#however I am the only one with control of it

[multipleoccupancy]

Theo drew in a breath as they spoke of what it had been like after Sloane's betrayal. He missed working with Samantha in the field but he was so relieved she had an office position that kept her safe instead. He thought about Violet and her potential disorders. He had noticed she stayed away from the big window in the past, but he also understood why. "They manifest and you work them out as you go. I didn't really understand my OCD for a long time and then the paranoia made it much harder to reach out for an explanation." His counterpart had done a number on her thought and he had to think for a moment on what to say. "I suspect that a fear of heights is only natural after what you have been through. But you see now how these things come about?"

He nodded about there being enough agents to merit a HR department, though even he didn't know exact numbers. However he should have expected her to fire off with relentless questions. Theo did feel overwhelmed for a moment and he wondered if he should shut the conversation down or risk destabilising how far he had come in the last few days. There was plenty there he wouldn't answer and he regretted opening up the option for her to ask. "They send another agent still, I have recruited a couple of people myself. I sit with them and talk about the work and ask them to join, giving them instructions on what to expect." Whether or not that was the right way he wasn't sure but he felt it was the best he could offer.

He purposefully skipped over how he was assigned missions and coded messages, she had a letter from Delta Green and that was enough. He didn't want her digging through his mail looking for triangles to see if or where he was going next. "I no longer have a team," he said plainly, "My team was Samantha and Sloane and he went and put an end to that. Since then I am either sent to other groups of agents on missions to discipline or lecture them or partnered up with agents when I am needed. They're strangers." Most of them anyway. Despite his trust issues he still had favourites. He dodged over the questions on monsters and she gave him the perfect excuse to do so with her final question. She should not have known about the Apocalypse Club and he raised a very fatherly eyebrow at her.

"It's a cultist ring, I am the lead agent in bringing it down one by one. Middle-Sized Tony is one of their leaders." He did not specify it was in the city, nor that it was a physical place, not wanting Violet to go looking. "They're very dangerous people. A lot more put together and in control than Sloane. They mainly work in crime and amass ridiculous funds through it." Of course he had his own instructions on handling them from the Horned One but he had to bring cultists in enough that he was still able to stay the lead, in a way he felt it balanced out. "I wouldn't normally leave my files out like that, I am sorry I did and you saw. It won't happen again." There was still elements of fear in his tone despite himself, as if he was preparing to be punished in the back of his mind and trying to mitigate against it.

However, he saw her embarrassment about the letter incident and shook his head. "I should have been more respectful in how I handled that too. I never meant to upset you but I panicked," Theo explained honestly and watched her carefully in case he upset her further. "I'm sorry I shredded your letter," this apology much more genuine than the last. "I should have explained this to you sooner. But it's easier now that you know why I didn't want you to read it. I was so scared."

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

"It must have been difficult," she mused a little bit sadly, "when Samantha stopped working as an agent. If she was the only one you trusted..." Her dad must have felt really alone, especially after Sloane's betrayal. "I understand that you're distrustful, after what Sloane did." But then again, it seemed that was a disorder, gained from his time as an agent. "How will I know if... if I have a disorder? I've seen so many things already. And... I still can't get anywhere close to the window." Violet didn't usually talk about that. She supposed it was obvious, and yet she pretended it wasn't an issue.

Violet was very curious about Samantha's job, now. Luckily for her, Samantha was around. Maybe she could ask her about it? "There are a lot of agents, then?" Enough for Delta Green to need an HR representative.

Her dad had just allowed her to ask him whatever she wanted to know, and yet Violet fell silent for a few seconds. The questions were jostling each other in her mind, leaving her speechless. She felt like it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and didn't want to waste it on stupid questions! "How do they recruit agents now, then? And how do they tell you your missions? Do they send coded messages? Do you know the other agents on your team?" Surely her dad wouldn't be surprised to hear her firing questions at an impressive rate. Fastest draw in New York! "What's the scariest monster you've ever seen? How many monsters have you killed?" And finally, a question she asked with a blush on her cheeks: "What's the Apocalypse Club? I just- your file was opened on the table, and I saw the name."

After that, she had to take a moment to catch her breath.

"I understand now, why you were worried. Why you shred the letter. You were just protecting me. They shouldn't have sent that letter in the first place, not after what they did to you." Violet looked down, embarrassed by the huge tantrum she had thrown about that letter.

[kaciidubs]

Gentle | Monstober Mini Fic

We won't talk about how late I am to everything currently, yeah?

✧ Summary: In which you get to finally indulge in your Orc boyfriend, even if it's just the tip of the iceberg. ✧  ✧ Word Count: 1.7k ✧ Warnings: Monster fucking, Orc! Chris, smut, fluff, slight size kink, slight humor ✧  ✧ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ✧  ✧ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Channie, Baby, Reader is referred to as Pretty, Pretty Human, Human, slightly edited [I finished this at 3:40am] ✧ Stray Kids Masterlist ✧ General Masterlist

“Alright, Channie,” you spoke softly, your fingers tugging at the smooth ribbon of your sheer robe, “gentle.”

“Gentle.”

Your heart warmed at the way he parroted your advisory – a softness that was a stark contrast to his otherwise rugged features. 

Anyone in your position would've been fairly scared out of their minds, but you were far from it - this was liberating, exhilarating even. 

An orc and a human - your orc, the man you promised to remain by no matter the difficulties and stigma. 

This type of pairing wasn’t rare per se, but it was certainly less explored due to various... differences, to say the least; if not for the way he completely dwarfed you in sheer height and mass, then for the way he could lift a couch with one hand as if it were as light as a feather. 

Contrasts, like in the way his hand could easily cover your entire face while yours could barely cover the expanse of the line of his jaw to his upper cheekbone.

However, those differences only proved to fuel your desire for him more, and your sentiments were reflected tenfold – that much you were extremely positive about.

“Slowly.” Chris affirmed, the huskiness of his tone spurring goosebumps along your skin.

Nodding, you let the robe slip from your shoulders and fall to your arms, fighting back a smirk as his eyes flicked to the exposed skin. “Slowly – and if you want to stop, we’ll stop.”

His heated gaze met your own sultry stare, a knee-buckling grin accenting his gorgeous tusks. “If you want to stop, we’ll stop.”

Cementing the verbal agreement, you dropped your arms and let the robe flutter to the hardwood floor without a sound, leaving you bare and open to his viewing pleasure.

“Pretty.” Came a breathless sigh, and you weren’t sure if he truly meant to say it out loud as he regarded you with the same look of awe as one would to a radiant sunset.

You stepped away from the pool of fabric and sauntered your way toward the bed, climbing onto the plush mattress before finally making your first form of contact with him ever since you’d entered the room; hooking your leg over his waist and sitting pretty against his abdomen. 

“Hi.” Resting your hands against his chest, you reveled in the warmth that radiated off of his body before a small smirk grew on your lips, “Come here often?”

A strong huff shook your body against his as he rolled his eyes, though his amused smirk didn’t go unnoticed as a large hand trailed along your side before cupping your cheek. “Quiet, come.”

Obliging his request, you allowed yourself to be dragged down into a slow kiss, ever mindful of the tusks that grazed the corners of your lips.

Slow and steady only seemed to last as long as each breath that passed between the two of you - short and waning, while whatever semblance of control began to chip away with every subconscious grind of your hips against his lower stomach. Your desperation was only made worse when you felt the pressure of his tip meet the curve of your ass on one particularly long drag; the large head twitching slightly and the fabric of his boxers slightly damp.

“Channie?” You breathed against his lips, pulling away just enough to meet his eyes, your unspoken question translating perfectly with the heat of desire burning within your irises.

He took you in for a moment, eyes jumping between your own and your lips, “Okay.”

That was the last thing you remember properly registering before you found yourself grinding against his cock like a bitch in heat; your brain short circuiting the minute your pussy nestled against the wonderful veins that decorated his length like a textured map. It was heaven - at least, as close to heaven you would be getting as your aching cunt still felt empty, yearning for the final piece of your lover that was so close but still so far away.

“Fuck- ‘M not going anywhere, pretty.” Chris huffed, grunting at the way your nails pressed a little harder into his chest, yet it still wasn’t enough to break skin. “Take your time-”

“Christopher,” you all but whined, pinning him with a look that made his dick throb underneath you, “we take our time when you eat me out, we take our time when you finger me - right now I need you as fast as I can, as hard as I can. Can you please just give it to me like I want?”

Sliding your hips up, your body shivered as the large head of his dick slid through your folds, the smooth skin a welcome sensation against your sensitive clit yet an agonizing reminder of what you’re unable to partake in full.

“Come on, take care of me the way only you can, baby.”

The way only he could - even if it wasn’t to the extent you deserved, you still ached for him, and what type of Orc would he be if he continued to deny his little human what she wanted?

You could sense a shift in the air, a change that caused a spark of electricity to shoot down your spine, but before you could say anything your body jolted forward from a cant of his hips; a fiery glint flashing in his lidded eyes.

“Don’t know if I should call you needy, or greedy,” he murmured, large hands coming to rest on either side of your waist, “always ready for more no matter the limits.” He took the initiative in guiding your hips up the underside of his cock, using you like a toy as his tip bumped against your clit, “Pretty human, can’t get enough of what’s already too much to handle normally - I wonder who spoiled her?”

A short whimper escaped you as his own hips rocked forward, dragging his veiny cock back through your folds in a pace reminiscent of intermittent, languid thrusts.

“Who did this to you, pretty? Hm? Who made you this greedy?”

His goading tone made your pussy throb, clipped gasps tumbling from your lips while you endured the ride he controlled.

“Answer me, human.” He snarled, eyebrows pinching as his intense gaze kept your eyes locked on his own.

“Y-You…” The timidness was foreign to your ears, this new side of your lover completely new to your psyche. “You, Chris.”

A deep rumble reverberated within his chest, a lowly chuckle as his lips curled into a cocky smirk, “Me? No - see, I only give you what I think you can handle, it couldn’t be me.”

Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin, “Chris-”

“I’ve only given you enough to keep you satisfied, enough to make sure that your needs were well taken care of,” his faux thrusts grew quicker, slicker with the mixture of precum and arousal that glistened along his dick, “maybe that’s what made you start thinking you could take more - crave more, is that it? Did I ruin my pretty little human?”

“Y-Yes!” Dropping your head forward, you swallowed thickly as your legs twitched at his sides, the stimulation conquering you in ways you’d never felt before. “You ruined me, Channie - C-Can’t even think about going back to a-another human, it wouldn’t be enough.”

His hands flexed, body shuddering with a deep breath as he tried his best to conceal the pride that swelled within him. “Another human, hm? What about another Orc?”

You shook your head vehemently, “No- God, no, it’s only you!”

“Eyes up, pretty.”

Lifting your head, you met his sultry gaze with pleasure glazed eyes.

“Say it again.”

“I-It-” A broken moan tumbled from your lips, your orgasm just on the horizon, “It’s only you - I only want you!”

His eyelids fluttered, hips bucking just a bit harder, “F-Fuck, good girl.”

“I-I’m close, Channie,” you whimpered, your body working overtime to try to overpower his grip on you to garner a fraction of more stimulation, “I’m so close, baby.”

“Go on, pretty - come for me, show me how gorgeous you’d look coming on my cock.”

Your stomach clenched hard enough to make you double over, though his hands kept you steady as your walls fluttered and throbbed, choked breaths shaking your body all the while.

Chris grunted, clenching his jaw as he slid his hips back just enough to nestle his tip against your spasming cunt, daring to press it harder against your entrance in wishful desires of feeling more of your warmth - his eyes fluttering shut as his mind ran wild.

“C-Chris?”

“So close…” He breathed, hips twitching as his conscience fought against his reality. “Y-You’re not the only one ruined, pretty,” his hips continued to rock up, fucking you with the only part of his cock that could remotely fit, “what I wouldn’t give to be inside of you, to feel you fully - my pretty human.”

“Inside…” You parroted breathlessly, one hand sliding to his chest while the other ventured up to tangle in his mussed curls, “To feel me… To come in me…”

His hands squeezed your sides, trembling slightly as he shook his head, “D-Don't.”

“Can you? Like this? Just this once?” You rolled your hips back, wiggling against his tip, “Please, baby - show me how gorgeous you’d look coming inside of me.”

“F-Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

You felt his cock twitch, his hips bucking up until a loud moan flew past his lips.

The sensation was new, different yet welcomed all the same; the warmth of his seed flooding against your cunt before excessively dripping toward your clit and creating a puddle on his lower stomach.

Your body attempted to press back further but you were stopped by his vice grip, pulling you away so the last wave of his orgasm could paint a few lines up his stomach.

A whine of protest floated through you, “Channie!”

“Pretty,” he deadpanned, blinking hard before opening his eyes to look at you with a raised eyebrow, “you’re getting too greedy now.”

“It’s your fault for being so irresistible.” Huffing out a light laugh, a shiver ran down your spine as you felt some of his cum subsequently drip out of you.

Humming in faux agreement, he nodded, “Well, let’s go get cleaned up and you can tell me all the ways me being irresistible turns you into an insatiable beast.”

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @s00buwu, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @bahng-chrizz, @milknhoneyracha, @hann1bee, @palindrome969, @newhope8, @kpopsstuffs, @starquokka, @wolfs-howling, @laylasbunbunny, @4-chan-inpadella, @butterflydemons, @kimahreummm, @ta3baee, @bethanysnow,  @skz-smut-reader

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[bokettochild]

Am I allowed to ask about your Legend losing magic brainrot or do I need to just wait for more ACAC to come out?

No, I'm always happy to talk about this one!

I've actually had this headcannon for a while now, but it hasn't managed to come up in a story much (mainly because I've yet to post that BoHH chapter) but here's a brief rundown!

Legend had really strong magic as a child (it's implied heavily in the manga)

His adventures helped him temper it and learn to use it in various ways.

The manga imply that this magic is at least partially a gift of the triforce, although I believe all hylians have at least some magic, even if only latent. His royal blood would also contribute in my HC

Legend's magic was at it's peak in his Oracle adventures, where he had literal goddesses at his side most of the time and was frequently called upon to use their instruments as well as some of his own

Legend lost his magic on the way home from Labrynna when he was caught in a magical storm and struck by lightning.

Here's how it works!

A hylian, and any other magic user, has what one would call a 'magical core'. it's not something physical, but it functions as a heart of sorts where magic is involved, and despite not being present in the physical sense, can be felt and voluntarily controlled to certain extents by skilled magic users. All of their magic flows through this core much like our blood cycles through us from our heart, and, much like a heart, it can weaken or grow stronger depending on the health of the mage, the frequency of use, and what level of magic is employed.

Legend's magical core is incredibly strong, but when he was struck by lightning and woke up on Koholint, that changed.

See, in my HC, the Windfish fully intended to bring him there. What he didn't intend to do was essentially disconnect body and soul in order to do so. As far as this HC is concerned, Legend may or may not have technically been dead for the entirety of that adventure, as his 'physical' form on Koholint was created by the Windfish the same as anything else there in order to house his soul while he wandered the island, hence why it all felt so real for him.

Meanwhile, one of two things had to be happening for the Windfish. Either he was (a) trying to repair damage done to the borrowed goddess-child/servant's body, or (b) he had to essentially make a whole new physical shell for Legend's soul when he returned to the waking world because the lightning blast incinerated the original one.

Either take works with this HC, and I use them interchangeably where it suits me >:)

Whichever you use though, one thing stays true regardless; when returning Legend's soul to his body, the Windfish's magic was still incredibly weak from what he'd been through (what with the corruption and dark magic he'd been fighting) so he did a sort of slap-dash job of it (not intentionally).

This results in a sort of disconnect between Legend's actual soul as his physical form, which includes the fact that his soul and magical systems are not connected to each other as they ought to be.

I don't know how many of you have dabbled in electronics, but it's something like if you were able to build a functioning robot, but someone pulled out all the wires and you had to hurriedly reconnect them all again, only to miss one that, while not essential to basic functions, does affect one particular lesser function. The Windfish forgot that proverbial 'wire' when reattaching soul and body.

Legend is not aware of this. Legend is only aware that he had magic before Koholint, and then he didn't when he came back.

However, when he came back, I imagine he had a lot going on initially, and it's all of that which he believes caused him to lose his magic, not the dream itself. See, Legend's return to the waking world had him stranded out at sea with only a bit of driftwood and, while he had his adventurers bag, it likely didn't have any food in it. So, while, being Legend, he probably had a canteen of fresh water at hand, that would only last him so long. Which means, between sun exposure, lack of food and fresh water, and trying to find his way home, by either paddling himself around or using his mer form, he probably had some issues.

Now, I like to say he used the mer form, as it offers him the best advantages, such as not needing to actually use his fresh water supply, as Mer can absorb water from their environment and are able to withstand both salt and fresh water, as well as they have faster propulsion and he wouldn't be directly exposed to the sun.

Maybe he even ran into other mer! Who knows! Since this is my HC though, I like to say he did, but because he tried to sort of travel with them for a while, it did catch attention from above, and in perhaps the worst turn of events possible, the mer school was attacked by pirates and one little hero just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time (again) resulting in our lovely vet taking a spear through the tail.

I say the other mer got scared off by the attack and our boy was sort of just stuck in survivor mode for a good while before, eventually, being picked up by Ralph, because I want it :)

Anyways, upon return to Hyrule, he's screwed over from lightning and injuries, and since swimming with a spear through your tail (and the resulting infection) isn't much of an option, yes, that dehydration and sun exposure did come into play regardless. So, in short, Legend was screwed over from the time he made it Hyrule to the start of his next adventure. I say that he had to relearn to walk in that time, and struggled with speaking, although that was likely a result of heavy depression and trauma and less a physical issue.

I don't think Legend really tried using his magic until the following adventure, which, while not canonically his, I like to say is Cadence, but it could be ALBW instead. When he can't access his magic as he used to, he assumes that, like his speech and mobility, it was just something he lost or damaged in his returning home (the mer thing is a curse and thus outside of his control, if you were wondering).

I think he took it pretty hard, naturally. But, being himself, he adapted around it by acquiring magical items of varied sorts that he could use to sort of replicate his old abilities and/or give himself access to new magic.

Now, a magical item is something that is powered by the users magic specifically, sort of latching onto the 'veins' of their magic automatically, so this is actually a great workaround for Legend! While he can't actually find/access his 'core' for himself, a magical item can, and it taps into his magic for him, thus allowing him to employ at least some of his magic.

Now, you can get angsty with this and say that, like with a heart, because Legend himself is not regularly accessing and employing is magic, it sort of causes a build up that could and might be slowly killing him, but that's only if you want the super angsty route >:)

Regardless, what Legend has is, as Wild put it, a magical disability; essentially the equivalent of being crippled (which Legend has already been, technically, although he's recovering still from that too). As far as mortals are concerned, there's no fix for it. His soul would literally have to be removed from his body, again, and then properly re-placed within, which, while possible, he would never go for, because he's an un-trusting little bunny.

This WILL come up in other stories (it'll play a major role in BoHH), but in none of them have I chosen (so far) to restore Legend's magic to the way it's supposed to be. As is, he's sort of jury-rigged himself a solution in the form of what are, in essence, the magical equivalent of adaptive technologies/mobility aides.

The one way this does benefit him, however, is that his magic is shrouded and also much less blaringly obvious to the magically sensitive/adept, which makes hiding his heritage/presence much easier, even if it does make everything esle much harder.

And that's it!

(If you're curious about fics where I've played with this idea before, then the Sicktember 2023 installments Legacies Burden, Deeper Than The Surface, and Footsteps Across History all briefly touch on the magical adaptive technology usage, and To Seek Hyrule's Star plays a little bit with the post-Koholint Legend, although less than I had originally planned when writing it.)

[faeries-child]

No place for love part 2

OTHER PARTS: Part 1

Pairing: Azriel x oc/reader

Summary: She was the only way to get the information the spymaster needed, but he would have truly given anything not to see her again. Not to be at her mercy, completely under her control, for she awakened things in Azriel that he would rather had kept in slumber.

Warnings: Mature content, nudity, prostitution, eventual smut, mention's of SA, fighting and a lot of other triggering things :,)

NOTICE: I AM A DYSLEXIC, NOT A NATIVE ENGLISH SPEAKER, I WRITE THESE AT 2 AM, HAVE MERCY :)

(Also, I got some inspiration to this chapter from one of the episodes from BBC Sherlock, where there is the legendary Irene Adler)

The man under Brianna had started to annoy her. She had kept him company for hours now. Fucking him, making love to him, pleasing him however he wanted. She was tired, tired of him. His smell was all over her by now and she wanted nothing more than to wash it off in a long warm bath, that she could maybe get to enjoy later, if she succeeded in her mission. 

She was straddling him, running her hands on his chest and smiling down at him. The man was panting heavily under her, eyes closed and his hands still keeping her hips securely in place on him.

 “I do not believe I can go for another round anymore love” he said looking up at her. He seemed to be intoxicated with everything around them and especially with her. 

Brianna thanked the mother that it was over now. Now she could start the real game. “My lord, did I wear you out? but there were so many things that I still wanted to do.” She let out a fake giggle at the end to convince him of the act she was putting on before him. 

She rolled off him, leaving him on the bed. Brianna walked to the other side of the room, where her robe was abandoned on one of the many cushions that covered the floor and made up the makeshift lounging area of the room. She pulled the robe on to cover her naked body. Turning to face the man again, she smiled that vicious smile she knew to make in situations like this. 

“Tell me my lord, now that you are back from your travels, what's next?”

“Oh Brianna. Why must you remind me of that boring thing people call reality?” 

He turned on the bed so he was facing her. In his eyes Brianna could sense a bite of annoyance. But to Brianna he was a simple man, nothing more than plaything in a bigger game she got to play. Getting the right information meant that she would get to meet the high lord’s spymaster again. 

To Brianna it was fun, refreshing almost. Talking to someone who at least tried to be a gentleman. Someone who tried not to look at her only as an object to be toyed and fiddled with. 

“I was only meaning to ask so I would know if you would continue to grace us with your presence in the future. Many of my girls miss you, they would be delighted to offer their services to you.” You lied through your teeth, like hell would you let any of the girls near this man. He wasn’t the worst that there was, but if you would have been given the choice, you would have burned him to ashes before he ever laid a finger on you the first time. But at least he was simple at mind. Easy to control, easy to impress. 

“My Brianna, always so sweet tongued.” He got up from the bed, starting to collect his clothes from the floor and putting them on. “But yes, I will be staying for a while. Business in the east went well, so now me and my men are preparing for the next stage.” He spoke not realizing how much he was giving away.

Brianna could truly now tell that he wasn’t the brightest of the punch. But she had gotten enough information, it was not yet enough proof to prove anything, but at least she had something interesting to report back to the shadowsinger and the high lord. 

Brianna smiled and walked towards the man, straightening his collar while looking into his eyes. “I am sorry to inform you that our time together has now come to an end, my next client is waiting already.” 

At the right moment the doors to her champers were opened, revealing Daphne at the entrance.  “I am sorry my lord, but I must ask you to leave my lady's room now, but if you are in the mood, you can enjoy a drink downstairs at the lounge bar.” 

“Of course, and oh!” The man turned to look at Brianna before saying “I am sorry to disappoint the other girls you were speaking of, but you, my Brianna, are the only one that can satisfy my hunger.” 

He bent down at her level and kissed her as a goodbye, then smelling her neck when straightening his back. After that he left, and deep inside Brianna could feel a shiver of disgust, making her want to burn all that he had touched, including herself. 

It was wrong to say that she had gotten used to it, no one could get used to it. No matter how many times she laid with these men, every single time she imagined herself somewhere else. She wished she could put a dagger through all of their hearts. If only she had the freedom to do so. 

Daphne looked at her lady, her friend. Starting to close the door so she could have a moment to dress and gather herself. Maybe bathe as well. Daphne knew the expression on Brianna’s face, she knew that her friend needed to wash off his touch. 

“Daphne, wait.” She said looking at her friend's eyes. “I have message for you to deliver” 

“What is it Anna?” 

Brianna fully turned to her friend and smiled at her, knowing that soon she really could meet the shadowsinger again soon. 

“Send a message to the high lord and his spymaster. Tell them that I have information that they will want to hear. “

Azriel’s pov:

Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand had been enjoying a quiet evening in the townhouse when the fire message came. Cassian had Nyx sitting on his knee, the little boy was chewing a wing of black bat toy that Nesta had gotten him for a present on his 1st birthday. 

Message appeared in front of Azriel's nose, making Rhys and Cassian turn their heads towards him. “What’s that?” asked Cassian, while trying to keep the little boy still on his leg. 

“The brothel already answered you?” Rhys concluded, making the assumption based on the frown on Azriel’s face. After the visit Azriel had been quiet, at least quieter than usual, which worried Rhysand. His friend hadn’t said anything about who he had met or what had happened at the brothel. 

“Yes” was the only thing Azriel answered. Not wanting to let his brothers know how helpless he had been before the woman. 

“So this means…?” Cassian asked, trying to pry more information from his brother. 

“Me and Rhys are taking a trip to the court of nightmares” Said the shadowsinger, thinking that bringing the high lord with him, he could maybe get more serious information from the woman. 

Azriel still didn’t know her name. In his mind he had started to call her “the woman”, not knowing anything else that fit better. She was certainly no girl. Even though she was young, no one inexperienced could act that way. Her eyes had been so dark and Azriel knew that based on the little bits and pieces he had seen of her living space and life, she had seen more than most of others. 

After Gathering their weapons, they put on Hewn city-appropriate clothes so they wouldn’t stick out like sore thumb in the dark catacombs of the city that resided under their beloved house of wind.

 This time Azriel took extra care in securing daggers and truthteller on his belt, not wanting to be caught off guard. Memories of the woman haunting his mind. He had not been able to shake her from his mind. That devilish smirk entering his dreams, his shadows whispering about her every second he got. He wanted her, but at the same time he wanted to stay as far away from her as he could. Lock her up and keep her to himself, leave prythian and never see her again. 

She was going to be the end of him.

Hewn city:

Rhysand gave him suspecting look, when arriving at the front of the brothel. Azriel however ignored the look and closed his eyes. Breathing deeply once, before stepping inside the place. He gestured to Rhys to follow him. 

Azriel saw the girl from earlier. She was beautiful as well, he assumed that all of the girls here were. Daphne his shadows whispered to him. 

Daphne approached them. Seemingly taken aback by the high lord’s presence. So the woman had not told anyone that the high lord would be joining them tonight. She curtsied to the high lord, as well to him. Azriel only nodded to her. 

Rhys had raised his glamor. Trying to blend in, not to cause unnecessary attention and rumors that the high lord of the night court had been seen in a place such as this. 

“We received an invitation. According to you, you have what we asked” Rhysand said, keeping his voice calm,  but still demanding power. 

“Right this way my lord’s” was the only thing she said, turning and starting to walk towards the stairs. 

Azriel and Rhysand followed. Not questioning where she was taking them.

Why are you so tense? It was Rhys, speaking directly into Az’s mind from the open crack that had left for him. 

Be on your guard brother, please. 

It was the only thing the shadowsinger had time to say before reaching the familiar door. Daphne opened it for them, revealing the already familiar room to Azriel. 

They took a step to the room. Both him and his brother assessing the space. 

After making sure there wasn’t anyone else in the room and that the door was shut, he gazed upon her. 

She was at least dressed this time. In a blood red dress, revealing her neck and chest so that it would leave any man drooling. Dress was simple, but clearly expensive, seeing that it was perfectly tailored to her, hugging in all the right places, before widening to airy hem pooling down at the woman's feet. 

Last time he had been so focused at not staring at her, that now that when he looked at her face. Truly looked at her in a beautiful dress and hair that fell freely past the woman’s waist in curls. She was the most beautiful creature that he had ever come across. Right in that momen, Azriel knew he was doomed. Because for him she truly was THE woman, the only woman.

“Good evening, lord of shadows”

continued... (part 3 hopefully coming soon :,) )

[semantics-error]

Okay, once again I feel insane watching this. Everyone is screaming about how adorable and sweet it is for Kant to be jealous and how lucky Bison is......

Kant orchestrated the whole thing! He wasn't jealous, because Tawan was never an actual threat. There is no cuteness here!

He intentionally stood Bison up for hours and paid another guy to hit on Bison so that he could appear infatuated and worm his way into Bison's heart. But it's impossible to be jealous/possessive over someone when you know the third wheel isn't a threat (and you in fact paid them to be there!) so there is zero cuteness here, sadly.

Yes, I agree Kant wants to sleep with Bison again, it definitely rocked his world in a way that it did not for Bison (that moment where Kant was hyping up their first night together and Bison looked unimpressed made me giggle). But Kant's #1 motive for hanging around Bison is just for his mission. He says in the first 30 seconds of the first episode that he has no interest in dating and only does one night stands. He might want more of that dick, but he is fully playing at everything else.

I am, however, excited for next week when Kant gets desperate to break into Bison's home and makes this bet which we know is going to end up with some very fun BDSM and also some very tasty Kant learning he actually wants to give up control in bed. I think when Bison begins to reveal his actual preferences and Kant begins to actually cede the dominance battle and stop being such an alpha-male flirty himbo, then we'll finally see progress.

Bison will start to find some value in Kant besides a way to feel flattered and have a life outside of his job (Bison states in this episode that he just wants Fadel out of the way to live his life, not to date Kant), and Kant will start to become actually fond of our little psycho assassin and the freedom Bison gives him via giving up control. But I don't think either of those things have happened at this point yet!

[osunari]

⚠︎ s i l e n t t e m p t a t i o n s ( 18+ )

—ch.5

➤ s t a r t

Mr. crawling x MC

— h o m i c i p h e r 𒌧

"Human Emotions”

The previous mishaps marked a turning point in your journey, revealing the horrifying consequences of the curse and the bloodthirsty state it provokes.

Remembering the time you lost control and succumbed to the primal urge to kill, mr. machete was forced to draw his blade. Though his decision seemed cold, it was the only way to stop you from unleashing destruction—not just on him but on everything around. His actions, however brutal, carried an undercurrent of conflict.

Killing you wasn't anything about hatred or punishment but about halting the spread of the darkness consuming you. In a place like this, survival never bothered to leave room for sentimentality.

What had made this revelation even more chilling is the cycle it implies. As your memories fade like old scars, the curse doesn't just hollow you out—it strips away every trace of humanity, leaving behind the raw instincts of the killer you once were. Never not a simple transformation, but a distortion of identity. The urge to kill is all that remained, as if the curse thrives on feeding the worst parts of you. The truth finally exposed; every time the bloodlust takes over, someone must intervene to "reset" you through none other but death. The dark process becoming a twisted means of survival, forcing those around you to make impossible choices.

For mr. machete, this act of "mercy" carried its own weight. Despite his stoic demeanor, the act of killing you hinted at an internal struggle—one he hides beneath his scarred and bandaged exterior, masking any emotion that he failed to suppress. Through deep analysis, you began to realize that his past actions, even his first violent encounter with you, were not random acts of aggression but calculated measures to protect you from something far worse; yourself. His quiet resilience in the face of such moral ambiguity revealed that he may not just be a companion in this cursed world but someone who understands its horrors better than a few at least.

The world felt brand new, free of the gnawing dread that had once consumed you. Your skin glowed with a warmth you hadn’t felt in what seemed like eons, your reflection no longer a haunting specter of decay but a vision of vitality. Your hair was sleek, strands flowing with a softness that caught the faint glimmer of the ghostly light around you. It was as if someone had pressed a reset button on your very existence, erasing the physical signs of corruption that had once taken over. You moved cautiously, your hands trembling slightly, not from weakness, but from the sheer disbelief of feeling whole again. For the first time in a while, the weight of despair didn’t feel like it was crushing your chest.

But despite the warmth of your newfound state, memories from before lingered on the edge of your mind. You couldn’t erase them—the bloodthirsty haze, the loss of control, and the moment mr. machete had been forced to strike you down. The image of his weapon glinting in the faint light before it pierced through you replayed in your head, and you shuddered. I really did die, you thought. And yet, here I am, alive… better… human again. But at what cost? The curse had reset you, as if wiping a slate clean, but it didn’t erase the growing fear that this new clarity wouldn’t last.

. . .

The creak of a door broke through mr. silvair’s territory. You looked up, and there stood mr. silvair, his calm demeanor faltering ever so slightly as his gaze swept over you. His usual confidence gave way to a flicker of astonishment, a brief widening of his sharp covered eyes before he spoke. “几ㄩ(you) . . . 几ㄩ(you) 乃乂几ㄚ千(healthy) !” he murmured, stepping closer, his crimson-tipped syringe forgotten in his hand. He hesitated as if unsure whether to come closer, his gaze shifting between awe and curiosity.

You opened your mouth to respond but stopped as you noticed a familiar severed head perched on a nearby counter. Mr. chopped’s expressive eyes lit up, his voice cutting through the tension with playful disbelief. “几ㄚ(my) ㄚ乃ㄩ乇(woman) ! ! 几乇(me) ㄚ几乃(miss) 几ㄩ(you) !” he exclaimed. “几ㄩ(you) 丂匚ㄚ乙(beautiful) , 几ㄚ(me) 卩ㄥ几(like) !”

The sight of him ignited something within you—a surge of joy and relief that propelled you forward without thought. “Chopped!” you cried, rushing past mr. silvair. The sound of your feet on the floor filled the room as you scooped the severed head into your arms, holding him close. “Me miss you! Me like you too!” Your voice cracked slightly, the emotion catching you off guard. It had been far too long since you’d felt anything this pure, this simple.

Mr. chopped chuckled, his tone teasing but warm. “几ㄩ(you) 乃乙ㄩ(touch) 乇乂(me) ! ! 几乙(maybe) 几ㄩ(you) 乃匚ㄩ(want) 乃尺几ㄩ���几(marry) 乇乂(me) ?” You laughed, the sound so unfamiliar that it startled even you. “You cute, so cute!” you said while pinching his puffed cheeks, dodging his question. “几ㄚ(me) 几乃尺(want) 尺几(be) 乙ㄩ(with) 几ㄩ(you) ! 乇乂(me) ㄩ丂几(wait) !” For now, you just wanted to revel in the reunion, to push aside the lingering questions and simply exist in this moment.

From behind, mr. silvair approached with quiet fascination. He watched your interaction with mr. chopped, his usually cold gaze softening as he observed the genuine happiness on your face. Gently, he reached out and twirled a lock of your hair between his gloved fingers. “ㄚㄩ爪乇(soft) .” he muttered, almost to himself, before letting the strand fall back. “几ㄩ卄(i see) 几ㄩ(you) ㄚ乃ㄩㄚ(found) 丂几卂ㄩ(answers) .” he said, his tone warmer than you were used to. His smile, though faint, was genuine.

You nodded, offering a small smile in return. “Indeed.” you said softly.

“乃ㄚ尺(good) . 几ㄚ(me) ㄚ乃几ㄩ尺 (happy) .” he murmured, reaching out to ruffle your hair in a gesture that was surprisingly comforting. “几ㄩ(you) 乃乂几ㄚ千(healthy)  .” Mr. silvair had been hovering for a while, watching the two of you with a knowing, but unreadable expression. He adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat, and smiled, though there was a hint of concern in his eyes. “几ㄚ(me) 丨ㄒ(in) 乃千(the) 山ㄚ卂(way) . . ?” he remarked in a tease, his gaze flicking between you and the severed head in your arms. “几ㄚ(me) 卩山几乂(leave) 几ㄩ(you) 丂乙ㄚ乂(both) 几乂丂乙(alone) .”

Before you could respond, he stepped toward the door, pausing for a moment. “ㄚ乃(no) ㄩㄖ卩爪ㄒ(pressure) .” he said, offering a faint smile as he opened the door. “几卩ㄥㄒ(take) ㄩ几(your) 尺卂ㄚ乃(time) .” With that, mr. silvair left, closing the door behind him. The room suddenly felt quieter, the tension that had been lingering between you and mr. chopped now almost palpable.

The two of you sat in the soft silence for a moment. The absence of his male companion instantly turned him into a huge orange ball of shyness, unable to show the same excitement as he did earlier now that his vulnerable side was exposed to your dominant ones. You noticed his cute flushed state as he laid peacefully against your soft lap—eventually deciding to ruin it by picking him up and cradling him close to your chest, closer to your beating heart. Despite the occasional flicker of uncertainty in the air, it was oddly comforting as you started to notice his shyness slowly melt away.

“几ㄚ(me) ㄚ山爪乃(like) . 几ㄚ(me) ㄚ山爪乃(like) 卂ㄒ乃ㄚ(a lot) !” he said, his voice breaking the elongated silence. “几ㄚ(me) 乃ㄚ乙(need) 几ㄩㄚ(more) 卂山ㄚㄒ(touch) , 几ㄚ(me) ㄚ山爪乃(like) 几ㄩ(your) 卂山ㄚㄒ(touch) ! . .”

Mr. chopped turned his head toward you, his orange braid swaying slightly as he did. He gave you a soft look, his eyes unreadable but softening as he did. “乃ㄚㄩ(with) 几ㄩ(you) , 几ㄚ(me) ㄚ乃卩ㄖ几(happy) !” His usual sharp, straightforward demeanor seemed to soften in the quiet of the room, almost like he was allowing himself a moment of peace—away from all the other lurkers which he hid a side of him from.

. . .

In the dim corridors of the ghostly apartment, a faint sound of weeping echoed. Its high-pitch would lead anyone to think it could belong to that of a small weeping child—but in reality, it was someone far from small. It led to an empty cabinet tucked away in a forgotten corner of the building, its doors rattling slightly with each shuddering sob. Inside, twisted and contorted in ways that defied logic, was none other but your hurt loyal companion. His lanky frame folded over itself as he wept uncontrollably, his jagged teeth clenched together in anguish.

He clutched his head with his elongated fingers, shaking it back and forth as though trying to dispel the dark thoughts clouding his mind. “几ㄚ(me) 乃乙ㄩ(slow) , 几ㄚ(me) 乃乙ㄩ(slow) . ! 几ㄚ(me) 山丂乙几爪(useless) . .” he muttered to himself, his voice cracking. “几ㄚ(me) ㄚ乙ㄩ(fail) 乇尺千ㄚ(protect) .” The thought of you out there; hurt, lost, or worse—gnawed at him relentlessly. It had been two days since he’d last seen you, every second feelinh like a dagger to his heart.

Images of you flashed through his mind—the way your genuine smile would comfort him in any given situation, the way you mimicked their language in the most broken way possible, and the memorable moments you two had shared together. Just as a smile could creep up to his face, darker memories crept in; the way you had looked at him during your last encounter, the anger in your voice, the distance between you. “ㄚ乃(she) 卩几爪ㄩ(hate) 几ㄚ(me) . .” he whispered in a cry. “ㄚ乃(she) 乃几(no) 乃乙ㄚ丂(accept) 几ㄚ(me) 山尺千ㄩ(apology) . .”

The thought of you hating him was unbearable. But worse was the fear that you might be gone. What if mr. hugeface had taken you? What if mr. scarletella’s selfish tendencies had claimed you as his own? The possibilities clawed at him, his overthinking spiraling into a pit of despair. He curled tighter into himself, his lanky frame trembling as the cabinet creaked under the strain.

“几乇(me) 丂ㄚㄒ卩(sorry) . 几乇(me) 丂ㄚㄒ卩(sorry) .” he whispered to the empty air. “几乇(me) 几ㄩ卩(want) 几ㄩ(you) 乃ﾌㄖ(back) . .”

. . .

The halls of the ghost hotel stretched endlessly before you, dimly lit by faint, flickering lights that lined the walls. It wasn’t a place you’d expect to find solace, but somehow, you felt a lightness in your step today. The goodbyes with mr. chopped had been heartfelt, though tinged with sadness, you left mr. silvair’s territory with an odd sense of closure. The past days had been a storm, an endless cascade of misfortunes, yet here you were, walking with a renewed sense of purpose.

I’m going to leave this place for real now.

A soft smile played on your lips. It was true what they said—there was always a rainbow after the storm. You glanced down at your new outfit, the one mr. silvair had offered after coming back from leaving you and mr. chopped alone. It was a gift, he’d said, found among the otherworldly remnants scattered across the strange plane. Somehow, he knew it would suit you.

The skirt hugged your thighs snugly, its fabric moving effortlessly with your stride. The white tank top, adorned with a small strawberry design at its center, felt oddly fresh against your skin. Minimal yet stylish, it was a far cry from the oversized raincoats and makeshift dresses you’d worn before.

As you walked, you adjusted the hem of the skirt, feeling it rise slightly higher than you were used to. A small, almost mischievous chuckle escaped your lips. It wasn’t something you’d normally wear, but today… today, you didn’t mind. Tucked in your hair was the pink hairclip mr. chopped had given you. It was whimsical and a bit childish, yet it added an unexpected charm to your appearance. Did he and mr. silvair plan this? It got me thinking…

You ran a hand through your now well-groomed hair, the clip holding back your bangs from falling into your face. Everything felt so… new. The world around you still loomed with shadows, but for once, they didn’t feel as heavy.

But as your thoughts wandered, a prickling sensation began to creep up your spine.

Someone’s there.

Your steps slowed, the faint echoes of your shoes against the tiled floor now joined by something faint, something subtle. The softest rustle, a shift of air. You didn’t need to look back to know who it was. You’d felt this presence before—silent, watching, waiting.

"Mr. scarletella," you called out, your voice steady despite the small tremor in your chest. "I know you in there."

Silence.

You sighed, turning to face the direction of the presence. There he was.

He stood just a few feet away, his tall frame casting an imposing shadow on the wall. His red hair, straight and slightly disheveled, fell across his face in a way that framed his sharp features. Those round black eyes; half-lidded, piercing, and unyielding—locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. The light in his gaze was unsettling, but there was something else beneath it—a flicker of curiosity, admiration even. His eyes roamed over your figure, lingering on the subtle curves the outfit revealed.

He was definitely sure about one thing—you knew about the curse, and how to combat it. But from whom you’d learn it from, he hadn’t a clue—he didn’t care anymore. He wanted you and that’s all he knew, all he needed to fight for.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched thin, the air between you thick with unspoken tension.

You shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the hem of your skirt once again, feeling his gaze like a physical weight on your skin. “This one hell of a weirdo…” you muttered under your breath, your native tongue soft but biting.

His grin widened ever so slightly, unbothered by your insult which he understood with your behavior alone. If anything, he seemed amused.

“What you wan—” you began, but your words faltered as he took a step forward.

There was a fluidity to his movements now, no longer the eerie teleport—glitches you were accustomed to. He moved like liquid, smooth and deliberate, crouching lowly to bring his face closer to yours.

You froze.

His umbrella clattered to the ground, abandoned, his fingers reaching up—tentatively and curiously. The glint in his eyes remained, but his touch… his touch was soft. He gently brushes his fingers against the pink hairclip, his thumb tracing the small shape with unexpected care.

“ㄚ卩几丂(cute) .” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers moved from the clip to your hair, running through its silky strands. He seemed fascinated, almost in awe, as if seeing you like this was something entirely new to him. “几ㄩ(you) ㄚ乃(not) 尺ㄒ几(run) 乃ㄚ卂山(away) ?” he finally asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You shook your head, the motion slight but enough to convey your answer. Despite the unease his presence usually brought, there was something different about him now. He wasn’t the predator lurking in the shadows. He was… something else. You were used to stereotyping him into a psychotic weird maniac that followed your steps like a dog, but seeing him be the opposite of that—it made you less uncomfortable around his presence.

You discreetly leaned into his touch— just slightly, almost imperceptibly, but he noticed. His eyes widening briefly, as if caught off guard by your unspoken permission. For a moment, he looked as though he didn't know what to do with the gesture, his usually composed demeanor faltering ever so slightly. Yet, his fingers remained in your hair, brushing gently against the strands as if testing the boundaries of this newfound intimacy.

Then, his hand moved lower, slow and deliberate, his fingers grazing your shoulder before stopping at the embroidered strawberry on your shirt.

He tilted his head, the faint light glinting off his curious eyes as he traced the delicate stitching. His touch was light, almost reverent, as though the small detail fascinated him in a way you couldn't understand.

“Strawberry… you like?” you questioned, pointing at the imagery embroided in your shirt—to which he nodded.

His fingertips glided over the textured design, the soft friction of fabric against your skin sending a faint shiver through you. It was so subtle, so precise, that it left a lingering warmth in its wake. The way he handled even the smallest details—like the weave of the thread or the curve of the strawberry-felt oddly intimate, as though he were exploring a part of you that was uniquely yours.

“Strawberry.” He muttered, copying the way you had said it in your own language—uncontrollably leaving you smiling.

Your breath hitched slightly when his thumb brushed over the fabric just below the design, his movements unhurried yet deliberate. He was savoring every moment, every inch of this small, simple contact. His eyes flicked back to yours, catching the faint tremor in your chest, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he’d noticed how deeply he affected you.

“几卂山乃(nice) .” he said, his grin softening into something more genuine, though his gaze remained fixated on you.

You couldn’t help but notice how intently he admired just about everything about you, his fingers carefully exploring every detail about you as though it were some rare, precious artifact. There was something oddly endearing about it, the way he cherished even the smallest details with such genuine fascination. For a brief moment, you found yourself smiling softly, realizing just how fitting it was—if he were to turn into any fruit, he’d undoubtedly be a strawberry. With his striking red hair and that subtle sweetness hidden beneath his mischievous exterior, it just made sense. The thought lingered for a moment, and then it hit you—he was actually… cute. You blinked, startled by the realization, and quickly looked away, heat rushing to your cheeks. It wasn’t just the strawberry comparison or his red hair; it was the way he paid attention to the little things, the way he seemed so childlike in his wonder despite everything else about him being so overwhelming. The thought made your chest flutter in a way that was both embarrassing and oddly comforting, you silently hoped he hadn’t noticed the shift in your expression.

But he didn't stop there. His hand wandered down, his fingers brushing the hem of your skirt with a featherlight touch that sent a shiver through your body. He paused, his gaze snapping up to meet yours, as if asking for permission, his dark eyes now soft yet piercing, searching for any hint of resistance. You didn't say a word, but the way you stood still, your breath hitching ever so slightly, told him everything he needed to know. You weren't stopping him—you weren't pulling away.

That small, unspoken signal was all the encouragement he needed. Slowly, his fingers began to explore further, grazing the delicate fabric with deliberate care. The warmth of his touch seeped through the material, his movements slow and purposeful as if savoring every moment. You felt your heart race, a flush creeping up your neck as he drew closer to the sensitive skin just above your thighs. His actions weren't rushed or greedy; they were curious, almost respectful, as though he was discovering something he wanted to remember forever.

He glanced up again, his expression unreadable but intense, his lips parting slightly as though he was going to speak—but hesitated. Instead, he let his hand linger just at the edge of what was decent, his fingers brushing the barest hint of skin beneath the hem. The intimacy of the moment was almost unbearable, your breath quickening as his touch sent small jolts of electricity coursing through you. His gaze never left yours, and in that quiet exchange, the air between you felt heavy, charged with something you weren't sure either of you fully understood yet.

His touch grew bolder, his fingers skimming the bare skin of your thighs. Your breathing quickened, the warmth of his hand leaving a trail of heat wherever it went. His agape mouth faltered slightly, replaced by a more focused, almost reverent expression as he watched your reactions.

You tried to keep your composure, but the blush creeping up your neck betrayed you. His fingers pressed against the fabric of your skirt, tugging it gently upward, exposing more of your skin with each passing second.

“Scarlet…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He instantly paused, his gaze snapping back to yours, dark and searching, as though gauging your every reaction. For a fleeting moment, you thought he might put an end to his sensual actions, but instead, his hand shifted, moving with deliberate intent after confirming your allowing expression.

As if he could sense the unspoken tension between you—he leans one hand to the wall behind you for support, his other hand slid to your waist, settling there with a possessive ease. His thumb brushed the bare skin just above your skirt slowly, deliberately, sending a jolt through you that felt almost electric. The pad of his thumb traced small, languid circles on the exposed skin, his touch both tender and teasing. The contact was light, yet it felt heavy, leaving a trail of heat in its wake that had your mind racing. He leaned in ever so slightly, close enough for you to feel the faint warmth radiating from him, his movements unhurried, as if savoring every second of the moment he held you.

His eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, everything else seemed to blur. His touch, his gaze, the proximity—it all became too much, too intimate, yet you found yourself rooted in place, unable and unwilling to pull away.

The heat between you was noticeable now, unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. His fingers toying with the hem of your skirt, lifting it slightly to reveal the smooth skin of your upper thigh. His touch was deliberate, savoring every inch of you as if committing it to memory.

Your heart raced, the flush on your cheeks deepening as you let him explore. You weren’t sure what this was—curiosity, lust, something more? But you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him.

His thumb ventured higher, the path it traced growing bolder with each second, leaving a blazing warmth in its wake. Every inch he ascended felt like uncharted territory, your breath catching as his touch teased the edge of your self-control. You could feel your heart pounding, a rhythm that matched the deliberate, calculated movements of his hand. His thumb hovered dangerously close to your most sensitive place, the anticipation thick enough to drown in.

But then, he stopped—his entire body tensing, his hand frozen in place. The moment hung in the air, thick with tension, as if time itself had paused. His fingers hovered at the edge of something forbidden, the barest touch brushing against a boundary he hadn’t meant to cross. The shock hit him in a flash, his thumb barely grazing that intimate threshold, a realization dawning on him that what he’d just touched was beyond anything he had expected. His breath caught, and for a split second, he seemed unsure whether to pull away or give in to the unexpected temptation. His gaze snapped up to yours, searching for any hint of permission, his mind scrambling to make sense of the electrifying moment he’d just created.

Mr. silvair’s gift did not come with panties.

.

.

.

[ Route 1 : SFW (Shows a route wherein NSFW content are replaced by SFW scenes.) Skip to the next chapter for NSFW(18+) version. ]

He didn't pull away immediately, as if caught in the struggle between instinct and restraint. The intensity in his gaze softened, the heat of desire tempered by a fragile sense of guilt. You didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed at his hesitation, but one thing was certain—this moment had shifted something irreversibly between the two of you.

He stepped back, letting your skirt fall back into place. His grin returned, though it was softer now, more restrained. He fixed your clothes with surprising care, his hands lingering briefly before pulling away.

The silence that followed was deafening, your breaths the only sound in the still hallway.

Scarletella’s sharp gaze lingered on you, his expression unreadable, as though he was piecing together a puzzle only he could see. His lips parted, the strange, melodic cadence of his voice breaking the silence. “几ㄩ(you) . . . 乂几卩ㄚ(feel) 几爪尺ㄚ(things) .” he murmured, the words rolling off his tongue like a revelation, yet spoken almost to himself.

It was as though he wasn’t just stating it—he was savoring the realization, testing the weight of the truth in the air between you. His tone carried a curious mix of intrigue and satisfaction, as if your human emotions were a puzzle he’d just begun to understand. It sent a shiver through you, his words more intimate than they had any right to be.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t.

But deep down, you knew he was right.

—ch.5

➤ e n d

"Human Emotions”

[silentmouthpiece]

I wish Jimmy wasn't a static villain, but I'm glad he wasn't. It's terrifyingly interesting to watch this man crumble underneath the weight of his mistakes. Kinda wanna put him in a blender.

Jimmy resents Curly for not being satisfied with the ideal life that he [Jimmy] could never achieve on his own. A life style that we all are told are the marks of success, but we have to break our backs and trudge through mud to even get a glimpse of and it's not even what most people want or need. Jimmy bought into the golden standard he believed Curly achieved and tried to mimic him. But Curly, a captain shaped by the greedy corporate powers that be, is only a facade of a captain. A mirage that disappears when you get closer, but Jimmy is delusional as fuck so he taped that mirage to his forehead and kept chasing it like his life depended on it.

In his eyes I guess it did.

Jimmy's relationship with Pony Express is weird as fuck, but I think it makes sense if Jimmy attaches so much importance to it because it influences his life so much. Curly, Jimmy's golden ideal, gives him a chance to escape his "rough life" with Pony Express and climb up the ladder to achieve that golden standard for himself. Pony Express is such a shitty ladder though, with its lackluster policies and disregard for their employees and working conditions but Jimmy holds on because it's his lifeline. As a a pilot he gets to take control of his life. It's not easy and it's far from ideal but it's better than home, so he makes it his home. One things that you do when you're home is get comfortable enough to shit in it.

Jimmy rapes Anya on the Tulpar. On the job for Pony Express. He did it at least 2 out of 11 months in, because Anya notes that there are eight months left on the ship to Curly and we know she knew she was pregnant by then. I don't know why he did it, I cannot fathom what compelled him to allow himself that impulse but he did it. In doing so he planted the seed for the life he wanted to achieve that would strip it from him before he even accomplishes it and it grows out of his control.

Let's rewind a bit. Curly revealing to the crew that Pony Express was going down and laying them off was essentially heaven closing the gate on Jimmy with a nice helping of spit on his face. It was bad news for everyone, but woooow Jimmy took it real personal after the talk he had with Curly about a week(?) before. About leaving Pony Express for something more fulfilling. Jimmy put two and three together to make four and accused Curly of being happy with this outcome and leaving them behind for a more satisfying life while everyone else is left with nothing to show for their struggles working for the company. We know that's not true, but Jimmy is essentially witnessing his golden ideal, who handed him this fool's gold of an opportunity to achieve the golden standard, close the very door he opened after telling Jimmy that he doesn't even like said door. Jimmy loses it and lashes out.

(... you know... that might be why Jimmy did... all that. If they got the news before he ever assaulted Anya Jimmy didnt have too much to lose that he hadnt lost already, so why not take control however he can and feel good.) Ah fuck, wait, no. Shit... fuck!

If Jimmy raped Anya because Pony Express is going down and Polle represents Anya and/or the unborn baby... im not even sure where Im going with this but if he raped Anya cuz he felt cheated of the ideal life (one that typically says you need a spouse and kids) I will put myself in the cryopod with Curly. Im not saying he did it to start a family, but as a means of taking whatever slice of cake he can before it all goes to shit.

I said all that to explore why Jimmy cracked so hard but now I feel like I unearthed something and I dont know how I feel about it. Ack!

I dont know if I need to make this clear, but I am not excusing his actions. I'm trying to get into his head. Turning him over to see what made him tick the way he did. It's fun.

Edit: i did a follow-up reblog that sums it up better

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

how about A Gordon and Edward Analysis

Ooh yes… the OG dynamic! The first one, the foundation for everything!

(Unless you count “Edward and railwaymen”... or “Edward and coaches”... which, to be fair, I do…) 

These two are insane (affectionate). Hot take but this may be the saddest relationship on the N.W.R.?* They’re my two bestest boys but, man. Their dynamic is fucked. Edward and James are nothing compared to this. Gordon and Henry are healthy, relatively. 

tl;dr: They need couples counseling. 

Jobey, aren't you being a little dramatic? 

Am I? Take my hand. Let's do a close read… 

* This is going to focus on RWS (not tv series). Right now and for the rest of this post, I’m going to be talking strictly from the Wilbert books (and, thus, analyzing their relationship from the ‘20s to the ‘60s only) unless I specify otherwise 

Part 1 (this post): Gordon, what's your damage? 😭 / The Doylist Reason / Rent. Free. 

Post 2 (upcoming post, link later): Edward's Defences / Gordon's Growth

Post 3 (upcoming post, link later): Collision / Uh… Cleanup Crew?

tagging @weirdowithaquill because you asked for Edward+James and i wound up folding in most of what i have to say about them into this analysis 😅 in RWS they're a good foil for understanding Edward+Gordon

Gordon, what's your damage? 😭

There is a strong drive, right here on ttteblr, to portray how despite some notorious conflicts these two are canonically old friends. Also that maybe Gordon’s bad behavior is not so bad. 

That is a valid mission, indeed I flatter myself that I had some influence steering us down this road a few years back, however sometimes I think we're in danger of forgetting how often Gordon really has just been like… This: 

"You watch me this afternoon, little Edward," he boasted, "as I rush through with the Express; that will be a splendid sight for you." (1923) 

“I’ve done it! I’ve done it! I’ve done it!” he said proudly, and forgot all about Edward pushing behind. He didn’t wait to say “Thank you”... (1923) 

Edward puffed and pulled, and pulled and puffed, but he couldn’t move the heavy coaches. / “I told you so,” said Gordon rudely. (1923) 

So Edward found coaches for the three engines, and that day the trains ran as usual. / But when The Fat Controller came the next morning, Edward looked unhappy. / Gordon came clanking past, hissing rudely. “Bless me!” said The Fat Controller. “What a noise!” (1926-1934) *

When Gordon and Henry heard about the accident, they laughed and boasted. “Fancy allowing cows to break his train! They wouldn’t dare do that to us. We’d show them!” they boasted. (1952) 

“The Fat Controller would never approve,” said Gordon loftily. “Branch Lines are vulgar.” (1965) 

Edward scolded the twins severely, but told Gordon it served him right. Gordon was furious. / A few days later, some Enthusiasts came. On their last afternoon they went to the China Clay Works. / Edward found it hard to start the heavy train… / “Just pathetic,” grunted Gordon. “He should give up and be Preserved before it’s too late.” (1965) ** 

I am sportingly not even saddling Gordon with the blame for the line "Driver won't choose you again. He wants strong engines like us." (In TTRE, this is said by the collective of big engines – although the illustrations do clearly point a finger at Gordon. Still, like I said, I'm going to be sporting. The pictures aren't canon.) Also note that in RWS Gordon doesn't say "No use at all" when he learns Edward has come to push his train; that whole bit of dialogue was something Britt and David cooked up. 

Even being as generous as possible, this still leaves us with… seven. Seven instances of Gordon taking a shot at Edward. 

That’s actually quite a… lot? 

I mean, not necessarily if we were racking up all the complaints, ranging from major to miniscule, that you’d have about someone you’d lived and worked with for over 40 years, lol. 

But we shouldn’t actually be expecting a complete inventory at all. RWS books are minimalist on detail. There's just so much less in 'em than the sprawling TVS with its 24 full series, lol. And let’s focus here on just the Wilbert canon, since that’s where all these examples of Gordon being rude to Edward come from. Seven times, in 26 books. For context, the number of times Thomas teases Gordon in this same corpus is… three. Three times. Thomas cheeking Gordon. Also kind of a fundamental dynamic. THRICE! 

Passengers saying What a Bad Railway It Was… two. Number of times Thomas and Percy squabble… three. Number of accidents that Percy gets into (and this includes the piddling stuff, like crashing into that wagon of flour that was left on the rails)… five. Reflect on that for a moment: Gordon is a dick to Edward in canon more often than Percy's had an accident. That's crazy. Indeed, there are plenty of RWS characters who are canonically friends or who shed together who don't even get to have seven shared moments. It's actually kind of a fun game, to try to think of any two of them who, like Gordon and Edward, have seven of a specific kind of interaction. Have at it! There has to be something I've missed. 

But I hope it's clear, that by the standards of these books this character dynamic is hit A LOT. You know me, I'm going to go on to contextualize a lot of these seven examples, and I'm going to play Gordon defense attorney to a certain degree, and plead mitigation. But I can't possibly explain away the sheer size of this pile of evidence. This specific dynamic is not meant to be overlooked. It's not meant to be minimized.

This is a big inescapable part of what their relationship is. 

The Doylist Reason

Now, in fairness, the meta reason this dynamic is so pervasive and repeated is that it's The Template. 

“Big braggadocious engine needs help from humble plucky little engine” was trite before The Three Railway Engines was published. This is not a slam; I’m not gonna get on another parent’s case about the story they improvised for their kid because “it relies on cliches.” But it’s just a fact: Edward and Gordon, to begin with, are simply THE foundational cliche of “anthropomorphic train” media. 

One of the reasons the RWS (and the whole subsequent TTTE juggernaut) is so successful is because it features so many creative variations on this template. Most of the relationships are just "okay so one of them is the Gordon, and one of them is the Edward, but this time there's a twist!" (This is how you get Thomas as the big breakout character – because the Thomas and Gordon variation is a lot less cliched, and a lot more fun.)

Just an observation. 

Now, Awdry did keep writing the OGs again and again and again, for a couple'a decades, and he developed them both quite a bit. So by the end of his run we do have a very elaborate Jenga tower built on this template. Loads of fun* to be had yet. So let's jump right back into analyzing this shit in-universe. 

* For certain definitions of fun 😈

Rent. Free.

The first thing I wanted you to note about Gordon’s Edward-directed crimes was that there were a lot of them. 

The second thing I want you to note is that… these are, perhaps, not all so very criminal? 

Some of it is – the group harassment about the strikebreaking and the “Just pathetic!” bit (more on both of those later). But a lot of the rest of it strikes me as more the results of being blunt or un-self-aware or even just plain boisterous than actively choosing to bully anyone. In particular, the early stuff, the Three Railway Engines stuff on which the whole foundation of their relationship is laid… 

"You watch me this afternoon, little Edward," he boasted, "as I rush through with the Express; that will be a splendid sight for you." (1923) 

Condescending. Tone-deaf. Belittling (literally). But… not actually spiteful?

“I’ve done it! I’ve done it! I’ve done it!” he said proudly, and forgot all about Edward pushing behind. He didn’t wait to say “Thank you”... (1923) 

That's not cool, but it's also not… that bad. 

At the point where The Three Railway Engines ends with the claim "all three engines are now great friends," it's like, sure. You can see that. Indeed you can see it much more easily for Gordon and Edward than you could with Gordon and Henry – Gordon's behavior toward the latter (though in a similar vein of "kick a fellow when he's down") was much more extreme, and Henry's behavior was so bizarre that you hardly know what to expect from him next. (What you don't expect is that those two will be joined at the hip for the next thirty years.) By contrast the Edward and Gordon relationship should be kinda easy, the former's really nice so the latter just has to remember some basic manners and they should be okay. Right? 

But that's not how it goes. Partly of course because Gordon has much more out-of-pocket shit in him than he ever displayed in TTRE. But I'm going to set aside some of the more severe tests that Gordon makes of these friendships till later – stuff like punishing Edward for breaking his tender engine strike and "Just pathetic!" (not to mention all the needling of Henry around the Flying Kipper accident). Setting that aside, Gordon's original sin is simply being a dumb, self-centered, out-of-touch rich jock. Yes, he’s consistently “rude,” but usually more in an ignorant, superior, “I cannot be bothered to try not/learn how to prevent myself giving offense” sort of way than an aggressive, malicious “hurting you for fun and profit” sort of way. In contrast to, say, James. Whose behavior really is consistently mean. And who is hurtful on purpose, because he’s having a bad day and tearing someone else down is how he copes. James insults; Gordon (except in those couple of asterisked cases that we’re tabling for later discussion) merely boasts. And it’s really quite interesting to me how Edward seems to have much less problem with the former than with the latter! 

Because he does have a problem with it. We know, because for most of this long list of incidents the source must be… him. 

This is a series where canonically the Author is a human “friend of the railway,” collecting and publishing these stories in order to publicize the railway to the world. This is something that really can’t be forgotten when reading these (indeed, thanks to the “Author’s Note” each time, the books will not let you forget it). The narrator is canonically a figure in this universe, and is not omniscient. 

And, when it comes to the Edward/Gordon dynamic, the Author’s point of view is consistently collapsing into Edward’s point of view. 

Certain times when the narrator editorializes about details, we can be pretty sure, are lifted straight from Edward’s take on the moment (and, if not Edward’s, then The Fat Controller’s, which to be frank is also roughly aligned): 

Edward puffed and pulled, and pulled and puffed, but he couldn’t move the heavy coaches. / “I told you so,” said Gordon rudely. (1923) 

That Gordon said that, I don’t doubt. That the adverb is necessary, or even correct? That’s… that’s interpretative. I totally understand why Edward and TFC, respectively, took it that way, but I’m not 100% convinced it was meant that way, nor that everyone else on scene regarded it as much more than Gordon glumly colour-commentating the group effort to recover from his breakdown. Is he being ‘rude’? Or is he merely too blunt for North Western sensibilities?

Anyway, even if ‘rude’ is the correct interpretation, it is again worth noting that it’s certainly not part of the narrative as Gordon would have been telling the story in the 1940s. (The 1940s! It's over twenty years later! And Edward is getting his side of the thing in fuckin' print… Big win, that.)

So, if we agree that Edward is the source the Author primarily relies on for these 2+4 scenes, what does this show us? Well, for one, I'd say it shows us that Edward may ‘forgive’ all this but he is certainly not forgetting one bit of it. Indeed the narrative’s repeated return to this dynamic almost certainly mirrors how much room Gordon’s superior attitude occupies in Edward’s headspace.

Which is kinda wild. There's no evidence Edward is petty by nature, if anything there's a lot that suggests the opposite. Gordon getting this far under his paint is… something of an achievement. 

But we can see how he managed: 

Even discounting the illustration. Even if Gordon isn’t the speaker. He was one of Them. The other big engines who tormented Edward may have been worse, were probably worse, but they are gone and Gorson remains, an eternal reminder of 1922-3. Of the primordial period when Gordon has the power, Edward doesn't. Gordon is on top of their world; Edward is left alone in a shed, cut off from all his former friends and supporters, afraid for his life, roundly denigrated by the engines he lives with, and quite possibly lost his previous job directly in favor of Gordon. Who, at best, is careless and oblivious. Who, at worst, is belittling and rude. 

Ouch. 

Gordon's arrival is still bound up, probably even the direct cause, of one of the most miserable and humiliating year of Edward's life. And – maliciously or not – everything about how Gordon conducts himself only serves to keep tearing again at that wound.  

Ouch. 

If Edward were to write off Gordin as a potential friend till the end of time, well, you know, it would be valid. Not very "wise" or anything, but it’d be understandable.

To be clear, I don't think this is what happens. I'm not going to argue that the famous line from the end of TTRE is a lie, some sort of diplomatic fiction. No, Gordon and Edward quickly make a go at genuine friendship. Indeed, throughout all this mess, even as I analyze it in excruciating detail… there's something kind of touching and weirdly wholesome about the way that they both try so hard to make it work despite the headwinds against them. Edward (and Gordon, for that matter) make sincere efforts to overcome the wounds they have inflicted on each other's egos. Kudos, lads. 

However, I also don't agree with a vast assumption on the part of many fans that Edward solves the issue by simply… rising above. Puts aside his own ego, takes a pacifist approach to all the jockeying for position, acts purely as mentor, just sits on the moral high ground and philosophically accepts everything as it is. 

This is canonically nonsense. Yes, Edward was passive in his first-ever story – he was at the end of the line; he needed someone to give him a damn break before he even had options – he doesn't actually remain passive after that, though. Indirect (he’s allergic to conflict), but not passive. We see very clearly that Edward may be judging status by a bit of a different yardstick than Gordon et. al., he doesn’t think picking up the slack on secondary or support jobs is a source of shame and his relative physical weakness drives him to find different ways to distinguish himself, but, like, when it comes to points-scoring, he’s still very much in the game. Of course his first priority is just to be wanted and useful at all, but that is not the end of it. Edward is competitive, with a proper amount of pride (“Good! Don’t let them beat you”) and he has normal engine-y desires and ambitions (“Look at me!”). ‘Course, in his case they don’t drive him to make a straight-up nuisance of himself. But, still. It matters to him that he gets to be the Smartest Engine in the Shed. It matters to him that he has nice blue wheels. It matters to him that he’s important, it matters to him that he’s respected, and he’s quite as pleased to get important jobs as any other engine (even if he doesn’t begrudge an engine who gets a jammier job than him). When canon kicks off no driver at Vicarstown has laid a claim on Edward, Topham Hatt has just succeeded some previous General Manager and shows no sign of knowing or remembering that Edward exists, and Edward has nothing – no job and no allies. It is not an accident that all three of those things change. It’s not even merely a natural karmic reward for being a nice, humble engine with a winsome smile. Edward set out to earn recognition. His main method (be helpful and reliable to others) is admirable, but it is also a means to a goal (be recognized as important and ensure he's never again stuck in the sheds). And he succeeds wildly. There’s luck there, sure - there always is, with success - but he didn’t have a lot of natural advantage at his tender, either. What I’m saying is that he’s not some innocent unworldly soul who aww-shucks’d his way into it. He meant for this to happen. He played smart and he worked hard for it – but, like, he had to know what it was he wanted. 

Am I belaboring this point? Maybe. But I feel like so many people only see Edward as nothing more than a dutiful, responsible, maybe even stuffy oldster with at most an occasional twinkle of fun in his eye and, hell, often that’s not even a big problem (though I think it sells short later characters who arrive and who are ACTUALLY more unambitious and above-it-all than Edward - for instance, I think Donald and Douglas are actually our first tender engines who show up and legitimately just never once give a shit about their status, at least not beyond the status of ‘alive’ vs. ‘dead’). But I think it IS a problem, that it does lead you wrong, when you bring that assumption to bear on Edward’s relationship with Gordon. Edward never "mentors" Gordon. It’s a fundamentally competitive relationship. Oh, maybe it shouldn’t be! It shouldn’t be, because Edward is not jealous by nature and so if Gordon were halfway chill himself it never would have been. And it shouldn’t be, because Gordon so easily outclasses Edward that there should be no reason for Gordon to ever get jealous, either. But they both manage, somehow. Edward’s not just benignly pulling a quarter out of Gordon’s ear every so often, to gently remind him that Gordon doesn’t know everything yet. He might have settled into this role, if Gordon hadn’t scared the existential shit out of him throughout the ‘20s, but Gordon did and so Edward didn’t. Edward’s in it to win it, babe! He accepts that his express days are over, but he’s not willing to be told he never again gets a cut of the cake, either – and, when Gordon snubs him, Edward is not just rising above the fray and letting it go. They’re always playing tug-of-war. 

To reiterate: I don't think Edward is faking friendship after Gordon's failed express. He's really working on it – and he might have had more success letting go of the previous wounds Gordon inflicted on his ego – if only Gordon had stopped that sort of shit, going forward! 

But that's asking too much. It's still the 1920s, baby; Gordon's gonna Gordon; so what's a little tender engine to do? 

[hydrangeapartridge]

No rings allowed on the battlefield (EmmRook short fic)

Emmrich gets injured and Rook helps ;) (no spoilers)

warning for: s*x*al allusions

It was an unfortunate accident. A stupid mistake. A clumsy fumble during a battle with a dragon. Taash and Emmrich weren’t as well coordinated as other duos Rook often traveled with, and the fight had taken them by surprise. They prevailed at the cost of a few scratches and sadly, one less minor injury.

Once the adrenaline spike dropped down like the dragon did mere seconds ago, Emmrich winced, nursing his left hand close to him, assessing the damage done to it. It was no dragon that hit him, but the back swing of Taash’s reckless but impressive last blow. The handle of their axe had crushed Emmrich’s left hand, more precisely his left middle finger, which was red and starting to swell. The ring on it, an expensive looking band of gold with a diamond-shaped emeral in the center, looked a bit battered, and mostly far too tight for the size Emmrich’s finger was growing.

The necromancer’s right hand lit up with magic and he ran it above his injured hand in a quick healing spell. However, the whole group startled when a small green crack of lightning coming from his dented ring zapped Emmrich’s valid hand, dissipating the healing spell in the process. Upon closer inspection, the emerald gem was slightly fractured, damaged enough for its enchantment to act up.

Emmrich clicked his tongue in frustration. “Of course it had to be the life spells ward…” He grumbled, annoyed and in pain as he realized he would not be able to heal himself.

Rook quickly understood the situation, and seeing Emmrich’s rapidly paling complexion and sweaty brows, she took him by the arm, urging him to sit down on a pile of rocks so she could tend to his injury before he fainted.

“I am fine I assure you” Emmrich told her, though he was not so convincing; self conscious from the attention, and feeling powerless without his healing magic. “I’ve seen worse. Worse injury at least. That was my first dragon and it is not an encounter I would like to reiterate”

Rook gently took the mage’s hand in hers as he rambled, and from what she saw, his finger had already doubled in size and was turning purple from the lack of bloodflow.

“We need to take off this ring or you’ll lose your finger” She observed. “Taash, do we have grease or butter, or anything else that could help here?”

Taash rummaged through their belongings and Rook’s too but came back empty handed. “Nah, sorry, Harding is the one who always thinks about this kind of stuff”

“I have some cream in my belongings that might help” Emmrich then remembered, having difficulty focusing when all he could feel was his blood pulsing hard in his finger. He called out to Manfred, who had been hiding during the fight, but came quickly to their assistance.

Once she had the cream, Rook applied a small amound around the ring, trying to get it on the skin under it to loosen it. Emmrich bit his lip to refrain any noise of pain when she then tried her best to pull on the ring. She tried to apply as much force as she could, until Emmrich’s hand started shaking from the pain. It was an utter failure; the ring did not move one inch, and the cream only made Rook’s grip on it slippery, making it impossible to really pull on it, even with her nails.

Emmrich’s expression was a hardly contained grimace of pain, and Rook hated to see his beautiful features contorted so. She had to do something, his finger was getting cold, they did not have much time. It was a stupid injury but it must hurt like hell.

“Don’t we have anything to cut it?” She asked Taash but they shook their head. Rook tried preparing a controlled fire spell, but the second she approached her alite finger, the ring zapped her, making her wince and extinguishing her magic.

“Maybe we should cut the whole finger and then he’ll stitch it back with necromancy” Taash offered, but Emmrich did not approuve.

“I’d rather it would not come to that” He said, dejected.

Having a dead finger in the middle of such a refined hand was admittedly not enviable. They could do better. She needed to help him. Find a solution.

“Please don’t hate me for this” Rook told Emmrich when an idea struck her, eyes begging as they met Emmrich’s sad brown ones.

She did not give the necromancer time to think before she gripped his hand tighter and brought it to her mouth. In a swift motion she swallowed his middle finger, getting down on it without hesitation.

Emmrich choked on a half-pained, half-mortified whimper of a breath. Rook, whom he barely knew, had her lips tightly wrapped around that one particular finger, mimicking an entirely different situation. He couldn’t look away from her expression of concentration as he felt her tongue poke and swirl around his ring, caressing the skin in a way that felt as painful as it was soothing. He soon felt her teeth carefully joining the mix, trying to get a grip on the stuck piece of jewelry.

He instinctively tried to take his hand back, but Rook held it firmly in her hand while she worked, her eyes closed, her long eyelashes brushing her high cheekbones.

Emmrich felt the tip of his ears, as well as his neck heat up, his collar suddenly too tight, when Rook hollowed her cheeks and sucked on his finger. Her mouth was so warm he felt dizzy from it. He barely repressed a moan of relief when the ring finally gave in, and Rook pulled away from him with a 'pop' and a victorious humming sound that was delightful to the ears.

He watched flabbergasted as she spat the ring onto her opened palm, then covered his face with his right gloved hand from the embarrassment of the whole situation.

“Damn. That’s a skilled tongue you got! Could rival Isabella’s” Taash commented, genuinely impressed. They whistled, only aggravating Emmrich’s feelings.

Rook chuckled nervously, her own cheeks flushed from the effort and maybe something else. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Emmrich’s face so she focused back on his injured hand. With the ring out of the way, she performed a simple healing spell, and in a few seconds, his finger was back to normal size and colour.

When she looked up, Emmrich’s brown gaze was on her, grateful but strained, and a bit wild too from this impossible situation.

Rook leaned back, putting some distance between her face and his. She felt hot. Why was Rivain always so hot?

She handed Emmrich his broken ring back without meeting his eyes. “Here, I hope you can get it fixed”

“I will try. It was a gift; I shall be sad to part with it” He said, gently taking the ring and twirling it in between his long pretty fingers.

Rook wondered if the person whom he received it from was still part of his life. And how important they were to him. She wondered if he left someone treasured behind in Nevarra, but didn’t dare ask. Nor did she permit to comment that he should consider wearing less jewelry when traveling around the wilderness; for practical reasons. She stayed silent, simply glad that he was fine.

“Thank you Rook” Emmrich’s soft tone finally coaxed her into looking up to his pleasant features. “You truly are a very … resourceful young woman”

Rook felt herself flush again. “Anytime” She replied in a whisper between the two of them.

Back at the lighthouse, Taash felt the need to tell every other companion how Rook tended to Emmrich’s delicate ring situaiton. She thought she would die of embarassment, but in the end, it only became a funny anecdote, soon forgotten by the group.

She did not however forget the beauty of Emmrich’s hands, and the intensity of his gaze on her. The more days she spent in his company, the more she decided that yes, she could be convinced to go down onto the professor again, anytime he wanted.

[kingkat12]

so... this is the deleted original ending to the first chapter of seven minutes in heaven. made centuries ago. enjoy!!

(it sorta starts in the middle of the closet scene, so here goes nothing)

WARNINGS: SMUT! SMUT! ROMAN BEING AN ASSHOLE! mind control powers being used for BAD bad bad BAD things!! implied mind control during sex so is it dub-con?, dark!Roman, not-so-happy-ending

word count: 1,811

a/n: there was a reason this version was scrapped... it felt too dark and not fun and urgh i'm simply posting this as an ancient artifact lol. it might suck as i wrote this back in august, but oh well!!!

(Roman is NOT a feminist in this one, so... irony<333 generalizing cunt)

 "And I reckon this is your first time playing?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, no longer meeting his gaze. I couldn't look at him, not right not, not when we were this close and alone. 

"So..." Roman ran his fingers through his hair, the usual smirk returning. "You know what usually happens in here, or...?"

I rolled my eyes; "I'm not an idiot,"

"I know," Roman's voice got lower, breathier, and he took a step closer. There wasn't much room for more steps, actually— it was getting rather cramped up at this point. "But if there's anything you've wanted to try out, now's the time."

My breath hitched, hoping the thumping of my heart wasn't audible to him. 

It was almost as though Roman could sense how nervous I was; he bent down a little, getting on my level before he whispered; "I won't tell Letha,"

Feeling his hot breath against my skin, how dangerously close he was, was almost too much for me. The way he said it made me even more conscious of what was happening; I hadn't even told Letha how crazy I was about Roman, and I knew she'd be against it.

However... I was being served my biggest dream on a platter. Maybe if I got this bit over with, my feelings would subside and go back to being purely hateful again? 

I mustered up the courage, letting out a shaky breath before I opened my mouth to speak; "Could you maybe... kiss me?" My words came out barely louder than a whisper. "I've just had a really shitty night."

Roman's expression remained unchanged. "I'm sorry to hear that,"

"... No, you're not,"

"Okay, you might be right," He let out a soft laugh against my lips, and my eyes quickly darted down to his hands to check if he wasn't holding a needle or no. That was when I knew my anxiety was through the roof. "So... you want a kiss? That's all?"

This was too nerve-wracking. I kept imagining that he would say no, that he would reject me somehow and make me the only girl at school he wouldn't want to do anything with— that would definitely make me hate him even more. In a flash moment of weakness (which I later blamed the alcohol for), I sighed; "Just... could you? Or am I asking for too much?"

Something about Roman's expression changed— he seemed to realize what it was that I was actually asking of him. Not to make out, not to drown in one another, but the simplest of all things romance; affection. Something gentle, something sweet, just to check if he had a sliver of anything resembling that in his system. 

"You like me, don't you?" Roman whispered, nudging his nose against mine, eyes rounding out as he heard my breath hitch at the simple gesture. "This is what all of this has been about?"

I closed my eyes, revelling in the feeling. It was the smallest thing, yet it was a comfort in the midst of the conversation. "All of what?"

"Your anger," Roman let out a sigh, connecting our foreheads, closing his eyes as well. "You can't stand that you like me, can you?"

For some reason, I felt the urge to cry overcome me— I spent a few seconds pressing down the stream of tears that threatened to surface. Having someone say it out loud felt like a desperately needed release. "It's been a nightmare,"

Roman stilled, eventually letting out a hum which sent a shiver down my spine. "You know nothing about nightmares," he breathed against my lips. "If I tell Letha we fucked in here, you'll be living through your worst one."

I shouldn't have been so shocked— I should've expected this. I should've known that Roman would spin this around on me. I definitely knew he wouldn't reciprocate, but this? What was it, revenge? 

"I could make your every waking moment a living hell," he continued, his cold hands suddenly travelling up my body, gripping my waist with a grip I was afraid would bruise. "Letha would take my side, of course... Who else do you have but her, hm?"

I wanted to break out into tears, now grabbing at his hands. Almost panicked, I tried to get him off of me, but to no avail. "I'll leave you alone," I pleaded, finding his eyes.

"Nah, that's not what I want," I could see the sadistic satisfaction overcome him— I saw how he broke out into a wide grin at the sight of my glossy eyes. "How about we make a deal?"

Making a deal with the devil reincarnated? Very smart move, on my part. Fucking genius. "Okay?"

Roman hummed, his harsh grip around my waist releasing, allowing me to finally suck in a heave of air. Catching me off guard, he suddenly pressed his lips against my forehead with the softest touch I had ever felt— was he trying to throw me off course? 

"Start being nice..." Roman murmured, his now hands drawing soothing circles onto my back. "And I will reward you."

I let out a shaky breath; I was thankful that the agreement didn't involve any needles. "... That's all?"

"That's all," Roman echoed, pulling away to watch my expression. "You and your mouth have been making my life hell, do you know that? So if you can calm the fuck down, we could both get what we want. How does that sounds?"

I wasn't completely sold. "And what is it that you think I want?"

Roman's eyes darkened; he knew he had won. "Me," 

Oh, how I hated him. I hated him, and I knew I always would. But as his lips ghosted over mine, seconds away from touching, I didn't stand a chance anymore when the following words sounded past his plush lips; "I have a feeling I might have to put you in your place a little, hm? Maybe you'd even want that? Because honestly, I know girls like you... You fight until your last breath, then you're completely in denial, and then you'll fall apart the minute you get what you've always wanted,"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was this... me? 

"And you've always wanted to be one of my girls, haven't you?" Roman leaned down, pressing a deadly soft kiss against my cheek which nearly took my breath away; I could feel him smirk against my skin. "Or maybe... the only one?"

At this point, I felt so broken down that I gave in to a nod. 

Roman's hand slowly ghosted up my body until his fingers gently wrapped around my neck, holding me in place, almost as though he feared I would run; "I can arrange that, y'know?"

This conversation had unlocked a deep, dark part of me that I didn't know I had— like this, completely at his mercy, I had a feeling I was made to be his. Brainwashed. That I was put on this earth to find him and be with him, and that we were destined to be together. It made me feel so weak and pathetic that my lower lip eventually gave in to a quiver, feeling a sob build.

Roman let go of my neck, stroking his fingers through my hair. "Shh, no need for that... You're fine, you're okay. It's just me."

Just me. Just Roman. He who that had haunted my dreams for months, the only one I could think of when I got myself off, and the one I had been longing for from afar for so long that it turned into burning hate. 

Roman must've felt like he was done torturing me, finally meeting my lips with the most gentle kiss I had ever shared. This was all I had ever wanted— he was right. My heart beat hard in my chest as I let myself melt against his dangerously soft lips. 

I wanted to be his, no matter the cost. No matter what happened or what I had to sacrifice. 

I loved Roman Godfrey.

... and I was sure of it now.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Yes— This was right.

Of course. 

I loved him. 

I loved him, I loved him, God, how I loved him. With every fibre of my being, I loved him. 

I loved the feeling of his body against mine, corrupting my mind until I was nothing but mindless. A small part of me also loved that it was our little secret, and ours only. 

Letha didn't have a clue, of course— I had kept my act up quite well when I was around her. I had kept it up around everyone else as well, but the anger that was ravaging through my system, the hate that was burning me up from inside was currently being mended by one thing and one thing only;

"A-Aah—"

My fingers tangled into Roman's hair, feeling his bruising grip around my hips tighten as he fucked me into my mattress. I let out a small cry, feeling my legs starting to go numb after how long they had been thrown over his broad shoulders. Deep down, I didn't care— nothing could put out the angry fire in my soul like Roman did. Nothing was a better remedy than feeling his cock inside me, no matter what, when, or where.

I let out a gasp as Roman shifted, pulling me into his lap with ease. I couldn't feel my legs now, and I had a sense that he knew— he barely had to put any strength into moving me around, especially with how he was towering over me in general. 

I let out a gasp as he sunk me down on his length, and I gripped his shoulders with a short squeak for support. Heavy breaths escaped my parted lips as I clung to him, whimpering at the feeling of his thick cock stroking my insides. 

Roman seemed beyond content, gazing up at me with half-lidded eyes. He revelled in the sight of how ruined I was before he attached his soft lips to my collarbone to bring forth a hickey, humming. That was the one place we both knew Letha wouldn't see it, after all. 

It was impossible not to submit to the devil reincarnated when sex could feel this good with him. It didn't matter that I had practically sold my soul for this, because every second, every stroke of his cock, was worth it. 

"You're heaven," he murmured, lifting my hips and pushing himself further into me, taking more control. "You feel so... shit, this is heaven—"

Ironic.

And just as I felt my climax approaching, flashes of thoughts I had suppressed came crashing forward. No matter how nice all of this felt, I couldn't help but wonder how I had even agreed to any of this in the first place. But it wasn't like he had mind control powers, right? It wasn't like this was some sadistic ploy to seek revenge against all the times I had been a complete and utter bitch to him.

No— it couldn't be. Don't be ridiculous.

... Right?

[hymnserendipity]

Against the Kamo clan, Noritoshi angst, pt. 1

Angst, afab reader

The Kamo clan decided to marry off their firstborn Noritoshi, since he has now turned 22 and finished sorcerer school. Noritoshi knew that his clan would most likely try to set him up with Satoru Gojo's younger sister, (Y/N) Gojo, you. You weren't too bad about it, actually, you've always had a soft spot for him even though he was quite a strict guy, so you agreed to that meeting between families. Satoru, your brother, didn't want to marry you off, and he knew that it would be more of a game for you because he trained you and you are very very strong and like him you like to show it against the elders. Now you are sitting in the garden of the Kamo family house, yawning while eating an onigiri, Noritoshi, who has known you since the institute, sits next to you. "I didn't think they would propose you for this thing."

"Well I am, considering...you know, that I'm a special grade sorcerer"

"Yes, I am very much aware of that." He said, resting his chin on his hand over the knee, watching your every move intently for a moment. "I do wonder where you get your energy from, considering your diet consists of mostly junk food and your lack of sleep at night."

"Well i'm stronger than the elders of my clan, and yours. So i could spank them if i want to. But i don't actually plan to get married, i just want to chill and read."

"I have no doubt that you could defeat the elders without even breaking a sweat." Noritoshi commented, taking a sip from his tea with another glance in your direction. "However, you being stronger than them or not won't allow you to bypass this arranged marriage either."

"Why?"

He sighed, looking down at the table before speaking.

"I've just come to terms with the fact that I have no control over my own life, either. My body, my education, my skills, my future - it's all already been decided for me. I'm the eldest male of the Kamo family, a direct descendant, so it's my responsibility to carry on our clan bloodline no matter what."

He looked back up at you.

"And you're in the same boat as me, aren't you?"

"Is It okay for you? Don't you want to live regard your choices?" Noritoshi chuckled bitterly.

"I never had any choices to begin with. My life's been decided for me the moment I was born. My education, my occupation - everything. I don't get to make choices of my own."

"Mine too, but when I chopped my elders right arm I showed them they can't control me." He raised an eyebrow at that, looking genuinely impressed.

"You cut your elder's arm off? Impressive... I bet your family didn't like that very much, however."

"Eheh not at all, but what can they do? Nothing. I came here only because I wanted to go some library shopping actually." Noritoshi almost smirked faintly when you said that, watching you for another moment before taking another sip from his tea.

"I almost forgot how much of a bookworm you are."

"Want me to fight your elders?? I can beat them so they will never force you into things." He chuckled, shaking his head.

"That won't be necessary. I know for a fact that I'm the only one they think is worthy enough carrying on our bloodline, and they've been preparing me for this since I was a child."

"And I've finally accepted it, so no matter how much I hate the fact I have no say in my own life, there's nothing I can do about it anymore."

"The bloodline is a shit to me." He didn't even look offended by your statement, only nodding in agreement.

"I can understand why. For a long time, I thought the same. But at some point I was forced to accept it. The Kamo Clan is one of the three most important clans of Jujutsu, along with the Gojo and Zenin clans... All of us know the weight that carries, whether we like it or not."

"But why? You seems so calm, why don't you fight for your freedom?"

"What for?" He asked, crossing his arms on the table. He seemed oddly nonchalant. "How does me having any freedom change any of it? I'm still the eldest son of the Kamo family. I'm still destined to get married and have children with whoever my elders decide to be my wife. Me having a bit more freedom wouldn't change a thing about any of it."

"I repeat, i could knock your elders ass." He actually chuckled at that, almost laughing before it turned back into a smirk.

"You're really dedicated to fighting everything and everyone, aren't you?"

"Yep, i don't like being told what to do." Noritoshi let out a small huff in amusement - the biggest expression of entertainment you've seen from him so far.

"I have no doubt you don't... You have never been a fan of any sort of authority, after all. I'm amazed no one has succeeded in put you back in your place yet."

"That's why i don't want to get married. I don't want a man to tell me what to do and boss me around like the clan expect." He chuckled once again, watching how annoyed you looked.

"Answer honestly, do you want to marry me as you elders force you? And have Kids to keep the Bloodline?" You ask. His neutral facial expression shifted to something of a grimace in an almost instant. Clearly, the mere thought of having children already annoyed him. He didn't say anything for a moment before answering, voice low and stoic as usual.

"... No. I don't want any of that. I've never wanted it, in the first place."

"Then i'll fight for ya." He raised an eyebrow at that, genuinely surprised by this proposal of yours, but not in the negative, way. In a much calmer voice than before he responded.

"You'd go and fight the elders of my family just so I wouldn't get married? You'd do that for me?"

"You have to choose someone you love" For a brief moment, Noritoshi's stoic expression and composure faltered, a look of surprise and genuine shock appearing on his face. But, he was quick to recover, hiding his emotions once again with nonchalance and stoicism.

"What about you?" He asked, almost abruptly. "How'd you feel if one day you were forced to marry a man you've never loved and had children with him?"

"I Will never, cause i'm the strongest after my brother and nobody can force me."

"Ah, there you go with the 'strongest' thing again. You only care about your strength and your 'freedom', don't you?"

He said, and although it was supposed to be some form of playful insult, there was a hint of envy in his voice. Another moment of silence passed before he spoke up again.

"You still haven't answered my question, you know."

"I would like to marry someone, one day, and have tons of babies." A smirk was back on his lips when you said that, amusement clear in his eyes as he silently observed your excited-sounding response.

"Of course you would." He hummed. "Do you already have someone in mind? Who's the lucky man?"

"Nah nobody can meet my expentations"

"Such high standards, huh?"

This time, he chuckled, tilting his head to the side curiously. For someone as stoic and emotionless as him, he seemed strangely interested in your love life all of a sudden. Noritoshi sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, and continued watching you in silence for a moment as he thought over what you said before speaking up again.

"You need someone who can match your attitude. Someone who wouldn't give up and wouldn't let you have your way all the time. Someone who would call you out on your bullshit if he felt like it."

"Exactly." You say, before you saw the elders approach and felt Noritoshi shoulders tense in annoyance by you senses. He let out an annoyed sigh as the elders spoke to the both of you.

"There they go again..." He muttered in a low voice.

"Yo oldie!!" Both Noritoshi and the Elders turned their heads to look at you, with the elders giving you a disapproving look. One of them spoke up, addressing you and looking at you with a cold gaze.

Yumo: "Watch your tone. You're talking to very important clan members."

"So?"

Yumk: "So show some respect. We're not some common people, you can't act like that towards us." He said, his tone as cold and harsh as his gaze. He obviously wasn't used to people speaking to him that way. Noritoshi still remained quiet, looking between you and the elders with his typical indifference.

"He's not going to listen tò your shit anymore." The elders looked between themselves, completely surprised and shocked by your bluntness. They looked at Noritoshi, expecting a response from him, but all they received was an indifferent silence and cold stare, which only made them more annoyed and surprised.

One of elders decided to speak up, an annoyed look in their eyes as they did.

Kiyu: "And what do you mean by that?"

"He will going to marry someone he love, not someone you choose." The elders were silent once again, looking between themselves as they tried to understand the situation. Noritoshi was still looking completely unbothered, keeping his stoic composure as he listened to the argument.

Yumo: "Watch your tone. You don't know what you're speaking about, and it's none of your business anyway." He said, his voice getting slightly more irritated.

"Ok i'll give you time to understand how stupid you are." You clap your hands, while they disappear. Noritoshi's eyes widened in complete shock and shock as you made the elders disappear. After a moment of disbelief and confused silence, he spoke up with a mix of stunned amusement in his voice.

"Did... you just make them disappear?"

"I sent them in my domain, they will shit their pants." He raised an eyebrow at that, looking impressed and amused at the same time. After a moment, Noritoshi chuckled.

"I didn't know you could do that... You're full of surprises, aren't you?" You take the elders back, with a sigh.

"So oldie, wanna give this guy freedom?" The elders appeared back in their former spots, as shocked and puzzled as before. One of them spoke up again, his voice harsh and irritated as always.

Yumo: "And how do you plan to give us orders? The Kamo Clan will not let itself be threatened by outsiders. We've ruled for generations and will continue for more."

"Oh right, your history shit." You use your cursed tecnique to trap them in a cage made of wood and needles.

"I can hurt you soooooo muuuuuuuch." All Elders looked shocked and stunned as they were stuck inside a liane cage. They tried to break out, but it was completely futile, the cage simply wouldn't budge. One of them spoke up, sounding less confident and more worried than before.

Yumk: "What... is the meaning of this? Let us out!"

"Will you stop piss me off and give this boy freedom?" The elders looked at eachother, silently debating and discussing something. After a moment, their leader spoke up again.

Yumo: "Fine, fine, we will do what you want, just don't do anything!"

The elders looked between eachother, obviously annoyed and displeased, but had no other choice but to agree to you. Noritoshi observed that whole scene, completely shocked and stunned by the way you handled the elders like they were nothing. After a moment of silence, he spoke up again, a mixture of amused and bewildered look on his face.

"You really have no fear whatsoever, do you? You just trapped the elders from my entire clan in a flower cage and threatened them with needles, and you act like it's nothing. Impressive..."

"They are just a bunch of shitheads." Noritoshi chuckled and nodded in agreement.

"True, but they hold the power of the entire clan. They expect to be listened to no matter what, so seeing you standing up to them like that... it's a rare sight, I'll tell you that."

"Yeah dictator style." He nodded again, a slight smirk forming on his face as he spoke.

"Exactly. They're the elders, the absolute authority of our clan, and they're used to ordering everyone around. But you, on the other hand, you're not afraid to defy them. It's refreshing to see someone standing up to their bullshit once and a while."

"I kinda like you, so i want you to be happy." You froze. You just confessed your feelings and even Noritoshi has a dumbfooled expression. He leaned back in his chair and shook his head with a slight amused sigh.

"Honestly... you're quite something. You just threatened my entire clan for my sake, and now you're going on about my love life. I still can't tell if you're a menace or a savior." He let out another amused sigh and looked at you.

"You do realize that you just made a target on yourself for the entire clan now, right? The elders don't like disobedience, and now you've directly disobeyed them, AND threatened all of them."

"Eheh i was getting bored these days. But if they do something else against you Just tell me." He chuckled again at your reply. He couldn't help being amused by your fearless and carefree nature.

"Alright then. Let's see how they respond to your little stunt just now. I have a feeling you've shaken up their system quite a bit."

The two of you walk to the main room where both clans are. Noritoshi take his place with his clan's elders. They all look at you and him expectantly, waiting to see what his response will be. One of the elders speaks up.

Yumo: "Now that we have all gathered, we have an important question to ask." The elders all look at Noritoshi, who is keeping a calm yet indifferent expression on his face, waiting for the question.

Yumo: "Noritoshi, after careful consideration, we would like to know if you are willing to marry this person, or if you still choose to refuse." Noritoshi looked between you and the elders for a moment, his expression still neutral. After a moment of silence, he spoke up.

"I have come to a decision." The elders all fall silent, listening attentively. One of them spoke up again.

Hira: "And your decision is?" Noritoshi glanced at you before looking back to the elders.

"I have decided to refuse." The elders are taken aback by his response, looking between themselves. After a moment of stunned silence, the same elder speaks up. Your heart shatters.

Yumo: "Why do you refuse? Is there a specific reason for your decision?" Noritoshi kept his composure, his expression staying calm and unbothered as he spoke.

"I have several reasons to refuse. She is not a typical traditional wife, she's too unpredictable and disobedient. I doubt she would be a fitting spouse for me and my role in the clan." Noritoshi continued with an unbothered tone.

"Furthermore, she seems to have an impulsive and reckless nature. She demonstrated this quite clearly when she threatened and intimidated the entire elders council. I find that trait unacceptable in a future spouse. She is too fiery and unpredictable." The elders all look at each other again after his explanation, their gazes still shocked and surprised. After a moment, one of them speaks up again, seemingly trying to change his mind.

Noritoshi glances at you as you get up to leave. A hint of surprise and perhaps even regret flickered in his eyes, but he quickly composed himself once again. After the meeting concluded, Noritoshi quickly excused himself from the elders and began searching the area for you. He knew that you had left the room in a hurry, and he could guess where you would have gone. He walked through the corridors, his steps quickening as he searched for you. His thoughts were racing, his mind still processing the events of the meeting and his own decision to refuse you as a spouse. Finally, he rounded a corner and spotted you standing in a secluded area, your back turned to him. He stopped and watched you for a moment, his expression unreadable as he observed you. He approached you, his footsteps soft and silent. Once he had closed the distance between you, he spoke up.

"I wanted to talk to you. The meeting was over, and I saw you leave in a hurry. I thought we should discuss a few things." He leaned against the wall, his arms crossing casually.

"First off, I want to clarify that my decision to refuse your offer was purely based on logical reasons. It had nothing to do with my personal feelings or anything like that." He paused for a moment, his gaze fixed on you as he continued his explanation.

"The elders believe that a future spouse should have certain qualities and adhere to tradition. They expect me to marry someone who fits their ideals, and you don't fit those ideals. That's the main reason for my refusal."

"I almost forgot how much of a bookworm you are."

"Want me to fight your elders?? I can beat them so they will never force you into things." He chuckled, shaking his head.

"That won't be necessary. I know for a fact that I'm the only one they think is worthy enough carrying on our bloodline, and they've been preparing me for this since I was a child."

"And I've finally accepted it, so no matter how much I hate the fact I have no say in my own life, there's nothing I can do about it anymore."

"The bloodline is a shit to me." He didn't even look offended by your statement, only nodding in agreement.

"I can understand why. For a long time, I thought the same. But at some point I was forced to accept it. The Kamo Clan is one of the three most important clans of Jujutsu, along with the Gojo and Zenin clans... All of us know the weight that carries, whether we like it or not."

"But why? You seems so calm, why don't you fight for your freedom?"

"What for?" He asked, crossing his arms on the table. He seemed oddly nonchalant. "How does me having any freedom change any of it? I'm still the eldest son of the Kamo family. I'm still destined to get married and have children with whoever my elders decide to be my wife. Me having a bit more freedom wouldn't change a thing about any of it."

"I repeat, i could knock your elders ass." He actually chuckled at that, almost laughing before it turned back into a smirk.

"You're really dedicated to fighting everything and everyone, aren't you?"

"Yep, i don't like being told what to do." Noritoshi let out a small huff in amusement - the biggest expression of entertainment you've seen from him so far.

"I have no doubt you don't... You have never been a fan of any sort of authority, after all. I'm amazed no one has succeeded in put you back in your place yet."

"That's why i don't want to get married. I don't want a man to tell me what to do and boss me around like the clan expect." He chuckled once again, watching how annoyed you looked.

"Answer honestly, do you want to marry me as you elders force you? And have Kids to keep the Bloodline?" You ask. His neutral facial expression shifted to something of a grimace in an almost instant. Clearly, the mere thought of having children already annoyed him. He didn't say anything for a moment before answering, voice low and stoic as usual.

"... No. I don't want any of that. I've never wanted it, in the first place."

"Then i'll fight for ya." He raised an eyebrow at that, genuinely surprised by this proposal of yours, but not in the negative, way. In a much calmer voice than before he responded.

"You'd go and fight the elders of my family just so I wouldn't get married? You'd do that for me?"

"You have to choose someone you love" For a brief moment, Noritoshi's stoic expression and composure faltered, a look of surprise and genuine shock appearing on his face. But, he was quick to recover, hiding his emotions once again with nonchalance and stoicism.

"What about you?" He asked, almost abruptly. "How'd you feel if one day you were forced to marry a man you've never loved and had children with him?"

"I Will never, cause i'm the strongest after my brother and nobody can force me."

"Ah, there you go with the 'strongest' thing again. You only care about your strength and your 'freedom', don't you?"

He said, and although it was supposed to be some form of playful insult, there was a hint of envy in his voice. Another moment of silence passed before he spoke up again.

"You still haven't answered my question, you know."

"I would like to marry someone, one day, and have tons of babies." A smirk was back on his lips when you said that, amusement clear in his eyes as he silently observed your excited-sounding response.

"Of course you would." He hummed. "Do you already have someone in mind? Who's the lucky man?"

"Nah nobody can meet my expentations"

"Such high standards, huh?"

This time, he chuckled, tilting his head to the side curiously. For someone as stoic and emotionless as him, he seemed strangely interested in your love life all of a sudden. Noritoshi sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, and continued watching you in silence for a moment as he thought over what you said before speaking up again.

"You need someone who can match your attitude. Someone who wouldn't give up and wouldn't let you have your way all the time. Someone who would call you out on your bullshit if he felt like it."

"Exactly." You say, before you saw the elders approach and felt Noritoshi shoulders tense in annoyance by you senses. He let out an annoyed sigh as the elders spoke to the both of you.

"There they go again..." He muttered in a low voice.

"Yo oldie!!" Both Noritoshi and the Elders turned their heads to look at you, with the elders giving you a disapproving look. One of them spoke up, addressing you and looking at you with a cold gaze.

Yumo: "Watch your tone. You're talking to very important clan members."

"So?"

Yumk: "So show some respect. We're not some common people, you can't act like that towards us." He said, his tone as cold and harsh as his gaze. He obviously wasn't used to people speaking to him that way. Noritoshi still remained quiet, looking between you and the elders with his typical indifference.

"He's not going to listen tò your shit anymore." The elders looked between themselves, completely surprised and shocked by your bluntness. They looked at Noritoshi, expecting a response from him, but all they received was an indifferent silence and cold stare, which only made them more annoyed and surprised.

One of elders decided to speak up, an annoyed look in their eyes as they did.

Kiyu: "And what do you mean by that?"

"He will going to marry someone he love, not someone you choose." The elders were silent once again, looking between themselves as they tried to understand the situation. Noritoshi was still looking completely unbothered, keeping his stoic composure as he listened to the argument.

Yumo: "Watch your tone. You don't know what you're speaking about, and it's none of your business anyway." He said, his voice getting slightly more irritated.

"Ok i'll give you time to understand how stupid you are." You clap your hands, while they disappear. Noritoshi's eyes widened in complete shock and shock as you made the elders disappear. After a moment of disbelief and confused silence, he spoke up with a mix of stunned amusement in his voice.

"Did... you just make them disappear?"

"I sent them in my domain, they will shit their pants." He raised an eyebrow at that, looking impressed and amused at the same time. After a moment, Noritoshi chuckled.

"I didn't know you could do that... You're full of surprises, aren't you?" You take the elders back, with a sigh.

"So oldie, wanna give this guy freedom?" The elders appeared back in their former spots, as shocked and puzzled as before. One of them spoke up again, his voice harsh and irritated as always.

Yumo: "And how do you plan to give us orders? The Kamo Clan will not let itself be threatened by outsiders. We've ruled for generations and will continue for more."

"Oh right, your history shit." You use your cursed tecnique to trap them in a cage made of wood and needles.

"I can hurt you soooooo muuuuuuuch." All Elders looked shocked and stunned as they were stuck inside a liane cage. They tried to break out, but it was completely futile, the cage simply wouldn't budge. One of them spoke up, sounding less confident and more worried than before.

Yumk: "What... is the meaning of this? Let us out!"

"Will you stop piss me off and give this boy freedom?" The elders looked at eachother, silently debating and discussing something. After a moment, their leader spoke up again.

Yumo: "Fine, fine, we will do what you want, just don't do anything!"

The elders looked between eachother, obviously annoyed and displeased, but had no other choice but to agree to you. Noritoshi observed that whole scene, completely shocked and stunned by the way you handled the elders like they were nothing. After a moment of silence, he spoke up again, a mixture of amused and bewildered look on his face.

"You really have no fear whatsoever, do you? You just trapped the elders from my entire clan in a flower cage and threatened them with needles, and you act like it's nothing. Impressive..."

"They are just a bunch of shitheads." Noritoshi chuckled and nodded in agreement.

"True, but they hold the power of the entire clan. They expect to be listened to no matter what, so seeing you standing up to them like that... it's a rare sight, I'll tell you that."

"Yeah dictator style." He nodded again, a slight smirk forming on his face as he spoke.

"Exactly. They're the elders, the absolute authority of our clan, and they're used to ordering everyone around. But you, on the other hand, you're not afraid to defy them. It's refreshing to see someone standing up to their bullshit once and a while."

"I kinda like you, so i want you to be happy." You froze. You just confessed your feelings and even Noritoshi has a dumbfooled expression. He leaned back in his chair and shook his head with a slight amused sigh.

"Honestly... you're quite something. You just threatened my entire clan for my sake, and now you're going on about my love life. I still can't tell if you're a menace or a savior." He let out another amused sigh and looked at you.

"You do realize that you just made a target on yourself for the entire clan now, right? The elders don't like disobedience, and now you've directly disobeyed them, AND threatened all of them."

"Eheh i was getting bored these days. But if they do something else against you Just tell me." He chuckled again at your reply. He couldn't help being amused by your fearless and carefree nature.

[theredconqueror]

He's fortunate that Lucanis looks away, or else he might have had to, the too-close remembrance of the recklessly yanked threads. "So was yours," he breathes out, but the exhaled memory is not of drowning, but of earth and heat. Perhaps he shall never get to that story now, how such sentiment scrapes away at the professional paint that has already been scratched away too much in just a single conversation. It is better this way, he thinks. Is it not the grander story, to meet under such burning stars and destinies? It is sweet torture to hear Lucanis say his name. "Likewise," he answers with warmth, and a curt nod and the barest slow, savouring blink. He wants, oh, he wants for the other to say his true name: to see how the other's tongue would form those cursed words into something almost beautiful. But liars don't get such luxuries. He tilts his head, as if trying to change the angle the other sees, as if that might blur the reading. He purses his lips, but it's not displeasure, only an instinctive caution at being seen. He almost learns little from Lucanis, a scolding almost coiled on his tongue if it were not for the fact that his answer was no better. However, he does learn one thing, which surprises him: wyverns. He thinks of dragons, because of course he does, and it causes a fond, if nostalgic smile. Fortunately, he gets his chance at a much needed parry, the turn of the conversation feeling like it has slipped from his usual steady control. "Oh, I would not subject you to such a dull opponent." A wicked smile for a wicked game. Though the tempting look in his eyes ponders: what would be my prize for victory? It lasts only a moment, the cards reshuffled. "Is there anything Spite would like to ask me?" He inquires, unconsciously having his gaze move closer to that flicker before he pulls it back to the assassin. "I can only imagine that I put him at unease, given what I am," he acknowledges, a sympathetic smile to the demon's origin. A kind gaze, now meant only for Lucanis himself: "And I only wanted to say, you do not need to worry about speaking about him with me." A whole conversation has passed by without a mention, as if another person hasn't resided in the room with them this whole time. "There is nothing about you that could possibly frighten me away." He looks at him, as only a monster can, with recognition.

Tevinter's ochre dirt blends well into clay; the consistency crafted into a town, then a city, then an expansion fit to swallow the horizon beneath its banners — the tint of blood evident in each brick and stone laid out across the famed highway. True, it's an empire built on countless slaves, each one broken and ground into the foundation; defining itself as much of a graveyard as the Necropolis is, and it's a hungry thing, this land built from the ruined remnants of gods both terrible and flawed. It cares not whether the veins are noble-bred or slave-worthless as long as there's blood to spill. These are the observations he's gleaned from working on those soils — and as Valrys speaks, there's ever a moment to consider the truths slumbering under the sandstone-carven surface. How much blood has this man shed for his homeland? How much of it was his own?

The answer, Lucanis expects, is more than one might expect.

"Trust me, your first impressions were anything but." He leaves the comment at that, gaze trailing upward. The ceiling is not made of brackish water, held back by centuries-old (crumbling) magics, and neither is the room cold from the fathom-deep chill seeping through the cracks. It's a place to be, somewhere dark and quiet and warm. There's purpose here, at least, when the prospect of going home remains impermissible. You— We don't. Recognize it. Your city.

No, he thinks bitterly, having felt no different than a stranger as his steps walked once-familiar canals and rooftops.

Instead of dwelling, he slots those thoughts into their respective boxes. Seals each tight as coffins, only to be examined by dire necessity. "Valrys Sarithan, yes. A pleasure." The name rolls off the tongue with the exquisite ease of a decapitation. All sinew and gristle, familiar letters that stretch his mouth into a smile in the aftermath. "As for that question, you will simply have to find out. Here, I shall offer a few sentences at least," he adds, tone tinged thorn-teasing. A tut. A perceptive awareness conditioned in him to find those softer spots in people. "Even your pursuits of leisure are about winning. I wager you would be a rather dull opponent at cards. Wicked grace in particular."

Yet, even as his eyes shine at the simple response, he knows they are no different. A Dellamorte must live up to improbable expectations, and for that, they must attain the time-consuming ideal. "Train, mostly. Cooking is much a necessity as a hobby... If you ask what I might rather do, I would say: go see a wyvern. And if I ask you that same question, will you say agree to a game of cards?"

[astralsyst3m]

I love writing fanfiction and smiling evilly to myself as I plant little seeds in my fic and wait for them to grow and for the readers to notice them. It's so fun.

Enjoy the peace while it lasts before it all goes off the rails, this is going to be fun.

[gayabeilles]

me giving cooking advice: always go by the recipe the first time you make something so you have a control. you can always change things next time but it’s important to have a baseline.

me trying a new recipe: so I’m actually gonna put four five cloves of garlic, add a serrano pepper (they don’t even call for anything Spicy?????), and I’ve got this shallot that’ll go bad soon so I’ll throw that in too, plus there’s those scapes from last weekend I should try to use up,

[abookfairy]

It is so strange and delightful to see Frances Burney mentioned on Tumblr. Most people ignore her existence or only know her as someone who influenced Jane Austen. My master thesis was actually on her work, so seeing her mentioned always makes me happy.

Her work dealt a lot with the issues women were facing at the time: such as the double-standards placed upon them by society, the way they were objectified by men, the way their behavior was constantly judged and evaluated, but also economic issues such as the way they could and could not own property and use it as they wished. For example, her second novel, Cecilia, deals with a young woman who is extremely wealthy, but whose fortune is in the hand of her three tutors, who do everything possible to control it, and therefore her. (It also has a fascinating plot because, according to a clause in her uncle's will, the man who marries her must take her last name, which is a source of conflict because the man she falls in love with comes from a very prideful family, who would never consent to him giving up his last name).

Evelina is probably my favorite novel by her, and also her shortest. It deals with the entrance into society of Evelina, a young orphan who has been raised by Mr. Villars, a clergyman. In the process of her entrance into society, she must deal with her until-then-unknown relatives, notably her grandmother Madame Duval, and their vulgar behavior. She is also, more notably, confronted with the toxic and predatory behavior of the men of London society, especially Sir Clement Willoughby, who becomes obsessed with Evelina. While there is a lot of commentary on society rules, social class and family, the part that really struck me was the very vivid way Frances Burney described the predatory behavior of men, not only towards Evelina but also towards other women, especially those seen as unattractive, too old, or too vulgar, some of which is still applicable today. Sir Willoughby is a terrifying villain simply because he is adept at using society rules, Evelina's lack of knowledge and practice of them, and how they disfavor women, in order to get what he wants. They are many times when he entraps Evelina simply by playing upon "what other people will think" if she is too outspoken or too assertive in her rejection of him. Evelina, simply by virtue of being a young, innocent, practically unprotected woman in society, is seen and treated as prey, especially since her father refuses to recognize her as his daughter (this theme of an unprotected woman seen as prey because she is alone and unprotected by a family name comes back in The Wanderer, Frances Burney's last novel).

Frances Burney's following novels, Cecilia and Camilla, are also good, but in my opinion, a little unnecessarily long. They also deal with the entrance into society and the coming of age of their young female protagonists, and they also feature criticism of society and predatory or dangerous male behavior. Camilla also has one of the most annoying characters ever, Sir Hugh, who is well-meaning but functionally useless. He annoyed me so much I think I dedicated an entire paragraph to bashing him in my master thesis.

As for her last novel, The Wanderer, it is often seen as her worse one and performed poorly critically. However, it features a more experienced and independent female protagonist, a much more scathing portrayal of English society, and more focus on the struggle of women to support themselves, especially working women.

I am glad she is gaining recognition and that people are still reading her. She is sadly too little talked about outside of academia, despite being an influence on Jane Austen and leading a fascinating life.

Hello dear! Have you read any of France Burney's work? Evelina is next of my list when I manage to find some free reading time, and I am certain you'd have some quality opinions on it. Her diaries also look fascinating!

Hello, thank you for the ask and really sorry for replying so late!

A lot is happening in life right now (mostly good things, but I wish I had twice as many hours in a day to keep up - I'm sure you can relate!)

I have to say that I have sadly not came across her writing, but I finally had time to properly look her up and I have to say that she does seem like a fascinating woman! (and writing in my favourite era as well...)

I am sorry I don't have anything to add, but I really thank you for bringing her to my attention. I will absolutely make sure to find time to squeeze her work in to read during my reading week.

In the meantime, all the best with your course and I wish you get as much free reading time as you want! (or, more realistically, at least *some* free reading time)

[tonya-the-chicken]

It's funny to me when people try to explain why LoV is beloved and Endeavor hated with "they are more sympathetic", "people find them relatable" or "they have actual issue while Endeavor just has his ambitions"

I mean??? I find Endeavor extremely sympathetic and relatable. You just never had to experience problems he had so you assume they don't fucking exist. Bro, you ever had a mental breakdown because you didn't end up the best? Like, do you genuinely think this is not something that can be overwhelmingly distressing to a person? Do you genuinely believe he wouldn't settle for second place if he could? Do you think he can just stop and suddenly be happy? You have no idea how much work therapy actually is, he is not doing it just for funsies

I mean, idk how to explain you this but maybe it is a bit annoying how you sympathize with people only when you find their trauma and problems relatable