#i must subject them to the torments i love him

[kazehita]

(you feel a tug on your stomach)

[yeitsre]

TW BLOOD

Nina The Killer Fanart

(+mood board and some writing)

I must say that I loved how this turned out and the vibe it gives, I decided to draw my own version and the Og design together for the sillies.

I really like the hair and the strap shirt ngl

Mood Board

(All pictures were taken off Pinterest)

I wanted the mood board to represent not only her physical appearance but also be intone with her personality in regards of my "au".

Overview + some notes

Nina Hopkins was utterly obsessed with the macabre tales she found on the internet, constantly immersing herself in stories of horror. Her fascination reached new heights when she discovered a notorious killer, whose dark deeds captivated her every thought. However, her obsession quickly turned dangerous. Meeting her idol for the first time shattered her, leading to a rapid descent into madness. Subjected to strict supervision and spontaneous therapy sessions, Nina's admiration turned into a burning desire for revenge. She vowed to make the one who shattered her sanity pay for the torment inflicted upon her.

She is in her late twenties (one of the "youngest" and last creepypastas that are registered)

I decided to fuse both versions of her story (the first one and the 2021 remake).

her obsession about Jeff shifted to loving him into hating him and she is currently hunting him down.

her makeup is important, not only does it meant to vaguely emulates a clown (a representation of her own depiction) but it's also suppose to make fun of the goth style by combining neon and overall scene makeup look, the reason why she does this is to make fun of Jane ( who in my version is gothic) because of her rivalry.

As a matter of fact, she does not know or has not met many of the "older" creepy pastas, nor is she interested in them (this actually includes Slenderman).

Omg idk where the Inspo came from but I am bored lol, anyways, I haven't uploaded anything here for a long time and it is crazy.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

If you are still taking Eddie requests- Reader is Eddies long time friend with his other DND buddies and shes helping him ask Krissy to the dance. When they are there and he thinks he should finally be happy something (someone) is missing and someone ( *aheam* dustin *aheam*) lets it slip how much Reader must be faking not feeling good to not see Eddie with another girl cuz shes in love with him

Angst with a happy ending

Request by anon ❤️

❤️

"Okay so remember what we talked about Eddie?" the two of you had been talking and practising this for a few weeks.

Prom was coming up and Eddie wanted to ask Chrissy to go with him. They had built up a friendship much to the shock of everyone at school.

Now you were Eddie's official wingwoman as he prepared to ask Chrissy to the dance.

"Yup, I'm nervous though princess. What if she turns me down? I mean this is Chrissy we are talking about" You swallow down the urge to cry and soothe him.

"You're amazing Eddie, why wouldn't she say yes?" Eddie's beaming smile melts your heart but you feel a sense of dread when Chrissy walks up to Eddie.

Eddie is sweet and charming as he asks Chrissy to go to prom. You wait with baited breath for her answer and hope that she says yes, Eddie would be crushed if she didn't.

She does say yes, of course she does and while there's a part of you that's elated for Eddie, there's a part of you that feels absolutely crushed because you were in love with your best friend and he would never feel the same way.

Maybe there was always a little part of you that held out hope that Eddie would notice you one day but that would never happen now that he was going to prom with Chrissy.

You could picture them going on dates and stuff after and you would hide how you felt about Eddie, bury down your feelings and be happy for him.

Because Eddie deserved all the happiness in the world.

❤️

Before you know it the week passes by quickly and prom is tonight. There's absolutely no way that you are subjecting yourself to the torment of watching Eddie and Chrissy all over each other, so when Eddie shows up at yours two hours before prom starts you fake being sick.

He takes one look at you cuddled up in bed and drops down on his knees beside your bed.

"Hey, aren't you getting ready for prom?" He looks so worried and you shake your head at his question.

"I'm not going to prom Eddie. I've been sick all night so I'm just going to stay in bed and watch crappy films, maybe sleep off whatever this illness is" his face falls and his big brown eyes gaze at you sorrow filled.

"It won't be the same without you sweetheart" He sounds so sad and you can't have that. There was no way he was going to spend prom upset because you weren't there.

"Don't be silly, you'll have the time of your life with Chrissy and when it's over I want to hear all about it okay?" the sadness is still in Eddie's gaze but he offers you a small smile as he gets up.

"You look really handsome Ed's" he does look gorgeous in black jeans, a black shirt and his leather jacket. He's tamed his hair and he's wearing eyeliner, the look is definitely working for him.

"Thanks, princess. I'll visit you tomorrow and tell you everything?" he promises you and as he leaves you finally let the tears that you have been holding back fall down your cheeks.

❤️

Eddie should feel ecstatic that he's at the dance with Chrissy but it feels like there's this empty space inside of his chest. You aren't at the dance, you're missing prom because you're sick and in turn Eddie is missing you.

Quite frankly prom was shit and the minute that Chrissy saw Jason the two of them had been making googly eyes at each other, Eddie could to bring himself to care.

Dustin who somehow managed to sneak into prom with Mike and Lucas frowns, Eddie doesn't know how he did it but the kid is a mini genius so he isn't surprised.

He's already had Harrington in his ear via the walkie talkie Dustin has demanding that Eddie look out for Dustin, Mike and Lucas. Yeah, like no shit. They are his sheeples and he's doing that anyway.

"Why are you so glum dude?" Mike whines as Eddie confiscates the punch mike has. Just in case some asshole has spiked it. He doesn't need three drunk 15 year olds to rein in.

"Duh it's because yn isn't here dumbass" Lucas rolls his eyes at how oblivious Mike is.

"You know she must be faking being sick because it would be hard watching you with Chrissy" Dustin pipes up. Wait what. Eddie stiffens as he wonders what Dustin means, does he mean what Eddie thinks he means?

"What are you talking about Henderson?" He demands and Dustin gapes at him like he's an idiot.

"You seriously don't know? She's in love with you dude" his face falls when Eddie's eyes widen in shock, "On shit. You really didn't know man?"

You were in love with him. You loved him and yet you had helped him ask out Chrissy, picked out his tux for him and we're supportive through all of this.

Shit shit shit.

He has to find you. Find out if Dustin is right and he has a sneaking suspicion that he is.

❤️

Eddie's standing in your room in his tuxedo and looking down at you nervously. At first, you think it's a dream because you've just woken up but when he moves closer to sit on the bed, he almost trips over your cat, Theo.

Okay, definitely not a dream then but what was he doing here? Why wasn't he having the time of his life with Chrissy?

"Uh Eds, proms still going on" Eddie smiles and settles on your bed.

"It was a dud anyway, Chrissy saw Jason and it's like there was no room for anyone else. It's fine though, turns out being with her wasn't like I thought it would be. She's just a friend, not my dream girl or whatever it is you think she is"

This surprises you because you and Eddie had practised asking Chrissy for a while and he seemed like he was crushing on her.

"I mean I did have a crush on her but going to the prom uh, that pretty much killed off any romantic feelings I have for her. I didn't have as much fun as I thought I would because my best friend wasn't there" you rub your eyes sleepily and Eddie's expression flickers with alarm.

"Have you been crying?" Shit. You should have known that Eddie would never miss the signs of you being upset.

"Just allergies" you lie and hope he buys it. He doesn't and sits beside you on the bed.

"Sweetheart don't lie to me. Look, Dustin said something tonight and I have to know if he's right or not. He said you were faking being sick because you're in love with me"

Oh no. This was not happening. This as Dustin said was a code red of epic proportions. Eddie is looking at you expectantly and your stomach churns with anxiety as you know you have to tell him the truth.

"He's right but I know that you don't feel the same and it's fine. I'll just deal with this and everything will be okay and not awkward between us" you say everything in a rush while trying hard not to give into your panic.

"You helped me with Chrissy all this time while being in love with me" his voice is full of shock and you shrug. "I'd do anything for you eds"

There's a tiny moment of silence and then he speaks again, "Dance with me princess" You're confused by his request but take his hand as he plays one of your CDs that you had been playing recently.

Madonna's Crazy for You starts and Eddie makes a face but keeps dancing. You giggle as Eddie twirls you around and holds you close to him for the slow parts.

"This feels so right you know, you being in my arms. I didn't feel like this with Chrissy. Jesus h Christ, It feels like I could be happy forever in this moment" Eddie murmurs and you peer at him, hoping he's saying what you think he's saying.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" you ask hopefully and hope that you haven't got this all wrong.

"I'm saying I want to be with you sweetheart, I'm a fool who took an insane amount of time to realise the girl of my dreams is you but I plan to make it up to you, if you give me the chance" he strokes your cheek and you place your hand over his.

"Kiss me" is your answer and Eddie enthusiastically obliges as his lips meet yours. It's an amazing kiss and you pull him closer to deepen it as the music plays in the background.

Not that the two of you noticed anything else, too wrapped up in each other to care.

❤️

[eraenaa]

The Prince and the Poet

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister Reader Tag List

Synopsis: It is established that Prince Aemond hates poems and sonnets; it was just a pity that you adored them. 

Warnings: Mature, 18+, Mutual Masturbation, Aemond Writes a Poem, Childhood Friends, Hidden Attraction, Not Proofread

Word Count: 2,900

Inspired by my Original Fic on AO3, The Den of Dragons and Lions

Aemond scoffed and rolled his eye as he watched you completely enthralled by the sonneteer who performed before you. It had been un-endless hours he had to suffer as the court was subjected to watching poets read their works for the day’s entertainment. It was all too boring, all too frivolous, it was an utter waste of time. Aemond could not understand why you would willingly subject yourself to these men's trite and untrue words— whose delusions and desires were projected in their works. Aemond strongly believed that those who write poems and epics are weaklings and cowards. They do not have the courage to go on great adventures and woo their loves, so they can only imagine and write them down on parchment. And you were the sweet, naive fool who brought into their words—declaring their works beautiful and unparalleled. Blinded by flowery verses and empty promises. 

You sigh longingly in your seat as the sonneteer before you recited your favorite sonnet of them all. Your lips silently move unconsciously as you recite your most favored work with him. Aemond, who sat by your side, sneered at the sigh that left your pillowy lips and the enchanted look in your eyes. His gaze traveled the court; every young maiden swooned by the words and looks of the sonnet who stood in the middle, reciting the work that you clung on to. When his torment finally ended, Aemond rolled his eye once more as you quickly stood and clapped your hands, an ovation for the young man who had finished his performance. Aemond did no such thing, only staring down the sonneteer who bowed and savored the praises given. 

“I hope he shall return soon— and with new material!” You exclaimed to Helaena as you two walked the halls, arms linked together, Aemond trailing behind you. It was an old scene, your actions instilled since childhood. You practically grew up in the Red Keep with the princes and princess, a lion fostered by dragons. 

You hear Aemond’s third scoff of the afternoon, making you glance behind only to see the consistent look of annoyance on his face. “I would take it you did not enjoy?” You say and face onward, feeling Aemond fasten his steps and now walking beside you and Helaena. “It is an utter waste of time; why must we spend hours on this frivolity when pressing matters could be attended to?” You roll your eyes at the Prince’s complaint. 

“Aemond, your attendance was not required. If you believe poetry is a waste of time, I do not understand why you came there.” You say simply, pausing in your tracks. Helaena, a silent audience as you and Aemond began your ceaseless squabbles once more. Aemond was silent for a moment; the truth of his actions may not be revealed. “We did not force you to sit there and listen to Sir Liam— if anything, I’d prefer if you did not come; your glares and scoffs were seen and heard, and are very much unappreciated,” Aemond clenched his jaw as he had no response that he’d like to share. His eye traveled to his sister, who had a knowing smirk on her lips whilst you waited for his response that would not come.“I’ll see you both at supper,” Aemond grumbled as his eye landed on you, who bit back her smirk, the prince stomping away as you finally let your smile slip your lips. 

“Must you really tease him? You perfectly know why he sat through the readings,” Helaena said as you and she sat in the gardens for tea. You picking at the candied lemons that you and Aemond would usually fight over. You smile as you lick your finger clean of the sugary syrup. “Yes, I know why he suffered through the readings. However, he is not aware that I am knowledgeable of his intent,” Helaena sighed, “How long will you make him suffer?” The princess asked, already impatient for the day her closest friend and brother would finally admit their attractions. 

“Suffer?” You ask in shock, “I do no such thing! He inflicts his suffering himself—“ Helaena shook her head and laughed. “You’ve known of Aemond’s attraction to you for years! Yet you still act so clueless with him!” She reasoned. “I am a lady! I am expected to act chase and reserve. I cannot just go up to Aemond and confront him with his secret attraction!” You exclaimed with a fake and exaggerated look of scandal on your face, making Helaena laugh. 

“If you are waiting for my brother to acknowledge and confess his attraction towards you, then you must wait— it might take him a lifetime.” Helaena mused, a hint of frustration and pity in her voice, for Aemond had wanted you since childhood; he was just afraid to let it be known. “Then I pity him… he could have had the golden beauty of the realm, but he chose to stay silent.” You say confidently— proud with the title bestowed upon you by lords and ladies, small and noble folk men who agreed that your beauty was as valuable and desirable as the gold your family was known for. Helaena hummed quietly and quickly prayed to the gods that her brother would soon admit his attraction, for Helaena knew that your pride would not subject you to confess your feelings first. 

“Just because you do not understand or care for poetry does not mean they are a waste!” You exclaimed as Aemond picked another fight with you. You were peacefully seated in Helaena’s chambers, stroking your cat's fur mindlessly as Aemond’s own pet lay beside you. You were in no mood to fight with him and battle his views of poetry. “They are! They’re pointless. If you must say something, then say it— why must they dance around the matter? Why must they go on and on about something that could be said in one sentence? Cowards, the likes of them are!” You let out an exasperated sigh, making Aemond smirk at your annoyance. 

He finds you quite endearing at the state, which is why he often takes time out of his day just to annoy you. Relishing at the roll of your enchanting eyes, the sighs that leave your plump, pink lips, and the furrow between your perfectly arched brows. If he were lucky and had annoyed you to quite an extent, you’d stomp your foot like a spoiled child. Or simply wave him off with your pampered hand because you no longer had a word of defense. 

“Because they are poets! They do not wish to come to the answer and their intentions all at once— they create beauty with their words. They are capable of making subjects so dire be of great interest that they, in turn, create spectacles upon it!” You defended but Aemond only rolled his eye and shook his head, the former action he had gotten from you. Ever since you two were young, you would always roll your eyes when you found something disagreeable; Aemond would mock you for it— would mimic your actions in hopes of getting more from you. However, in time, he managed to adopt the same mannerisms. 

“Archmaester Sisco believed that poetry is of great danger,” he said, taking a goblet to his lips. Your eyes followed the way the ball on his throat booed as you waited for him to continue his thought.  “He says they mislead and are obscure and false— that poets are seducers of the mind,” He finished, noting the way your eyes were on his throat. Guessing you’d want to strangle him out of annoyance, Aemond was amused with the thought of you thinking about strangling him. 

“The Archmaester’s proclamation and thinking is old— irrelevant in our times. Even his student, Archmaester Aristedes, disagrees with his views on poetry. He reasons that it is not harmful— it is a form of expression! Cathartic to those who read and write it!”Aemond let another scoff of derision slip his lips, pushing your annoyance into frustrated anger. 

“You would not understand the beauty of poetry because you keep everything you feel inside you! You do not know what great relief it is to say or even write what you desire and hope for!” You exclaimed, and Aemond tensed in his seat. Silence surrounded the room as Aemond could not work out a response. You saw him fisting the arm of his chair, the knuckles of slender fingers turning pink from his tight grip. 

You sighed heavily, “What I meant is… I understand that you do not like poetry and find it pointless and a waste— but I don’t. I am not forcing poetry onto you, nor am I trying to change your views upon it. I enjoy and adore poetry— I just wish you would stop discouraging me from enjoying it. 

“Why do you enjoy it?” Aemond asked after a short while. You try to hide your surprise at his question. “Because… I find it romantic. For someone to take time to depict you with such beautiful imagery and flattering words, to love and admire you enough to dedicate a work of literature to your name… for me, it is the best way to express to someone how much you truly love them.” You could not look at Aemond as you said the words. In truth, a part of you felt silly because your love for poetry was only solidified because you loved a boy who you knew would not subject himself to create such works. When you read your favorite epics and songs, you would humor yourself and imagine it was Aemond who wrote it for you, knowing he would never do such a thing. 

Days passed since your and Aemond’s interaction and you noticed that you had scarcely seen his presence. You would pass by him whilst in training and join him and his kin for supper— but other than that, you could not feel a trace of his presence. He would usually join you and Helaena for tea or would suddenly appear by your side as you walked along the keep. He didn’t even pick fights or tease you anymore. Him growing more silent and reserved. Now you regret speaking— wishing you had just held your tongue and let him continue to disparage the sacred thoughts of poems and songs. 

It was high night, and you sat silently in your chambers, staring at the fire, trying to find ways to approach Aemond. Already missing his teasing presence— the only presence you would muster the patience to endure. 

You furrowed your brows as you heard shuffling at your door. Your eyes catch the shadow of a figure outside. You cautiously and quietly stood, going to your door only to see a piece of parchment being slipped at the slit of the wooden door. Your confession only grew. You quickly took the parchment and opened the door, revealing its sender. Three eyes went wide as you were met with Aemond, who blended in the dark. However, his silver hair shined in the light of the moon. “What are you doing?” You ask and turn to the parchment he had slipped. 

“Nothing— I… this—“ Aemond fumbled for words; you had never seen him in such a state. He was usually composed and stoic. You thought seeing him bashful and embarrassed was a nice gift from the gods. “What is this?” You ask and unfold the parchment. “No! Don’t—“ Aemond bit his tongue as it was too late to hinder you. Your eyes already consuming what was written. 

I’ve known you for half of my life yet; you consume the whole of it I’ve had you near and close to me yet, I only gaze from afar

I do not know how to proclaim I’m not certain how to say it without blame, but you, my beauty, are the cause of my desire and, most of the time, my ire

I know I pick countless squabbles, but I do it because I love to hear you babble about things I have no care for but you just simply adore

We disagree for many reasons, but I’d rather fight you through the seasons You, my beauty, so lovely and carefree my heart could not help but love you, most ardently 

Aemond watched you bite your lip as a wide smile started to spread. Aemond felt heat all over his body— anticipation did not sit well with him. He was ready to meet your laughs at his attempt to make you a poem. Ready to face rejection, but instead of the pessimistic thoughts in his mind, he was met with your sweet, pillowy lips. You were so excited and thrilled that you could not help but kiss him. Show him how you adored him as well. 

What was supposed to be a short and chaste kiss turned deep with passion. Lips dancing and refusing to part. You and Aemond stumbled to your bed, uncaring and ignorant of the teachings of the gods, for you and him had long surpassed your desires, and they could no longer be denied. They were ready to claim without thought of consequences because both of you knew that you’d happily take all punishment that would be presented if it meant neither of you had to stop your actions. 

“Gods, I want you,” You uttered as his lips traveled to kiss your soft cheeks, then trailed downward to the side of your neck. His hands were on your waist and threading dangerously close to your bosom. “Say it again,” Aemond almost begged. Savoring your scent, delighting at the way you feel against him. “I want you, Aemond. I’ve wanted you for years— you, only you.” You sighed as he left marks on your necks, earning quiet moans from you at the new sensation.  

Aemond let a low moan rumble as his cock painfully strained against his trousers, throbbing at your admittance of want for him. It was all he wanted. He thought his deepest desire in life was to have a dragon, but that was wrong. He desired you more than claiming a dragon— his deepest desire was to claim a lioness.

Aemond tangled his hair in your hair, finally letting his other hand move from your waist and cup your breast. Your hand, in turn, went to palm him through his trousers, watching as his jaw clenched and the ball of throat bobbed once more. “We… we must not lay until we are married,” Aemond said, voice pained and filled with impatience. Yet, he still did not move atop you; he kept his hold, but you relinquished yours. “We don’t have to,” You said, trying to push away your need for him to touch you. Aemond sighed and hurried his face in your neck, his lips and breath tickling your skin. “Then how…” Aemond trailed, and a thought passed your mind. “We must not touch each other….yet. However, I do not recall teaching forbidding us to touch ourselves,” You whisper, Aemond’s lilac eye flying to you, dark and filled with lust, mirroring yours. 

Aemond moved to remove his weight from you. You keep your eyes locked as you back away to the back of your bed, resting yourself on the pillows as Aemond kneels by the edge of your feathered bed, watching each move you make with his glazed, lone eye. 

You bit your lip harshly as your hand threaded a path that it threaded plenty of times, the thought you had as you did the actions now watching you. You slipped your hands, and you resisted moaning as your fingers brushed over the pearl of your cunt. Aemond admired the way your breasts peaked and traced through your silk nightgown. The way your eyes were hooded and how your plump lips finally parted and moaned his name. 

Aemond could no longer resist. Slipping his hand into his trousers just like he did every night, the image of you no longer in his mind but now sitting before him, calling out his name.“A-Aemond,” You stuttered as you felt the familiar cold within you. How desperately you wanted it to be, him to make you feel such a way. Aemond groaned and tilted his head to the heavens as he felt his cock twitch; he was quick to reach his peak; just the way you called for his name was enough for him to spill so quickly. 

Aemond closed the space between the two of you, each of your hands still pleasuring yourselves while lips met and wanted to be together when both of you reached your peaks. “You will be mine soon, my heart… mine to pleasure and please, all mine,” Aemond swore against your lips. You nod your head as you fasten your pace. “I’ve always been yours, Aemond.” You said truthfully, the final push for Aemond to come undone; you quickly followed as his moans spurred your peak. Aemond kissed your lips once more and boldly prayed for patience, patience, and restraint to not take you that night.

It was not enough for Aemond; pleasuring himself as he watched you pleasure yourself was not enough, but it had to be for now. Because when morning comes, he’ll demand that you shall be his, just as it ought to be.

If you enjoyed the premise of this story, you might like the inspiration for it!

[sadokasochism]

I am destroyed over the whole god/worshipper dynamic and have no idea how to adequately put it into words.

I mentioned in another post that Mizi could not fathom Sua ACTUALLY dying, or comprehend what death really meant, and attributed this to her relatively comfortable and sheltered life as the pet of Shine. She was not taught to conceptualise death as a loss, and she never faced any opposition to that world view. From what we know, she might have never really known true, lasting pain or loss before the end of Round 1.

However, her reaction could also be due to her placing Sua on a pedestal as her personal god and universe. She viewed Sua as her absolute everything, and why would any faithful worshipper believe their god could be killed? Only, while Sua was everything to HER, that perception did not carry over to their captors. Mizi's love and devotion was not enough to save Sua. Forces stronger than them both took her away like she was nothing.

How must Mizi have felt, having her perception of Sua as the centre of the universe shattered that way? Coming to the violent realisation that Sua was just another human, and that humans are indeed that vulnerable and disposable? That Sua could now only exist in memories and in the visions that haunt her? That Sua is not a god, but a ghost?

Now we look at Till's perception of Mizi. Again, in an earlier post I mentioned the tragedy of Till falling for someone who did not have a reason to leave. He had a lot of blind faith in Mizi, and it could be said that he idealised her as a paragon.

It's not hard to see how he reached this point. The poor kid had not been shown a lot of kindness in his life, and so meeting someone who was genuinely good and so full of joy must have had a huge impact on him.

However, his faith is still a blind one, but in a different way to Mizi's blind faith in Sua. He is happy to endure any amount of horrible treatment and does not expect anyone to help him. He doesn't resent Mizi for being so close to their captors, for her dreams stopping at Alien Stage. He doesn't resent her after he gives up on his chance at freedom and is subjected to who knows how many more years of pain and torment at the hands of their captors (Not that Mizi is at fault, Till made his own decision that Mizi likely never even knew about).

He sees Mizi's innocence and ignorance to the cruelty of their reality as something wonderful instead of a character flaw that prevents her from saving herself or her loved ones.

Sua has the same issue, seeking comfort and bliss within Mizi's brightness instead of acknowledging the cruel reality of their world. Maybe she felt sharing her perspective with Mizi would dim Mizi's bright spirit, and so she was more than content to wait out the clock with her god.

Maybe Sua felt that meeting Mizi, loving her and being loved by her in return, was nothing short of a miracle after the life she had lived before Anakt Garden. Maybe she felt in light of that, aspiring for something like freedom or a long, long life of happiness with the person she loved the most was asking far too much. The time she got with Mizi was already a miracle, why expect or demand anything more?

If Sua was afraid of Mizi losing her brightness, no wonder she was so affected by Ivan's lecture about becoming a source of trauma for Mizi after her death.

Ivan's view of Till as his god is a bit different. He is similar in that he doesnt seem to demand his devotion be reciprocated, he just wants his god to acknowledge him as a person, as someone that is at least PART of Till's universe, if he can't be all of it.

He is also very willing to become a martyr for his god while expecting nothing in return but Till continuing to live. He acknowledges Till as vulnerable and falable in a way that Till doesn't with Mizi, and Mizi didn't with Sua. He knows damn well that while Till is the centre of HIS universe, their captors certainly do not hold Till in that same regard. He knows that love and devotion in a vacuum does not save anyone.

Which is why he was always the one to free Till, to try and escape with him, and why he pulled the stunt he did in Round 6. Ivan knew that actually making an impact in this world required personal risk and sacrifice, because their captors don't give a fuck if you're in love or if that other pet-human they're about to kill means everything to you.

Till knew this too, but his idealised version of Mizi is too perfect to be broken and beaten down by this world the same way the rest of them have been. So he's still shattered by Round 5, seeing how far Mizi has fallen and then not knowing if she's alive or dead, but knowing for sure she is far out of reach. I wonder, did he regret not running away with Ivan at that point? Did he wonder what all those years of suffering were for, if he was just going to end up losing Mizi anyway? If this world was able to break her too, no matter what he did?

Mizi is gone and changed forever, and nothing he did could stop it. His love and devotion and sacrifice wasn't enough. He failed his god.

In Round 6, Ivan is faced with the same thing. His god has lost his fighting spirit, is changed forever, and Ivan's love and devotion wasn't enough to save him. The last thing he can give is his life, and hope that will be enough. Just like Sua. But he was never Till's god, was never even part of his universe, he probably won't even leave a ghost behind. So, the choice is obvious, really.

They're all so desperate for hope and connection in this lonely, painful existence that they make a person their entire universe, and then are repeatedly crushed when they are shown again and again that their soul-consuming love for one another is seemingly meaningless in a world that views them as infinitely disposable.

[acapelladitty]

Waylon Jones/Reader: Concern

Summary: Even in the midst of passion, Waylon remains as careful as ever.

Despite all the preparation, his tongue having long since licked every possible inch of your cunt with its animalistic texture - a little physical boon which still had your legs twitching minutes after he had finished eating you out like the finest meal - it was still a difficult fit.

"M'not hurting you?" Waylon asked, his question so low and growled that it was almost easy to mistake it as little more than a noise as it rolled free of his lips.

Wrapping your hands around the back of his head as you lowered yourself another half-inch down onto the cock that felt like it was threatening to rip you apart, you gave him a strained smile as you masaaged your fingers across the hardened skin of his neck.

"It's so thick," you purred, "that I think I'll be ruined for anyone else. Forever."

"Didn't answer me." Not missing a beat, Waylon paused his hips as they circled beneath your cunt, his natural instinct to stretch you out making his movements stuttered, and the concern etched on his face forced you to relent your teasing.

"I've never felt pressure like it." You confessed with a breathy moan. "I can feel the muscles burning as they stretch and the heat of your cock against them. I can feel every one of those lovely little ridges which decorate the shaft. It's," you pause to search for the right words, "quite a lot. But it's so good."

A rumble in his chest is his answer and he continues his slow ascent, raising his hips enough to push his cock another inch and the scorching stretch claws your fingers into his neck even deeper. What must be a slight pinch against the leathery skin draws a smile from his lips, exposing razor sharp, stained teeth that you can easily imagine puncturing through your vulnerable skin - the thought enough to draw a fresh moan and shudder down your spine.

He pulls himself almost free, the drag of each ridge of his cock making your walls feel like they're being dragged along with him as every millimetre was subjected to wicked torment. Holding it for a moment before pushing back in, you both found that the movement was a little easier due to the forced give of the muscles.

A calloused thumb dropped into the space between you, his other clawed hand remaining tight against your hips, and a keen of pure pleasure escaped you as his thumb spreads your slit to rub gently along your clit.

"Waylon-" His name is hard on your lips, at once a prayer and a curse as the extra stimulation makes your body stiffen in place - cunt, if possible, growing tighter around his cock as you pushed yourself into his curious thumb.

"Nice and slow." Waylon grumbled, clearly enjoying himself even as you see the slight twitch of strain in his eye as he held himself back from devouring you in the ways that his beastial urges demanded. "And all mine."

"Yes." You confirm with a pleasurable sigh, willing to wait until it was safe for him to indulge himself even as the thought of it made your limbs shudder in anticipation. "All yours."

[yanderes-galore]

could I please request yandere prompt 3, from the G section of writeformesinpie's prompts for otis driftwood? Just recently watched house of 1000 corpses, pretty fun horror movie ^^

I feel like I can't write him without making him horrendous... so prepare for that.... Y'know, it must be good if writing it made me uncomfortable.

Prompts Here

Yandere! Otis Driftwood Prompt G-3

“One, two, Daddy is coming for you. Three, four, knocking down your door.”

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Sadism, Manipulation, SFW Daddy kink, Possessive behavior, Biting, Blood, Disturbing/Dark themes, Kissing, Isolation, Post-Kidnapping, Dehumanizing behavior, Mature themes/Themes of intimacy, Blood drinking, Forced "relationship".

You're the best toy he's had in a long time.

Otis has had many victims, many toys. Many cute rabbits to chase and hunt until their time was up. However, none were quite as entertaining as you.

That's why you've lasted so long with him...

He's let you.

He lets you because you're his favorite rabbit. The family lets him keep you because he adores you so much. No one else is allowed to touch you... for better or for worse....

There's many games he likes to play with his rabbit. He likes to bite pretty marks into their skin. He likes to hold them close and explore his little pet. But his favorite game?

He loves to chase.

He loves it when he sets you loose, watching you run off to hide from him like the scared rabbit you are. Otis loves to play hunter to his sweet rabbit. He finds it so cute that you think you can hide.

It's adorable how you think anything will stop him from keeping his rabbit.

"Oh come on, baby... you can only run and hide for so long...!" Otis coos, stalking you through the home. The family had assumed he was playing his games again... allowing him to be with his rabbit.

You don't answer, staying in a locked room with your legs to your chest. You're shaking like cornered prey, hearing Otis call your name and several other sickening nicknames as he hunts you in the hallway. You don't know why you bother anymore.

He was going to find you eventually... and subject you to whatever fresh torment his twisted mind thought of.

"Sweetheart... my little rabbit..." Otis calls, stopping beside the door you locked yourself in. By this point you were used to the smell of blood and rot. No doubt all due to Otis' little art projects.

"You in there? Are you waiting for me to come get you? Aren't you having fun?" Otis taunts, knocking on the door playfully with a chuckle. "You want daddy to come and find you?"

You cringe at the nickname he used. You hated when he said that. He uses it like he's supposed to be some sort of guardian to you... He's far from it. You swear he does it because you hate it.

"I know you're in there..." Otis hums, knocking on the door harshly as you hide beside the stained furniture in the room. "Don't you want to come out and reward me for finding you? Doesn't daddy get a kiss?"

You feel nauseated when he taunts you. Your heart won't stop thumping in your chest as he knocks on the door. Each knock becomes more and more insistent....

"Come one, baby... Open the door for daddy...." Otis hums, trying the doorknob. "You're going to make me wait for it, huh?"

You hear him push on the door, ramming his side into the wood. You freeze, cowering as you watch the door give slightly. Another ram, another jump of your heart.

"Daddy doesn't like waiting, baby...." Otis sighs, the door rumbling as he hits it. "Don't make me upset, baby...!"

You squeak when the door moves again. The lock creaks, threatening to give way due to his strength. It almost hurts to breathe with how nervous you are.

“One, two, Daddy's coming for you..." Otis sings, the door creaking more as he rams into it. "Three, four, knocking down your door.”

You scream when the door flies open. It's so fast the door slams into the wall. You swore if you looked there would be a dent.

However, you were too busy staring at Otis to care.

"There's my bunny!" Otis purrs, stepping closer to you with a chuckle. You panic, stepping back as you look for a way to defend yourself. Unfortunately, like a wolf to a rabbit, Otis lunged at you.

You slam onto the floor, stunned as you feel Otis laughing. You try to push him off, only to feel him bite into your flesh. He meant it to be playful or teasing... yet it just hurt.

You sob when he laps at your blood, pinning you to the floor with a bloody grin. Once again, he has won his game. He has won his rabbit.

"Aw, honey, you kept me waiting for so long...!" Otis pouts before howling in laughter. "Don't you know I've won? I always win, baby...."

You try to sputter out some sort of plea, but Otis just leans forward, breath ghosting over your lips.

"Now where's daddy's kiss, little bunny?"

[dyns33]

A story of witch

Happy Valentine day !

As a gift, here a looooooooong Morpheus x female reader.

Careful, some spoilers here, from the comics and so maybe from season 2.

Time had a different hold on witches.

A certain influence, because contrary to common beliefs, nothing escaped time and nothing was perfectly eternal, but it slipped over them as long as they decided, and had enough magic to repel its effects.

Y/N had already been walking on Earth for several centuries when she met Morpheus.

She had heard many legends about the Endless. Rumors. Lots of warnings, especially regarding Dream, who was described as a changeable, dangerous, angry and resentful being.

Her many sisters whispered to each other that becoming his lover was as much a gift as a curse. He would offer you the whole world on a platter, he would do everything to please you, and then one day, without warning, you would no longer suit him, you would do something wrong according to him, the feelings would no longer be as strong, and then misfortune would strike you.

The king would always find a way to blame you for this new emotional failure. Then you risked Hell, endless nightmares, eternal sleep.

Too much hassle for little benefit.

Y/N didn’t think about any of that when she met Morpheus. Neither to the wonders he could offer her, nor to the torments he risked inflicting on her.

For a witch, some might have thought that she was young, still naive, far too in love with her books and grimoires, fascinated by stories, and therefore vulnerable to the charms of the dreams master.

She didn't think she would fall in love. Neither did he. The mourning of his marriage and his child were still recent, for a being such as him. Y/N had barely been born when this tragedy had happened.

The subject was not brought up, like none of his former lovers. Morpheus did not forget, he never forgot, but when a new relationship began, he did not look back to compare with the previous ones.

No doubt it was a mistake on his part, who then never learned from his mistakes.

Y/N hadn’t had as many relationships as him. Witches have the luxury of immortality, and they knew the consequences of it. Bonding with mortals wasn't a good idea, even less so with their peers. Too risky. Too dangerous.

Attempting to see the future in dreams could have been described with the same words. Y/N was taking the risk of being punished by two Endless, Destiny and Dream.

But Destiny never interfered in anything, and Dream was intrigued by the little witch, asking her not to repeat her experiments, but welcoming her into his domain.

As they walked in his garden, the inhabitants of the Dreaming knew before them what was going to happen.

"Your flowers are beautiful. Everything is beautiful here."

“Would you like to see my library ?”

"Oh, I'd love to ! But you must have a lot to do, I don't want to bother you more than necessary."

"You don't bother me, mikri magissa. You are welcome here."

It took a while for Y/N to realize that they were getting closer. The courting of the king of stories was subtle, ethereal like him, full of poems and tenderness while doing without many words far too heavy with meaning, and at the same time far too limited to convey all the ardor of their love.

Because they loved each other, there was no doubt about it. The end of their story came quickly, although to a mortal three centuries seemed like a lot. At the same time, those who knew Morpheus well could testify that this was quite a long time for a relationship with him. But as always with his relationships, there had to be an end.

“I’m just saying he’s not wrong.���

"You don't know what you're talking about, o mágos mou. This man is insane and I'm not lonely."

“However, I have felt you far from me for some time now. Perhaps forever.”

"Don't I love you more than anything ? Haven't I shown you my love on many occasions ?"

"I don't know. It's difficult for me to know with you, immutable and yet so variable. Sometimes you give so much, too much, and sometimes not enough, if it's not nothing. There is no middle ground with you. Probably not with me either. It's possible that I'll ask you impossible things."

“Nothing is impossible for me.”

“Yet you refuse to speak, to really speak. You flee this kind of discussion, as you fled the friendship of this man.”

“Don’t push me, Agápe μου.”

Y/N left the Dreaming that night knowing she wasn’t coming back. Morpheus' indifference to her departure could have been seen as fortunate, but it hurt her deeply. He didn't try to catch her, he didn't try to punish her either.

Even though it seemed obvious after several weeks that he would not pursue her, neither in her dreams nor in the Waking, Y/N took precautions to prevent their paths from crossing again. Using several spells, rituals, amulets and ancient seals, she ensured that her mind was cut off from the realm of her former lover.

This protection proved very useful when the sleeping sickness arrived.

Like the rest of the world, Y/N didn't immediately understand what was happening. She knew Dream enough to know that he would never neglect his work like that, that he would not abandon his position unless forced to do so, and that despite all the cruelty and resentment he was capable of, he would never do such a thing to the dreamers.

Something had happened, but she didn't know what.

Too afraid of what he could do to her if she went into the Dreaming, or what could happen to her sleep without the protections, Y/N didn't try to find out. It wasn't her business anyway, since they were no longer together and the fate of humanity wasn't part of her responsibilities.

Time continued to pass, and she still tried to help mortals when she could, with potions and incantations to help them sleep, or on the contrary wake up, ensuring that their nights were not entirely nightmares.

But this was difficult, because she was not the master of dreams. Without knowing it, she came very close to Morpheus the day her steps led her near a mansion with dark, gloomy energies, which she did not wish to approach too closely. However, there was something, abandoned under a tree near the property, which attracted her with strong force.

The body of a raven. A raven different from the others, a dream. Jessamy. Someone had shot her and she lay there, lifeless, far from her creator, far from her home.

Y/N took the poor thing with her. Necromancy being prohibited, it was not good to anger Death, and the existence of dreams being a complex thing, she did the only thing in her power, to offer a decent burial to the little emissary whom she had loved very much and who had often helped her control Morpheus' moods.

When collective sleep returned to normal, there were no signs. Nothing that made it possible to understand what had happened. Curious by nature, the witch repeated to herself that she should not try to understand. The rumors would spread quickly.

She heard about Burgess. Whispers recounted the long confinement of the maker of nightmares, who had taken revenge before setting off in search of his stolen instruments in order to rebuild his kingdom. Twice he went to the Underworld, he faced a Vortex, he fell in love. Nothing really new, just the same story over and over again.

Y/N didn’t want to know any of this, but the choice wasn’t hers. One of her sisters came to visit without being invited, and to ask her advice.

“I don’t see how I can help you, big sister.”

"You have experienced what I am experiencing. Tell me how to escape from Oneiros, because I no longer wish to see him and he does not seem ready to accept it."

The rumors had not mentioned the fact that Morpheus had fallen in love with a witch again. Older than Y/N, more powerful, crueler too, because Thessaly had little interest in things of the heart.

" … I repeat, I'm not sure I can help you. Make sure you don't inspire him with any more feelings and you'll be free."

"Sweet little sister, he still loves you and yet he left you alone. I'm asking for this."

"He doesn't love me. He didn't love me for a long time when I left."

"We argued often and each time my wing of the castle was razed and then rebuilt under his orders. There is no trace of his former companions left in all of the Dreaming. None, except you. He did not touch your room. He denied me access to it. He recreated it with everything else after his return. Can you tell me that doesn't mean anything ?"

Y/N didn’t respond. She didn't know what to answer, she didn't know about all this. Her eldest whispered that she was almost jealous. Many times she had wondered if she had gotten his attention because of their similarities, because she reminded him of his lost love.

It might be a good idea for her younger sister to discuss it with the Lord of Dreams.

"Or not. That would allow me to slip away without him probably noticing, but I can't wish harm on one of ours. I'll find a way."

This time, Y/N closed herself off to the whispers, not wanting to know if Thessaly had found this way.

Part of her wished the best for the lord of stories, who had suffered far too much in the last century despite all his wrongs, and who did not deserve to receive another injury. Another part didn't like knowing the older witch was with Dream.

She was afraid for her sister, and she was afraid for Morpheus, whose fickle heart was more fragile than he wanted to admit. The consequences were likely to be terrible for everyone.

Filled with memories, Y/N wanted to visit Jessamy’s grave. A powerful spell had hidden it from the eyes of the world, to prevent it from being desecrated, and she wondered if she had not made a mistake in doing so, for it was possible that Morpheus had never known where his faithful emissary rested.

But the magic of ravens was special, these beings knew things, and she shouldn't have been surprised to find one of them on the tree that protected the location.

"Good morning." she said politely, making new flowers appear near the grave.

"Hi. Do we know each other ? I feel like I know you."

"I don't think we've ever met. You're Dream's new raven."

"Yeah, Matthew. I don't know why I'm here. I'm sort of drawn to it, and Lucienne told me to follow my instincts for this sort of thing, but I don't understand. Are you the one calling me ?"

“I think it’s more your predecessor that you are feeling.”

"Jessamy ? Oh… The boss thought her body was destroyed or something. Were you the one who buried her ? That's nice of you. You don't look really surprised to see a talking raven. I feel like I'm supposed to know you. You seem important."

"Not really, no."

"The boss could tell me but he's busy at the moment. He's accompanying his sister on a quest. Good, it's keeping him busy. It's been raining too much since his break up, it's been days. Merv told me that it was almost always like that, frankly it's painful to watch. The time with this Nada, the time with his ex-wife, the time with another witch… I don't know what he has with witches. I didn't like her at all, she was mean."

“It rained in the Dreaming when I left ?” Y/N couldn’t help but ask, surprised by the news.

Before that day, she had always believed that her departure had had no impact. A total, cold indifference, showing that she no longer mattered. But Thessaly had talked about her room, and Matthew had talked about the rain, and Y/N didn't know what to think at all now.

She had left Morpheus because of his inability to communicate, the distance he put between himself and the whole world. His grand declarations of love always seemed hollow, lacking something.

Maybe he had changed. He would never have allowed his emissary to speak as Matthew did, who was moving around on his tree asking a thousand questions about the relationship between his boss and Y/N. He even allowed himself to order her to leave, because he really didn't need Dream falling into depression again by seeing her through his eyes.

"He's got enough problems, he… Oh. Oh, no. I feel it, he's there. Shit, shit, shit. I have to go !"

Years without any news and within moments Y/N hearing about her former lover almost every day. Until someone came to her door and she found herself face to face with Morpheus.

He seemed embarrassed. He had always been awkward in the waking world, out of place, because dreams hardly survived in reality. But there was something else. He would never have bothered to knock before. He would have come into her house to say what he had to say, demanding that she listen to him, and agree with him at the end.

Without saying anything, he observed her as if he were seeing her for the first time, turning his gaze towards her bedroom, the door of which was surrounded by several symbols used to repel dreams and nightmares. Y/N expected this to make him angry. He had already not liked her touching his domain when they first met.

"I thought you followed my sister into the sunless lands…" he whispered, looking down. "I no longer felt your presence in the Dreaming. I didn't think you were running away from me. It didn't seem to me that I gave you reasons to run away."

“I wasn’t sure you’d be happy to see me again.”

"I have waited a long time for the day when I would have the joy of seeing your sweet face again. It never came, but I am the one responsible for it. You were right about Hob Gadling, You were right about many things but I didn't listen, and I lost you. It was one of my greatest regrets."

“Why are you talking like that ?” Y/N asked as she approached, their hands almost touching.

"Mikri magissa, so much has happened. I am at a crossroads, with a big decision to make. I admit to being afraid, and you give me courage."

“Maybe I can help you ?”

"Even if you could, I wouldn't ask you. The search for my little sister is dangerous, a lot of blood has been shed since we left in search of our brother and I couldn't bear to see it happen to you. I had agreed to help her to see someone again, without understanding that it was you I secretly wanted to see, and now I must find a way to console my sister, disappointed by my lack of investment. But the only way we have left is one that I dare not name."

Y/N had briefly met Morpheus' family, including Destruction and Delirium.

The prodigal had spoken to her little before his retirement, but he had seemed tired, reaching the limits of his functions and no longer seeing the point of remaining with all the inventions of mortals and immortals which fulfilled his role perfectly without he needs to intervene. His siblings did not understand his decision.

One of the most affected by his departure had been Delirum, very close to his brother, who would have given anything for a family reunion.

"If this means your downfall, I can't believe Delirium would ask such a thing of you." Y/N said indignantly, not daring to come any closer. “There must be something else.”

"I don't think my younger sister is aware of what she's asking of me, nor do I think it's possible for me to go any other way without putting someone else in danger. I just came to see you, and thank you for what you did for Jessamy, and for the dreamers during my absence. I hadn't seen all these acts of kindness. But maybe it's you who didn't want to see me again. Not with my behavior. Oh, mágos mou… I so wanted to be better for you, but I could only change by going through all these trials, and for that I had to lose you."

It felt like goodbye, and Y/N didn’t like it. By definition, the Endless had no end, at least not while there was life in the universe. Without thinking, she placed her hand on Dream's cheek. He usually hated it, being touched, especially without permission, but he closed his eyes with a happy sigh, pressing his skin against hers.

Asking him if he was okay seemed stupid, but the question left her lips, and when his eyes opened again, they had a strange glow. He muttered that no one had asked him that question since his release. It was almost years ago. In truth, no one had asked him that question, even before he was captured.

Like he said, it could be because he had changed, and he didn't really deserve to be asked if he was okay before. And now that he was making an effort, that he was understanding, that he was improving, it was too late.

"I'll find a way. I'll talk to your sister."

“Delirium has always loved you.” he sighed. "My whole family, I think. I never noticed that our relationship is the only one that Desire hasn't tried to sabotage. But maybe they knew that I would sabotage it on my own."

“Let me talk to her.”

Much to Morpheus' surprise, his younger sister listened to Y/N. She even seemed to become Delight again for a moment, as the witch promised to find Destruction, even if it would take time. She just had to be patient, but also accept that it was possible that their brother didn't want to be found.

It was his decision to leave, as it was her decision to change, and Dream's decision to stay the same. But if she asked him to continue their quest, horrible things could happen, and she might lose another member of her family.

"… Okay. But you promise to look ?"

“I swear on our mother’s first ledger.”

"Several people have died trying to help us, Delirium… It's not safe to…"

"Oh, shut up. You'll be with her to protect her, you didn't care about the others. You're probably happy that Y/N came back. I'm happy too, she's nice, you two were good together. If you find our brother, then everything will be perfect."

Several spells, formulas and sacrifices were necessary to find the trail of the Prodigal, or Destruction took pity on them by inviting them to join him, but they talked, and as Y/N had predicted, he did not wish to return, but he entrusted them with a dog to give to his little sister.

Before disappearing between the stars, he took his big brother by the hand, walking together near the cliff, and whispering something to him.

"What did he say ?" Y/N couldn’t help but ask.

"He told me not to make the same mistakes and to think about myself for once. Not about my position, not about my kingdom, about nothing but me, and about you. O mágos mou, it's been a long time, but if you…"

The kiss cut him off in the middle of his question, time seemed to stop, and it was as if they had never left each other.

[codenamesazanka]

Does Spinner think of what his family might be going through? I wish we saw more of his thoughts on them.

Ohhhh this is a really fun question that I think of a lot, and I think it exposes quite a dark side of Spinner.

The facts/speculations from facts:

Spinner's family all have reptilian quirks - so it's likely that they are heteromorphs too.

Spinner lived in the countryside and got discriminated against for being a heteromorph; his family must have been mistreated by the villagers as well.

Spinner was a hikikomori NEET - shut in his room, no job - so he must have been supported by his parents, who 'allowed' him to be a hikikomori NEET (instead of kicking him out and leaving him to fend for himself), but apparently wasn't able to encourage him to at least stop his heart from feeling so empty.

Villains' families get subjected to harsh public reaction - see the vandalism on Gentle and Toga's parents' houses.

Put all that together, and you have the horrifying possibility that after Spinner's name and identity was revealed by Heroes to the public, his family - likely already harassed and ostracized by their village - will face even worse treatment. And I think Spinner must have known this would happen, when he left home to go cosplay a serial killer and join a Villain terrorist group. He had to have guessed that he'll be abandoning his family to angry, vicious wolves; not just to heavy national scrutiny because the League is huge news, not just to the stigma of criminal's association for the rest of their lives, but also very likely to the villagers' bigoted justification to abuse them even more.

And yet he still did so. Does Spinner feel any guilt? Does he care what he's put them through? Did he spare a thought for them when he first stepped into Kurogiri's bar, and then every action he's taken then that makes him more and more of an 'unforgivable' Villain? Spinner is not a cruel person - he's shown he's kind and caring for all of the League, for the people he cares about. So... what does this mean about his bonds with his family? What does it imply?

It could be that his family was dysfunctional in some way. They weren't at the levels of some of the families of his teammates, but still fractured. His parent didn't kick him out for being a jobless loser, but they didn't support him much either. They were emotionally unsupportive, they were distant, they gave up on him over the years. And so he gave up on them too, and he doesn't think about them much when he joined the League. Their family ties frayed a long time ago, and it's fine if they break. He doesn't think of them much.

But I personally would like to imagine that Spinner's family loved him, and they tried their best. Made him meals to put outside his door so he won't starve. Tried to make him happy - gave him money to buy those games he loves! - yet that inadvertently enabled his hikikomori depression. The reality is, sometimes love simply does not win out against systemic discrimination and marginalization, no matter your best efforts. Your kid's getting sprayed by pesticides by your neighbors just for going outside, but you can't afford to move. Your kid's quirk is weak he's getting doubly bullied and you can't tell him 'Hey! Show them how cool you are, go become a cool Hero with that quirk!'. Your kid's refusing to go to school, and maybe it's mentally better for him not to because every day there is just torment, but then he's missed too much days and he's failing out and it's too late to fix it. And so Spinner's heart was emptied out anyway and he loses sight of the family; or they fell to his periphery when Stain stirred up passion in his heart. There's still a bond between him and his family - but Spinner tries not to think about them.

It'd be selfish of Spinner, but Spinner is selfish in this aspect, much like the rest of the League. They refuse to suffer in silence, they make trouble. That is how they try to keep sane in this broken world. Still, making his family go through all this - something Spinner did knowingly, and he'd have to take responsibility for. I wished we had seen any of this thoughts on this, too, anon.

This is 90% speculation bordering on fanfic territory, so sorry about that! But we simply have no canon information, so we must imagine wildly. Thanks for the ask!

[ddarker-dreams]

What about yan Scaramouche saying I love you to his darling?👀

WHEW............ Many thoughts about this....................

for any connection to be genuine, there must be a degree of vulnerability between those involved. this revelation would torment scaramouche endlessly. to be vulnerable is to put oneself at risk of rejection. the power he holds over you wouldn't just equalize, no, it'd lean in your favor. ideally, this would serve as a rope that'd bind you together, but he likens it to willingly walking up the scaffold and placing his neck into a noose. you could choose to execute him at any time.

this internal conflict of interests bewilders the achingly lonely puppet. scaramouche wants so desperately to be close to you while also finding the concept terrifying. those initial relationships he formed in his erstwhile days... while he'd never admit it now, he did cherish them. losing those budding friendships hurt more than any otherworldly torment the abyss might subject him to. he considers this, then he considers you. could he even begin to quantify the pain he'd experience if you rejected him? his first love, who he secretly exalts above the divine? he might be able to delude himself at times, but not when it comes to this, he knows for a fact it'd splinter him, possibly beyond repair.

annihilation wrought from your hands would be more welcome than if it came from anyone else, he'd muse at his lowest moments. you can't forget what you've destroyed. it'd lodge him in your psyche too deep to ever pull out.

scaramouche honestly isn't sure what love is. an all-consuming obsession is the closest answer he's arrived at. it's a definition unique to him and he takes pride in the fact. he has to twist it, contort it into an unsightly form before he's willing to acknowledge its existence. only then would he even entertain the idea of saying he loves you.

when he does say those three words, fate itself weeps for you, knowing what future awaits. freedom is not guaranteed when his pulse ceases, for he doesn't have one. paradoxically, you'll find more freedom by sinking further into him than trying to run away. choose wisely.

[thatboreddrake]

Ruthlessness is Mercy

Alright, so now that I've got my incoherent ravings and memes about Epic: the Musical, the Vengeance Saga out of the way, I have some THOUGHTS about the musical symbolism in this new album! Speaking specifically about Get in the Water.

Because really, this song is a reflection of Ruthlessness, the song in the Ocean Saga where Odysseus faces off against Poseidon for the first time.

These parallels can be seen even from the opening lines of each song. Think about Poseidon's opening in Ruthlessness:

"Odysseus of Ithaca Do you know who I am?"

(Okay, so this is technically the end of Keep Your Friends Closer, but still, it's Poseidon's introduction). But recall Poseidon's behavior and attitude here: he's loud, he's proud, he's bombastic, he's in-your-face. He addresses Odysseus by his name as an intentional callback to when he taunted Polyphemus. Contrast this against the opening line of Get in the Water:

"There you are, coward."

There's a familiarity here that isn't present in Ruthlessness. Of course there is, Odysseus has narrowly evaded Poseidon's wrath once before (twice if you count Storm), and he's had 10 years to stew on that failure. Both of them know what this is about, it's just about putting an end to unfinished business. Poseidon is not proud, he is not overly aggressive. He's much calmer here than he was in Ruthlessness.

This is even reflected in the music. Ruthlessness features a piano playing in triplet and trumpets to accompany Poseidon. The god of waves has come to bring retribution on the one who dared to harm his son. On the other hand, Get in the Water, features a much more synthetic sound, oscillating back and forth. This motif is used a lot in Epic to denote the presence or usage of godly powers (think Calypso's reveal of her nature in Love in Paradise). Furthermore, the piano is much slower, more menacing, more methodical. Poseidon is not acting in a heat of rage. As I said before, he's had a long time to think about this.

Poseidon's choice of words punctuates this point as well. He has a point to make in Ruthlessness. He's not just here to kill Ody and his crew, he's here to explain exactly what it is that they've done and why they deserve to die for it.

"I've gotta make you bleed, I need to see you drown But before you go, I need to make you learn how Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves"

It's not just about the fact that Odysseus got into a fight with Polyphemus. It almost seems that Poseidon couldn't care less about that. After all:

"I mean, you totally could have avoided all this had you just killed my son"

Poseidon's problem is not that Ody hurt his son, those things happen in the world of mythology. No, his issue is that Ody refused to finish the job. Instead of granting Polyphemus a quick death, he instead elects to "spare" him, leaving him to suffer a lifetime of agony to live with his blindness. Poseidon goes on and on about this (it is the main theme of the song after all).

But in Get in the Water? It's all about salvaging Poseidon's reputation and finishing what he started.

"I've got a reputation I've got a name to uphold So I can't go letting you walk or else the world forgets I'm cold"

By this point, Poseidon has killed hundreds of Odysseus's men and subjected him to horrible torment. By any normal metric, the debt has been repaid. Ody didn't kill Polyphemus, so strictly speaking there's no need to kill him necessarily. The lines listed above almost seem to be a callback to this line from Monster:

"Or does he keep us in check So we must respect him And now no one dares to piss him off?"

Anyway, by the time of Get in the Water it's no longer about avenging his son for Poseidon. In fact, Poseidon makes no mention of his son throughout the entire song! Granted, Poseidon threatens Telemachus with the same fate that Odysseus gave to Polyphemus, but this strikes me more as incentive for Odysseus than anything else. This is all about finishing his business with Odysseus, and Poseidon's command to Odysseus reflects this:

"Now get in the water"

Poseidon says this so nonchalantly. He almost sounds as tired of this feud as Odysseus is. In fact, it's not until the second half of the song that Poseidon regains a portion of the fury that he exudes throughout the entirety of Ruthlessness. And this culminates in the same command in both songs:

"Die"

And here's where the parallels get particularly interesting to me. Because both outbursts follow an attempt by Odysseus to assuage Poseidon's wrath. In Ruthlessness, he appeals to his men's relative innocence in the matter:

"Poseidon, we meant no harm We only hurt him to disarm him We took no pleasure in his pain We only wanted to escape"

Here, Poseidon's reaction is a realization that Odysseus has completely misunderstood the very nature of the interaction. He realizes that Odysseus is arguing out of ignorance, and so the reply does nothing to enrage him. He's not having fun with it like he was before, this is just something he has to do. And so:

"Ruthlessness is mercy Die"

Compare this with the same interaction in Get in the Water. Odysseus once again tries to encourage Poseidon to put the past behind them and move on. To forgive and forget.

"We're both hurting from losses So why not leave this here and just go home?"

Here again, Poseidon does not get angry from Odysseus's suggestion. He merely offers a defeated:

"I can't"

Misunderstanding Poseidon's quietude for passivity, Odysseus attempts to press his advantage, insinuating that, even if it seems impossible to Poseidon, it is still possible for him to learn how to forgive Odysseus.

"Maybe you could learn to forgive?"

And here's where Poseidon really snaps. Because for ten years, he's been waiting to kill the man who blinded his son and had the audacity to escape his retribution. Odysseus broke into his son's home, killed his sheep, and stabbed him in the eye. And now he thinks he can get away without getting his due consequences?

"No Ruthlessness is... Mercy upon... Ourselves Die"

In Ruthlessness, "Die" is a statement of fact. It's a sure thing that Odysseus will die, so Poseidon puts very little emotion behind it. It's a command, surely to be obeyed. In Get in the Water, however, "Die" is an exclamation of fury. Poseidon screams it out because, in that moment, he wants nothing more to kill Odysseus.

In Ruthlessness, Poseidon begins in a state of almost glee but ends in a state of resignation. He isn't enjoying it, but still it has to be done. In Get in the Water, however, Poseidon begins with a sense of quiet fury. There's no rage, no wild temper, he's just finally getting to do what he's waited to do for ten years. And yet, he ends with a greater feeling of anger and hatred towards Odysseus than is shown even in Ruthlessness. Because Ody was supposed to have learned his lesson. He was supposed to know better now. And yet he still wants to offer mercy, and expects his foe to do the same.

So yeah.

[whispersfromtheshadowsoffical]

Hello, twins asking! ( •ᴗ•)⸝🍵 ☕️⸜(•ᴗ• )

I L-O-V-E-D this the moment I saw it, everything looks really cool!!!! So I showed it to my brother and we both started gushing about it.

Since you don't mind answering questions, I would love to know if the game will have the option to indulge their yandere tendencies? I love Xenos, he would just need to bat his eyelashes for me to smooch him, even if he just admitted to killing a whole group of people (ง ˃ ³ ˂)ว ⁼³₌₃⁼³ ~ Coffee

Following what Coffee said, I was wondering... I saw that they all have different stats for jealousy levels, which is interesting!✧*。Anyway, my question was, how would their different personalities play into how they acted when, you know, losing their shit? Like, full on yandere mode! (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ ~ Tea

Hello! Thank you for sending in an ask! I'm so glad you like my game so far, and I'm super excited for it to come out! After reading your ask, I literally had a giant smile on my face!

The whole reason I made this game was so people could choose their personality and how they want to react to a yandere. What gave me this idea is when I was reading fanfics I always saw people complaining about the MC so I really want this game to be like choose your own character type kind of thing. And tbh right now Xenos is one of my favorites and I would give him everything so OF COURSE there will be options to indulge them :3

Each character I made after a certain type of personality so you get the full Yandere experience, Which means varying levels of jealousy and other things ;)

Apollo, in his delusional state, is quick to feel betrayed and insecure, especially when things don’t go the way he imagines. His mind spirals into irrational conclusions, leaving him in a whirlwind of confusion and hurt. In these moments, he’s like a puppy desperately seeking reassurance. But no matter how much pain he feels, he’ll never direct the blame at you. To him, you’re flawless, untouchable. Instead, he turns on himself and those around him, lashing out with accusations. He'll say things like, "They must’ve tricked you," or, "It’s all their fault!" He becomes his own worst critic, convinced that he must be the one who’s not good enough, or that everyone else is conspiring against your love. Yet through it all, in his mind, you remain perfect—beyond reproach, untouched by his anger, the center of his affection.

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Soren, on the other hand, has two sides. His sadistic side where It doesn’t matter if it’s not your fault—he finds a twisted pleasure in watching you squirm under his accusations. His sadistic tendencies ensure that punishment is inevitable, and while he might take his frustrations out on you, there’s no need to worry about your pretty face. Soren values beauty too much to mar it, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get off easily. His temper flares unpredictably, much like Xenos, and when he lashes out, it’s with a dangerous mix of frustration and cruelty. He might bind you, lock you away, or even subject you to mental torment, always ensuring you’re aware of who’s in control, but the surface will remain unscathed—after all, you’re his pretty little thing.

Soren his most common side is where he manipulates you. If he senses you drifting away, he’ll break down, tears streaming down his face as he pleads for your attention. His soft, angelic appearance makes it easy for you to feel sorry for him, to comfort him despite your better judgment. In those moments, he knows exactly how to make you fall back into his grasp, using every bit of his charm to ensure you stay right where he wants you. His manipulative side is just as dangerous as his sadism—he plays both roles effortlessly, depending on what keeps you in his collection.

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Lynx, in all his arrogance, expects nothing less than complete devotion. In his mind, you belong to him—his possession, his plaything—but he’d never admit it openly. Instead, he hides behind layers of pride and tsundere denial, acting as if your existence is merely to serve him and fulfill his every whim. You’re there to do his bidding, cater to his needs, and he’ll rarely give you the satisfaction of knowing just how much he actually cares.

When jealousy strikes, that’s when his true feelings bubble to the surface, though he’ll never express it in any way other than through sharp words. He’ll lash out, insulting you in that indirect, roundabout way of his. Maybe it’s something like, "Why would I care what you do? It’s not like you’re important or anything," or a sarcastic comment meant to remind you of your place. It’s his way of asserting control, of letting you know that he’s the one in charge, and you’re his. But deep down, you might catch a glimpse of the truth—the possessiveness hidden behind his words, the flicker of insecurity that drives his cruel tongue.

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Xenos is the embodiment of obsession, always lurking in the shadows, watching your every move with a twisted sense of fascination. He prefers to stay hidden, observing from afar as he documents every detail of your life. His favorite pastime? Playing little tricks on you, just to see your adorable reactions. Maybe it's something as simple as moving your belongings or sending anonymous messages, but he lives for the moments when your confusion shows on your face, savoring every expression as if it's a personal gift.

However, when jealousy consumes him, his calm facade cracks wide open. Much like Kanto from Diabolik Lovers, Xenos doesn't handle jealousy well—he’s far too emotionally unstable. He’ll lash out in a childish fit of frustration, screaming and crying as if the world’s crashing down. His tantrums are unpredictable, full of wild accusations and irrational behavior, all fueled by the fear of losing his obsession.

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Nox is perhaps the most overprotective among them, making him seem like the tamest at first glance. His primary concern is your safety, and he genuinely believes that no one can care for you as well as he can. Nox doesn't outwardly display jealousy; in fact, he convinces himself that he's not jealous at all. But actions speak louder than words. He might subtly isolate you from others under the guise of protection, insisting that the world is too dangerous for someone as precious as you.

When he locks you away, it's not out of malice but out of a twisted sense of love and duty. "It's for your own good," he'll say softly, assuring you that this is the only way to keep you safe from all the bad creatures out there. His demeanor is gentle, his touch soft, making it easy to overlook the fact that you're essentially a prisoner in his care. Nox creates a comfortable environment for you, tending to your needs and lavishing you with attention. He might bring you your favorite books, cook your favorite meals, and spend hours engaging in conversations to keep you content.

Deep down, Nox struggles with the fear of losing you to the dangers he perceives in the world—or perhaps to others who might win your affection. He masks his insecurities by focusing on your well-being, convincing both you and himself that his actions are justified. In his mind, he's your guardian angel, the only one capable of ensuring your happiness and safety. While he doesn't throw fits of jealousy like others might, his overprotectiveness is a cage wrapped in kindness.

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Kaine is the ultimate flirt, always playful and teasing, never seeming to take anything too seriously. His charm is effortless, and he thrives on the reactions he gets, especially when he makes you blush or sends a shiver down your spine. It’s a game to him—he’ll scare you just enough to have you running straight into his arms, unaware that he’s the danger you should be fleeing from. The thrill of seeing fear flash in your eyes is something he relishes, and unlike others, he’s not subtle about it. He openly adores how vulnerable you become in those moments, how easy it is for him to slip in and play the hero to the very terror he creates.

While Kaine shares a sadistic streak with Soren, he’s far more forward about it. He doesn't hide behind tears or manipulative tactics; he sees no need to. In his mind, he doesn’t have to play mind games to make you his. He’s confident—perhaps even cocky—in his ability to get what he wants without resorting to deception. He believes he can break you down, piece by piece, and mold you into his perfect, compliant doll with nothing more than his charm and his sadistic tendencies.

Kaine’s affection is fierce and dangerous, but he’ll never hide it. He’ll show you exactly how much he enjoys your fear, how much it excites him to see you squirm, all while flashing that irresistible smile. There’s no need for manipulation when he can so easily bend you to his will with a mere glance or whispered word. His goal isn’t just to own you; it’s to reshape you, to transform you into his ideal creation—a perfect doll that responds to his every whim, trapped by the very affection that feels both comforting and terrifying.

[allwormdiet]

Insinuation 2.7

Finally, some good fucking interpersonal developments

They cheer when she joins the team? That's outrageously cute, stop that right now

Also yeah Taylor you're faking companionship for personal gain of course you feel bad, that's been like 10% of the torment you specifically have been subjected to (I'm not supposed to know about Julia's shit yet but whatever)

Again, very clever ideas made less clever by the ensuing practicalities of the situation. The thing with the spider silk all over again, but now the stakes are higher, and that's probably gonna be a recurring thing

God but it kills me how low Taylor's self-esteem is, poor girl. Emma and the others have done such heinous fucking damage. Someone rizz this girl up or something (am I using "rizz" right), let her feel like she can be attractive

Jesus how touch-starved is Taylor at this point in her life

How often does anyone just go for casual physical closeness with her

Does her dad even hug her that much anymore? Does she let him, or does she bristle at the vulnerability and push him away?

...I wonder if Lisa knows this and is taking it into account.

God, finally, a normal view of the Docks. I cannot begin to describe my relief at the fact that the narration here was like, fine, actually. Thank you for lightening up on them Taylor, please let this last

The Undersiders' hangout sounds about like what I'd expect, although the whole "abandoned factory beneath the loft" part I think escaped me before. Very Lost Boys of them

...I have to imagine it smells at least a little rank in there. Two teenage boys, plus dog smell, and I can't imagine Rachel is super observant of her hygiene, and I don't know enough about Tattletale to say whether she's bad about cleanliness but even if she was that's one against, I dunno, six if you count the dogs. Maybe they invest part of the team budget into Febreze or something

This is... sweet, actually. From both sides. They're making accommodations for Taylor, and Taylor is accepting those accommodations to do them all a favor

Insane that a Ward like, is actively trying to murder someone. What kind of beef does Sophi Shadow Stalker even have with Brian?

I feel some kind of sadness at how young Brian is and how much he acts like an adult. There's almost never a happy story behind kids or teenagers who act that way. It'd be nice if he got more opportunities to relax and act his age, buuuut I don't think this is that kind of story

What a cool power though, honestly. I know the migraines are a motherfucker and I'd probably be a huge baby about that if I had to deal with it, but just shortcutting so much guesswork about like, everything with people and things

Also it's great to see Taylor realize how bad she might have fucked up in trying to infiltrate this team

Heh, yeah, exactly

I wonder what Lisa's reading off of all this. She must have remarkable self-discipline to not be cackling evilly rn

Ruh roh Raggy

Current Thoughts

I love these kiiiiiiiids

It pains me to know they've all had a shit enough time in their lives to all trigger as parahumans, especially being spoiled on Alec's deal as a spawn of Heartbreaker and Lisa's borderline prison sentence under Coil and Brian's struggle with his family. Idk if we ever get more insight into Rachel's path, I'd like to hear it even though I don't think she'd be quick to talk about herself, but I'm gonna guess it's about as sad as the others

I want them all to be happy, and keep being friends without the pressure from Coil to all do crime shit

I know I don't get what I want

so I'll just enjoy the time spent with them best I can

...Anyway I wonder if Taylor's gonna get a mild fear of dogs after this or what

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi!! How would König react to his Engel having sh scars? I know this is a sensitive request, feel free to ignore it 🫶

Aw I don't mind but thank you for being sensitive 💞 😘

Please skip dear readers if this is triggering for you 🩷

König will notice your scars soon, if not immediately. He knows every old bruise and cut and scar on his skin and the stories behind them, his body is a whole map of old wounds, war, and torment. Therefore he pays close attention to other people's scars.

He won't bring them up too soon out of discretion, but they make him sad, upset, and angry. He knows they are self-inflicted, and the hurt it sends in his heart is maddening because he wants to hurt the ones who have made you hurt. But what to do when you have hurt yourself…?

He eventually asks about them to root out the one guilty for your pain. It must be someone else's fault that you have resorted to cutting yourself.

"Engel, are these… have you hurt yourself?" He asks the question one day when you two are cuddling. He deliberately brings his fingers to your scars and brushes a touch over them to make it known that he sees you… All of you.

"It was... years ago," you answer with a mixture of unease, shame and sadness in your gut. It's never easy to talk about them, and besides, people usually settle for simply staring at them. They rarely if ever mention them or ask about them.

It's not the same with König, because there's no need for facades. He never shies sway from challenging topics. He can talk about gutting people with a trench knife and licking you until you make the cutest sounds – and talk about them almost in the same sentence – so why would discussing self inflicted harm be a taboo subject for him?

"Did someone make you sad?" He demands to know, and you spend the next thirty minutes assuring König that you were simply feeling horrible and desperate and there's no one to blame for it (even if there were, you would be reluctant to tell him because you know it would only make him bounce off the bed and start a manhunt).

It feels both good and bad to open up about your past, the heavy depression you went through. It's an oddly charming therapy session that ends in your therapist pulling you tight against him. You have a feeling that this man who, distortedly enough, loves the exact tools you used to cut yourself with actually understands you better than any therapist ever could.

What breaks your heart, however, is when König hugs you and sighs: "I wish I had been there when you needed me." His attempts to fix the past, present and future is heartrending, but this was a fight he couldn't win – it was yours, and you had to go through it alone.

"Angel... I know how it feels to hate yourself. You must come to me if you're feeling angry or sad. Ja?" His words are blunt and straight to the point. König never sugar-coat things, but that's what you love about him. He sees the beauty in mundane, ordinary things, he sees meaning even in despair. He says how it is, and you know he's a connoisseur in that area – self-hate, that is. You fully believe him when he says he's not a stranger to pain. In that realm, you share a bond.

Then he begs you to promise him to never hurt yourself again. If you're feeling sad, you must come to him so that he can help you. He will always remind you of your worth if you'd happen to forget it.

There's no need for tears, not when he's here. You feel an odd, peaceful calm in your soul, laying there in his arms after revealing the deepest pits of your hell to him. He's not afraid of your darkness at all. He even kisses those scars, and that's when your lashes begins to flutter along with your heart. He whispers loving things on your skin, kisses your wounds with love, the same wounds people have simply stared with pity, confusion, and ridicule.

[ravensliterature]

Poison to My Lips

A/N: Posting again!

pairing: Thranduil x Reader

warnings: Mention of Blood

w/c: 2341 

Prompt: You are a half-elven servant who has fallen in love with the king and entered a secret relationship. How will you both deal when others torment you for your heritage

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Thranduil waited for you in the gardens where you both were to meet in secret. Sitting on a stone bench, he gazed at the roses that bloomed around his feet, the flowers glinting under the moonlight, making them look like stars. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if things were different, if they could be different. The garden doors opened, and Thranduil stood as your familiar face stepped but of it.

“I have been expecting you here, my love,” he said, but the smile on his lips faltered when he saw the tears streaming down your face. “What happened? What has upset you so much? Tell me what it is I can do to make it better?”

You looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes, tears running down your cheeks like rivers. “It's nothing, my darling. Some of the fellow maids poured water upon me. It was in jest.”

He frowned slightly, concern lacing his words. “Why did they do such a thing? Surely there must have been an explanation.”

You let out a sigh. “I take it they still do not like a half-elven's presence…”

Thranduil shook his head. How could people be so cruel? Why would they want to hurt you? His chest tightened knowing your levels of distress. “This behavior will not be allowed. Please tell me who has done this.”

You smiled softly up at him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “If you insist, then I shall tell you, but please do not be too cruel. They are simply ignorant.”

His eyebrows furrowed even more as he held you close. It wasn't fair that anyone would treat you so cruelly. He would do whatever it took to make sure none of them hurt you again. He pulled away and cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin softly. "Tell me.”

“Liriel and Ariya."

His eyes widened before narrowing into slits. "I will discuss it with them later. For now, I wish to enjoy my evening with the one dearest to me."

A smile appeared on your face as your hand found its way to rest against his cheek. “As you wish, my King."

You bent forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

You were walking through the corridors of the palace holding laundry in your arms that needed a good washing. The halls were dark, only the occasional lantern lit the path in front of you, casting shadows of yourself moving quickly down the halls as you moved from room to room. As usual, the halls were empty except for a few servants scurrying back and forth as they prepared for the night shift.

The sound of voices booming ahead of you alerted you, causing your curiosity to spike. The voices were coming from the throne room, but Thranduil often wrapped up his duties by this time. You paused outside of the door and waited patiently, listening carefully to find out what they were discussing. After a while, you heard the voice boom again.

"What makes you think this is alright to do in my kingdom?" The king demanded.

"But sire—"

"No! This behavior cannot go unchecked." The king snapped, his deep baritone echoing through the hallways, sending chills down your spine. "This goes no further, nor does it ever again. Is that understood?"

"But my king, she..."

"Silence!"

You froze, clutching the basket tightly in your hands. Your heart hammered wildly, pounding harder as each moment passed without hearing another word.

"Do not speak about this subject anymore or so help me I will banish you from my sight," Thranduil said coldly. "Understand?"

"Yes sire," a female voice mumbled weakly.

Footsteps walked your way towards the door and soon after the heavy door slammed open. Your breath hitched in your throat. There was so much anger contained within those words, the sheer amount of rage and disappointment behind them. You hid behind the large door seeing who would approach. Liriel and Ariya. You could feel your heart begin to race, feeling the anxiety and fear bubble inside of you like lava, slowly growing hotter until it exploded inside.

"I can't believe the king would defend that half-breed." Liriel spat, her voice sounding angry, almost disgusted. "She has no place amongst us. She should never be allowed here at all."

You closed your eyes, unable to watch, the heat growing unbearable. Your breathing grew heavier as tears welled up in your eyes. You wanted to run away but you didn't want to alert them of your presence. Ariya scoffed, "I agree but I don't think there is much we can do now. She has somehow managed to bewitch the king; she is dangerous."

You felt sick to the stomach. Liriel huffed. "Well, she deserves worse than being cast aside like garbage."

"That may be true but how far are we willing to go to get rid of her?"

The two women continued speaking, leaving you standing there frozen until they eventually walked away. With a shaky breath, you composed yourself, entering the throne room. The two guards were kneeling before Thranduil, their heads bowed low. Thranduil spoke softly, "Please leave us."

You stood rooted to the spot, watching as the guards nodded and left the room. Once they were gone, you stepped forward, your eyes meeting Thranduil's.

"My love, what are you doing here?" He asked, his voice laced with worry.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure. "I came to see you."

He sighed, "Is that so?"

You nodded, taking a tentative step closer to him, "Of course I did."

Thranduil lifted himself off the throne and made his way down the steps to meet you. He reached out gently, cupping your cheek, brushing your hair out of your eyes. "Are you okay?" He whispered, kissing your forehead tenderly, "Did something happen today?"

You looked away, your eyes scanning the floor. "Come, love," he took your hand, leading you to the bench, "tell me what happened."

Your brow furrowed. "Nothing bad." You insisted, looking up at him. "Just a little tired. Need to find a gown for the Feast of Starlight."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow, "Really?"

You nodded, "Yes. But it isn’t anything important…"

Thranduil leaned forward kissing you lightly. "Nonsense. I will have a dress sent to your chambers."

You blushed faintly, resting your head against his shoulder. A warm glow settled in your chest. Thranduil loved you unconditionally and he was always kind and loving to you. You would not trade him for the world. He kissed your forehead once more and squeezed your hand. "Go bathe and rest. I shall see you tonight."

You smiled up at him, squeezing his hand in return and turning to leave the throne room.

"Tonight! We celebrate!" Thranduil yelled to the full ballroom. You watched as hundreds of elves danced throughout the ballroom and tables covered in food. You were dressed in a flowing silver gown that Thranduil had picked for you. You wore a crown of flowers and small diamonds adorning your hair. The silver jewelry sparkled under the light that shone through the tall windows. The jewels gave off the illusion that you could see stars.

"Y/n!" Legolas called to you from across the room as he made his way over to you.

He grinned, hugging you tightly, "You look like a star in the sky."

You chuckled lightly, "Thank you. And you look quite handsome as well."

Legolas flushed slightly, a smile playing on his lips. "Truly? I am glad to hear that."

You giggled, "Yes, indeed."

He smiled brightly, "Thank you."

Slowly, he leaned to the side of your face and whispered in your ear. "My father wishes me to inform you that he has made a private evening for the two of you when the feast is over." You blushed heavily, "Oh...um...thank you!"

He pecked your cheek teasingly, "Of course, he is quite fond of you. I hope you are both able to provide each other with eternal happiness." He then turned on his heel and began making his way through the crowd as you watched him in amusement. Soon your eyes landed back on Thranduil. He was talking quietly to the nobles of Mirkwood who demanded his attention, occasionally glancing over to where you stood with a subtle longing gaze.

You smiled to yourself until you spotted Ariya heading toward you, her blonde hair pinned atop her head, a flower necklace around her neck. She approached you with a bright grin, her blue eyes shining with excitement and two glasses in her hand, "Hello Y/n! How is the feast finding you?"

You shrugged, "Fine, I suppose. What do you need of me?"

Her eyebrows shot up, "Nothing at all. Well, actually, I wish to apologize."

Your eyes widened slightly, taken aback. "You would?"

"I have been most unkind to you." Ariya apologized, "And I know you must be hurt."

You shook your head, "No, it is alright. I mean…It did hurt..."

She sighed and sat down on the stone steps beside you, "Nevertheless, please accept my apology and please drink with me."

You stared into her eyes before nodding with a smile, accepting her apology. She slid one glass to you and saved the other for herself.

"Drink up," Ariya said, lifting up her glass.

You nodded, holding your cup up, "To new beginnings."

The two of you drank the alcohol in unison before finishing your glasses. "May we enjoy tonight as if it is our last?" You nodded, taking another sip of the drink and gazing at Ariya's bright and vibrant blue eyes, "Sounds perfect."

The night continued for hours and it wasn't long till the party grew in merriment. Everyone was drunk, dancing to a lively melody and singing songs of victory and celebration. It was quite beautiful and you couldn't help but smile whenever you caught your lover's eye as he stood amongst the crowd, watching the festivities from afar.

Finally, he made his way toward you. You smiled as he nodded to you, his eyes saying all the things he wished he could.

"You look very beautiful, Y/N." He murmured whispered to you. Your eyes lit up, "You as well, my king."

His eyes gleamed. "How has the feast faired you?" You shrugged, "It has been wonderful. Ariya even apologized to me and brought me wine."

He laughed lightly placing a kiss on your forehead, "Then dance with me and celebrate this news. Let loose for a while and forget everything else." You grinned widely and nodded.

He grabbed your hand and lead you towards the crowd, swaying to the music as he held onto you closely. Suddenly Thranduil stopped in his tracks causing you to stumble backward.

"What is it?" You mumbled nervously, staring at him with concern.

His eyes widened with fear, "Blood. There is blood running from your nose." You felt a chill run through you as you touched your nose quickly. Your eyes widened in horror when you realized the blood had dripped from your nose and had stained yours. Quickly you wiped it away as your head began to feel light.

Thranduil frowned, "Darling, you alright?" You blinked slowly, "I'm fine.."

Your legs suddenly buckled beneath you and a strong arm wrapped securely around your waist catching you before your head hit the ground. You let out a small whimper, closing your eyes and feeling tears begin to stream down your cheeks. "Stay awake, Y/N." Thranduil urged, "Look at me."

Your vision blurred, "Thran…"

"Y/N!" He yelled, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him.

You tried focusing your eyes only to see nothing but blackness.

"Don't close your eyes." He commanded urgently.

You felt yourself being hoisted up in his arms.

"I need a healer!"

"Y/N, please wake up." Your eyelids fluttered open, blinking multiple times to try and get rid of the dark clouds that threatened to engulf your vision. You squinted your eyes at the figure above you. As soon as they focused you recognized them as Thranduil. Your eyes widened.

"Where are we?" You asked shakily.

"We're in the healer's room." He answered softly, leaning closer so that you could hear him better.

"What happ-" your words died on your lips when you took in your surroundings. You were lying in a bed, covered in white sheets, with curtains drawn shut surrounding your bed.

"Liriel and Ariya poisoned you. I am currently holding them in the cells." You looked up at him in shock, "Are you going to kill them?"

He scoffed, shaking his head, "I wish…"

"My son urged me to banish them. He knew you wouldn't have wanted their deaths." His voice was laced with pain, his jaw clenched tightly.

You swallowed thickly before reaching up to touch his cheek gently. "I am sorry to have scared you, my love"

His eyes filled with sorrow, "You almost died. I almost lost you."

A tear rolled down your cheek, "But I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Yes." He murmured softly, wiping your tears away.

You hummed softly and laid back against the pillows.

Thranduil moved back to lay beside you and placed a tender kiss on your temple. He rested his head against your shoulder and closed his eyes.

You gazed at him thoughtfully until you heard him say: "Marry me." You gasped softly.

Your eyes opened wide in disbelief, "What?"

Thranduil opened his eyes and met yours with determination, "Y/N, marry me. Please."

"But-"

He lifted a finger to silence you, "I will not allow anyone to tell me what I can or cannot do. I almost lost you, I intend to enjoy every moment with you I can as my wife."

You bit down on your lip, a nervous chuckle leaving your mouth. "I cannot imagine being any happier than I already am now."

"So will you marry me?" He asked again.

You nodded slowly, biting your lip, trying to hide your growing smile, "...yes."

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[devi1sange1]

The Wicked King: My Favorite Jurdan moments

A selfish compilation because I want to look at this and smile in the future.

Ch. 1

During a lull, he glances up at me, raising one black brow. “Enjoying yourself?” “Not as much as you are,” I tell him. No matter how much he disliked me when we were in school, that was a guttering candle to the steady flame of his hatred now. His mouth curls into a smile. His eyes show with wicked intent. “Look at them all, your subjects. A shame not a one knows who their true ruler is.”

I would like to say he always hated me, but for a brief, strange time it felt as though we understood each other, maybe even liked each other.

Once, he tormented me because he was young and bored and angry and cruel. Now he has better reasons for the torments he will inflict on me after a year and a day is gone. It will be very hard to keep him always under my thumb.

Ch. 2

“I’ve never been in love,” I tell him, refusing to be rattled. “And of course, you can lie,” he says.

Ch. 3

I’m playing the High King in her little pageant, Cardan said once in my hearing.

Ch. 4

I think of his horror at his own desire when I brought my mouth to his, the dagger in my hand, the edge against his skin. The toe-curling, corrosive pleasure of that kiss. It felt as though I was punishing him—punishing him and myself at the same time.

I feel dizzy and a little sick when the poison hits my blood, but I would be sicker still if I skipped a dose. My body has acclimated, and now it craves what it should revile. An apt metaphor for other things.

Ch. 5

“Carda—“ I remember myself and sink into a bow. “Your Infernal Majesty.” He turns and, for a moment, seems to look through me, as though he as no idea who I am. His mouth is painted gold, and his pupils are large with intoxication. Then his lip lifts in a familiar sneer. “You.” “Yes,” I say. “Me.”

The disturbing thing about Cardan is how well he plays the fool to disguise his own cleverness.

“What happened to your cheek?” He asks, his gaze focusing blurry on me. He’s close enough that I can see his long lashes, the gold ring around the black of his iris.

He looks around in amazement, taking in the mess, “Where—Do you really sleep here? Perhaps you ought to set fire to your rooms as well.”

I can feel the warmth of his skin through the thin linen of his shirt, can feel the flex of his muscles.

He looks up at me with his night-colored eyes, beautiful and terrible all at once. “For a moment,” he says, “I wondered if it wasn’t you shooting bolts at me.” I make a face at him. “And what made you decide it wasn’t.” He grins up at me. “They missed.”

“Kiss me again,” he says, drunk and foolish. “Kiss me until I am sick of it.”

After a moment, his eyes flutter close. His voice falls to a whisper, as though he’s talking to himself. “If you’re the sickness, I suppose you can’t also be the cure.”

Ch. 6

He is as ridiculously beautiful as ever, mouth soft, lips slightly parted, lashes so long that when his eyes are closed they rest against his cheek.

Cardan’s hands were clasped behind his back, and he stopped to sniff the enormous glove of a white rose topped with scarlet, just before it snapped at the air. He grinned and lifted an eyebrow at me, but I was too nervous to smile back.

“I am going to give you orders.” “Oh, indeed,” he said. On his brow, the gold crown of Elfhame caught the light of the sunset. I took a breath and began. “You’re never to deny me an audience or give me an order to keep me from your side.” “Whysoever would I want you to leave my side?” he asked, voice dry.

Ch. 8

“Perhaps.” The Bomb pushes herself up off the bed. “No tricks or traps. You think it’s safe to let our king in here?” I think if the boy in the crystal, of his proud smile and his balled fist. I think of the horned faerie woman, who must have been his mother, shoving him away from her. I think of his father, the High King, who didn’t bother to intervene, didn’t even bother to make sure he was clothed or his face wiped. I think of how Cardan avoided these rooms. I sigh. “I wish I could think of a place he’d be safer.”

Our eyes meet, and I am the one who looks away, my face hot.

“I kissed him on the mouth, and then I threatened to kiss him some more if he didn’t do exactly what I wanted.”

Ch. 10

Cardan gives me a look up through his lashes that I find hard to interpret and then rises, too. He takes my hand. “Nothing is sweeter,” he says, kissing the back of it, “but that which is scarce.” My skin flushes, hot and uncontrollable.

Ch. 11

A new ring glimmers on his pinky finger, red stone catching the flames of the bonfire. A familiar ring. My ring. I recall that he took my hand in his rooms. I grind my teeth, stealing a glance at my own bare hand. He stole my ring. He stole it and I didn’t notice.

I look into his eyes. His hand slides to my hip, as though he might pull me closer. For a dizzy, stupid moment, something seems to shimmer in the air between us. […] “You ought not to be here tonight, little ant,” he says letting go of me. “Go back to the palace.” Then his is cutting back through the crowd.

I still feel the warm pressure of his fingers against my skin. Something is really wrong with me, to and what I hate, to want someone who despises me, even if he wants me, too. My only comfy is that he doesn’t know what I feel.

“Why, our Queen of Mirth is none other than Jude Duarte.” […] I look over at Cardan and find something dangerous glittering in his eyes—I will get no sympathy there.

“Tell us what you think of our lady,” Locke asks Cardan loudly, with a strange smile. The High King’s expression stiffens, only to smooth out for a moment later when he turns toward the Court. “I have too often been troubled by dreams of Jude,” he says, voice carrying. “Her face features prominently in my most request nightmare.”

“Some among us do not find mortals beautiful. In fact, some of you might swear that Jude is unlovely.” […] “But I believe it is only that her beauty is… unique.” Cardan pauses for more laughter from the crowd, greater jeering. “Excruciating. Alarming. Distressing.”

“Perhaps she needs new raiment to bring out her true allure,” Locke says. “Greater finery for one so fine.” The imps more to pull the tattered, threadbare rag gown over my own to the delight of the Folk. […] “Wait,” I say, pitching my voice loud enough to carry. The imps hesitate. Cardan’s expression is unreadable. I reach down and catch hold of my hem, then pull the dress I am wearing over my head. It’s a simple thing—no corset, no clasps—and it comes off just as simply. I stand in the middle of the party in my underwear, daring them to say something. Daring Cardan to speak. “Now I am reading to put on my new gown,” I say.

Cardan steps closer to me, his gaze devouring. I am not sure I can bear his cutting me down again. Luckily, he seems at a loss for words. “I hate you,” I whisper before he can speak. He tilts my face to his. “Say it again,” he says as the imps comb my hair and place the ugly, stinking crown on my head. His voice is low. The words are for me alone. I pull out of his grip, but not before I see his expression. He looks as he did when he was forced to answer my questions, when he admitted his desire for me. He looks as though he’s confessing.

“Will you dance with me?” I ask Cardan, sinking into a curtsy, acid in my voice. “For I find you every bit as beautiful as you find me.” […] Cardan’s smile is unreadable. “I’d be delighted,” he says as the musicians begin to play again. He sweeps me into his arms.

“Whatever you do to me,” I say, too angry to stay quiet, “I can do worse to you.” “Oh,” he says, fingers tight on mine. “Do not think I forget that for a moment.” “Then why?” I demand. “You believe I planned your humiliation?” He laughs. “Me? That sounds like work.” “I don’t care if you did or not,” I tell him too angry to make sense of my feelings. “I just care that you enjoyed it.” “And why shouldn’t I delight in seeing you squirm? You tricked me,” Cardan says. “You played me for a fool, and now I am the King of Fools.”

Our gazes meet, and there’s a shock of mutual understanding that our bodies are pressed too closely. I am conscious of my skin, of the sweat beading on my lip, of the slide of my thighs against each other. I am aware of the warmth of his neck beneath my twined fingers, of the prickly brush of his hair and how I want to sink my hands into it. I inhale the scent of him—moss and oakwood and leather. I stare at his treacherous mouth and imagine it on me.

I think of Locke’s expression while Cardan spoke, the eagerness in his face. It wasn’t me he was watching. I wonder for the first time if my humiliation was incidental, the bait to his hook. Tell us what you think of our lady.

Ch. 12

“I thought you were leaving,” he snaps. “And I thought the Queen of Mirth was welcome wheresoever she goes,” I hiss back.

“Out!” he says, at which point even Fala heads for the door. “Except Jude,” he calls. “You, tarry a moment.” […] “Give me an order again,” I say, “ and I will show you true shame. Locke’s games will be as nothing to what I will make you do.”

Ch. 14

He survived on cat milk?” I exclaim. The Roach gives me a look, as though I’ve missed the point of his story entirely.

I think again of the globe I held in Eldred’s study, of Cardan dressed in rags, looking to the woman in my chamber for approval, which came only when he was awful. An abandoned prince, weaned in cat milk and cruelty, left to roam the palace like a little ghost. I think of myself, holding in a tower of Hallow Hall, watching Balekin enchant a mortal into beating in younger brother for poor swordsmanship.

Ch. 15

We are alone in a way we have not been alone for a long time, and when he takes a step toward me, my heart skips a beat.

“Yes, well, I don’t think it would be politically expedient to put thumbscrews to a princess of the seas.” I look at him again, at his soft mouth and his high cheekbones, at the cruel beauty of his face. “Not thumbscrews. You. You go to Nicasia and charm her.” His brows go up

“Use your wiles,” I say, exasperated and embarrassed. “I’m sure you’ve got some. She wants you. It shouldn’t be difficult.” His eyebrows, if anything, climb higher. “You’re seriously suggesting I do this.”

He stalks toward me, close enough that I can feel his breath stirring my hair. “Are you commanding me?” “No,” I say, startled and unable to meet his gaze. “Of course not.” His fingers come to my chin, tilting my head so I am looking up into his black eyes, the rage in them as hot as coals.

“You just think I ought to. That I can. Very well, Jude. Tell me how it’s done. Do you think she’d like if I came to her like this, if I looked deeply into her eyes?” My whole body is alert, alive with sick desire, embarrassing in its intensity. He knows. I know he knows.

His beringed fingers trace over my cheek, trace the line of my lip and down my throat. I feel dizzy and overwhelmed. “Should I touch her like this?” He asks, lashes lowered. The shadows limn his face, casting his cheekbones into stark relief. “I don’t know,” I say, but my voice betrays me. It’s all wrong, high and breathless.

He presses his mouth to my ear, kissing me there. His hands skim over my shoulders making me shiver. “And then like this? Is this how I ought to seduce her?” I can feel his mouth shape the light works against my skin. “Do you think it would work?” I dig my finger nails into the meat of my palm to keep from moving against him. My whole body is trembling with tension. “Yes.”

Then his mouth is against mine, my lips part. I close my eyes against what I am about to do. My fingers reach up to tangle in the black curls of his hair. He doesn’t kiss me as though he’s angry; his kiss is soft, yearning. Everything slows, goes liquid and hot. I can barely think. I’ve wanted this and feared it, and now that it’s happening, I don’t know how I will ever want anything else.

We stumbled back to the low couch. He leans me against the cushions, and I pull him down over me. His expression mirrors my own, surprise and a little horror.

“Tell me again what you said at the revel,” he says, climbing over me, his body against mine. “What?” I can barely think. “That you hate me,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Tell me that you hate me.” “I hate you,” I say, the words coming out like a caress. I say, it over and over. A litany. An enchantment. A ward against what I really feel. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.” He kisses me harder. “I hate you,” I breathe into his mouth. “I hate you so much that sometimes I can’t think of anything else.” At that, he makes a harsh, low sound.

I have never felt anything like this.

He begins to unbutton my doublet, and I try not freeze, try just to show my inexperience. I don’t want him to stop.

He leans up to pull of his own jacket, and I try to wriggle out of mine. He looks at me and blinks, as through a fog. “This is an absolutely terrible idea,” he says with a kind of amazement in his voice. “Yes,” I tell him, kicking off my boots.

He shucks his cuffed white shirt over his head in a single elegant gesture, revealing bare skin and scars. My hands are shaking. He captures them and kisses my knuckles with a kind of reverence. “I want to tell you so many lies,” he says.

I mirror him, fumbling with the buttons of his breeches. He helps me push them down, his tail curling against his leg then twisting to coil against mine, soft as a whisper.

His eyes are open, watching my flushed face, my ragged breathing. I try to stop myself from making embarrassing noises. It’s more intimate than the way he’s touching me, to be looked at like that.

I hate the way I cling to him, the nails of one hand digging into his back, my thoughts splintering, and the single last thing in my head: that I like him better than I’ve ever liked anyone and that of all the things he’s ever done to me, making me like him so much is by far the worst.

Ch. 16

I do not want to consider what happened between us. I do not want to think about the way his muscles moved or how his skin felt or the soft gasping sounds he made or the slide of his mouth against mine. I definitely don’t want to think about how hard I had to bite my lip to keep quiet. Or how obvious it was that I’d never done any of the things we did, no less the things we didn’t do.

I don’t know how I will face Cardan again without behaving like a fool.

Ch. 18

His fingers trace their way down her arm to the back of her wrist, and I remember vividly the feeling of those hands on me. Me skin heats at the memory, a blush that starts at my throat and keeps going from there.

Kiss me until I am sick of it, he said, and now he has most certainly gorged on my kisses. Now he is most certainly sick of them.

Ch. 19

Our eyes meet. If I look away, then he will know I am embarrassed, but I fear he can tell anyway. My cheeks go hot. I wonder if I will ever be able to look at him again without remembering what it was like to touch him.

“It seems I have a singular taste for women who threaten me.”

He takes a step toward me. “The other night—“ I cut him off. “I did it for the same reason that you did. To get it out of my system.” “And is it?” he asks. “Out of your system?” I look him in the face and lie. “Yes.” If he touches me, if he even takes another step toward me, my deceit will be exposed. I don’t think I can keep the longing off my face. Instead, to my relief, he gives a thin-lipped nod and departs.

It occurred to me that maybe desire isn’t something overindulging helps. Maybe it is not unlike mithridatisn; maybe I took a killing dose when I should have been poisoning myself slowly, one kiss at a time.

My spies tell me Cardan spend the night alone—no riotous parties, no drunken revels, no contests for lyres. I do not know how to interpret that.

Ch. 21

The last time we were in this house, in the maze of the gardens, his mouth was streaked with golden nevermore, and he watched me kiss Locke with a simmering intensity that I thought was hatred. Now he studied me with a not-dissimilar look, and all I want to do is walk into his arms. I want to drown my worries in his embrace. I want him to say some totally unlike himself, about things being okay. “Nice dress,” he says instead.

I know the court must already think I am besotted with the High King to endure being crowned Queen of Mirth and still serve as his seneschal. […] But what if I actually am becoming besotted with him?

Kill him, a part of me says, a part I remember from the night I took him captive. Kill him before he makes you love him.

“But if you’re planning on taking someone to bed—or better yet, several someones—choose guards. And then have yourselves guarded by some more guards.” “A veritable orgy.” He seems delighted by the idea.

I keep thinking of the steady way he looked at me when we were both naked, before he pulled on his shirt and fastened those elegant cuffs. We should have called a truce, he’d said, brushing back his ink-black hair impatiently. We should have called truce long before this. But neither of us called it, not then, not after. Jude, he’d said, running a hand up my calf, are you afraid of me?

“Go,” I say. “Forget our bargains. Forget everything. Get out of here.” “Why are you doing this?” she asks me. “For Cardan,” I say. I leave unsaid the second part: Because his mother is still alive and mine is not, because even if he hates you, at least he should get a chance to tell you about it.

Ch. 22

I hope Cardan misses me.

Sometimes I think about Cardan while I am lying there.

I wonder what would have happened if I’d admitted he wasn’t out of my system.

The High King has made a bargain to get me back. […] He has been free of me, and now he is willingly bringing me back. I do not know what that means. Perhaps politics demanded it; perhaps he really, really didn’t like going to meetings.

Ch. 24

Cardan’s face is impossible to read. He doesn’t look at his brother. Instead, his gaze goes to me. Everything in his demeanor is icy.

I am small, diminished, powerless. I look down, because if I don’t, I am going to behave stupidly. […] What might he have done for my return? I try to recall my commands, to recall whether I forced his hand.

“You promised her whole and hale,” says Cardan.

“Perhaps you no longer want her,” Orlagh says. “Perhaps you would bargain for something else in her place, King of Elfhame.” “I will have her,” he says, sounding both possessive and contemptuous at once.

She spits on the floor. “You don’t understand. Your High King did this for you. Those were the terms under which Queen Orlagh would return you. Balekin chose the Court of Termites as the target, the Undersea attacked us, and your Cardan let her. There was no mistake.”

Ch. 25

The only thing I wonder is why not let me languish beneath the sea?

I never thought he liked me enough to save me. And I am not sure I’ll still believe it unless I hear it from his lips.

“I remember you,” says the door. “My prince’s lady.”

Ch. 26

I crawl into Cardan’s bed, and although I fear I will toss and turn with nerves, I surprise myself by slipping immediately into a deep and dreamless sleep. Upon waking in the moonlight, I go to his closet and dress myself in the simplest of his clothes—a velvet doublet whose collar and cuffs I rip pearls from, along with a pair of plain, soft leggings.

I slip into Cardan’s room. […] I walk to where he sleeps and press my hand over his mouth. He wakes, fighting against my grip. I press down hard enough that I can feel his teeth against my skin. He grabs for my throat, and for a moment, I am scared that I’m not strong enough, that my training isn’t good enough. Then his body relaxes utterly, as though realizing who I am. He shouldn’t relax like that. “He sent me here to kill you,” I whisper against his ear.

A shiver goes through his body, and his hand goes to my waist, but instead of pushing me away, he pulls me into the bed with him, rolling my body across him onto the heavily embroidered coverlets.

“Balekin and Orlagh are planning your murder,” I say, flustered. “Yes,” he says lazily. “So why did I wake up at all?” I am awkwardly conscious of his physicality, of the moment when he was half awake and pulled me against him. “Because I am difficult to charm,” I say. That makes him give a soft laugh. He reaches out and touches my hair, traces the hollow of my cheekbone. “I could have told my brother that,” he says, with a softness in his voice I am utterly unprepared for.

“He gave your guards orders to keep me out of the palace.” “I will give them different orders,” Cardan says. He sits up in the bed. He’s bare to the waist, his skin silvery in the soft glow of the magical lights. He continues looking at me in this strange way, as though he’s never seen me before or as though he thought he might never see me again.

“I have thought and thought since you were gone, and there is something I wish to say.” Cardan’s face is serious, almost grave, in a way that he seldom allows himself to be.

“I wasn’t kind, Jude. Not too many people. Not to you. I wasn’t sure if I wanted you or if I wanted you gone from my sight so that I would stop feeling as I did, which made me even more unkind. But when you were gone���truly gone beneath the waves—I hated myself as I never have before.”

“Perhaps I am foolish, but I am not a fool. You like something about me,” he says, mischief lighting his face, making its planes more familiar. “The challenge? My pretty eyes? No matter, because there is more you do not like and I know it. I can’t trust you. Still, when you were gone, I had to make a great many decisions, and so much of what I did right was imagining you beside me, Jude, giving me a bunch of ridiculous orders that I nonetheless obeyed.” I am robbed of speech. He laughs, his warm hand going to my shoulder. “Either I’ve surprised you or you are as ill as Madoc claimed.”

“Please get out of bed, Your Majesty,” repeats the bomb. […] Cardan slips out of the sheets. He’s naked, which is briefly shocking, but he goes and pulls on a heavily embroidered dressing gown with no apparent shame. His lightly furred tail twitches back and forth in annoyance. “She woke me,” he says. “If she was intent on murder, that’s hardly the way to go about it.”

Cardan sighs and walks toward me. I know this is necessary. I know that he doesn’t intend to hurt me. I know the can’t glamour me. And yet I draw back automatically. “Jude?” he asks. “Go ahead,” I say. I hear the glamour enter his voice, heady and seductive and more powerful than I expected. “Crawl to me,” he says with a grin. Embarrassment pinks my cheeks.

“I find the more I listen, the more I am reminded that I have been awakened after very little sleep. I am going to send got some tea for myself and some food for Jude, who looks a bit pale.”

Cardan shakes his head and drinks another cup of tea. “We show her that I am no feckless High King.” “And how do we do that?” I ask. “With great difficulty,” he says. “Since I fear she is right.”

Ch. 27

“Oh ho,” he says. “My darling seneschal. Let us take a turn around the room.” He grabs me and pulls me toward the dance.

“Cardan,” I try again. “You must not do this. I order you to pull yourself together. I command you to drink no more liquor and to attempt sobriety.” “Yes, my sweet villain, my darling god. I will be as sober as a stone carving, just as soon as I can.” And with that, he kisses me on the mouth.

I feel a cacophony of things at once. I am furious with him, furious and resigned that he is a failure as High King, corrupt and fanciful and as weak as Orlagh could have hoped. Then there is the public nature of the kiss; parading this before the court is shocking, too. He’s never been willing to seem to want me in public. Perhaps he can take it back, but in this moment, it is known.

But there is also a weakness in me, because I dreamed of him kissing me for all my time in the Undersea, and now with his mouth on mine, I want to sink my nails into his back. His tongue brushes my lower lips, the taste heady and familiar. Wraithberry. He’s not drunk; he’s been poisoned. I pull back and look into his eyes. Those familiar eyes, black, rimmed in gold. His pupils are blown wide. “Sweet Jude. You are my dearest punishment.”

“Jude Duarte, you will leave the High King’s side,” Balekin says. At that tone, Cardan’s focus narrows. I can see him straining to concentrate. “She will not,” he says.

Ch. 28

He reaches up and presses my hand to his face. “It’s funny, isn’t it, how I mocked you for your mortality when you’re certain to outlive me.” “You’re not going to die,” I insist. “Oh, how many times have I wished you couldn’t lie? Never more than now.”

“I saw your mother tonight,” I say. “All dressed up. The time I saw her before that was in the tower of forgetting.” “And you’re wondering if I forgot her?” He says airily, and I am pleased that he’s paying enough attention to deliver one of his typical quips. “Glad you’re up to mocking.” “I hope it’s the last thing about me to go. […]”

“You should go.” “Why?” I ask, annoyed. For one, this is my room. For another, I am trying to keep him alive. He looks at me solemnly. “Because I am going to retch.”

“You’ll stay with him?” I ask the bomb, she nods. “No,” says Cardan. “She goes with you.” I shake my head. “The Bomb knows about potions. She knows about magic. She can make sure you don’t get worse.” He ignores me and takes her hand. “Liliver, as your king, I command you,” he says with great dignity for someone sitting in the floor beside the bucket he’s retched in. “Go with Jude.” […] “Damn you,” I whispered to one or maybe both of them.

“But how did she make you agree?” I demand. “She has no power. She could pretend to be me, but she couldn’t force you—“ He puts his head in his long-fingered hands. “She didn’t have to command me, Jude. She didn’t have to use any magic. I trust you. I trusted you.”

Ch. 29

“If Taryn had given me a command, I would have known it wasn’t you. But I was sick and tired and didn’t want to refuse you. I didn’t even ask why, Jude. I wanted to show you that you could trust me, that you didn’t need to give me orders for me to do things. I want to show you that I believed you’d thought it all through. But that’s no way to rule. And it’s not really even trust, when someone can order you to do it anyway.”

“Faerie suffered with us at each other’s throats. You attempted to make me do what you thought needed to be done, and if we disagreed, we could do nothing but manipulate each other. That wasn’t working, but simply giving in is no solution. We cannot continue like this. Tonight is proof of that. I need to make my own decisions.”

“You made me the High King, Jude. Let me be the High King.” I fold my arms protectively over my chest. “And what will I be? Your servant?” […] “Marry me,” he says. “Become the High Queen of Elfhame.”

I feel a kind of cold shock come over me, as though someone has told a particularly cruel joke, with me its target. As though someone looked into my heart and saw the most ridiculous, most childish desire there and used it against me.

“So let me guess, you and me to release you from your vow for your promise to marry me? But then the marriage will take lace in the month of never when the moon rises in the west and the tides flow backward.” He shakes his head, laughing. “If you agree, I will marry you tonight,” he says. “Now, even. Right here. We exchange vows, and it is done. This is no mortal marriage, to require being presided over and witnessed. I cannot lie. I cannot deny you.”

This is a solution, but it doesn’t feel at all practical. It’s the stuff of absurd daydream, imagined while dozing in a mossy glen, too embarrassing to even confess to my sisters.

I imagine what it would be like to have my own crown, my own power. Maybe I wouldn’t have to be afraid to love him.

“Yes,” I say, but my voice fails me. It comes out all breath. “Yes.” He leans forward in the chair, eyebrows raised, but he doesn’t wear his usual arrogant mien. I cannot read his expression. “To what are you agreeing?” “Okay,” I say. “I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.” He gives me a wicked grin. “I had no idea it would be such a sacrifice.” Frustrated, I flop over on the couch. “That’s not what I mean.” “Marriage for the High King of Elfhame is largely thought to be a prize, an honor of which few are worthy.”

He slides my ruby ring off his finger. “I, Cardan, son of Eldred, High King of Elfhame, take you, Jude Duarte, mortal ward of Madoc, to be my bride and my queen. Let us be wed until we wish for it to be otherwise and the crown has passed from our hand”

Time seems to stretch out. Above us, the branches begin to bud, as though the land itself heard the words he spoke.

Catching my hand, he slides the ring on. The exchange of rings is not a faerie ritual, and I am surprised by it. “Your turn,” he says into the silence. He gives me a grin.

I still can’t quite believe this is happening. My hand tightens on his as I speak. “I, Jude Duarte, take Cardan, High King of Elfhame, to be my husband. Let us be wed until we don’t want to be and the crown has passed from our hands.”

He kisses the scar of my palm. I still have his brother’s blood under my fingernails. I don’t have a ring for him. Above us, the buds are blooming. The whole room smells of flowers.

“You look as if you’ve barely rested.” I rise to be sure that if he falls over, I can grab him before he hits the floor, although I am not so sure of myself either. “I will lie down,” he says, letting me guide home toward his enormous bed. Once there, he does not let go of my hand. “If you lie with me.”

We trade kisses in the darkness, blurred by exhaustion. I don’t expect to sleep, but I do, my limbs tangled with his, the first restful sleep I’ve had since my return from the Undersea.

“Well, wife,” he says to me, a chill in his voice. “It seems you have kept at least one secret from your dowry. Come, we must dress for our first audience together.”

Ch. 30

“Give us your seneschal, Jude Duarte.” […] Cardan’s eyebrows go up. His voice stays light. “But she’s only just returned from the sea.” “So you don’t dispute her crime?” Says Orlagh. “Why should I?” Says Cardan. “If she’s the one with whom he dueled, I am certain she would win; my brother supposed himself an expert with a sword—a great exaggeration of abilities. But she’s mine to punish or not, as I see fit.”

“Hear my judgement,” Cardan says, authority ringing in his voice. “I exile Jude Duarte to the mortal world. Until and unless she is pardoned by the crown, let her not step one foot in Faerie or forfeit her life.” […] “But I am the Queen of faerie,” I shout, and for a moment, there is silence. The everyone around me begins to laugh. I can feel my cheeks heat. Tears of frustration and fury prick my eyes, a beat too late, Cardan laughs with them.

“Deny it, then,” I yell. “Deny me!” He cannot, of course, so he does not. Our eyes meet, and the odd smile on his face is clearly meant for me. I remember what it was to hate him with the whole of my heart, but I’ve remembered to late.