It wouldn’t be good, especially if I’m trying to sleep.”

Well… It was something. He watches you visibly brighten in your eyes and smile at him, which makes him disgustingly warm, and just accepts it when you throw yourself on him in a big hug.

“UNKA!!!!!”

No.

Please.

Cheka runs in the infirmary with the others following him, his little body colliding on top of Leona when you moved yourself out of the way, making him groan on the impact.

“Seriously? Cheka, where is your guard? Why are you even here.”

“I wanted to see you!” The little lion beamed with a toothy grin.

Then, the little guy takes notice of you, and you stared at him. You walked over to Cheka.

“Do you know Unka?” Cheka asked.

“Mhm! He’s taking care of me. I don’t have a home!”

Kids always say some odd stuff, especially honest stuff to one another and neither of you look at all phased.

“Oh, okay!” Cheka says. “My unka is very kind, even when he’s a little grumpy! Does that mean you’re my cousin?”

“No they aren’t-“

“I dunno what a cousin is but yeah!”

“You’re not my nephews cousin.”

“I’m Cheka!”

“I’m Y/N! I’ll try to be a good cousin but I dunno how to act.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll try to lead you okay!”

“You two ARENT cousins!”

“Octavinelle!”

Well… Okay?

He doesn’t know how to feel when he goes up to you, but what he does know is that you’re radiating with some powerful energy and he desires that. Perhaps he can shape you to his own devices? Hm…

“My name is Azul Ashengrotto, a pleasure to meet you Y/N.”

You furrowed your eyes at him and he blinked for a moment at you. It was as if you smelled something off, or maybe there was something on his face. You frowned at him and took a step back. Huh?

“Uh…” Crowley coughed in his hands. “Y/N? Go with Mr. Ashengrotto!”

“No.” You said. “There’s a funny smell on him. It smells weird.”

Azul felt a little embarrassed at how you put it. Crowley looked confused and then made a soft “ah” when he snapped his fingers.

“That’s the salt water!”

You looked at Crowley. “Whats salt water?”

Azul looked baffled for a moment. You didn’t know what salt water was!? Let alone an ocean!?

“It’s like water but salty.” Azul explained. “It’s usually found in the ocean.”

“What’s the ocean?”

“It’s… Like a big… lake?”

“Whats a lake?”

Did you seriously know nothing? He was growing a bit frustrated with you.

“Come with me and I can show you.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

It was like being in the glass and all around you there was blue, an array of animals swam past and barely turned to gaze at you. You stared with big eyes at what was supposedly the ocean that surrounded you. You touched the glass. You’ve only heard about the ocean from your siblings! They said that the moon liked the ocean and kept it balanced, from what you’ve heard.

And the ocean was very pretty.

“Do you understand now?” Azul asked behind you.

You looked at him. “I wanna feel the ocean.”

“You mean you wanna get in the water? I dont-“

“What’s the harm, Azul?” Jade asked with a small smile, looking down at you.

When you first met Jade and Floyd for the first time, you swore that you thought you were seeing double because you thought they were the same person! Well, up until they explained the idea of twins to you.

“Yeah Azul!” Floyd piped up, picking you up swiftly and squeezing you lightly. “Little starfish wants to explore!”

“Starfish? That’s new.” Jade lightly pinched your cheeks.

“Well the mirror did say that they were a star so they’re a starfish!”

Azul looked to Floyd and Jade and sighed. Maybe letting you swim would be okay. He has work to do so it doesn’t really bother him much.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

He had to sit in the lounge and watch you guys. Turns out you don’t know how to swim but somehow you don’t need to breathe? The first time you got in the water, you just sank to the bottom with Floyd and Jade now in their eel forms circling around you, trying to pull you up, but you just let the bubbles escape your mouth as you stared all around you, seemingly unaffected by the water or the salt entering your eyes. They stared back at you and Floyd was even more excited than before! You were just like a starfish, he was right!

Azul watched, somewhat panicked when you didn’t even bother swimming to the surface, mostly trying to flail your arms and try and follow Jade and Floyd.

“Don’t worry little starfish! We got you!” Floyd cheered, grabbing one of your arms.

“We can teach you since you’ll be around us a lot more often.” Jade grabbed your other arm.

The two hoisted you up and helped you move around in the water. It was like teaching a little fish how to swim for the first time, they thought it was adorable how your little bitty arms moved around to copy their movements. Of course, they had to go based off of how humans swam since you didn’t have a tail, which was fine. But for the most part, you were enamored by their eel form rather than trying to swim. You tried to grab their slippery tails but they moved so quick you couldn’t grab on. It was even worse when you actually got the hang of swimming a lot faster than they expected and tried chasing after them to grab their tails.

Floyd was having a blast as he pressed against the glass. “Azul! Starfish is so cute! I wanna keep ‘em! They really like us like this!”

You caught Floyd by his tail and refused to let go, climbing like a gremlin up his body and grabbing his face. His whole body was a blue-ish green color, which you thought was the most cool thing ever, and then you finally have the chance to see his teeth up close.

“See! They like me!”

“Careful Floyd, don’t squeeze too hard.”

You didn’t mind. You and Floyd were getting along great! Azul wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or… a bad thing. Both? Probably both. It’s Floyd. Who knows what he’ll teach you.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You bit Azul during homework time.

“Ow! Y/N!? The hell was that for!?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged. “I was excited being around you and I wanted to bite you.”

“Starfish!!!” Floyd cooed, picking you up and squeezing you. “You and me are just alike!”

“Yay!”

Azul is now fearful.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

It had been days after Azul’s overblot incident and you had nothing to forgive him on because he never said anything to you, he mostly never really payed much attention to you since he was constantly working, which you were bored with. But even so, he was trying to change and open up more now for the better! But there was something really bothering you.

You wanted to swim with Azul!

“Azul?” You had asked him while in the lounge with him. He actually wanted to talk with you a bit more, study you a bit to know more about being a star in the first place, but you were bored with the questions mostly.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Can we swim?”

“Huh? Swim? I- I don’t think that’s…” He was worried. Sure he was trying to love himself more, he really was, after all, it’s something he has to learn to do before he could ever become whole. But there was still those lingering fears inside of him. You’ve never seen someone like him in that form.

“Please?” You looked at him with those big puppy dog eyes. “Pleaaaaaaaaaaeeeee????”

“…alright.” If it’s something you fear, it’s all the more reason to face it.

“Yay!”

You were tugging on him to get up to the tank that entered the sea around the dorm, dragging him to the water. You canonballed into the water without even bothering to get out of your uniform and poked your head up to watch Azul.

He was sweating bullets as he stepped into the water, the water engulfing his whole body until he was finally submerged. He shut his eyes tightly when he felt himself transform into what he thought was the hideous version of himself, a tentacle freak. He could practically hear the insults now.

He decided to crack a single eye open when he felt you grab one of the dark purpled limbs in your hand. You stared at it and blinked of times.

Then you bit him.

“Ow! Seriously!?”

You only grinned at him with those nasty demon teeth. He couldn’t help but smile back at you.

“Scarabia!”

Aw!!! He loves you already! At first glance, you looked like the cutest lil kid he’s ever seen! You remind him of his little siblings and he can’t help but beam at you as he approaches you and crouches to your level with eyes as big as yours.

“Hi there!” He beams. “My name is Kalim Al Asim! Im the prefect of the dorm and I guess I’ll be taking care of you!”

“It’ll mostly be me.” He heard Jalim sigh behind him.

“We can take care of them together!”

“Sun.” You suddenly said. Kamil looked at you with the same smile on his face and he hummed in question. You placed a hand on his head.

“You are… Like the sun.” You were smiling like you were talking about someone from home, where ever that was for you, and you kept patting his head, which he giggled at you and took your little hand in his.

“You’re so sweet!” He swooped you up in his arms and basically almost tried crushing you in his hug. “I like you weird star child! Come on! Let’s go to the dorms and I’ll show you around! Oo we can even have a sleepover and Jamil can make something yummy for you to eat! And then we can get to know each other, yeah!?”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Jamil almost dropped all his things as he stared at you and Kalim. How the hell did this even happen. Kalim was apparently watching you were on fire. You. Were. On. Fucking. FIRE!?

“WHAT THE FU-“

“Oh hey Jamil!”

“WHAT!? THEY- THE KID IS ON FIRE!?”

“I’m okay!” You said. “I got a little mad.”

“WHAT!?”

“We were watching a movie and they got upset at the movie, so I’m waiting until they stop burning. It’s kinda like how that weird shut-in guy from Ignihyde looks when he gets upset!” Kalim was laughing at the idea and Jamil was currently panicking. How was he okay with this!?

That’s when you stopped burning. Your clothes were burnt to a crisp and it was a miracle they weren’t ash, even more a blessing that they weren’t your uniform and rather your pajamas. But now there were burn foot marks in the floor because of your entire body being on fire. Jamil watched as you collapsed into Kalim’s arms and say that you’re better now, which Kamil wasn’t the least bit phased.

“Why didn’t you try and put them out!?” Jamil chided Kamil with a very confused and very irritated expression.

“Well, I was freaking out, don’t get me wrong!” He admitted while holding you. “My reaction was kinda like yours, except mostly crying and screaming. Then Y/N said that this sometimes just happened when their emotions get out of hand so I waited for them to calm down!”

“Kamil’s smile made me stop being angry.” You said to Jamil who felt a headache coming on as he sighed. He kinda just tried to accept what was happening.

Then you stood up and hugged Jamil, your arms wrapping around his abdomen. “I’m sorry I made you worry. And made the floor burn. And burned my clothes.”

He looked down at you, smelling the burnt fabric and char lingering in the air, and just simply sighed heavily and patted your head a little. After all, you were a little kid, even if you had some otherworldly magic in your hands and weren’t even human, despite looking like one.

“Group hug!”

Jamil can’t take this anymore.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“What was your home like, Y/N?” Kamil asked you one night before taking you to bed. It was actually next to his room, which he wanted to make sure it was so he can always help you if you ever needed him! Big brother instincts always take over.

“Mm… It was dark.” You said as he tucked you into bed. “I wasn’t alone though. I was with my family.”

“They were the other stars?”

“I think so. I’m not sure.” You looked at Kamil. “You always talk about the things you do with your family, but me and my family never done anything together. I always wanted to play, but there was nothing to play. We were always just… there.”

He felt sad for you. You weren’t showing any sadness since you didn’t understand how to express it, but he could tell that you were feeling something deep down based on how you were staring at him. Envious? Upset? All of the above? He couldn’t be sure, but it made him sad.

“But Im here. In this world. I can’t go back to my family and that’s fine.” You said. “Because I have Kamil and Jamil.”

He felt his heart clench in his chest and he wanted to start crying. He felt warm as you smiled at him.

“Kamil is like the sun. And Jamil is like the moon. It reminds me of home and I’m happy!”

Kamil burst into tears and grabbed you, holding you close to his chest and sniffling and sobbing with snot running down his nose.

“You are the sweetest kid ever! I’m never letting you go! We’re gonna be together forever, I demand it!”

“Pomfoire!”

Oh……

Ew.

That was probably the very first thing he thought when he caught a glimpse at your ragged clothes. How you walked around with that mangy shirt made him look you up and down with slight distaste. Although, despite your lack of fashion, you had some hope in your appearance. With a bit of help, you had some hope.

“This is Vil Schoenheit. The prefect of Pomfoire. He is an expert in potion making! With his expertise, you’ll be a master in any art in no time!”

All you can think of is that this guy is very purple. Maybe that’s his favorite color. You’ll probably call him a fruit at some point. Vil crossed his arms as you stared up at him. The two of you had a staring contest for a while before Vil sighed and grabbed your arm.

“Come on, potato.”

“I am not a vegetable.” You said as he pulled you. “Val.”

“It’s Vil. It’s not that hard to say.”

“Whatever you say, Allen.”

“Dimwit.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Don’t. Eat. It.”

“But it smells good!”

“Do not eat it you idiot!”

Vil was trying to get you dolled up currently in his room. He had you sitting at his vanity with a large majority of makeup products that appeared high class in quality. He had gotten you out of those rugged fabrics and into the dorm uniform that was your size. Now he was busy styling you with a bit of a light blush and maybe some gloss. After all, you were still a child, he didn’t want to cake your skin in the products that could possibly damage your skin, it would just look terrible.

Unfortunately, the gloss he had smelled good to you and you kept trying to lick it off your lips to eat it. He was beyond disgusted. Nasty child.

“Stop that!” He said, lightly tapping your head to scold you. You pouted at him.

“But it smells good.”

“It won’t taste good, just like the soap you tried to eat when taking a bath.”

“It lied to me.”

He sighs, very annoyed. He decided to just skip the blush and just use chapstick.

…

“STOP TRYING TO EAT IT.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Ask anyone in NCR and they would insist that Vil despises you. He complains about you constantly annoy him and that you are a thorn in his side, along with other insults he could think of, mostly describing you a nuisance.

Others are very convinced he hates you, but, it’s actually the opposite.

He ADORES you.

Sure, you’re annoying at times with your constant pranks and always being glued to his side, but that’s not to say he hates it or you for it. When someone asks him if he does hate you, his confusion and irritation is clear.

“What gave you that idea?”

Well… He doesn’t exactly make it obvious he cares about you. His care for you is subtle if you aren’t actively trying to look for it.

“Vil can I have that burger thing in the dining hall?”

“Absolutely not. It’s very greasy and you could break out into pimples and ruin your complexion.”

You stare at him. You liked the fruit salad Vil introduced you to because it was sweet and nice, though you didn’t understand the salad part, there wasn’t any vegetables. But you also wanted to try other foods! You’ve never eaten before cause you never experienced hunger until you fell. Although, you haven’t gotten use to a solid form ever since your fall, nor the feeling of hunger. Some days you don’t feel hungry or feel any drainage like normal humans do when they experience it.

The first time you told Vil that you were hungry he asked when the last time you ate. You said;

“What day is today?”

You swore his face turned white as a sheet. Now he keeps a keen eye on you to maintain a proper eating schedule! He does take into consideration of your body type and shape, all people process food differently, but for you, you aren’t exactly human, fae, or any other creature he’s seen or studied, so he keeps a little snack on him at all times, just to make sure you get some food in you. You’re a growing star child and he’ll be damned if you don’t take care of yourself!

Another subtle thing people don’t look out for.

Vil eventually caved a let you have the burger, though. You devoured it in ten seconds flat.

“Calm down or you’ll-“

You started choking and he sighs. He’ll scold you later.

Another thing people rarely see is that he’ll kill everyone if someone insults you or hurts you.

There was a time a Pomfoire student laughed at you when a potion blew up in your face after you added random shit into the caldron. It didn’t hurt you or turn you into something strange, but it didn’t almost burn bits of your hair…

Vil heard the cackling as he was scolding you and then snapped his head over to the student.

“Is there something you want to add.”

His glare was terrifying and any word other than “no prefect” would probably make him want to turn them into a toad.

He’ll kill everyone and then himself if harm ever comes to you. That’s a promise, no matter what complaints he has.

“Ignihyde!”

He has a hundred PowerPoint slide on why he is the LEAST qualified person to do this. He still holds a belief that he is the worst brother in the world after what happened to Ortho and he can give a long, long list of reasons why he cannot possibly take care of a kid.

Now he looks at you through the floating tablet on his screen and bites his nails nervously when you stare back.

“On the otherside of this tablet is the prefect Idia Shroud! The prefect of Ignihyde.”

“Nice to meet you…? I guess.” Idia mumbled out.

You visibly perked up and suddenly snatched the table into your hands and stared at the screen. Now Idia has full view of those big eyes of yours and it isn’t something he enjoys. He almost screeches when you grabbed the tablet.

“Please let go of the tablet!” He said. “You’re gonna damage it or- or something! Just let it go!”

“You aren’t a person?”

“I am! I just didn’t wanna come to the ceremony in person, so I’m using this tablet to watch…”

“Oh.”

You didn’t understand but that’s fine. It was glowing a pretty blue and you wanted to look at it up close anyways, even if the man was trapped in the metal square.

“Hello!” Ortho came up to you and gently urged you to release the tablet from your hands. Idia almost sighed in relief. He didn’t wanna imagine what you’d be like in person. “My name is Ortho Shroud! My big brother is Idia Shroud!”

You stared at the boy, who was very cheerful. You tilted your head and then poked his metal shoulder. “You are metal.”

“I am! My brother designed this body for me!” Ortho said. “He is very talented and smart! Even if he doesn’t think so.”

“Ortho…” Idia’s hair was already turning pink from embarrassment.

You continuously poked at Ortho’s metal body, sometimes even knocking on it, which he didn’t seem to mind. He was giggling at you and grabbed your small hand in his, leading you out of the ceremony hall.

“Come on! Let’s meet my big brother!”

“Ortho! Wait I’m not mentally ready! Abort! Abort!”

“It’ll be okay!”

“Ortho!”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Idia hated this. No seriously he hated this so much.

As soon as you saw him, you wasted no time and suddenly scaled his body like a damn rat, which he let out a girly screech at, and now is stiff as a statue as you poked and prodded at his blue, fiery hair.

Meanwhile, Ortho was giggling at your antics. He really liked you! He’s never seen a kid who looked around his age before!

“Ortho.” Idia managed to croak out while sweating bullets. His personal space is being invaded! He does not have the items for this!! “Help your brother. Please.”

“They’re just curious big brother!” Ortho said. “I think they really like your hair!”

“Please… Please Ortho.”

You were messing with his hair with odd fascination then you suddenly moved away from him, which he sighed at and tried to relax, but you were still clinging onto him.

“Can you… Like… Get off me please.” He tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace.

You stared at him and then just slid off of him and onto the floor, looking around at your surroundings. Idia was still trying to recover from a little gremlin child climbing into him and invading his space and messing with his hair. Ortho lightly patted his brothers shoulder, but still looked to be smiling.

“I thought I was a goner…”

“It’s okay big brother, as far as I can see, you’re perfectly alright!”

“No seriously… I thought I was going to encounter the game over screen for a moment… this isn’t fair… Why me!??”

“It’s alright! I’ll make sure that Y/N doesn’t get into any trouble while we’re in school!”

You were searching around his room and suddenly grabbed one of his figurines.

“HEY PUT THAT DOWN!?”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Idia has come to the conclusion you were a total noob. Over the course of a month, he’s gotten use to you and even started liking you a bit! He’s still a bit weirded out by you and your need to constantly try and scale him like a tree, but he’s gotten use to it by going stiff. He also calls you a noob because you have a weird fascination with his technology, like you’ve never seen it before. Which you haven’t. Hell, even hun starting up his computer makes you go wide eyed. It’s so funny to him! There were times where he was like that when he was younger, but, he has grown up around technology so he doesn’t really completely understand your reactions.

Either way, they’re funny. He loves them.

He’s trying to teach you the basics of tech and what to avoid, after all you’re still a little baby in his eyes. He’s also introduced the idea of games to you, but mostly the ones that aren’t gorey and have a fantasy feel to them.

“Use this button to slash the enemy’s and basically interact with things.”

“Ok.”

“And use this to jump.”

“Ok.”

“Now go forward and try killing that mob with your sword! Oh and make sure to dodge.”

“Ok.”

…

“I died.”

It was a level one mob…

Now if you were anyone else he’d make fun of you and call you a normie, but…

He pats your head. “It’s alright, we all start somewhere. You did good! Let’s try again and try to copy what I do, okay?”

You seemed more happier when Idia pulled out a two player open world fantasy game knowing that you could play together than just doing it on your own. He’ll make sure to buy more of them, then!

“Diasomnia!”

They had forgotten to invite Malleus yet again to the ceremony, so Lilia had to come in his stead. So when Lilia saw you, he was surprised to hear that you’d be in the care of Malleus, though, not that surprised since you radiated this aura about you that gave off high levels of magic in you, it did remind him of Malleus, in some way.

If someone asked Lilia; “would you take in another child under your care?” Lilia would probably say no. Raising two boys was good for him and he’s proud of that.

“This is Lilia Vanrogue. He is not the prefect Malleus Draconia since uh…” Crowley coughed into his fist when Lilia gave him his signature smile, but with a glint in his eyes that told him to stop talking. “But he shall take you to Prince Malleus and introduce you to one another!”

When you looked up at him with those eyes, those big eyes with little thoughts behind them, he instantly threw any sense of self out of the window and caved.

Well, one more child to take care of wouldn’t hurt!

He crouched to your level and smiled sincerely, “hello there, young one. I am Lilia. It is very nice to meet you.”

You blinked at him and stared at him for a while. You then approached Lilia to move his hair out of the way and show his ears, messing with the pointy tips of them and even trying to yank them. He chuckled a little at your antics and grabbed your hand lightly to stop you.

He hoisted you up into his arms carefully and had you in his grip. You didn’t seem to mind at all, mostly trying to get as his ears again.

“I think we’re going to have a nice time, little one! Malleus is sure to love you.”

You said nothing and had the urge to eat his hair.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Welcome back Lilia!” Boomed Sebek as soon as Lilia entered the door.

Silver roused up from his light nap on the couch and eyed the little child in his arms, which caught his attention. Malleus had appeared when Lilia returned, obviously wanting to hear about the new students in their dorm, but clearly by the look of the child, it would be different this year.

“This is Y/N! They appeared so suddenly during the ceremony. Apparently they are a fallen star.” Lilia explained. “Burned too hot and fell from the sky, poor thing.”

You didn’t seem all too bothered and immediately looked at Malleus, specifically his horns. Sebek had begun his praise to Lilia on how generous he was to let you, a child, into their dorm, but stopped once you crawled your way down Lilia and approached Malleus without care.

He looked down at you.

You looked up at him.

You both engaged in a staring contest without even blinking, it was really uncanny. There was silence for a moment.

Then you started to crawl up Malleus.

“WH-“ Sebek almost choked on his spit as you just nonchalantly climbed up the Prince like the weird little baby you were.

You stopped and looked at Malleus’ ears, tugging them for a moment. Lilia was stifling his laughter, pressing a hand on Sebek’s chest to keep him back or burst out to say something and scold you or try and take you off Malleus. Silver was just blankly staring, probably not even understanding what was going on, thinking maybe this was just a fever dream. You moved your hands to Malleus’ horns, grasping at them lightly. Your eyes widened and then… Shook his head. As if testing if they were really attached to him.

Sebek almost had a stroke.

Lilia snorted.

Silver has long since checked out.

Malleus stopped your shaking. In that silence, he calmly patted your back awkwardly, grabbing you and setting you down.

“Aren’t they a charmer?” Lilia laughed as you ran up to Sebek and tried to climb him next.

He almost screamed as you clawed at his shirt. “BAD STAR CHILD! BAD! LILIA!”

“Alright little one,” Lilia picked you up with his hands under your arms and held you in front of Sebek. “What did you want from Seb?”

“LILIA! THEY ARE CLEARLY UNHINGED IN- IN SOME SORT OF MANNER! THEY CLIMBED THE YOUNG MASTER LIKE HE WAS A TREE! THAT IS BEYOND DISRESPECTFUL!”

“But their just a baby.” Lilia cooed.

You reached your greasy grippers to Sebek’s ears. They weren’t pointy! You blinked and then tried to grab his mouth because you saw his pointy teeth, that’s when he almost hissed at you.

You wiggled your way out of Lilia’s hold and found your next victim to be Silver. He didn’t even bother to stop you in anyway as you climbed him and caught his ears in your hands. Not pointy either. And his teeth were dull too! You grabbed his cheeks, stretched them a bit, and poked them. He blinked at you.

“Do you mind.” He yawned.

You stared back at him and then grabbed his hair. It was a very strange color and you liked it. That’s where he drawed the line when you tugged and set you down.

“Lilia, you said their name was Y/N?” Malleus finally spoke. “And a fallen Star? I’ve never heard of such a thing.

“Yes, I thought so as well, but there are plenty of surprises this year. A magicless human was also enrolled at NCR, supposedly.”

“Interesting.”

“Lily.” You pointed at Lilia. Sebek was about to burst a blood vessel.

“YOU CANT CALL LILIA-SAMA ‘LILY’! THATS NOT HIS NAME!”

“No no, it’s alright. I quite like it. Thank you little one!”

You then looked at Sebek. “Beckie.”

“THAT DOESNT EVEN RELATE TO MY NAME???”

Then to Silver. “Sil.”

“WHY DOES HE GET A NORMAL ONE!?”

Then you look at Malleus. “Mal-Mal.”

…

“Okay.”

Malleus was never more confused in his life but he laughed a little anyways at your nickname. It was very cute and very unlike anyone who’s been around him.

Sebek has long since given up on you, deciding that there was little hope in trying to stop you. Silver likes you because you gave him a sensible nickname and you’re alright so far. And Lilia already loves you! He’s a father of three now!

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Mal-Mal.”

“Yes, beastie.”

“Look what I can do.”

Malleus looked away from his book at you. The two of you were suppose to be studying magic together under the watch of Lilia, with Sebek following and Silver just wanting to see what you can do, after all he was curious.

You’ve proven yourself to be a bit of a firecracker when it came to showing off your magic. By that, it simply meant your magic was very uncontrollable and a simple light spell could possibly render someone blind, so Lilia wanted to make sure you didn’t get yourself hurt.

You held out your hand and then…

A burst of light suddenly burned their eyes, white fire, probably hotter than anything, burned at your entire arm. Sebek was losing his mind in fear that you were going to hurt yourself and possibly Malleus. In a blink of an eye, it stopped, and in your hand was a little flower in your hands. It was transparent and firey. Around your feet there was singes in the floor from when your whole body heated up. You offered the flower to Malleus.

“For you.”

He blinked at you and tried to take the flower from you, but it quickly disappeared.

“Oh.” You said, dropping your hand.

“That’s alright, little one.” Lilia came to your side quickly, wanting to console you as his fatherly instincts took over.

“Be careful next time!” Sebek had said. “You could have burned the whole dorm to ash!!”

“I doubt they would do that, Beckie.”

“SILVER!”

Malleus decided to use a bit of his own magic to make his own flower in his hand, a little bit like yours, but instead a small black lily and handed it to you, which you took gently.

“Do you like it, beastie?”

You nodded. “I’m gonna keep it forever so I can remember to make a lot of flowers for Mal-Mal.”

Malleus swears if anyone hurts you, he’s gonna kill everyone and then himself.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

With Yuu, there is Malleus. And with Malleus, there is you. You always like to come with Malleus on his walks, it’s very nice, especially seeing the weird dormitory that looks ready to collapse. You like asking Yuu all sorts of questions.

“What’s it like being flesh and blood.”

“…uh…”

You like Yuu.

[random-thot-generator]

Better Not to Know

KYLE GAZ GARRICK x FEM READER

-

Summary: A chance encounter with a handsome stranger in a night club leaves you longing for more.

Warnings/Tags: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected P in V - fr tho wrap it up ya filthy animals, random hook-up sex, breeding kink?- hmm... yeah, fem breeding kink, a moody touch of angst, some pining, my usual brand of smut, only half-assed proofread- embrace the imperfections, no use of Y/N

(Notes: Just another smut purge with pretty boy Gaz, along with some angst added in for @tiredmetalenthusiast . I didn't forget, I just get easily distracted. Hope you like!)

banners & dividers by: @saradika-graphics

-

Chaotic, strobing lights and throbbing, hypnotic bass. Dim shadows writhing en masse on the dance floor, a dense forest of waving arms and swaying bodies. There is heat and sweat and sex layered thick in the oppressive air with just a hint of danger to heighten alcohol-dulled senses.

The danger you're seeking lurks at a corner cocktail table on the outskirts of the dance floor. He's somehow managed to sprawl with natural grace over the unwieldy, tall chair, lounging like a king on a throne. One heel is hooked on a rung, the other resting on the floor, his body one long, continuous masculine line that pulls the eye up to a face that's both wicked and angelic. His smile is pure sin, his dark eyes appreciative and knowing.

Oh, yes...

This is what you came here for tonight. To hell with the drinks and dancing and your girls' night out. This is what you really need. This man, this demigod currently eye-fucking you from across the room. A coy smile curls your painted lips as the two of you lock eyes.

Ten minutes later, you're pressed up against the graffitied partition of a bathroom stall, legs wrapped around his surging hips, whimpering as he snaps and grinds them with brutal precision. Your fingers glide over dark skin sheened with sweat, hungry mouth seeking the hot cavern of his as he spears you to the wall with a particularly hard thrust. The rhythmic clink of his belt catches your ear, a lewd accompaniment to your gasping breaths and the constant slap-slap of flesh on flesh. It debaucherous and filthy and you can't get enough.

He stares into your eyes when he tells you to touch yourself, pinning you with a smoldering look that has your cunt clenching in response. Nostrils flare and teeth grit, his strokes growing sharper, deeper, more unhinged with each passing second. He's fucking you with feral abandon, a wild light flashing in his eyes as he nears his release. He's growling, gnashing his teeth, mouth hovering at your neck as he fights the primal urge to bite, to mark, to claim.

"This is mine. My pussy," he snarls at your ear, and holy fuck! That possessive, dark tone in his voice sends your mind reeling, turning you into a desperate, needy, grasping thing. Speaking coherently at this point is out of the question, but you nod your confirmation with dazed enthusiasm. Hell yes, this is his pussy. He can claim it and any bloody thing else he wants, just so long as he doesn't stop fucking you.

"Come for me," he demands in a low, guttural voice, and you do. God help you, you do, like a bitch coming to heel. "Fuck, that's it, pet. Just like that. Bloody fuck—"

The rest of his words catch in his throat, and with one last violent thrust he stills, his entire body tensing, muscles trembling with the strain as his fingers clamp onto your ass and drive you down onto his cock, holding you in place as he empties himself inside you. His cock pulses hard enough to make you moan at the feel of it, your eyes rolling back in your head. You know it's bad form to not use a condom, dead stupid of you both, to be honest, yet you can't deny the truth.

You wanted him this way, raw and real and messy. It's insane, pure unadulterated nonsense, but you relish the feel of his cum inside you. You'll regret this decision come morning when you're slinking into the chemist's shop for a Plan B pill before popping into the clinic to get tested. Right now, though, it's all you can do not to purr in decadent satisfaction.

His kisses are errant, artless things landing haphazardly across your collarbone, your earlobe, your cheek. His lips then cover yours, his tongue unfurling in your mouth to slide over yours in a sensual, intimate coupling, and something inside you blooms warm then spreads out to all your extremities. His nose bumps yours in the sweetest way, and you're enamored with him, just like that.

The bathroom door opens, noise flooding into the quiet space between you. Two drunk girls dawdle at the sink, comparing notes on the blokes they've chatted up, deciding which ones they'll be taking home later. His brown eyes sparkle with barely contained mirth, lips quivering as he holds in his laughter. He's so bloody beautiful. You drop your head to his shoulder, unable to look at him any longer without saying something stupid like, "Come home with me."

You bite your tongue and wait.

The sink runs, the hand dryer blasts, and then the two birds are walking out, leaving the lingering scent of cheap body spray and pink hand soap in the close, heated air. The tap drips, his belt buckle jingles, and the spell is broken. He sighs, placing a chaste peck on your lips, his hands giving your hips a gentle squeeze.

Time's up.

Legs sliding down his muscled flanks, you lock your shaking knees to support you, inner thighs quivering. His cum is a tangible reminder of his claim on your body, as much as the smell of his cologne and sweat on your skin, as much as that poignant, sharp ache in your battered cervix. He fucked you hard and he fucked you well and he made certain that you'd remember him for days to come. What more could you ask of a man like him?

"Ya alright, pet?" he murmurs, his voice so deep and smooth and warm that it raises the fine hairs all over your body. The man is sex personified, a carnal feast that's left you sated but still craving more. You've never been with anyone like him, and it scares you a bit, the effect that he has on you. You were right about him; he's dangerous.

You hum in the affirmative and smile, suddenly feeling shy and awkward. You lower your lashes to hide your confusion, too flustered to speak. You can only imagine what sort of goofy, cock-dumb expression you're wearing. His sigh of satisfaction gusts over your face, the backs of his long fingers brushing over your cheekbone. "So lovely," he mutters, like an inner thought spoken aloud.

Silly cow that you are, his words make your heart flutter.

"I'm fine. More than fine," you finally answer.

You chance a glimpse up into deep brown eyes with striations of amber and copper that catch the dim light. Your gaze drinks him in, flickering over his long, curling lashes and wing-like raven brows. You're melting at the sight of the most sensuous mouth you've ever seen on a man, not to mention a smile so brilliant, it turns you inside out and dumps your heart on the floor. It's only the scar beneath his left eye that detracts from his ethereal, masculine beauty, that proves that he is, in fact, a mere mortal.

"Perfection," you whisper, skimming your thumb over the scar. Your meaning goes for both the man and the sex, but he can take it however he likes.

He fumbles at the latch and opens the stall door, keeping a hand at your lower back as you toddle out on coltish legs. You drift to the mirror to see what the damage is, oddly proud about the mess he's made of you. You swipe the mascara from beneath your eyes and dab away the smear of lipstick at the corner of your mouth. Your hair's a bit of a tangle, but who's going to notice or care at this late stage of the evening?

A tremulous smile appears on your face when he steps in behind you, large hands curling 'round your hips as he presses his full length against your back. His warmth seeps through the thin material of your dress, his mouth hot and wet as it skates up the column of your throat. "You were bloody amazing, love," he breathes at your ear, chuckling, pleased, when you shiver. He gives your bum a light smack that turns into a protracted, possessive squeeze. "Love your arse," he mumbles to himself, then gives his head a shake, stepping away. "I'll, uh, see ya around, yeah?"

"Sure," you husk out, knowing it's all a lie. These soft words and kind glances are nothing more than routine hook-up etiquette— always try to part ways on friendly terms. You know this role by heart, have played out this scenario so many times that you can recite all the inane pleasantries in your sleep.

Only this time, you wish the words were true.

His eyes meet yours in the mirror, his weight shifting between his feet, then he winks and stuns you with another one of those mega-watt smiles. Stepping to the door, he takes hold of the handle but then pauses, his eyes drifting over you one last time. He seems on the verge of saying something, but his beautiful mouth presses into a thin line, the corners turned down. He takes in a long, slow breath then heaves it out with a wistful sigh. "Take care, love."

"You, too."

You offer up a brave smile and hold up a hand in farewell, though a pang of disappointment rings hollow inside your chest as you watch him step through the door and disappear. The racket from the club pours into the room like dirty flood water, and the sudden urge to go after him has you shuffling your feet. Then, with a pneumatic hiss of the closing door, the obnoxious noise is muffled again to a dull and distant roar, and your reason returns.

How pathetic would you have looked, chasing after him like some clingy, lovesick girl. Your fingers tighten on the edge of the sink as you peer into the mirror at your reflection. You're surprised by your forlorn expression and realize you feel a little sad now that he's gone.

Once you return to your seat, you ignore the chatter of your drunk friends, instead panning your eyes over the crowd. You're hoping to spot his familiar silhouette among the anonymous bodies but can't find him, again. He must have left, his mission for the night now complete, you think with a touch of bitterness. No point in sticking around, right?

You fancy that you could pretend he was just a drunken fever dream, nothing more than a figment of your inebriated imagination, if not for the dull ache that still resides deep in your core. Oh, he was real, alright, as real as his cum in your panties and the sore throb of your bruised cunt. You know in your heart of hearts that it will take weeks, maybe even months for his memory to fade. The thought is depressing.

"Think I'm gonna call it a night, ladies," you tell the bleary-eyed trio seated around the table.

Your friends fuss and protest, trying their best to coax you into one more drink or at least another dance, but they're too drunk to really see the state of you. If they were just a little bit sober, it would be more than obvious why you're so set on leaving; you're completely fucked out, decimated, ruined. You hug each of them good night and promise to text the group chat when you arrive home.

Cold air smacks you in the face when you step out of the club. You inhale a sharp, icy breath, fog condensing in front of your eyes as you release it. You can feel the chill wind seeping through the seams of your coat, feel how it settles deep into the marrow of your bones. You suddenly feel achy and tired and near desperate for the warm safety of your own bed.

A glance up and down the sidewalk reveals the lack of waiting taxis, so you pull out your phone and order an Uber, cursing the wait. Huddling deeper inside your coat, your let your thoughts drift back to that brief but memorable encounter in the loo. For once, you regret not getting a bloke's number, and now you can't help but wonder if that's why he paused before leaving. Had he wanted you to ask him for it?

Unfortunately, you'll probably never know.

It's probably for the best, you tell yourself. A handsome bloke like him would undoubtedly complicate your life. He's the type of man that makes a sane, independent woman want to bake cakes and make babies. He is dangerous. You knew it when you first saw him, and now he's proven it to you. Already the 'what-ifs' are rattling about inside your tired brain. It's a good thing he left when he did, otherwise...

Yeah, you're definitely better off not knowing.

Your phone chimes, notifying you that your Uber has arrived, a faded red hatchback pulling up to the curb seconds later. You check the driver's ID then climb into the backseat, sinking back into the cushions as the car pulls back into the light flow of traffic. It irritates you that you still feel that little inkling of sadness. It's such a haunted, lonely feeling.

Damn, you think, staring blindly out of the window. I wish I'd asked for his name.

-

part 2

[yumikk101]

Shadows Beneath the Tide

Character: Tartaglia/Childe, YN

Genre:

Romantic:Drama,Enemies to Lovers,Thriller

Warnings: Mild violence, injuries

Rating: Mature (M) for explicit content, violence, dark themes, and adult language

Reader discretion is advised due to mentions of abuse, trauma, and intense, passionate scenes

Word count: First part of a One-shot

_________________________________________

The heavy scent of sea brine hung in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood and steel. Moonlight fractured over the frozen expanse of the battlefield—a jagged, glittering canvas of chaos where neither party could claim advantage. The wind howled between the cliffs, carrying the echoes of distant screams and the clash of blades

You crouched low, your breath misting in the frigid air, one gloved hand pressed against the slick ice beneath you. Across the icy expanse, Tartaglia—Childe—stood with his twin blades raised, his lips curled into that infuriating smirk. The Harbinger had a knack for making murder look like a game, his aqua eyes gleaming with unhinged delight

“Is that all you’ve got?” he called, his voice a whip crack that sliced through the cacophony. He cocked his head, daring you forward. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want to kill me.”

Your fingers tightened around the hilt of your dagger. “Don’t mistake strategy for weakness,” you snapped, rising to your feet with deliberate slowness. “Unlike you, I don’t fight for sport. And I certainly don’t waste time toying with my prey.”

The ice beneath you fractured as you lunged, closing the distance in a blur. Childe’s smirk widened as he raised his blades to meet yours, sparks erupting in a violent shower as steel collided. He leaned in close, the faintest hint of iron on his breath

“Toying with you?” His tone dripped with mock innocence. “Darling, I’m giving you a chance to impress me.”

You snarled and pressed harder, your blade sliding perilously close to his throat. But Childe twisted with maddening grace, spinning out of your reach and slashing at your side. You blocked just in time, the force reverberating up your arm, but your footing faltered on the uneven ice

Childe pounced on the opportunity, his blades moving like a tempest. He fought with an artistry you loathed to admire, every strike a carefully calculated blend of power and finesse. You matched him blow for blow, your movements sharper, more deliberate, honed by years of surviving battles where failure meant death

“Still so cold,” he taunted, sidestepping your next strike. “You know, most people can’t keep up with me. But you—” He ducked under your blade and grinned up at you. “You’re different. Scarier, even.”

Your next attack forced him back a step, the tip of your dagger grazing his cheek. He hissed, his smirk finally faltering

“Good,” you said, voice low and venomous. “You should be afraid.”

For a moment, the battle stilled. The two of you circled each other like predators, breaths heaving in the icy air. His gaze burned into yours, a smoldering intensity that was equal parts hatred and... something else. Something dangerous

“What drives you, I wonder?” Childe mused, his voice softening. He tilted his head, studying you as though you were a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. “Is it vengeance? Duty? Or are you just like me, chasing the thrill of the fight?”

You barked a laugh, cold and sharp. “You think we’re alike?” You lunged again, this time feinting left before twisting to land a hard kick against his ribs. He staggered, but his grin returned. “You’re nothing but a weapon for the Tsaritsa. A tool with a pretty face.”

“And you’re any different?” Childe shot back, spitting blood. “You act so high and mighty, but you’re no saint. I’ve seen the way you fight—merciless, relentless. You’re just as ruthless as the rest of us, no matter how much you pretend otherwise.”

His words hit a nerve, but you refused to let him see it. Instead, you closed the distance between you, your blade aimed straight for his heart. He parried, your faces mere inches apart now

The tension crackled like a live wire. His eyes flickered down to your lips for the briefest moment before snapping back to your gaze

“You’re angry,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “But it suits you. Makes you even more beautiful.”

Your breath hitched, and you cursed yourself for it. This wasn’t the time for hesitation—or for the rush of heat pooling in your chest. You pushed him back with a growl, your blade slicing the air between you

“You talk too much,” you said, though your voice betrayed a slight tremor

Childe chuckled, brushing a hand over the blood streaked across his cheek. “And you hide too much. But that’s okay—I’ve always loved a good mystery.”

He moved to strike again, and you met him head-on, the clash of your weapons resounding like thunder. The fight resumed, but the tension between you was different now. Sharper. Heavier

And as much as you hated to admit it, Childe wasn’t wrong. There was a thrill in facing him—a thrill you couldn’t deny, no matter how much you wanted to

The storm had settled and so is your fight, though the air between you and Tartaglia still buzzed with a tension thicker than the frost underfoot. Snowflakes drifted lazily, a stark contrast to the chaos that had just unfolded. His breathing was steady now, though the ferocity in his eyes hadn't dimmed

You wiped your hands against your coat, pretending the tremor in them wasn’t from his lingering presence. "So what now?" you asked, your tone sharper than intended. You couldn’t bear the weight of silence stretching any further

Tartaglia tilted his head, a half-smirk forming, though his gaze was colder than the Snezhnayan air. "What do you want it to be?" His words were casual, but his voice carried an edge—a challenge, as if daring you to make the first move

You stared at him, at the faint cuts marring his face and the frost clinging to his hair, and something about his composure only stoked the fire in your chest. "Don't play games with me, Childe. Not now."

He laughed, but it wasn’t the warm, mischievous sound you’d grown used to. It was bitter, almost hollow. "Games? That’s rich, coming from someone who clearly doesn’t know what they want."

Your fists clenched at your sides. "Maybe because every time I think I understand, you go and twist it all up again. I can’t keep—"

"Keep what?" he interrupted, stepping closer, the distance between you dwindling to a dangerous few inches. "Can’t keep pretending you don’t feel something? Can’t keep running every time it gets a little too real?"

The accusation hit its mark, and your breath caught. You took a step back, suddenly feeling as though the ground beneath you was about to give way. "You think you know me so well," you said quietly, though your voice trembled. "But you’re just projecting your own chaos onto me."

His expression flickered, as if your words struck somewhere deeper than you intended. But then he shook his head, his grin returning like armor. "You’re right. Maybe I am," he said, his voice softer now, almost resigned. "But at least I’m not afraid to admit it."

You opened your mouth to respond, to cut through whatever wall he was trying to build, but his next words stopped you cold

"Whatever this is, you can’t ignore it forever," he said, his tone laced with something unreadable—half plea, half warning. "And neither can I."

The silence that followed was deafening. You wanted to deny him, to push him away with words sharp enough to wound. But instead, you turned away, muttering, "Let’s just focus on finishing what we came here to do."

The words felt like a retreat, and you hated yourself for it. But you couldn’t—wouldn’t—give him the satisfaction of seeing how close you were to unraveling

Behind you, Tartaglia let out a low chuckle, though it carried no humor. "Sure," he said, his voice lighter but no less biting. "We’ll call it a truce. For now."

But as you started walking, your back turned to him, you could feel his gaze burning into you, like he was trying to read the thoughts you refused to share

The icy tundra stretched endlessly, a frozen wasteland serving as the perfect stage for the turmoil brewing between you. Tartaglia walked a few paces behind, his presence tangible even when he wasn’t speaking. He hadn’t cracked another joke since your brief skirmish ended, and the absence of his usual bravado unsettled you more than any of his quips ever could

Your mission wasn’t complicated on the surface, but it felt like the weight of the world balanced precariously on its success. The Tsaritsa herself had ordered it—both of you were tasked with retrieving an ancient artifact, the Shard of Eternity, said to stabilize the waning power of the Fatui in the west.The artifact had been stolen by rogue elements within Snezhnaya’s own borders, a group seeking to destabilize the Tsaritsa’s rule. Your orders had been clear: retrieve the shard at any cost. Failure was not an option

The cost, however, was proving higher than you anticipated

When the mission was first assigned, you hadn’t expected to be paired with Tartaglia. Your expertise as one of the Fatui’s most feared operatives—a shadow even among Harbingers—was supposed to place you above petty partnerships. You didn’t need backup. Certainly not his. But the Tsaritsa had insisted, her icy gaze brooking no argument, and now here you were, trudging through frostbitten terrain with a man who was simultaneously your rival and your match in ways you hated to admit

“I still don’t get why you jumped me back there,” Tartaglia said suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade

“You were being reckless,” you snapped, not turning to face him. “Charging ahead without waiting for confirmation. I was stopping you from getting us both killed.”

He scoffed, his footsteps crunching closer. “Stopping me? Looked more like you were trying to kill me yourself. And don’t think I didn’t notice how you hesitated before that last strike. What was that about?”

You stopped walking, spinning on your heel to face him. “I hesitated because I remembered this mission requires both of us alive, you fucking idiot.”

“Sure,” he said, his grin returning faintly. “Or maybe you just couldn’t bring yourself to finish me off.”

You wanted to argue, to deny the truth he’d unwittingly hit on. But your first meeting flashed in your mind, unbidden, and you faltered

It had been two years ago, in the frigid halls of the Zapolyarny Palace. You’d been newly elevated to your position, a deadly force handpicked by the Tsaritsa to clean up the messes the Harbingers couldn’t be bothered to handle. That day, the mess had been Tartaglia

He’d been bloodied from a previous skirmish, yet still standing tall, laughing as though he hadn’t just been dragged before the Tsaritsa for insubordination. His defiance intrigued you, though you told yourself it was irritation. You weren’t like him, reckless and smiling in the face of authority

“You think this is funny?” you’d asked, stepping into the room and earning his sharp, ocean-colored gaze. “You’re a disgrace to the Fatui.”

“And you’re just another one of her lapdogs,” he’d replied smoothly, his grin never faltering. “What’s your name again? Oh, wait—I don’t care.”

It had taken everything in you not to strike him then and there. But you held back, knowing the Tsaritsa was watching

Over the months that followed, your paths crossed again and again, your work often tangling with his chaotic missions. Every meeting ended in some kind of argument, your personalities clashing like swords. He was unpredictable, a wild card in every sense. You were meticulous, your every move calculated. He infuriated you. And yet, somehow, he always found ways to surprise you

“Are you going to keep glaring at me, or are we moving?” Tartaglia’s voice snapped you back to the present. He was watching you closely, his usual humor muted but still present in the curve of his lips

You turned without answering, continuing your trek. The memories gnawed at you, though. Why did you dislike him? That was easy—he was careless, too willing to throw his life away for a cause you weren’t even sure he fully believed in. But why did you like him? That was harder to admit, even to yourself

It wasn’t just that he was skilled or confident—though those qualities had drawn your attention. It was the way he fought through every obstacle with unwavering determination, the way he shielded his family from the darker parts of his life. He carried a weight similar to yours, but where you hid your burdens behind cold precision, he masked his with laughter

And despite your differences, he saw through you in ways no one else ever had

you reached a frozen ravine, the jagged ice below a reminder of how precarious your mission truly was. The shard’s signal was faint but growing stronger, its location just beyond the treacherous landscape

“We’ll have to climb,” you said, already assessing the safest route

“Or we could take the faster way,” Tartaglia suggested, gesturing to a thinner patch of ice that looked ready to crumble under the slightest weight

You shot him a glare. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

He smirked, stepping closer. “Relax. I know what I’m doing.”

“You always say that, and it’s never true.”

He laughed, a sound that sent an uncomfortable warmth through you despite the freezing air. “You really don’t trust me, do you?”

“Should I?” you challenged, crossing your arms

His grin faltered, his expression turning serious. “Maybe not. But you trust me enough to be here, don’t you?”

The words hung between you, a subtle reminder that despite your animosity, you’d chosen to work alongside him. Maybe it wasn’t trust, exactly, but it was something close

Before you could respond, the ice beneath you groaned, the sound reverberating ominously. Tartaglia reacted instantly, grabbing your arm and pulling you back just as the ground gave way

You landed on top of him, your knife drawn instinctively as you pinned him to the icy ground. His laughter bubbled up again, breathless but amused

“Always so dramatic,” he teased, his eyes alight with mischief despite the situation

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, pressing the blade closer to his throat

“And yet, here we are,” he replied, his tone softer now, almost contemplative.

“I hate you,” you said, your voice trembling slightly as you pushed yourself off him

“Good,” he replied, his grin returning. “It’ll make this mission more fun.”

You glared at him and as you wanted to deny it, Tartaglia was right about one thing—you couldn’t keep ignoring your feelings

But for now, you had a mission to complete. And if it meant burying those feelings a little deeper, then so be it

The shard's faint energy pulsed in the distance, growing stronger with every careful step you took as you navigated the icy ravine

For a while, the mission proceeded smoothly, almost too smoothly. The remnants of your earlier fight still burned in your muscles, a testament to how evenly matched you were. Your movements were sharp and methodical, every step a calculated decision

Tartaglia, on the other hand, moved with that infuriating combination of recklessness and grace, his occasional smirk enough to set your teeth on edge

But when the shard’s pulsing energy became almost deafening, your instincts screamed at you that something was wrong

“This isn’t right,” you muttered, stopping just short of a jagged cliffside. Below, the ruins of a forgotten stronghold jutted out from the snow, its architecture crumbling but eerily intact. The shard’s signal radiated from deep within its icy depths

“Not backing out, are you?” Tartaglia asked, his tone light but his gaze sharp

You shot him a glare. “I’m saying it’s a trap, fucking idiot. Even you can feel how wrong this is.”

He shrugged, loosening his scarf as if preparing for a fight. “Of course it’s a trap. That’s half the fun.”

Your fingers twitched toward the hilt of your blade. “One day, that attitude is going to end you ”

“Maybe,” he replied, stepping closer to the edge of the cliff. “But it’s not today.”

Before you could stop him, he leapt down, landing on the icy ground below with alarming ease. His silhouette disappeared into the ruins, leaving you cursing under your breath

You hated how he always pushed you to follow his lead, how he acted like the danger was some kind of game. And yet, as much as you wanted to leave him to his reckless fate, you couldn’t. Not because you needed him for the mission, but because you refused to let someone else take him away—not the enemy, not the Tsaritsa, not even himself

With a sharp breath, you followed

The stronghold’s interior was worse than you’d anticipated. The air was thick with an unnatural chill, the kind that sank into your bones and made your breath feel heavy. Shattered ice and ancient stone lined the walls, glowing faintly with the shard’s power. Tartaglia was already a few steps ahead, his dual blades drawn and gleaming in the dim light

“Glad you decided to join me,” he said without turning around

“Shut up,” you snapped, drawing your weapon

His laughter echoed off the walls, but it was short-lived. The moment you stepped into the central chamber, the shard’s energy surged, and the trap you’d anticipated sprang into action

Shadows erupted from the ground, taking the form of faceless figures armed with jagged weapons. Their movements were erratic, inhuman, and their sheer number was enough to send a spike of adrenaline through your veins

“See? Fun,” Tartaglia said, his grin wild as he launched into the fray

You cursed under your breath but didn’t hesitate, your blade flashing as you cut through the nearest shadow. The battle was chaotic, your movements sharp and precise as you worked to cover Tartaglia’s blind spots. He fought like a storm, every strike brutal and unrelenting, but even he couldn’t take on this many enemies alone

For a brief moment, the two of you were perfectly in sync. Your blades moved as if guided by the same rhythm, your combined force cutting through the horde with ruthless efficiency. But the shadows kept coming, and the shard’s energy only grew more oppressive

“This is pointless,” you shouted over the chaos. “We need to destroy the shard before it kills us both!”

“And here I thought you liked fighting,” Tartaglia quipped, though his grin was strained

You didn’t have time to argue. Darting toward the shard, you narrowly avoided a spear of ice that shot up from the ground, your focus locked on the glowing artifact. Its surface was cracked, pulsing with unstable energy, and you knew one wrong move could trigger an explosion powerful enough to destroy the entire stronghold

Tartaglia appeared beside you, his breathing heavy but his expression determined. “Got a plan, or are we winging it?”

“We stabilize it, then take it back to the Tsaritsa,” you said, your voice clipped. “Destroying it isn’t an option.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Stabilizing something that’s actively trying to kill us? Sounds like your kind of fun.”

Ignoring his sarcasm, you reached for the shard, your gloves crackling with static as its energy lashed out. Tartaglia covered you, his blades cutting down the shadows that surged in response to your movements. The shard’s power fought against your touch, its unstable force threatening to overwhelm you, but you gritted your teeth and held on

“Almost there,” you muttered, your focus narrowing as you began to stabilize the shard’s energy

Tartaglia’s voice cut through the chaos. “Don’t get yourself killed, alright? I’m not carrying your corpse back to the palace.”

“Shut up and fight,” you snapped.

When the last shadow fell and the shard’s energy finally settled, you collapsed against the wall, your breaths ragged. Tartaglia stood nearby, his own exhaustion evident but his grin as sharp as ever

“Well, that was entertaining” he said, wiping blood from his cheek

You glared at him. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re welcome,” he replied, his tone smug

Before you could retort, he stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. There was no teasing in his expression now, no trace of his usual humor. Just raw, unfiltered emotion that sent a shiver down your spine

“Why do you always do this?” you asked, your voice quieter now

“Do what?”

“Act like none of this matters. Like your life doesn’t matter.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, his silence heavier than the icy air around you. Then he smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes

“Maybe because it doesn’t,” he said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. Because as much as you hated to admit it, you understood. You understood the weight he carried, the way it drove him to recklessness and defiance. And you hated that you couldn’t hate him for it

The shard pulsed faintly between you, its power subdued but still present. It was a fragile peace, much like the one that existed between you and Tartaglia

The journey back to the palace was grueling, but not for the reasons you expected. Tartaglia’s usual cocky comments were rare, replaced by a heavy silence that pressed down on both of you like the perpetual frost of Snezhnaya. The shard, stabilized but still faintly pulsing, rested in a reinforced containment case slung over your back. Its weight wasn’t physical, but you felt it all the same

Tartaglia led the way, his strides purposeful but tense. His coat was still dusted with blood and frost, his movements betraying exhaustion despite his unrelenting pace. You kept your eyes on his back, fighting the urge to break the silence. Every time you opened your mouth, the memory of his words—Maybe because it doesn’t—echoed in your head, silencing you before you could speak

The looming silhouette of the Tsaritsa’s palace soon came into view, its spires piercing the gray sky like jagged shards of ice. The sight was both awe-inspiring and suffocating, its beauty undercut by the weight of duty that always accompanied stepping inside

The throne room was as cold as ever, its icy floor reflecting the dim light of the chandelier above. Frost-coated pillars lined the hall, their jagged forms like frozen sentinels guarding the Tsaritsa’s domain. She sat on her throne at the far end, her presence an overwhelming force that demanded absolute obedience

Beside her, Pierro stood in silent vigilance, his gaze heavy as it swept over you and Tartaglia. Other Harbingers loitered along the edges of the room—Dottore, Arlecchino, and Pantalone among them—each watching with varying degrees of interest and disdain

You stepped forward, your boots clicking against the ice, and knelt before the throne. Tartaglia followed suit, though his movements were less reverent, his smirk returning as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye

“Your Majesty,” you began, your voice steady despite the cold. “The shard has been retrieved and stabilized. It awaits your orders.”

The Tsaritsa’s gaze settled on you, her expression unreadable. When she finally spoke, her voice was like a glacier shifting—measured, impenetrable, and impossibly cold

“You have done well,” she said. “But tell me… was the resistance you encountered expected or a result of your own carelessness?”

You stiffened, the accusation cutting deeper than it should have. Before you could respond, Tartaglia spoke

“The resistance was formidable,” he said smoothly, his tone casual. “But nothing we couldn’t handle. If anything, I’d say it was an excellent opportunity for us to… recalibrate our teamwork.”

You shot him a sharp look, but he only grinned in response, clearly enjoying your irritation

The Tsaritsa’s gaze flicked between you before she leaned back on her throne, her interest waning. “Very well. Leave the shard in Pierro’s care. You are dismissed.”

The moment you left the throne room, you rounded on Tartaglia, grabbing his arm and pulling him into a secluded alcove. He let you, his smirk widening as if he’d been waiting for this

“Recalibrate our teamwork?” you hissed, your grip tightening. “Do you have any idea how close we were to failure? If I hadn’t—”

“If we hadn’t,” he interrupted, his voice low but pointed. “Don’t act like you’re the only one who kept that mission from falling apart.”

You glared at him, your faces inches apart. “You never take anything seriously. Not the mission, not the Tsaritsa, not even your own life. It’s reckless and—”

“Effective,” he cut in, his smirk fading. His voice softened, though it carried a sharp edge. “You don’t like my methods? Fine. But don’t pretend you don’t understand them.”

His words hit harder than you expected, and you hated how much truth they carried. You did understand him. Too well. And that was the problem

Your hand loosened its grip on his arm, but before you could step back, he leaned in closer, his expression unreadable. “You know,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over your skin, “for someone who claims to hate me, you sure seem invested in what I do.”

Your knife was at his throat before you realized you’d drawn it, the blade gleaming in the dim light. Tartaglia didn’t flinch. Instead, he grinned, the edge of his teeth catching the light

“Careful,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “The Tsaritsa doesn’t take kindly to infighting among her Harbingers.”

“Then stop testing me,” you snapped, your voice sharper than your blade

He chuckled, a low, mocking sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “I can’t help it. You’re just so… fun to push.”

Before you could respond, he moved—lightning-fast and infuriatingly precise. In one fluid motion, he knocked the knife from your hand and spun you around, pinning you against the icy wall with his weight. His knee pressed between your thighs, his hands trapping your wrists above your head

“See?” he said, his tone light but his grip unrelenting. “Fun.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you refused to let him see how much he’d rattled you. “Let go,” you said through gritted teeth

The challenge in his voice was enough to make your blood boil. You shifted your weight, driving your knee into his side with enough force to make him grunt. He staggered back, but his laughter followed, loud and unrestrained

“You really are something else,” he said, his hand pressed against his ribs. “No wonder the Tsaritsa keeps you around.”

You retrieved your knife from the ground, your eyes never leaving his. “Next time you try that, I won’t hesitate.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he replied, his grin softer now, though his eyes still held that maddening glint

The mission concluded with bitter finality. The shard was stabilized and delivered to the Tsaritsa, its ominous hum now silenced under layers of containment. You had expected relief to wash over you, but instead, unease lingered like a storm waiting to break. Tartaglia’s sideways glances and cryptic smirks had become sharper, more deliberate, as if he knew something you didn’t

It wasn’t until you were summoned to a remote section of the palace grounds that the weight of the Tsaritsa’s true intentions fell upon you

The ambush came swift and brutal

It began with the snap of ice underfoot and the sudden hiss of arrows slicing through the air. Fatui agents emerged from the frostbitten shadows, their faces concealed by masks, their movements precise and deadly. You barely had time to draw your blade before the first strike landed, forcing you into a desperate counter

“Test of loyalty,” you muttered under your breath, recognizing the Tsaritsa’s cold logic in the chaos around you. She wasn’t content with mere success—she wanted proof of your mettle

“Maybe she sensed my hesitation after this mission...” you continued as you danced between enemies, your blade a silver arc cutting through the icy haze. The fight was merciless. A blow caught your side, and pain flared hot and sharp, but you pushed through it, refusing to falter

And then Tartaglia appeared

He surged into the fray like a tidal wave, his twin hydro blades gleaming with lethal precision. His strikes were fluid, each movement carrying the weight of both grace and violence. In minutes, the battlefield was reduced to silence, the last of your attackers crumpling under the force of his assault

You turned to him, your breathing ragged, blood seeping through the gash at your side. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Saving your life,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

His grin was wolfish, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something softer. “You didn’t have to.”

Before you could respond, the pain in your side surged, your knees buckling beneath you. Tartaglia caught you before you hit the ground, his grip firm but surprisingly gentle

“You’re hurt,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Come on. Let’s get you patched up.”

*to be continued*

Author note: I've been writing this one for a while now I don't know If I'm completely satisfied with it but I just wanted to deliver something for my precious readers so here you go part one it took me a long time lol but I might add more to the second part it depends whether you guys like it or not also more spice??

Again thank you guys so much for reading my work ✨💖

[nikethestatue]

Rant incoming.

Maybe I am a bit of a psycho (okay, not a bit) but for the love of God and all that is holy--Sarah, give us the Shadowsinger that you keep hinting at.

I need at least ONE of these men to go dark. Go fucking black.

We keep hearing about the violence, the terror, the sheer presence of them that would make a grown man piss his pants---but we never see it?

The one and ONLY time where I feel it happened (and marginally too) was when Rowan skinned (not gonna say who) alive.

But it's kind of like--if SJM insists on making all these men ruthless warriors, torturers, the most powerful Fae in the kingdom or the world or whatever--then SHOW IT. Show us the men we are supposed to crave and fear.

We had Hunt, the Umbra Mortis, who barely ever 'mortis-nized' anyone ever. He was just a himbo who wanted to eat pizza and watch sunball.

Cassian, the Commander General, had one good run during the war and then became a human dildo.

Azriel cut the Attor a lil bit.

Give me the scary. The unhinged. I don't need cinnamon rolls. I want one of these dudes to rip out someone's heart and then fuck his ladylove on top of the corpse.

I am also so so so tired of the 'girl Power woooo!' thing that SJM keeps writing--where the women always take care of business and need no help, no protection, no revenge, no assistance from the men whatsoever. Why even bother making these men these illustrious warriors, when we know that Nesta can kill a Death God in 10 minutes, and Bryce can kill an Asteri in about 8 minutes.

I am beginning to wonder what is the point of men in SJMs' stories at all?

We had the 'Most Powerful High Lord In History' running around dropping to his knees, looking for a good OBGYN for all of ACOSF. We had the Commander General taking lots and lots of time from his clearly not very busy schedule to train some girlies and have repetitive sex. Lucien, not much of a warrior to begin with, just hangs out at his country manor. Azriel seems to be working at least, but mostly he is just being angsty.

Like there's been a shipwar raging for 3.5 years over these guys, and honestly, for what? Azriel is a spy, a torturer and 'a freak'. If it all ends up being for nothing, and he is just going to be some pining useless follower, carrying Elain's purse, whose 'freakiness' consists of light spanking and a nipple bite, then honestly, GAs or whoever, can have him.

I feel like 90% of all ACOTAR readers came to the series through Rhys. Because Rhys was so shifty. So cold. So unremorseful. Rhys was...INTERESTING.

What happened? Where are the interesting male characters? We know that SJm is not GRR Martin or anything, but come on.

Let's even take Lucien--and I don't give a shit about Lucien--but make Lucien...interesting? If he is so wily and crafty, why can't Lucien at least TRY to trick Elain into liking him, going out with him on a date? ANYTHING. Try to gaslight her, lie to her, trick her--do anything that makes me want to read about you. Eluciens keep whining about 'mean Elain' but like, why are they satisfied with this limp noodle of a painfully boring character? Why no demands of fucking everyone over and going after what he wants? 'Oh, he is so respectful'! Who cares? Why do you want to read that in a fantasy book about supposedly violent and brilliant fairies?

I am reading all kinds of things outside of ACOTAR, and I reflect and I think, OMG, SJMs males are boring AF!!!! Why do they even inspire a glimmer of desire or interest? They literally do nothing memorable or interesting.

Honestly, if the next book is the same, and she murders Azriel's character, it will be a big fat goodbye from me.

I am holding on to hope that she'll write him and even Lucien somehow, somewhat compellingly.

[mana-jjk]

Mana.... Hows jjk 261 :3 (im bawling my eyes out)

hi babes <3 !

i’m coping so hard right now, but this chapter gave so much to think about in terms of characterization too.

spoilers under the cut !! i’m so serious y’all, you will be majorly spoiled if you keep reading

ok so first of all, i feel so vindicated that everyone is starting to realize how much of a crazy bitch yuuta is. i’ve been saying since day one that the boy is unhinged and i love him for it. i think it’s interesting how in general, the second years all fall under a different morality stance that impacts each other.

i don’t think the typical moral alignment chart really fits them, so let me ramble for a second.

maki is a bit true neutral to me in that she will turn her nose to the society set before her, because it’s wrong. she has strong ideals, but her behavior used to be very much of looking out for herself before much else. that means hurting others feelings, not giving into designated good behavior to make it easier for others, goals dedicated to breaking the glass ceiling rather than any passion to save anyone. her actions may lean to an objective good and evil stance, whatever may be necessary. i think her stance is definitely swayed by her comrades. the initial reaction to yuuta possessing gojo’s body was immediate refusal. it’s almost odd that she’s had such a strong reaction to it, considering her past attitude of doing whatever may be necessary. her real reaction stems from the danger that has the potential of impacting yuuta.

panda is definitely more interesting in that he’s not human. he’s most often shown as one of the more empathetic in the show despite his inhuman origins. yet at the same time, he’s very tactical and thinks of humans and their emotions as strange. there’s an almost juxtaposition of that kind nature in combination with a degree of separation that is visceral in nature. case in point, panda acknowledges that there is danger to yuuta in this case, yet he has the most subdued reaction to such. is this because he cares less? i don’t think so. however, another point is when yuuta is screaming about becoming a monster. panda shows little to no reaction outwardly. again, you have to ponder the choice in this. yuuta used to be the prime example of his inability to understand humans and their emotions. i do wonder if that’s still the case after masamichi was killed. they both lost a figure deeply important to them. the difference is that panda refrained from enacting vengeance and instead displayed his, perhaps most genuine, showcase of emotion. part of panda’s journey is about discovering where he stands in society. reacting to this in such a way feels like an acceptance of that journey coming to an end. he understands yuuta, because he had to become more in order to process these tragedies, with another on the horizon.

i think i’ve said this before, but i do see potential where toge would’ve been set up as the moral compass of the second years (if gege didn’t keep forgetting about him). out of all the characters, toge was set up to be one of the most self-sacrificial. silencing and isolating himself his entire life to prevent cursing others, trying to make yuuta stay back or run away when there’s danger, protecting megumi despite the damage to his throat, asking nobara not to kill one of the very few people who knows a dangerous weakness of cursed speech, protecting an entire civilian crowd by himself, and so on. but there’s smaller pieces too. stopping maki from bullying yuuta, protesting sending yuuji alone during the exchange event, always choosing non-violent commands on his peers if necessary, physically stepping in to stop todo from harassing megumi, checking in on the others well being. i’ve always seen that moment with maki and stopping her as indicative to their relationship. if he says she’s gone too far, she trusts him. his reaction to yuuta’s speech is also the most visceral, there’s a hint of horror on his face that you can’t see with anyone else. it’s a terror i only have to assume at the knowledge that yuuta cannot, will not be stopped. and for toge, who has so much of his character built around care, it must be so horrifying to know that you are helpless to save the one you care about most, as helpless as he was to prevent the decimation of the civilians entrusted to him in shibuya.

yuuta actually tickles my brain in the best way y’all. i have SO MUCH to say about this man and his morals. what is absolutely crazy is that you would think yuuta is being set up as the straight man (not literally, that boy is bisexual as fuck), but in that he did not grow up in their society. maki, toge, and panda were all groomed from birth to be soldiers. ready to do what is necessary to save civilians. megumi said it best, they’re not heroes, they’re jujutsu sorcerers. that means being deplorable sometimes, expecting not to save everyone, yet willing to die in an instance without cursing the world. despite this, somehow it’s yuuta who emulates these values the most. where others may protest the ethics of the body swap, yuuta intercepts with bone-chilling anger. where toge refrains from using permanently damaging curse words, the first one and most common yuuta uses is ‘die,’ where others might turn tail and run, yuuta digs in his heel and does what is necessary. likely this is a byproduct of growing up with the vengeful spirit of rika for five years. single-handedly, he was responsible for numerous injuries and deaths even before arriving at the school. we see this byproduct in his willingness in biting the faces off roaches, killing yuuji, and taking it upon himself to kill his mentor’s best friend not once, but twice. and then letting the copy of rika EAT HIM !!

were these all necessary at the time? of course, but the moral strain, the implications of his mental state in order to do so is one that is vastly underestimated.

yuuta killed yuuji.

with his own hand, he cut through flesh and blood and bone and dug through to the other side. he did it without a twitch in his face, he did it after chasing him through the city. yuuji did not lie down and take it, he ran and he fought for his life. the desperation on yuuji’s face, the terror, the chilling understanding that he would not survive this. he might have healed him, but what kind of person do you think it takes to go through with that? yes, it was necessary. but i want you to imagine yourself in that position. it’s not a moment to take lightly, especially if you’re not entirely sure if it will work. taking this all to the present day, if you were surprised at the lengths yuuta will go, i truly cannot imagine why.

gojo satoru is not being used as a weapon. he is a tribute. the very act in itself is an accolade, the only eulogy they can afford to provide. the act of desecration is a love letter, a legacy borne of blood soaked thorns and crumbling graves. the strongest, the one and only, the honored one. untouchable, unreachable, an unattainable monster. gojo describes others as the flowers that fester and grow, who love in theory but never truly understand. do you understand the gut-wrenching tragedy it takes for someone as blessed as yuuta to sink into the grime that no one dares venture, to foresake his blessings to become the decomposition, the nourishment of these roots, to take over like a parasite, a hive mind, if only to ensure the loss is not in vain?

no one is looking at this the right way.

yuuta isn’t disrespecting gojo by using his body as a weapon, he is honoring him in the only way he knows how. he’s taking his life, filled with blessings, friends that adore him, the chances for love and happiness, the journey it took for him to come here, and laying it out in offering. i see your pain, i see your endings, and to ensure you rest in peace, i will ensure that these hands finally lay to rest that which has taken so much from you.

yuuta loves gojo, he loves him so completely that he became a monster far before this act. he killed his best friend so he wouldn’t have to, he killed the parasitic host of his best friend so he wouldn’t have to, there’s so much blood on his hands it’s hard to tell where the devotion ends and humanity begins.

we can scream black and blue that this is wrong, that he deserves a proper rest, that they are abandoning the humanity in which they strive so much to save. to that i say, no shit, it’s almost like that’s the point. asking children to fight in a war they never asked for is wrong. training these children from birth and grooming them to be weapons before they even know how to define what it means to die is wrong. trying to execute teenagers with no knowledge or understanding of their abilities or place in this society is wrong. telling teenagers who will never experience a normal school life to engage in suicide missions, knowing they have no chance is wrong. demanding that they place priority over lives, especially over their own is wrong. outlawing their very existence, to which was groomed specifically for their society, is wrong. asking them to plan for their early demise, to greet death with acceptance rather than rage, is wrong. it’s all wrong, it’s all a product of a broken society that could never move forward. asking them to fight with amputated limbs, disfigured skin, and no one to mourn their existence beyond the circle of lives at the beck and call is wrong. but the end of sukuna is a potential turning point, the end of a generational transition cycle that continues to cog forward. gojo hated this society most of all, and i have no doubt that he has brought the end of it.

if not the death of the elders, it is the death of himself that spurs the same change that came with his birth. it’s almost tragic that gojo’s life mission was to ensure that the youth could live their lives to the fullest, yet he had to accept that their lives would be laid down regardless. gojo sacrificed his entire life, from birth to death to be a protector. yes he stopped executions, he gave chances to many who would have otherwise been ostracized, yet all in the same they lay down their lives and die all too soon. children he helped raise, children he would have done anything for, children who now face his death with their own bodies in the line of fire. in the end, he didn’t change a thing. prolonged death sentences maybe, yet what does it matter if they die by their society or by sukuna’s hand? that is why yuuta needed to take his body. because gojo is not done, he cannot be laid to rest until the final obstacle is out of the way. a last wish, the closing of a door, the balance of what was good and necessary.

as long as sukuna lives, they have failed. and yuuta, the one most blessed by the efforts of gojo, the one who had the most to live for, understands that more than anyone else.

the truth is that gojo was so completely adored by his student, in a way even he didn’t understand. children who were saved by him, the outcasts of the jujutsu world who were given a family because of him. megumi who was able to escape the zenins, yuuji who was given a prolonged execution, nobara who finally had people sitting in her chairs, maki who was fighting against the foundation, panda who was not even human, toge who’s very life was outlawed, yuuta who had long since lost all reason to live. they found each other because of gojo, they found reason to live in each other. because of that, they found the confidence to die too.

jujutsu kaisen for these very reasons is not for the faint of heart. the death of nanami was the tipping point of a decent into darkness in which children are not spared. there are no children in a war of this scale, only born and raised soldiers who will live and die a life documented only by the tragic losses unknown by the rest of society. the people who were everything, the people they would have done anything for, not even a smear in history. unnamed, unthanked, unnoticed in their absence to the rest of society. because even a happy story like yuuta’s is built on the knowledge that every blessing was only a prolonged sacrifice.

he would give up everything and anything, because that was the only way to ensure the people he loved, his everything and anything, lived to see another day. that is what becoming a monster truly means. the capability and willingness to become an ugly, wretched, and cruel being, if only to ensure you are the strongest.

however, yuuta does have something that gojo was never quite able to keep. the love and devotion matched in full by his comrades, unwilling to let him face these battles alone. therefore, even as tragedy trudges on, i truly hope this is where we can see the potential of the established bond in the second years.

i will continue being delusional, if only to believe my found family will not yet be ripped apart (like yuuta). so to answer your question, i too am suffering !! slice of life alternate universe when

[ritchiepage2001newaccount]

WHY UNIVERSAL BACKGROUND CHECKS ARE JUST AS UNLIKELY AS EVER, UNFORTUNATELY

I'm a leftist (Libertarian-Socialist), who votes progressive, because I live under an "elected" government, and I had thought I had purged the MSNBC/CNN Nation from my friends list, but apparently not, as my timeline is just chock-full of media-driven hysteria over current events, so here's a primer:

"Liberals" who think their arguments are clever or relevant to the Second Amendment are exhausting.

They are not the left; they are just one half of the good cop/bad cop act of the corporate owned fire-hose of bullshit that is the corporate media, and corporate America's governing criminal cartel/duopoly.

Both cults "I like simple and ineffectual 'solutions', because they make me feel like I'm doing something, and I'm just stinky with fear."

There are over a hundred million legal gun owners, who some want to punish for somebody else's crime.

Well, there are some things to consider.

We've been a heavily armed country since 1621, and yet the epidemic of daily mass-shootings didn't begin until 20 April 1999 (Columbine), at a time when gun ownership was at an all-time low, and five years after Clinton's assault-weapons ban, so maybe guns aren't the variable.

Worth noting: One of the first things the "Pilgrims" did when they betrayed the Native Americans, was disarm "King Phillip" and his men.

Maybe, just maybe, dead school-children are the price of the neoliberalism practiced under the "Washington Consensus" of BOTH right-wing authoritarian parties since the 1980's? When your country offers you no prospects, and you become terrified of the future, what then? Fear can make unstable people do desperate things. Add to that a culture of celebrity, and what could possibly go wrong?

Another factor that goes completely unexamined, is the way Ronald Reagan and Tip O'Neill emptied our state hospitals onto our streets, and onto families ill-equipped to deal with the sometimes violent mentally ill.

Thank God, the "solution" is so simple…

Also, 84% of NRA members support universal background checks. The problem is, every time a bill comes up for a vote, Democrats add poison pill amendments guaranteeing defeat in the legislature (and the courts), and then they proceed to tell the TV cameras that "once again the GOP and the gun lobby have voted down background checks and defied the will of the people", or some such nonsense.

If you want to watch Dems sabotage universal background checks (while Republicans roll their eyes and face-palm) in real time, go here:

P.S. You can probably guess which one of these three groups I belong to (Hint: It's the one that's growing and actually decides elections):

LaborPartyNow!!!

P S The line, "You don't need 30 rounds to shoot a deer!" is not clever.

The Second Amendment has nothing to do with hunting tools, toys for hobbyists (target shooting), or even weapons for self-defense.

It's about ARMS!!!

It's about the individual citizen's right to arms, so they'll be prepared to join a militia, not the other way around. ‘Well regulated’ at that time, simply meant, ‘efficient.’ In other words, in order for a muster to be efficient, civilians needed to be already armed.

So the "collective rights" argument has a couple of problems that make it quite unhinged from history and reality.

1) As I've mentioned above, Americans have always been relatively heavily armed. How did that happen in a collective rights paradigm?

2) Contrary to what you were probably taught in school, by the time of the Confederate artillery barrage on Fort Sumter, the war over slavery had already been going on for over six years, and was fought entirely by independent volunteer militia's. Fort Sumter was just the beginning of official involvement by government troops. How did that happen in a collective rights paradigm?

3) In what universe do government forces need to have their right to arms protected?

4) Since when do National Guard members keep National Guard arms (Hint: they're kept at the armory, and have been since colonial times)?

5) Obviously, "Liberals" are stupid.

Again: #LaborPartyNow!!!

P P S That was ENTIRELY the point of the first fruits of dissent, the 10 Amendments we've come to call the BILL OF RIGHTS (which have become a beacon to aspiring democrats all over the world), to protect INDIVIDUALS from the government they had just created. #TrueStory

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

the way this sketching sequence unhinges me like a barn door more than any other, like--not only is it a perfect way to gauge whether Daniel has reached low or high morality depending on how he reacts to the "chilled" or "badass" options (less enthusiastic about chilled if lw, less enthusiastic about badass if hw) but it's also a perfect representation of the way Sean's decisions have been shaping him, and by extension the narrative, over the entire game.

like, Daniel is the sketch, both literally as he takes up more of Sean's sketchbook, and figuratively as something Sean shapes, designs, plots out, erasing and redrawing with the behavior he models and encourages. in later eps Sean has multiple options to decide how he wants to draw the world, whether violent images (the prison bars in the hospital and the hellscape in the desert) or hopeful ones (stairway in the hospital and the oasis in the desert),* and similar he has the option to create different realities for Daniel to imagine or anticipate.

it's a different iteration of the photography motif in lis1, which is all about looking about and capturing moments in time, coming to terms with the need to live in a nostalgic past or create a perfect present. lis2, a game about motion and escape and coming to terms with a world that hurts you, has Sean attempting to picture his future through drawings, which don't rely on past or present reality the way photographs do and can instead create a new reality instead of trying to deal with the present. Sean's art serves as his escape from reality, as he remarks repeatedly during his drawing sessions, but it also serves as a metaphor for the reality he's trying to build with his brother, that leads towards either their survival or their separation.

but the same way Daniel isn't a static sketch, he also isn't a helpless one, and his actions shape Sean--both physically and psychologically as he tries to figure it where he fits in whatever design Sean's making for him. It's why the little hints of him being interested in sculpting (the rocket ship, the Joan sequence) are so good, because Daniel is the sculptor making physical constructions and destructions of the shapes Sean has laid out, bringing them from 2d to 3d on his own terms. it's up to him how he responds to the outline Sean has given him and the reality Sean is attempting to create in his art; his decisions in turn dictate what kind of future they can ultimately build together.

*of course, stuff like the "chilled" or "badass" option aren't inherently positive or negative, they're simply different ways of responding to a violent world; both images are optimistic in their own way, just one offers peace as the route to a happy ending and the other offers brute strength

[ecto-hazard]

The Official Grey Opinion of II Finaleeeeeeeeeeeespoilersficukingspilerstheresspoilersspoieslrsersspoiledyougetspoiledherespilerds i have good opiionions but i watched the episode in a hot car without the windows open on a sunny day so uH

II 18 spoilers

i really enjoyed the episode. i frequently found myself laughing out loud at just how. absurd? it was. but i think it was a good ending. i have like. Some criticisms? but its personal opinions tbh and maybe im forgetting a detail these are just my thoughts on different things

Box Reveal

ever since the characters were deleted in ii 16, people were predicting that something happened to box and its really neat to see this come to fruition. and hell yeah transfem coded box ftw. CRAZY that the cliff scene in iii was foreshadowing. also REALLY neat to see the contrast from mephone's "perfect" contestants to ones he was actively workshopping. hits hard especially knowing what box didnt know, that they were created for an explicit purpose and didnt live up to it

i really like the interpretation that suitcase was in some way based on box. its an interesting way to tie in box's death with suitcase's hallucinations, cause clearly there was a relation there.

i will say its inherently funny to make a "joke" character have this crazy tragic backstory like this, but thats kinda been the whole direction of the show so its not a big deal. i like that, like the other reveals, theres enough set up to predict it even if people didnt really see it coming so they did a good job foreshadowing it.

Mepads Death

this was really sad but also maybe unnecessary. i wouldn't say it was done for shock value, and im not against killing characters. its definitely supposed to be a sorta full circle for mepad's relationship towards the contestants. but also like, he dies and then what. what was supposed to happen after that, cause cobs just goes right back to killing mephone. it was in vain, i guess. it'd be more effective if it actually accomplished something other than buying mephone a little more time i guess.

The shimmers were there

i feel like the shimmers were really underutilized in the plot about, you know, their fucking lost child. they just sorta show up, leave at the sign of danger, and then come back once its safe. which would be fair if cobs had his whole phone army, but he doesnt, so idk why they didnt just beat that guys ass. there was 50 of them and they had spears, vs one guy with an oversized paper cutter

also like why would mephone even warn them. did he even like. know what was going to happen. i think a moment of recognition between him and the shimmer would have been cool, but if that HAD happened, that would be even more reason to beat cobs ass. theres something hinted with them at the end, but idk i feel like they couldve played a bigger role in the finale

Cobs entire. uh. um. uh.

i said i didnt think they could get away with killing cobs but it would be funny. and i was right it was very funny. i think killing asshole abusers violently and horribly is a good message <3

that said, i think cobs transition to a comically evil supervillain really came out of nowhere and was kinda disappointed by it. dont get me wrong, he sucks and is bad, but i think what was appealing about him as a villain was the fact that he was also a huge loser. like this guy invented phones, there really wasnt a lot of precedent for him being brash, violent, fucking stabbing people. like him being unhinged is Sort of hinted at in previous episodes, but he just loses it this episode. there really shouldve been more buildup of him getting more and more desperate to make this effective. everything happened too suddenly for it to really work in my mind. but hey i guess they got a justification for killing him and again, fucking fantastic execution. i REALLY hope theres some sorta consequence for that

thats pretty much whats immediately in my brain. open to comments/criticisms of my opinion/etc cause yknow. i might write addendums to this as i think of them

[hplrules]

Neverwinter's Protector's Enclave, a place of law and order compared to the docks or river district: our story begins with a local Mob All player, the monk Zen Cobain, strolling to his morning meditation at the beach the day after his Golden Griffins won the tournament.

Enter the Griffin, Zen Cobain thinks back to his winning play as he travels the quiet morning streets to the dock. He reached the goal because he follows the Way of the Fist, but he used his Chi power to score, and a little heroic inspiration.

He always enjoys peace, wishing well upon all folks, but playing and winning for the Golden Griffins has make him unpopular with their rival, the Sea Wyverns. The new local competition is a civilized move away from arena fighting, but moving an oblong leather ball between goals turned out to be as violent as any other sport, and that's just during the game.

Zen travels through the Dock district, Sea Wyvern territory. His own team is made up of the city's crafters, and his woodworking trade puts him solidly in their company. His rivals are the dockworkers, sailors, and salty rogues of the harbor. There are some military and a few other trades that take up with them, but none of those are fine folks. Being a hero is always a matter of perspective, and to this angry rummy lout, the monk isn't at all welcome.

Zen drops his pulse with slow breaths, listening to the quiet dawn at the Broken Anchor Inn, which was almost silent but for this mugger. The rough man steps up with bravado and sneers, "A Griffin in the Wyvern docks", he taunts as recognition comes to his blazing eyes, "Are ye mad? That's yer last mistake, Sonny Jim!"

Zen bows his head and salutes, slowly lowering his staff out of sight, "I wish you peace." It was the only response to aggression that his sect, the Sun Temple, allowed to be spoken. He actually meant it, but this blighter paid no mind to his chance to walk away. With the threat still heavy in his voice, he chides, "You're a monk, eh? What's the style you'll be losing with today?"

After a moment of silence, the Griffin champion answers with a hint of good humor, "It's the art of fighting without fighting." The Wyvern player cackles derisively, "ah ha ha haaa...that just sounds like yer afraid t' fight meee!

Holding his salute in place, Zen Cobain affirms his blessing, "Peace to you."

Mohag the Wanderer, a solitary barbarian, feasts at the Broken Anchor Inn on Neverwinter's Dock District. On this fine morn, his plans are to sign on for work at the Porthaven Adventurer's Guild for a wagon escort job supplying Phandalin, a modest mining town forty miles south and east down the High Road to Leilon. While stronger than most, faster than many, and tough as a bag of hammers, Mohag is a troubled soul driven mad with the loathing of his racial enemies, which are many and varied, but chiefly goblinoids, orcs, and giants. He attacks with the abandon and fury of a berserker, and then his strength matches his passion. Mohag is a Battle Rager, the unhinged type of spike-wearing wildman that only dwarves are capable of. This tavern is the last in this rough part of Neverwinter that serves him, his last chance to not use the furnishings as weapons, and he's gotten extremely primal of that as late. He just needs an excuse to go, and he'll go big enough for all of the Jotun that leveled his village while he was delivering ore for his forge, dooming him to a lost life of mayhem and lust.

Mohag notices the mugging outside his window at the Broken Anchor, and picks a champion in it. He grumbles to himself, "Tha skinny lad is gonna get 'is arse handed to 'im by tha rummy mobber. He may shoulda slept in t'day, or stayed in bed all t'gether. Either way, I get a match wit' me meal, so it's lookin' a fine day." But even as he says as much against the wimp, there's something about him that compels Mohag to back him, an odd coolness that he's never witnessed and doesn't understand.

Nyx Ningle and Vanaer Larium are nightowl adventurers at the Broken Anchor Inn, closing down a long night of celebration of red wine and dark ale, a half-eaten spiced goose and baked yams on the platter between them. They're keeping watch on the burly mountain dwarf near the entrance who's made to sit apart from others for his rowdiness. The gnome rogue and half-elf ranger/cleric have travelled together locally for a couple seasons, and their team is about to expand.

Nyx casts her Mage Hand cantrip and leaves it visible, a "Mad Science" green, to get Vanaer's attention. Taking the cue, he quickly removes his cowl before she starts goofing with it. She admits in the influence of her cups, "My mentor left me last night when I told him about your Umbral Vision ability. Now he's off to be a Gloom Stalker and become unseen in darkness, and to gain Dark Vision himself." She took a last bit of dark meat and fed herself with the hand before raising it high.

Vanaer lifts his holy symbol as Nyx tests her balance without regret, and heartily exclaims "Selune's mystical glow, that's amazing! Aye, being a halfling, Hatchwork doesn't have that naturally, and there's very few creatures in the world that can see us by other means... Say, have you considered branching out to something a little more academic? You'd be a fine mage, and then we'd have it all covered: my bow and healing, your skills and arcane!" The half-elf knew his plan was the only one for his brilliant friend, as Nyx was running wild with the powers she'd been gaining since he'd met her.

"Aye," Nyx answers candidly, "it's something I've always been drawn to, but there's another path to magic that suits me. It's much closer to what I already do, right in line with my style. And there's no better time for it than now, while I'm still young and beautiful." She watches her partner blush at her closing, knowing that her sharp sylvan features had captured his interest.

Vanaer relaxes as her mischievous spell cancels, then wonders how dangerous she'll become with a full spell book in hand. It had been a wild theater of cardsharping for their expenses through the autumn festivals these last couple tendays of Lowsun, and he'd enjoyed the chance to protect his darling fey muse each night.

Just then, out on the street, the Wyvern mobber takes a swing at Zen Cobain, "I'll have a piece of you!" As the thug steps in, the monk channels his Chi power into a Flurry of Blows, gaining an extra attack, and swings his staff up and forward in a smooth arc as he steps to the left and away from the punch. He catches his attacker in the groin with the staff and punches his face in a vertical long fist. Wasting no time, the interception continues.

Zen spins his staff down and to the left, checking the man's right arm at the elbow and pulling him forward unbalanced as the monk switches his stance to the right, palm striking with his left to his opponent's jaw with the start of an energy vocalization, "KI..."

"YAH!!!" Stepping in with a crescent motion, Zen brings his left hand to his weapon and whips the back of it over in a fast arc, crashing down on the man's head, knocking him prone and pained.

The Griffin collects himself as the Wyvern sprawls on the cobblestones. "Without fighting?" he groans low, "you fought."

"Yes... but you didn't", Zen replies calmly as his opponent blacks out.

Zen is quickly surrounded by Wyvern players, one coming across from the butchery with his cleaver in hand! With him is a pirate, certainly no surprise to this fel and motley crew. A drunken rake finishes his bottle and breaks it, and a huge squire in a gambeson coat draws his sword. The Griffin considers the serious techniques he'll need to stop them all as he steps clear of his first opponent's body with flowing cranelike movements, surveying the threat of this deadly dual.

Inside the Broken Anchor, Mohag watches from his table, and his ire is stirred by the wicked mobbing.

Seeing the crowd mobbing the lone monk enrages the barbarian, who keeps a strong code of honor despite his wildness. Downing his ale horn in two heartbeats, he rushes outside to join the fight armed with a fat drumstick.

Mohag bursts out of the entry, swinging with all his raging might at the rake, smashing the meaty leg across his face! It doesn't break, luckily enough, but the bone is the only part left as the meat flies away to some lucky wharf rat.

Zen hears a rapier being drawn behind him and the crunch of heavy boots just past that. As the big squire advances and steps awkwardly onto the arm of his fellow, the monk spins backward to the two opponents behind him.

Mohag takes no notice of the condition of his weapon as he pummels his opponent, ending his wind and a couple of ribs with a punch to the belly, his arm spikes doing further damage as he follows up with a savaging rip.

The squire stumbles forward over the thug's arm, too late and well out of range as Zen spins away, and the pirate misses as well with his backstabbing lunge. The monk catches the butcher with a staff strike to his neck, stunning him, and the man falls to his knees.

Mohag hooks the rake's arm with his drumstick bone and grabs his belt buckle with his left, then steps into a throw and the man is flung at the squire. The big man turns in time for the impact, but is clobbered by it anyway.

Zen kicks the butcher to the curb, and he tumbles away as the monk also strikes at the pirate. That opponent is a better match, and deftly parries the staff with his rapier.

Nyx and Vanaer rouse to their feet as Mohag shouts and storms outside. The trickster sets her empty goblet down with a hop to the floor, and draws her crossbow from over her back. With the normal use of her Mage Hand Legedermain cantrip, a bolt flies into place from her quarrel by the unseen force, nocks itself, and the weapon draws ready. The ranger stows his holy symbol while replacing his hood. They hear a melee now, the distinctive knock and ring of wood on steel and the loud thumping of big fists.

Mohag the Wanderer assaults the big squire with berserk fury, clubbing his jaw with the bone. The melee becomes a fist fight as the squire drops his sword and they exchange a few mighty blows, but nothing slows the raging dwarf who lives for battle.

Zen Cobain finds a greater challenge with the pirate than he's known in a long while, and the cutthroat's blade commands respect as his footwork keeps him in the duel. They dance to a deadly tune.

Nyx and Vanaer enter the scene as the melee closes with Mohag crushing the squire as he insults the big man, his hot fury now a growling temper. Zen has out-dueled and disarmed his opponent. The pirate runs off to get help.

The rogue is shocked by how quickly the fight resolved as she and the ranger rushed outside, and speaks quickly without an introduction, "Well fought, fellows, but you mustn't overstay this. I can help you get away before they return with too many more. Shall we fly before the rest of them show?"

Having no options, the new party takes Nyx's lead through backstreets and allies that the others have never used, avoiding attention by anyone but a few homeless tramps, waifs, and urchins. Nyx pays each a copper for their silence, should they be questioned later, but she's also popular here.

The four travel together, giving brief respects. "I'm Nyx Ningle, a finder of wondrous antiquities, and this quiet fellow is Vanaer Larium, a gob hunter and priest of Selune, the Moon Goddess," she reports, starting their conservation. "I am Zen Cobain of the Sun Soul Temple," the monk replies with a respectful nod to them. "Call me Mohag," the barbarian offers gruffly, recovering himself from the fury.

They save any more talk until they arrive at a rustic inn on the outskirts of Neverwinter, far to the east of the waking metropolis.

The party winds through nearly all of Neverwinter until they reach a welcoming business, the wind bringing pine and the clang of a dropped teapot from the kitchen. "This is it, lads," Nyx reports happily, "sounds like the cook is hung over again." She laughs merrily, adding to the charm of this rural sanctuary. "I think you'll like the Woodsman Lodge, my favorite escape, far from the bothers and cares that found us today. We'll cool our heels a bit and have some tea, though half of you will want their..."

"Red ale!" shouts Vanaer, giving a thumbs up as he interrupts from behind them. Mohag chuckles and turns back to wink his agreement. They laugh with the start of their brotherhood, feeling that a great connection is at hand.

Zen listens to every creature, drinking in the rural morning tranquility as a smile overtakes him. This is his kind of day shaping up.

The four adventurers go inside and greet the cook, who's up before the innkeeper. He's baking bread, and the smell of it finishing fills the place with a natural magic. Only the tea is ready now, and Zen and Nyx each get a cup, hers with fresh cream and honey.

The monk politely insists on using an old wooden bowl from his pack, and the trickster wonders what is so special about it. Could it be enchanted with purification properties? Her eyes note the chip in its brim, damage that doesn't usually happen to most enhanced items. Maybe it's an heirloom... She concentrates on sensing its magic.

While they're waiting for their ales, Vanaer follows Mohag to the hearth where a crackling fire is blazing. He draws forth his holy symbol to Selune, and shows it to his slightly battered companion. It's a black field with the white outline of mystical eyes orbited by seven stars, which begin to glow with a pale silvery blue light as the clerical healing spell is cast by a short prayer to the Moon Goddess.

The divine illumination dances across dwarven chainmail, healing the cracked ribs underneath, and Mohag exhales loudly with relief. He's only had divine healing a few times, and so long ago that he'd forgotten the wonder of it.

Zen watches it with total approval, his soul warmed by the goodwill of such a healing without any charge of payment. These are good and humble fellows, he realizes.

The ale arrives with a cold drumstick, as requested, and Mohag wastes no time in getting the first couple of bites. "Thanks to you and your moon mistress, Van Ear," he misses on the half-elf's tricky name. "Any dwarf will take a healing, but no other magics, if ye get me."

Vanaer, pronounced Van-air, gracefully responds in Dwarvish, "I've little else and none of it arcane, so no worries, my friend."

Mohag's eyes fly open wide with the shock, "you speak my people's tongue, a rare thing indeed! We should travel well together. It'll be a treat to break from the Common speech and still be understood." He raises his tankard in salute and takes a large swallow before continuing. "There's a wagon escort job south to a mining town I'm signing onto today, could use your help. I've worn out my welcome here anyway." He sets into his meal intent on finishing this one, which is far better without the smell of the harbor ruining his day.

Vanaer also feels at ease being in the outlands, and slaps his bow to his cloak in a ranger's salute of agreement to the offer. "You might call me Van Lar, if you like."

"Vanlar, aye," the barbarian agrees through a mouthful of roasted meat, crunching the names together.

Zen and Nyx overhear the job offer and nod an agreement to it. The shaggy monk takes the initiative, "I'll return to my order to collect my trade gear and give my farewells. I have little in the world, but I shouldn't leave without notice."

Nyx's response comes almost as a fencing riposte, "I'm just the reverse, keep my gear with me and never owe any goodbyes." Her eyes light up with mischief in this idle moment. It's time to test this man and see if she can beat him at her game.

Nyx deftly lifts the monk sash from his belt while he drinks, then holds it waiting as he quickly notices, alarmed that she got past his keen alertness.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Greg Sargent at TNR:

Mark Robinson, the extremist GOP nominee for governor in North Carolina, appeared to endorse political violence in a bizarre and extended rant he delivered on June 30 in a small-town church. “Some folks need killing!” Robinson, the state’s lieutenant governor, shouted during a roughly half-hour-long speech in Lake Church in the tiny town of White Lake, in the southeast corner of the state. “It’s time for somebody to say it. It’s not a matter of vengeance. It’s not a matter of being mean or spiteful. It’s a matter of necessity!” Robinson’s call for the “killing” of “some folks” came during an extended diatribe in which he attacked an extraordinary assortment of enemies. These ranged from “people who have evil intent” to “wicked people” to those doing things like “torturing and murdering and raping” to socialists and Communists. He also invoked those supposedly undermining America’s founding ideals and leftists allegedly persecuting conservatives by canceling them and doxxing them online.

In all this, Robinson appeared to endorse lethal violence against these unnamed enemies, particularly on the left, though he wasn’t exactly clear on which “folks” are the ones who “need killing.” Robinson, a self-described “MAGA Republican,” has a long history of wildly radical and unhinged moments. He has linked homosexuality to pedophilia, called for the arrest of trans women, pushed hallucinogenic antisemitic conspiracy theories, endorsed the vile “birther” conspiracy about Barack Obama, described Michelle Obama as a man, hinted at the need to violently oppose federal law enforcement and the government, and posted memes mocking and denying the brutal, violent assault on Nancy Pelosi’s husband, among many other things. [...]

Here’s what Robinson said (bold mine):

[We now find ourselves struggling with people who have evil intent. You know, there’s a time when we used to meet evil on the battlefield, and guess what we did to it? We killed it! … When the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, what did we do? We flew to Japan! And we killed the Japanese Army and Navy! … We didn’t argue and capitulate and talk about, well, maybe we shouldn’t fight the Nazis that hard. No, they’re bad. Kill them. Some liberal somewhere is going to say that sounds awful. Too bad. Get mad at me if you want to. Some folks need killing! It’s time for somebody to say it. It’s not a matter of vengeance. It’s not a matter of being mean or spiteful. It’s a matter of necessity! When you have wicked people doing wicked things, torturing and murdering and raping. It’s time to call out, uh, those guys in green and go have them handled. Or those boys in blue and have them go handle it.… We need to start handling our business again.… Don’t you feel it slipping away? … The further we start sliding into making 1776 a distant memory and the tenets of socialism and communism start coming into clearer focus. They’re watching us. They’re listening to us. They’re tracking us. They get mad at you. They cancel you. They dox you. They kick you off social media. They come in and close down your business. Folks, it’s happening … because we have forgotten who we are.]

Robinson might try to argue that he only meant that our enemies during World War II—and torturers and murderers and rapists today—deserve “killing.” But the sum total of his remarks plainly suggests otherwise. He seemed to analogize the need to kill World War II enemies to the need to kill enemies in the present, enemies who harbor “evil intent,” enemies conservatives are struggling against “now.”

[...] This tendency on the right to invoke an infinitely hallucinogenic and malleable leftist enemy to justify in advance the political violence that the right itself wants to unleash on its enemies is a near-daily occurrence. Another ripe example came just this week from Kevin Roberts, president of the Heritage Foundation, the brain trust behind Project 2025’s radical blueprint for MAGA authoritarian rule under a second Trump presidency.

North Carolina Lt. Gov. and Gubernatorial nominee Mark Robinson (R) cannot go a day without embarrassing the Tarheel state.

[cletus-kasadys-gay-boy]

My Queer analysis of Carnage:

Cletus Kasady is not an easy character to understand everything about, rarely providing any explanation for anything he does. However, in his first appearance in The Amazing Spider-Man #344. He is seen in his cell and comes off as far too masculine to me. Threatening and being sternly aggressive with Eddie Brock, building himself up to be a major threat to his life. Also with suggestive posters of women on his wall next to his bed, that weren't necessary in the slightest might I add. Macho man move to me, and knowing he's sharing a cell with someone??? That's a choice Cletus.

He genuinely sounds something like what I'd imagine his father, Roscoe Kasady, would speak. A firm man full of aggression, and I already did an analysis of Roscoe and how his behavior transfered to Cletus in a previous post. He still shines with his bastard personality, but not as evident as when he's bonded with something that makes him feel invincible. The Carnage symbiote that was left behind in that cell after Brock broke out with Venom.

As Carnage, he seems to go immediately through some crazy bullshit with people just because he can. He kills people of course, feeling the power he holds now and enjoying it. His attitude almost a full 360, of cracking jokes in every sentence and being completely unhinged with his silly behavior. Just laid back with a thirst for blood, the Cletus we know.

Snarky smart ass Cletus/Carnage is official now! but only after having the power of something that he feels complete with. Not just the violence, but the ability to be protected. Spider-man does an analysis of Cletus Kasady and realizes how his history was strange and not much time at all later, we see Cletus sitting in the St. Estes ruins holding his bear Binky and with a fire going.

He's strangely emotional and vulnerable, a weird way to see this weirdo. I fully believe he is letting go and killing who he was back then as he rips Binky immediately when he realizes Peter is there. Something I love about his character is he IS Carnage. Not like Venom and Eddie's bond where they're separate. Cletus finds himself best with Carnage, and he is able to be who he is with it. I see queer coding in movement and how he speaks, and even his fashion after his bond with the symbiote. He's free to be what he is now.

Of course, people weren't supportive of queer things back in the day. So some part of his abuse he faced as a kid, I belive was because of his "gay behavior" and people tried to force that out of him. He was always violent, but it was also all he had been shown. Shown he was wrong for how he was as soon as possible. As Carnage he doesn't give a fuck about that, he'll never be hurt like that again, and he knows it. I'm not saying he's gay, but I am hinting towards queer since his whole ideal is chaos and not falling in a category. He will like who he damn pleases and just him as a whole, is not what people will define as traditional in any way.

He gets to be himself with Carnage, and that's violent, unpredictable, snarky, and QUEER! Also I refuse to believe that a straight man dresses like this for no reason:

[memobread]

open ur mouth bc daddy bread's gonna spread his cheeks and pour u a nice hot cup of jon fluff while he writes the big dic fic

POV: jonathan davis comforts u after a nightmare <3

TW: MENTION OF DISTURBING DREAM OF DEATH OF FAMILY MEMBERS AND DISMEMBERMENT *they don't die irl*

"Watch them burn..."

You could vividly hear the high-pitched, sobbing painful shrieks of your mom and brother as you were tied to a wooden cross, nails hammered through each of your palms.

"Help me, Y/N!! Why won't you help me?! Do you not love me?!"

You tried to scream, but you physically couldn't.

"HELP ME!!! HELP!!!"

"You're not helping him? After all he's done for you?"

"...pathetic..."

"...why should he even die for you, anyway?"

When one of the indistinct figures below you lit the straw on fire at the base of the cross, it immediately combusted into violent flames. You could suddenly feel your legs part by themselves; wider and wider until your muscles stretched nearly to the point of snapping. You felt a weird sharp sensation when your legs went farther apart, your nerves and muscles had snapped. You were startled by a rattling of the cross. When you looked down, you saw a mutilated figure with an unhinged jaw and severed eyelids scrambling up to your snapped body. Before it could reach you, though, everything went black and you felt a sudden change in your environment feel.

The dream was so vivid and real that it took you several seconds to register what dimension you were in. You were somewhere; most likely safer than whatever hellscape you were in just a few seconds ago, although, you were afraid to open your eyes. When you gained a little more consciousness, you recognized that the comforting sensation surrounding your trembling body was a pair of firm, yet comfy arms. The comforting musk that came with the embrace was the one of your boyfriend, Jonathan. You let out a quiet sigh of relief when you realized what happened was only a dream. however, you were still shaken and close to having a panic attack. Tears pricked at your eyes and you struggled to breathe. You tried to wriggle out of Jon's embrace to get some fresh air, but he woke up, noticing his human pillow was trying to escape his cuddly grasp.

"...mmh..."

Jon whined and pulled you back in, not seeing your tears just yet. The inability to get fresh air and calm down made your sobs more audible, catching Jon's attention.

"...mmh...mnaww....baby, what's wrong...?"

Jon let you go so you could sit up and you buried your head into your knees and cried like you needed to.

"...baby....baby what's wrong?"

You could only sob into your knees, giving Jon the hint that you needed a minute or two. He gladly took it, willing to do anything to make you comfy <3. When you were ready, you crawled back up into Jon's comfy arms and nestled in his chest, wrapping your arms around his thin waist.

"What's going on, hon?" Jon asked worriedly, playing with your hair.

You told him everything; about the creature, the traumatic memories, and your family members.

"...aww, baby..."

Jon pulled you back to the bed, rolling on top of you lightly and feathering kisses all over your face and hands, his tickling mustache making you giggle through a few tears.

"...it's okay...you're here now with me...you're safe..."

And you WERE safe. Nothing was safer than Jon's arms rubbing your scalp and back, his soft lips pressing to the top of your head while he whispers sweet nothings into your hair. Returning the favor, you gave Jon several loving kisses on his sweet face, making him blush. He hugged you tighter than before and rolled on top of you, laughing as he pinned your arms to the bed. He dove down with an evil grin and started attacking you with frantic kisses, making you giggle like a little gremlin as you tried to beat him at his little game while he was on top.

"...ngh...ah! Stoooop! You're gonna make me lose my balance and fall!"

Jon rolled off you and pulled you to his chest again, giggling to himself.

"It's all gonna be okay now...I'm here...I'm here..."

[longeyelashedtragedy]

Ask game, you get a ⭐️ but it has to be about Dangerous AU

dangerous AU! here we go--

so this exchange from the most recent chapter:

“I’ve got to tell you, Granit.”  Mikel feels a little more courageous with knives nearby.  “Some of the things you say sound a little crazy.”

“Hmmm, really?  Because you make me feel a bit normal, sweet Mikel.”

this is important! it says a lot about how i write this fic, and also kind of hints at the trajectory of the fic.

i know "show, don't tell" is something we all get taught if we take a writing class, or at least we've heard it said, and i think it's kind of reductive advice (as a lot of writing advice is? there's a lot of different ways to tell a story yknow), at least for a more advanced level of writing. Granit here is kind of idk...telling the exact point of the fic, or at least, the point of his character arc.

(idk if i've mentioned this on here, or just talked about it in private with its biggest fans, but the sort of Thesis of the fic is:

granit might have turned out pretty "normal" with a different life circumstance and his first flashback chapter is meant to indicate that shooting a guy in the head as a teenager was a life altering and traumatizing event for him, that was never handled healthily by anyone around him--instead he was rewarded for it (while ALSO being dehumanized for his tendencies even in his own violent community). in the 2nd flashback which isn't published yet, granit (now about 20 years old) thinks: Sure, money can’t buy love, but Granit knows he’ll never have that anyway, and money can buy all the rest of it. granit will always be...granit, unhinged and sadistic, but mikel's love and devotion and genuine respect for him are going to take the edge off, in a sense.

while mikel's Philosophy is to kill very sparingly, and only for a specific purpose, and the purpose is to help make him feel the power he could never feel as a sick, infantilized, and powerless kid. but, granit's love and devotion and genuine respect for him make him feel this surge of power and control and might just very well wind up the more violent of the two? I've written the last few paragraphs of the fic so i already know but i ain't telling!!!)

"You make me feel a bit normal, sweet Mikel," is sort of the entire point of the fic, then, and it was really cool to disregard any writing advice and just have granit bluntly state that in one of the earlier chapters.

and that's the thing about dangerous AU--idk if it reads differently than my other fics or what, but i call it my "playground," since i never intended to publish such a thing, but some people told me i should and i honestly feel like it has a bit of a cult following 😂 in it i just write however i want--if it's melodramatic or pulpy or choppy or the sex is too rushed or the dialogue is strange or ANYTHING...i'm just writing for fun with no stylistic filter or anything, which also means i can disregard any writing advice whenever i want!

[roryka]

i Cannot and Will not keep my questions to just one i am Too Curious chief, i'm almost wretched with how badly i want to ask about actualization report adljsfahsdjlfahsjlfsdhajlhasdlh im not sure i want to spoil it for myself though, i might just have to explode violently the moment you finish and post it :p

sfw teenybedo pleeeeease and 8, the cynonari one, for sure, and nsfw DRAGONFUCKER KOKOLUMI YES GIRL GET IT

you might be waiting a while for the next report haha, it's um. turning out Obscenely long. but it will definitely be worth the wait :)

anyway,

teenybedo: this one actually started out as a commission from a friend, which then fell through when i realised that the moment i'm getting paid to write something is the moment my brain decides it does not want to write it :D sjdfjdjhj though now that i'm not under any pressure to finish, i've been working on it again sporadically.

Albedo lifted the bottom of his coat up and to the side, displaying the remains of the potion that had dripped down his back. “I was wondering what sort of potion I was hit with. It appears as though it may be a shrinking solution of some kind— indeed, something of that nature would make it very easy to abduct a group of knights on patrol, wouldn’t it?” “Shrinking potion…?” Aether’s eyes widened. “Then… the knights who went missing…” “They’re likely still alive, at any rate. I also think you’re correct about the treasure hoarders being based in these woods. Though it’s too late to try and follow the one who escaped, we could—” “Albedo,” Aether interrupted urgently. “How… How fast are you shrinking?” Albedo blinked, his train of thought derailed. “I’m not sure. Anyway, the rate is potentially subject to change. Why?” “‘Why’?!” squeaked Paimon. “Because before long you’re gonna be even smaller than Paimon! We’ve gotta do something!”

cynonari but it's unhinged and unethical: okay so. hear me out. i love cynonari, big fan, but in canon (currently) they are Very Normal. an impressively well-adjusted and emotionally secure couple. so my thought was... what if they weren't always?

Cautiously, Tighnari stepped out of the narrow passage, on the alert for the sound of anyone approaching. The space was dimly lit, but he could clearly see that it was a research laboratory, just the same as some of the classrooms above. "Why would the Akademiya have a hidden laboratory...?" he murmured, wandering through the rows of messy desks and equipment. At the back of the room was a glass wall, seemingly looking into some kind of containment chamber. As he drew close, ears twitching with nerves, he noticed a figure laying on the floor of the tiny chamber, dressed in rags. Their bone-white hair was tangled and unwashed, and they looked terribly underfed. His eyes widened as the person straightened up, crimson eyes narrowing at the sight of him. "Who are you?"

kokolumi but lumine is a dragonfucker: h. hear. hear me out. okay. i (like a lot of people who have been playing since 2.4) was really confused and disappointed at the out-of-nowhere reveal that after all of hoyo's hinting at kokomi being the reincarnation of the hydro dragon (her constellation being "slumbering dragoness," the vishap research notes mentioning that the hydro dragon was supposed to be born in enkanomiya as one of the vishaps, kokomi supposedly being born already possessing her vision, among other things) it turned out be. some guy in fontaine. neuvillette i love you and this isn't your fault but you did not earn your dragon title and once hoyo remembers that kokomi exists at all-- okay well no that's not going to happen so i guess you're in the clear.

anyway, once i got over my initial frustration and started snorting kopium (that's kokomi-specific copium) again, i looked at neuvillette's lines and thought: "oh... he says the hydro dragon couldn't be born among the vishaps of enkanomiya because their evolution corrupted them... what if... what if kokomi was supposed to be the hydro dragon sovereign, but is instead more like a... failed, corrupted version?" and, well. we all know how i feel about corrupted dragon characters.

The great sea dragon, magnificent even injured, was dragging itself up the surf with a slow determination. Its gaze was locked on the cannon, glittering with intent. It had eyes like twin pools, Lumine thought, mirror-like and deeper than dark. She watched it approach without a single thought of running. When it drew close enough to rear its glimmering purple head over the outcropping, Lumine simply looked up at it, awe occupying her senses and drowning the tingling fear. It looked down at her as well, eyes reflecting so much that it looked like nothing. She had seen so many things since arriving in Teyvat, both beautiful and terrible, awe-inspiring and spine-chilling. To her, this dragon was almost like a culmination of it all. A fitting end, if an end it must be. Lumine didn’t want it to end. Not even like this. But her limbs were too heavy to raise a sword.  The dragon rumbled softly in its throat, plaintively, almost… familiar. Lumine's breath caught in her throat. “Kokomi…?”

feel free to send more asks if you have more questions, i have a terminal case of Can't Shut Up About Wips disease

[dukeoftheblackstar]

hello again! 🧡🧡 Once again I want to know more about Plo and Duchess 🧡🧡

8. Who tends to worry the most? 9. Who is more inclined to be jealous or possessive? 10. How do they resolve their arguments? 13. Who steals the blankets?

Ahhhhh!! Crystal ♥ You're making me melt ♥♥♥ @kimiheartblade I don't talk about my girl so much because I don't think many would be interested ><

8. Who tends to worry the most?

Plo worries the most because of a plethora of reasons:

Duch is obsessed with picking up pets that aren't really suitable for the humble abode that is the House of Koon. She has undying love for sharks, isopods, and tardigrades.

Mama Koon once sent a giant isopod intended to be eaten but Plo couldn't break her heart and delulu on thinking that Plo got her the giant isopod as a pet. She named it iso-Plo and Plo is not at all happy. She also adopted a tardigrade named T-Wolffe. Plo is also not at all happy because they are enclosed in a large aquarium over the master bedroom. Making love to that site is not at all exciting.

Plo worries that at some point, Duchess will get lost and won't be able to find her way home. She struggles with direction, let alone her lefts and rights.

Plo worries that at some point, wifey (WY) will not be able to resist the urge and pluck out Wolffe's eye carefully (she's tech savvy with cybernetics and droids) out and keep it all to herself.

Also worried taht she might accidentally kill somebody over how violent she can get when she's very much jealous.

During gestation wherein the eggs are out, he worried Duch would accidentally cook one for breakfast or actually eat one their babies. Yes, Celestians eat their young (this is Duch's childhood trauma).

9. Who is more inclined to be jealous or possessive?

Duchess. Without a doubt.

My girl is so unhinged about Plo, she knows every bit of move and angle. If Plo so ever twitch his cock in ways she has never felt/seen/noticed before, she's mega sus.

She doesn't mind Plo being affectionally given attention by anyone, be it touch or be complimented, even flirted as long as she doesn't sense it to be a threat.

She is also not above shipping her husband with anyone she trusts. But if she doesn't like you, touch him and you die.

Plo can be possessive in ways that imply his discomfort when Duch is getting a little too friendly or entertaining. This is very rare. But a subtle grab on her hip, a pull on her arm, him emerging from behind and slowly dipping his arm under hers and lifting to hold her by the neck, before turning to pry her away from the scene is him being gentle yet possessive.

A bitch, her plushie, and her favorite murder knife — scalpels ♥

10. How do they resolve their arguments?

Plo has to have the final say in all arguments because Duch trusts his wisdom over her own emotional turbulence. Plo rarely speaks when they argue but he's not one to coddle her when that happens. He presents facts and stays firm to what he believes is right, while also accommodating her points.

Duch is emotion-based. Anger is something she finds difficulty in handling, so she cries and bears her heart at the slightest hint of them in a proper argument, but she never utters any word to jab, curse, or disrespect him.

It usually ends with Duch saying "it's your fault!" and Plo agreeing, in spite it not being his fault. "Yes, my love, it is." The cycle will repeat for the next five more minutes until she has calmed down enough to let Plo hold her. And when the heat has dissipated, you best know Plo's gonna hit her with "But really, my baby. It was indeed your fault." And with proper coaxing in the form of food, kisses, and tight cuddles, Duch will reply with a 'Mmhm, your fault." And then they repeat this positive version of the cycle until they just end up all over each other silly fucking.

13. Who steals the blankets? <- Answered ♥

Duch. Mainly because she wants to be all cuddled up to Plo without the constraints of a blanket. She also gets hot easy.

Plo is very against this and would merely sigh unimpressed and would now need to manipulate the molecules surrounding the room to alter the temperature for his benefit, re-alterit for her benefit, and go through the motions of molecular-thermostat balancing act until sleep consumes him.