#i still prefer shadow sirens but oh well

[yoshijammer]

Mario strangling Beldum for Vivian

Mario when he fucking gets Beldam in Chapter 8

Every time I draw Mario his anatomy is a little different, sorry 😭 (although the cartoonishly large hands were intentional here). I guess I’m still figuring out how to draw him because I’ve never been very good at drawing the bros. I also tried more intense shading because I thought it’d be funny (not sure if I did it correctly tho), other sketches will probably be a lot lighter on shading.

Also, I feel bad that I didn’t necessarily draw Mario strangling Beldam, didn’t know how to go about doing it. As an apology, here’s a Simpsons screenshot edit I made.

Anyway, thank you for the request anon! I’ll be working on the next one but if anyone else would like to send in Paper Mario requests, feel free! I’ll be taking these indefinitely.

[blonde-fraumell]

Considering your recent material in the Subnautica AU, I do need to ask a few things about the sirens as there's a lot of mystery and I may or may not want to make something for you in this AU (And no, I'm not expecting it to be canon)

1) DOES the coloring of certain siren genders mirror that of earth's fish? Like, are males brighter than females?

2) HARD QUESTION! Are Sirens born from eggs, like most fish, or are they born live, like whales or sharks? (Someone's gotta ask the hard questions about a species, right?)

3) Do they show color when they're born, or does their color change over time?

4) Are Sirens in this world solitary creatures like in popular folklore? Like, do they value their independence, or are they willing to ask for help?

5) Admittedly, this one is less on the sirens and more so my stupidity on this game talking, but what are the Interlopers and why are the Sirens so...what's the word for it...nervous about them? Scared of them? Not sure how they feel about them or who they are

I hope these aren't too weird at all...

Oh ho ho hooo! Time to break my lore brain! I'm glad you like my AU so much! :D Alrighty! Here we go!

Putting everything below a cut, cuz there's a lot :D

That is correct! The more vibrant the colors, the more likely the siren is a male. However! There are cases were a female may have one or two bright colors (the different subspecies and whatnot), in that case; look to the the fins. Male sirens will always have colorful webbing and fins. Sun's fins are bright orange and yellow with red quills. Moon's fins are bright blue that fade to a little but still popping blue. Eclipse's fins are bright orange with some red. A female siren would not have colorful fins and webbing, it would be white, silver, or black depending on the subspecies. :D

The siren leviathans do indeed lay eggs, like most leviathan species in Subnautica. The eggs have a tougher "skin" than normal fish eggs though, making them sturdy. Also! Most mated pairs only lay one or two eggs, that is how high the survival rate is for siren :D (but that depends on if the adult siren doesn't kill their prospective mates) They are also always white, silver, or black, depending on were they were laid and subspecies. This leads to your next question, friend!

Siren's do not show color until they are old enough to hunt on their own. Until then, they remain muted in color, to better blend with their surroundings. White for shallow areas or arctic. Silver for deeper waters, reflect colors better to blend with any area. Black for the deepest parts of the ocean, blend with shadows for survival.

The sirens in this world prefer to travel in pairs (like Sun and Moon). When young, they will find another siren and will bond with them (familial, platonic, or romantic), thus becoming a pair. The two together will hunt prey and thrive. There are some, though, who grow too territorial and will kill their partners (like Eclipse). This is rare and only occurs with the more territorial subspecies (but they will not kill their mates, only family and friends cuz territory). Sirens will always turn to their partner first and foremost before seeking assistance of other species.

The "interlopers" are the precursors/architects from the game! "Interloper" is just what Eclipse calls them, since they invaded his home and interfered where they shouldn't (in his opinion). Sun and Moon don't really know much about the Architects, since those guys left WAY before Sun and Moon were born, but Eclipse... Well. Eclipse is a LOT older than he acts. He was a hatchling when the Architects basically doomed the planet. He and his partner (who was alive at that time) fled to an area with enough volcanic activity that the Kharaa virus was unable to infect them ((hence why it doesn't show up in my AU, the "Hot Spot" is a volcanic center that "cleansed" the area when the volcano was still active. It is currently dormant during the events of the stories)). Eclipse absolutely hates the Architects and blames them for the state of the world (such as the near extinction of many leviathan species like the Sea Emperors)

These were wonderful questions and it was a blast answering them! Feel free to poke my brain any time! A lot of what I think up doesn't actually get written in the stories due to them being mainly from Reader's perspective (tho Eclipsed Rhythm does show a bit of Eclipse's perspective every now and then)

Anywho~ Thanks for letting me ramble!

[kamipyre]

@theimpalpable sent in: "Suki, Suki!" Tall boy chirps excitedly, almost running to where she is whilst half of his face is covered with something that's covered in a transparent bag. "Look what I found! It's for you!" Yong hands her a big cotton candy that's shaped like Rilakkuma, the character. A big smile takes place; his other hand lifting a gift bag and giving it to her, too. Inside, she'll find a Hello Kitty Ballpoint Pen, as well as paper for her origami needs (pink-colored) and a little Rilakkuma keychain. "I...heard it's...a special day." Now he's a bit nervous after the rush of excitement, his hand sliding into his pocket to give his pen a few taps. He just hopes these little details make her happy. (of cOURSE I'D BE SNEAKIN' IN TO CELEBRATE SUKI'S BIRTHDAY, SUCH A WONDERFUL ONE, WE LOVE HER HEAPS; HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO HER AND!!! I hope this is okay to send, if not pls feel free to ignore; HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY FERRE, CARE YOU LOTS!!) || the paper machine’s birthday!! ( ft. unprompted. )

If she hadn’t been so absorbed in her folding, perhaps she would have noticed her friend first not by his voice, but by his shadow covering the sun for her. He’s always been the tall one, long limbs to match a tall figure. She knows for a fact, she is average sized, standing at 5”4’.

Hang around enough gangly individuals though and suddenly you’ll feel SHORT.

The paper bird jumping in her fingers though, she tilts her head. Did he go holiday shopping? And then he sets both gifts in her hand- a special day? It’s definitely not Christmas and Hannukah hasn’t started yet so what is he-

Oh. December 9th. Today is her birthday. An occasion she never puts on full blast for many reasons.

But Yong doesn’t know about that, does he? Doesn’t even know how she got her scars and the same is true for her. Outside of his preferences and maybe the fact that he doesn’t like the sound of sirens or the presence of hospitals in general, she doesn’t know much about him either. In a way, it’s comforting- this unspoken agreement not to poke at tender scars.

Still.

Perhaps, one day, he might find out. Maybe she’ll tell him, one day- he did, after all, find out when her birthday was without her telling him.

Setting her gifts aside ( which she will be using all three of, thank you very much ), she drops the paper crane to tackle him in a hug.

“Thanks Yong.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Laisse tomber les filles 1

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; tags to be added as story progresses

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: Just so you’re aware, this takes place during the mid-60s and Lee is a little older than in the movie :) Just so you’re not confused.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You felt alone on campus. 

When you got your acceptance, your parents swore it would be the experience of a lifetime, not to mention the value of education. Always the quiet one, withdrawn and wispy, the thought of moving away from home and living among strangers made you nervous. 

Your first day in the dormitory assured you of your doubts and a semester in, you were still the sore thumb among the six girls in your unit. Your lectures were your sole respite from the pressure to make friends and fit in. You were always early and always intent on the professor.

That was what you were there for after all. If you wanted to hold onto your bursary, you had to maintain your average. You couldn’t be like the other students; you didn’t have rich parents or a trust fund, your degree actually had to mean something.

That night, you walked back from the evening book club meeting alone, as usual. You signed up in hopes you might meet someone like yourself, someone who didn’t just want to drink or smoke. While the members weren’t interested in the party life, they made you feel awful stupid as you struggled to pick up on the same themes in your readings and your sharing skills were never strong. 

When it was your turn to talk about the chapter, you stuttered and muttered until you just gave up. You replayed the disastrous meeting in your head, the used copy of Nabakov under your arm as your bag swung against your side. 

The sky turned a deepening azure as you reached Greek row and heard the muffled crackle of a record player and the buzz of voices from the largest of white houses painted with their respective fraternity colours. It was that new kind of music, the kind that made you want to hop, the kind the Christian club lobbied against on campus green.

As you got further down the street, the late winter crisp crawled up your thick stockings and made you shiver. You got closer to the raucous façade and watched as a couple stumbled out in bubbly conversation and quickly embraced against a pillar of the porch. You kept your head down and focused on the sidewalk.

A flash of blue and the ‘wop’ of a siren brought you to a halt. You stopped just at the corner of the frosty yard, the cloudy breath of the co-eds filling the air as they parted. The cruiser door opened and closed loudly and steady footsteps crossed the street. You watched from the shadows as the officer strode up the walk and stopped at the bottom of the stairs, propping his foot up on the lowest plank.

“You kids are bein’ awfully loud,” his voice carried above the din, he had the local accent that lilted his tone so that even the meanest words were dampened.

“Sorry, officer,” the girl pulled away from the boy and came to the top of the steps, “it’s Friday and we were just having fun--”

“Yeah, yeah,” the cop said as he hooked his thumb on his belt, “y’all know I’m here every week… you turn that racket down or maybe I come in and find something that needs confiscatin’.”

“Got it,” the frat boy said as he stood beside the girl, “I’ll tell Leighton.”

“Ain’t fun for me neither,” the officer slid his foot down to the ground, “I don’t like to ruin you kids’ night.”

“Thank you, officer,” the boy said, “I’m goin’ now.”

“Mhmm, I’ll see you next week then,” the cop scoffed as the boy grabbed the girl and dragged her inside. His voice called through the noise of the crowd for the boy Leighton and the music dulled just enough that it was only a subtle hum, “funny kids.”

The officer turned and chuckled as he reached into his jacket. He paused and his eyes wandered over to you as you stood silently by the edge of the yard. He pulled out a small box and tapped out a toothpick as he smiled at you. He replaced the box in his pocket as he stopped short.

“You headin’ in, girl?” he asked as he placed the toothpick between his lips, “looks like you late for the party.”

“Uh, no, I was just… going home,” you slowly urged yourself forward, “didn’t want to get in your way.”

You tapped towards him in your mary janes as you adjusted the book in your hand. He watched you approach as you kept your head down, just wanting to get past and get on to your dorm.

“Hold up,” he said just as you reached him, “you walkin’ home all alone after dark?”

“My dorm is just… just around the corner,” you said as you stopped and kept your eyes on his shoes, “thank you, officer.”

“Now, I don’t care if it’s just right there, you shouldn’t be alone,” he insisted, “how’s bout a ride, hmm? I gotta make a round of the campus anyway.”

“I can make it on my own…” you began and he tutted, “I mean, thank you, I suppose it’s rude to… um…”

“You’re not from these parts, huh?” he asked, “you got that accent. Real fine.”

“Uh uh,” you uttered, “it’s a nice place though.”

“City is, but the rest of the county...” he remarked, “you must be far from home then.”

“A little,” you shrugged.

“Well,” he rubbed his hands together, “let’s get goin’, it’s cold tonight.”

“Thank you, again,” you slowly followed him as he backed away and turned to cross the street.

“Not at all,” he said warmly as he neared the car and pulled open the back door, “one thing, it’s against policy to let passengers in the front seat.”

“Oh?” you blinked and looked into the cruiser, “I can walk, I--”

“Go on,” he waved you in, “probably comfier back there anyhow.”

You gave a tight-lipped smile and slid into the back seat. You swept your bag up into your lap as the door snapped shut and tucked the book under the flap. The car shifted as he got in the front and he looked at you in the wide rear view mirror.

“Mind my manners, I didn’t even introduce myself, Sheriff Bodecker,” he jingled his keys as he spoke, “and you, honey?”

You hesitated at the added pet name. No one ever called you anything but ‘miss’ or ‘young woman’. You cleared your throat and shifted as you tugged nervously at your scarf as it pressed against your chin. It was damp from your hot breath. You gave him your name and shrank back against the leather.

“This your first year?” he asked as he pulled out and tossed his toothpick out the window.

“Yes, sir,” you answered and you saw his head tilt just slightly as he drove slowly.

“You like it?” he continued.

“It’s… new,” you said stiffly, “I don’t know many people but I… I’m learning a lot.”

“Oh, I hear they teach lots of interesting things these days. Lotta red nonsense,” he sighed, “which way am I goin’, honey?”

“Left, sir, the third building on your right with the orange brick,” you replied.

“No parties to go to?” he snickered as he came up to your dormitory and rolled to a stop.

“I… I’m not much for them, sir,” you said as you tried the handle but the door didn’t budge.

“Sorry, forgot about that,” he got out and opened the door from outside, “there ya go.”

You stepped out and your foot slipped on a patch of thin ice. You caught yourself on the door as he grabbed your arm and helped steady you. You laughed nervously and thanked him.

“Careful there,” he said, “hate for you to mess up that face, honey.”

“I’m alright,” you assured him and carefully drew away from him, “thank you for the ride, I really appreciate it.”

“It’s just my job,” he sniffed, “you know, keepin’ the campus safe… when I can.”

“I’m sure you have much more to worry about than some college kids,” you said.

“Eh, you’d be surprised,” he intoned, “I’m around on Fridays, there’s always noise complaints ‘round here.”

You were quiet, unsure what to say or how to detach yourself gracefully. You just wanted to go inside and listen to the radio as you reread the chapter. You smiled nervously and he looked down at you beneath the streetlight.

“I might see you around,” he said, “and don’t mind givin’ ya another ride, ya know? Can’t have you lost in the dark, heh.”

“It’s nice of you, sir, but I’m grown now, I can take care of myself,” you assured him, though you hated how black it got on this side of campus.

“Well, don’t be shy, give me a wave if you see me,” he closed the door as you sidestepped it, “and you have a good night. Get yourself warmed up with some nice tea… though I know you college kids prefer a harder comfort.”

“I don’t drink,” you said awkwardly, “but, uh… good night, officer.”

You went around the back of the car and stepped up onto the curb. You went up to the grated door and fished out your key. You peeked over your shoulder as you unlocked the door and found the Sheriff watching you over the roof of his car. 

His large-brimmed hat shadowed his face and his constant gaze sent a shiver through you, but that could’ve been the nightly chill. You gave a small wave and let yourself in, quickly hiding behind the inner door, happy to be home safe.

[littlefishbigsea]

Siren’s Umbra | Chapter 1

Author’s Note: This took far longer than I was expecting, but here it is. This story is an extension of a small scene I wrote a while ago (which will make a reappearance within the context of the story once I get there). I hope you enjoy. If you’d like to be tagged in future updates, let me know. 

Story Summary: Azriel finds it increasingly harder to stay afloat adrift in his own darkness. As tensions rise between himself and his found family, an unlikely but welcome distraction takes the form of a young priestess. Eager to prove her worth, to learn, and empower herself, Gwyn aligns herself with the aloof spymaster. With the continent scrambling to avoid yet another conflict, Gwyn and Azriel must work closely to unravel the secrets of Mount Ramiel.

Trope: Friends to lovers

Word Count (so far): 3.2k

Tags: Fluff, Light Angst, Smut

Additional links: AO3

Chapter 1 - On Leathery Wings

It was early spring in Velaris. The sky was a weighty blue velvet drooping over rooftops. Ironically, since the attack, the dawns had been breathtaking. As Azriel stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the townhouse his shadows all but disappeared.

“Well,” his brother said in way of greeting, smirking up at him from the street. “Don’t you look like shit? I thought moving to the townhouse was meant to give you peace?”

“I don’t know the meaning of the word,” Azriel grumbled, voice flat. “Why are you here?” And grinning, but he didn’t need to ask that to understand why Cassian wore such a look.

He’d been wearing it for weeks now. Azriel had been attempting to remove it during practice but the general was more resilient than Az gave him credit for. Cassian’s happiness was decidedly infectious.

“I’m here,” Cass answered, “Because Rhys would like to see us. He’s up at the House.”

“Why didn’t he-“

“Look,” Cass interrupted with a shrug. “I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you - I mean you almost killed one another at the cabin - but you need to work it out.” He waved a hand back and forth at the spymaster who scoffed and stepped past him. “I’m serious,” Cass went on to explain. “I could use a night out. Just us. It’s been a while.”

Good luck with that, Azriel mused to himself. Rhysand hadn’t left the River House since Nyx was born.

“Married life chaffing, Cass?” Azriel teased, biting back a smile.

“We’re not married. Yet,” Cassian corrected. “Emerie and Gwyn have been over almost every night this week. As much as I love-“

This is where Azriel tuned his brother out. Call it cruel, but this was the same one sided conversation he’d had with Cass, oh, three times now. Was it really conversation if only one of them were speaking? Azriel didn’t personally believe head nods and hmphs counted as conversing but he’d mastered the art form.

He sympathized. He really did. Cassian recounted being kicked out of his own bed, finding a small Pegasus in his boot and how one of the girls had, once again, inked something inappropriate on his forehead while he’d been sleeping. Azriel couldn’t help but smile at that, though he erased it quickly.

Cassian might complain but Azriel knew his brother adored his mate and her friends. Even he had to admit that the girls brought an abundance of laughter and joy to the House whenever the trio graced it’s halls. A rare and intoxicating sound that had even roused him from his room multiple times only to catch Cass peeking curiously at them from around a dark corner.

Though if he was being honest with himself, which he rarely was, Azriel was beginning to find the townhouse, comparatively, suffocatingly quiet. Too far removed from his family and friends. Late at night Azriel felt the creeping dark closing in, a sinister umbra spreading through him like venom. It was with great mental effort that he stayed his darker thoughts, but he was finding it more challenging of late. His ongoing feud with Rhys wasn’t helping.

Shadows dashed, darting from his shoulders to comfort the spymaster only to reel back in the morning light. Azriel focused his attentions away from the dark corners of his mind to beat of his footsteps. The last thing he needed to dwell on was what happened during Solstice.

It was still early morning in Valeris. The war-torn homeless still slept against the walls of buildings and the ice carts weren’t even out making deliveries. He preferred this time of day, just before the spring heat shimmered against the streets and curled the ends of his hair.

Aside from Cass, who was waving his arms, going on about the amount of women’s underthings he’d found in all sorts of strange places, it was mostly quiet. There was no one to stare or utter harsh whispers as Azriel passed.

Normally he flew or called shadows to him and winnowed within their comfort but this was a rare moment when Valeris was tolerable. He’d once described the city as the loneliest place in Prythian and he’d meant it. Tens of thousands of people flocked these streets and not a single one looked him in the eye. Very few did.

With one brother mated and the other in the process of being so, Azriel hadn’t felt more alone in his life. He had no stories to share with Cass on their morning walk. None that would make the general laugh or smile. No, his stories were best kept to himself - locked away were Rhys could extract what he needed and not question his shadowsinger’s techniques.

“You’re not listening,” Cassian suddenly accused, huffing a sigh. His arms dropped. The courts greatest general defeated.

“I’m always listening,” Azriel corrected. “You’re frustrated you don’t have your mate all to yourself anymore.”

“You-“ Cassian gave him a glare worthy of Amren. “And when have I had her to myself exactly? Every time-“

Again, Azriel tuned his brother out.

The House of Wind came into view, a great gleaming crown atop the mountains. His gaze lingered on the lower levels that housed the library. Not that most would know to look there as the windows were magically kept from view. The dozens of priestesses that worked in those stacks were kept hidden and protected. Just as Rhys had promised them.

Light flickered as shadow danced across his wings and over his shoulders. Braving the soft, dewy light to whisper in his ear, their chilling touch reached up his neck before spilling secrets.

She was at morning service.

A flash of color, heated cheeks and bright teal eyes - it wasn’t clear to him, still, this obsession his shadows had taken on. Over centuries he’d gathered unmeasurable amounts of information on his kingdoms allies and rivals. Yet, he couldn’t speak to what his friends had for breakfast this morning. He was painfully aware, however, that a certain priestess had sipped honeyed tea and eaten a single slice of rye smattered with butter and cinnamon and that her nose scrunched when she-

“Nesta wants you over for dinner,” Cassian commanded, ever the general.

“All right.”

“I have to go by the River House. Elain made a bundt. Nesta will likely murder me if I forget to bring it back,” Cass huffed. “Bundt? Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“It’s cake.”

“Why not just call it cake then? Why be confusing?”

“It’s a type of cake.”

“No, chocolate is a type of cake.”

“Cass, chocolate is a flavor.”

As they approached the thousand steps that led up to the House, Cassian and Azriel kicked off in tandem aiming for the open balcony above. The air was cool as it passed over their skin, heated from the walk over. Matching the steady beat of his heart, Azriel’s enormous wings cut through the mornings low hanging clouds.

Rhysand, their High Lord, waited for them. Once he caught their approach he turned, heading inside. Azriel’s gut tightened. Their fights didn’t often escalate to this level. On a single hand he could count the times they’d fought to the point of not speaking.

His boots touched down upon stone before Cassian’s. He held, waiting for his brother. His hesitation to follow Rhys inside didn’t go unnoticed.

“Azriel-“

“He ordered me to stay away from Elain,” emotionless and flat, the words left his mouth before he could think better of it.

Silence settled between them. The rare outburst had Cassian’s eyes growing round and Az couldn’t tell if he was going to yell or laugh. Maybe both.

“Why,” Cass drawled so slowly Azriel almost missed what he was asking. “What have you-“

“I haven’t,” Azriel stopped him.

“How did you know what I was going to say?”

“I didn’t, I just know it wouldn’t be good.”

“Point,” Cassian admitted with a tilt of his head, “but why would Rhys ask you stay away if nothing was happening?”

“Something almost happened.”

“Something? Almost happened?”

Azriel sighed.

“Lucien-“ Cassian hissed.

“I know.”

“Feyre and Nes would have your balls.”

“Would they?”

“Yes!”

“Glad to know just how unworthy everyone thinks-“

A strong grip on his upper arm had Azriel turning, eyes flashing gold. Cassian’s gaze was hard, unapologetic. His hand dropped, fully aware of the rising shadows that now threatened to gobble his brother whole. The Night Courts general understood danger.

“It has nothing to do with worth,” he grumbled angrily in a rare sign of lost temper. “Everyone is overly protective of that girl, how are you surprised?” Azriel blinked down at him. “She has a mate, Az. Regardless of how either of you feel - which I really don’t want to know about, by the way, please leave me out of that shit - but like I was saying,” Cassian blew a breath from between his lips before going on in an even tone. “whether she wants it or not, she has a mate. She has a decision to make regardless of you.”

He had a point, one that Azriel laid awake at night thinking of.

“Besides,” Cass continued, turning to walk into the House. Azriel followed reluctantly. “You’ve been around each other all of what, 6 times? I mean, how involved are you that Rhys had to - you know what, I said I didn’t want to know.”

He almost smiled at Cassian’s bluster. Azriel was grateful for both his brothers and their never ending, often un-needed advice, but conversations like this if had with Rhys often descended into quick-tempered arguments.

The High Lord of the Night Court waited for them just inside. He held himself casually, pouring another mug of hot tea. The top buttons of his crisp shirt were undone but the stiffness in his shoulders told Azriel that Rhys was prepared for a fight at most, and at best he had news they wouldn’t like.

“Morning,” Rhysand greeted, lifting his face to them. Bright, amethyst eyes regarded each of the Illyrians, looking for anything amiss.

“Morning,” they answered in unison.

“How’s my boy?” Cass asked greedily, boyish grin in place at the thought of his nephew.

“Well, as is his mother,” Rhys replied eyes warming at their mention. That warmth didn’t last when his purple gaze met Azriel’s.

“I have something for you,” Rhys stated without so much as a lead up. Straight to business then.

“The queens are no longer a threat,” Cassian mused, dropping into a nearby sofa with no desire to confront Rhy’s straightforwardness.

“I need Azriel at Mount Ramiel,” Rhys corrected, tone leaving no room for discussion.

Cassian’s eyes darted between his brothers as the temperature in the room suddenly dropped. Leaning against the far wall, shadows coiled and snapped at the spymasters shoulders. His lips parted, an argument rising from his throat.

“The outside interests surrounding Ramiel concern me. Given Nesta’s vision, I believe it’s something we should look into with haste. If there is something of interest there, Azriel will find it,” Rhysand offered, cutting off the shadowsinger.

None of this came as a surprise to Az other than being kept out of the decision making. Ever since the Blood Rite, the war camps had been acting suspiciously and he knew it bothered Rhys to the point of keeping the high lord awake at night.

“You’re sending Azriel to the war camps,” Cassian barked. “Are we cutting them loose? Razzing them to the ground, then?”

“I’m not sending you to deal with the Illyrians,” Rhys corrected, eyes on his spymaster, and shook his head.

“He’s sending me to sneak around in the dark,” Azriel offered.

“You are quite good at it,” his brother smirked, violet eyes flashing in reply. “I’ve had the priestesses pull everything from the library, including my own personal collection. Lore, histories, whatever they could find.” Rhys took a long, slow sip of tea, eyes closing only briefly. “Gwyn has offered to assist in translations. Her command of ancient language is rather impressive.”

“Should you really be dragging the priestess into this,” Azriel accused.

“She volunteered,” Rhys countered with a shrug. “Besides, I think she’s proven herself to be capable, don’t you? She’s identified some areas of interest around the eastern slope. A good place to start.”

Seething, Azriel attempted to put a damper on his temper. He couldn’t help but feel that Rhys had gone behind his back. It was one thing to order him about, but what was he thinking involving Gwyn? The priestesses were never a part of this side of the kingdoms business. Icy rage spilled, drip by drip, down Azriel’s spine.

“Cassian,” Rhys observed, turning to their brother, “Elain was waiting for you at the River House this morning. Something about a cake needing to be retrieved? If you go now you might catch Nyx before his mid-morning nap.”

There was no argument from their brother. Carefully his gaze met Azriel’s, a gentle warning in their depths. He often found himself in the middle of their conflicts and Azriel had to respect that he didn’t complain about it. Much.

“I’ll let Nes know you won’t be at dinner,” he said. With a heavy sigh Cass lifted from the couch. He nodded his dark head at Rhys and then Az before sauntering back out into the light.

“What is this really about,” Azriel asked, voice as cold as his stare.

“I beg your pardon?” Rhys cooed with a raised brow.

“Why wasn’t I included in the planning?”

“I didn’t need you for it.”

The declaration hit Azriel in the chest like a fist. Air rushed out between his lips in a shocked gasp. He stepped forward, dragging shadow with him.

“Rhys-“

“It’s nothing personal, Az,” Rhys pleaded.

“Personal,” Azriel growled, voice low. “I’m your spymaster and brother.”

“Az-“

“You’re overstepping,” Azriel went on, the words flowing like the Sidrah - cold and unstoppable. “Again, you’re taking everything on yourself.”

“I’m only doing what I can to keep everyone safe.”

“Safe,” Azriel accused, “Is that what you were doing keeping Feyre in that bubble? Honestly, how do you find that any different than how Tam-“

“Enough!”

Beneath them the mountain shook, rattling glass and sending a few stray books to the floor. Rhys was on his feet, wings snapped open behind him. On opposite sides of the room, one bathed in shadow the other night incarnate, they regarded one another.

“Brother,” Rhys once again pleaded with his spymaster. “I know you’re angry with me. I admit, I have not been myself. Between Feyre and Nyx, you and Koschei - the fucking Dread Trove,” he trailed off, running a hand through his dark hair. “We’re spread thin, you know that. We need our allies. Old and new.”

He’d all but said the same on Solstice. After all these years did Rhys not see him? See beyond the courts infamous torturer? To the male that lurked inside his own shadows? A long, tense silence labored between them. As always, an impasse.

“Azriel, let yourself feel something for once. I don’t care who-“

“Is that all,” Azriel grunted, moving his gaze away from the high lord’s. If Rhys opened his mouth with more shit to give he was sure he’d lose what was left of his shredded control.

“Dismissed,” Rhys conceded, shoulders dropping.

Azriel was outside and shooting off the balcony into the sky before Rhys could utter another word. His wings churned the air with each vicious beat. Burning agitation flooded through him. HE could feel it in his very bones. Attempting to soothe, his shadows coiled close, whispering.

Rhys had a lot of nerve. Of anyone, he knew Azriel best. Mor always accused them of being too similar and its why they didn’t always see eye to eye. He wasn’t sure he agreed with that assessment. Rhys was level headed and controlled. Azriel felt as if he were unraveling. Control wasn’t the way he’d describe it, rather an effort to hide it all away so it didn’t need to be dealt with.

The training rings came into view as he rose but he didn’t linger, swinging wide so that he’d remain unseen. Dots of color milled about. The priestesses were gathering for training. He could sense Nesta below with Emerie. And her.

He would have to send word to Gwyn about postponing their lessons. Meeting with her had become something of a guilty pleasure. He found he enjoyed teaching the doe eyed priestess more than he thought he might. Training was Cassian’s thing. Az found he didn’t often have the patience or care for it.

Shadows hissed, warning not to rely on Clotho for this. Azriel would be better served sending a note himself. The thought of those large, sea glass eyes darkening with disappointment made his chest ache.

Let yourself feel something.

Rhys’ words replayed in his ear as Azriel made the descent to the townhouse. He’d moved his things over months ago though Cassian always seemed to find some excuse to get him back to the House of Wind. Despite living there for years it no longer felt like home to him.

It hadn’t come as a surprise when Rhys had asked him to chaperone his brother and future mate. Neither himself nor Rhys actually expected Azriel to have to step in between the two. Rhys had simply wanted a backup in the event Nesta lost control which was likely to happen given how often her and Cassian argued.

So, Az had let them battle things out on their own. And they had. All over the House in fact. Repeatedly.

Though he had to admit, interrupting them at the most awkward times had become a game to him. But, he had, in all the ways one would being around a newly mated pair, grew incredibly frustrated. In a way it had become a torture of its own.

That frustration was likely what fueled his blunder the night of Solstice. One look at Elain and he’d been as hard as the mountainside the House of Wind was carved from. Azriel hadn’t been able to help himself. She was beautiful and everything he forbid himself. She wanted him, it was obvious, which made the entire situation all the more confusing.

In the end, he wasn’t sure where he stood with the girl. Cassian’s hadn’t been wrong in his assessment. They’d barely spoken to one another, let alone discussed her intentions with Lucien… Azriel would rather not think on the male who’d sat idly by while his high lady’d been tormented.

Landing at one of the terraces, Az made his way into the townhouse. He’d taken the largest room upstairs. It had the most wall space for his blade collection.

Azriel threw daggers and maps into his pack with such force, they almost went through the bottom of the bag. Rhys was right to send him on this mission. He needed space. A couple months in the mountains would do good to clear his head.

Before he locked up after himself, Azriel grabbed some paper from his desk and wrote a quick note to Gwyn. His careful words sounded clipped and overly formal as he reread the hastily scratched message, but shrugged off the concern with indifference.

Without goodbyes, the shadowsinger quietly left the city of Velaris. His wings carried him away, further into the mountains. He tucked all thought of his brothers and the priestess with molten hair from his mind. Wrapping himself in shadow, Azriel became the cold, unfeeling monster his reputation afforded him.

He felt nothing. Was nothing. His Illyrian wings carried him further away until he was nothing but a bruise against an otherwise perfect sky.

[bokunosimpfiction]

Demon!Dimitrescux Reader

Synopsis: Lady Dimitrescu reveals herself as a demon that has made it her personal mission to guard you after what you believe is the case of worst/best timing of your entire life. No trigger warnings. 1.6k words.

A/N: This took me less than two hours to write/publish this. I needed this out of my system ASAP

             The black Toyota Corolla had to look strangely familiar your first pass down the street. It reminded you of your boyfriend’s car, and you swore that the digits of the license plate must have been one or two off his, and the generic pine tree air freshener must have been a different color. Not to mention the woman in the backseat with a cocktail dress on.

             You chose not to think about it as you walked into the 7-11 in nothing but your pajamas and the pair of crocs you haven’t worn since being on the college swim team. It wasn’t hard to decide what to grab off the shelves. A bag of chips store brand sour patch kids and gummy worms, a two-liter of Pepsi, and a bottle of wine too big for one person. The cashier looked just as tired as you did, and you understood what it was like, barely, time is a social construct that distanced you deeply from the night shifts you pulled at this same store while in college. Nine to five shifts (Dolly Parton shifts, your coworker would call them with a smile) were only better because you could sit down and have a stable sleep schedule. It was the same grueling work, and in your case, you had to deal with the same shitty people that complained about things you can’t control.

             His droning voice pulled you out of your train of thoughts. “The total is forty-eight fifty-seven.” He was either crying in the backroom while you were picking out your chips or hit a massive dab, you weren’t sure, but his red eyes made either option feasible. You didn’t comment on it, only handing him two twenties and a ten and taking the change back before walking out the door. You didn’t say anything to him, and vice versa, which you appreciated because you didn’t have the energy to deal with a chatty Kathy right now. And as you pull yourself down the street, your bag of crap from 7-11 in your hand, you pass that same deja-vu-mobile and look at the stickers on the back.

             The same I love my dog and proud cat-dad stickers in the exact same place, the dent on the right side of the bumper, and the license plate that was in fact, one hundred percent his. Which begs the question, who was the girl in the cocktail dress, and what was she doing in the backseat? The question didn’t matter for long because the car promptly burst into flames. Oh well. Wait.

The.

Car.

Is.

On.

Fire.

             It’s your boyfriend’s car.

Your

Boyfriends.

Car.

Is.

On.

Fire.

             You wipe out your phone to call the fire department when you see the girl in the same cocktail dress crawl out of the car, dress pulled up to her waist, barefoot and mascara streaming down her face. She’s violently beating his clutch against the ground, desperate to put out the flames while your boyfriend slams the door open on the other side and throws himself out full force onto the asphalt of the busy street. He looks up and sees the anger in your eyes.

             “Hey, babe.”

             “I-I-can-” he stutters violently. His face was red in anger and blood dripping from his nose due to the face-first collision with the freshly paved street.

             “We’re over.”

             You do him the favor of calling the fire department for his car and walk off as soon as you hear the sirens of the firetruck. You didn’t have anything to do with it. No need to watch the fallout when you had nothing to do with the disaster. Besides, your soda’s getting cold, you wanted to drink that before it got Luke-warm. You ended up dropping off the crap and walking to the 24-7 grocery store a little farther in the other direction to get ice cream. Standing in the frozen aisle, in nothing but your pajamas, bright red crocs, and moist eyes, you try and decide between the weird, nuanced flavors that all taste like vanilla anyhow.

             You look up towards the top shelf when you notice the woman leaning over you. She’s deathly pale, skin as pale as paper and lipstick so red it glowed compared to everything else. Her huge hat would make a shadow on her face if it weren’t propped right above her hairline.

             “So, did you enjoy the show sweet-heart,” she whispers in your ear. You feel her breath on your neck and her gaze freezes your heart. “You didn’t think that his car catching on fire was a happy accident now did you?”

             You turn around, only not to see her behind you, but on the fogged-up glass doors on the other side of the aisle. “Did you really think that I’d be standing right behind you?” Her question is almost taunting.

             “Who are you?”

             She breathes into her elegant pipe only to blow out to re-fog the glass before staring dead into your eyes and saying the words that changed your life forever. “I’m your guardian demon.”

             You honestly thought you were losing your mind, seeing this woman in the glass, telling you she was a demon who set your ex’s car on fire. (It felt odd to call him that, you had been dating him for three years). Her elegant leg steps through the glass, her dress riding up to just below her knee before it hit the ground and the rest of her flowed into our realm as smoothly as her dress swayed when she walked over to you.

             She was almost twice your height, and the view from where she stood in front of you made her feel even more so tall. “So mortal, what do you have to say, knowing that you have a five-hundred-year-old all-powerful demon protecting you?”

             “What happened to my guardian angel?”

             She scoffs. “You never had one. Most people nowadays have guardian angels, in fact, I’ve only heard of one other mortal who hasn’t had one that’s alive right now.”

             “What do you mean?” You can’t help but ask. There’s an entire world of things you didn’t understand. Angels. Demons. Hell, even bigfoot could be real for all you know.

             “Well, darling, there is a very simple answer to that question: there are only so many angels for so many mortals, and so sometimes a few slip through the cracks of the system, and that’s where we step in.” She moves around to the refrigerator next to you and inspects the sorbets. “Despite what the church tells you, us demons love humans. They’re a claim to social status. You bring a human home, and you’re viewed as wealthy, famous even.”

             “So that’s what you get out of taking a person’s soul in a deal.”

             She turns to you. “When I what now?”

             “Ya’ know,” you say, “a person makes a deal with a demon in exchange for money or fame, and when they die their soul belongs to the demon and they’re doomed to eternal hell yada-yada-yada.”

             “Is that what they’re teaching you, now.”

             “At least that’s what my mother says. I didn’t really believe in any of this stuff till you stepped out of the door and said you set my ex’s car on fire.”

             “I would have done it sooner, but you looked so happy with him, it was difficult to pull that away from you,” she sighs before standing up to her full height, “that woman he was with was going to give you HPV and I’d prefer the human I fought tooth and nail over to not get an STD. I would never have let that stupid-man-thing touch you had I known he would cheat on you with a mortal so… infected.” What an interesting word to decide to land on.

             She turns and waltzes back across the aisle with a grace that has long been lost to time. “And besides, you’re better off without him, with him off your mind you’ll be able to take that new project on at work and get that raise you’ve been needing so badly.”

             You’re still trying to process this. “You mentioned that you only heard of one other mortal with a demon guardian. Who is he?”

             “His name doesn’t matter, all I really care about is that damn man-child, Heisenberg, is watching him, which means he won’t be alive much longer.”

             “Do you kill us?”

             She puts her hand to her chest and looks genuinely offended before her features soften when she realizes you had never met a demon in your entire life not to mention even believing in them. “We would never. Our humans are like our children, and while we may not be able to subtle pull strings to protect those that we watch over, we do have our more… direct ways of protecting them.”

             “Like setting his car on fire.”

             “I’ve done worse things to keep you safe.”

             Your face pales, but your curiosity brightens your eyes. “Like what?”

             “Your so demand, child, but remember when lightning struck the tree in your backyard, and it fell and landed on your neighbor fifteen or so years ago?”

             You can’t formulate words.

             “Or how your car broke down on the side of the road so you couldn’t reach the hotel you booked?”

             “You did that!”

             “They were going to steal your luggage!” She scoffs before taking a long drag from her pipe. “Anymore, questions?”

             “Is Jesus real?”

             “I wasn’t there for that, and if he was, he hasn’t left his fluffy little sky bed since being nailed to that goddamn cross.”

             “One more.”

             “It better not be stupid, darling.”

             “What ice cream should I get?”

             Her soft smile returns. “Get the java-chip, but the one right behind the front one, there’s a little extra than usual in that container.”

[seijorhi]

Could u do something w the reader finally breaking away from dabi only to realize that she has absolutely nothing and needs him?? Idk maybeee?? Sorry if this is a trash req 🤡🤡🤡nanshsjanzbdsiminsecurejsbsjsn

Bby, no!! Not a trash request at all 💕

Dabi x female reader

TW implied abuse, implied non-con, Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, reader has some issues

Warmth

It’s been raining for a while, the droplets falling like sleet in the howling wind, soaking you to your skin.

You haven’t moved.

Sitting on the cold pavement, arms wrapped loosely around your knees, you try again. You take a deep breath, open up your palm and bite your lip…

White petals bloom, a daisy unfurling in your trembling hand-

And wilts, just as quickly.

You don’t have the energy left to cry as you slowly let the rotting flower fall to the asphalt. It joins the countless others littering the ground around you, dead before they ever really grew.

They used to bloom in the cracks of the pavement as you walked by.

Is this what a year without using your Quirk does? Or is it just… is it just you that’s broken?

A siren wails somewhere in the distance, but you pay it no mind. The city’s a dangerous place - you know that better than most, but tonight it doesn’t bother you. In the midst of a storm, tucked away down an alley with a broken streetlight you’re all but invisible to those not looking.

And nobody’s looking. You’re nothing but a shadow here.

Another gust of wind blows past and you shiver, pulling the thick, black hoodie tighter around yourself - for all the good that it does. Even the rain hasn’t washed away its lingering scent of smoke, whiskey and menthol. It wraps around you like a vice squeezing you tight, but it’s familiar in its own way. He’d only been wearing it the night before, his arm slung over your shoulders as the two of you spent the night drinking at the bar. Well, he drank - you nursed yours all night long, only taking tiny sips whenever those cerulean eyes flickered pointedly over. He knows you don’t like to drink, especially around them, but he seems to find it mildly amusing to drag you with him when they go out regardless.

You’d grabbed it without a second thought as you’d sprinted out of the bedroom. You could hardly go running down the street in pretty lace panties and an oversized wife beater.

The warmth of the afternoon sun, the soft breeze that tickled at your skin as you ran, it’d felt like heaven. Freedom. Even as fear and paranoia chewed at your guts and pushed you forwards it was… exhilarating. You wanted to laugh almost as much as you wanted to cry - from happiness or grief or an overwhelming, indecipherable mix of both, you honestly couldn’t say.

How quickly that joy turned to ash.

“Oh no, honey. They moved out - when was it, dear… maybe six months back?” the elderly woman turned to her husband, who nodded sagely.

“Yep, ‘bout then. It’s such a shame, I hear somethin’ awful happened to their daughter. Killed in a Villain attack if I remember rightly?” he mused. “I think it must have been too painful to stay, but I suppose…”

The rest of his words had faded into white noise.

Dead.

He’d never said a word about your family, but you’d always thought… some part of you hoped that they were out there searching for you, waiting for you to come home. And even when he stuck that Quirk cancelling cuff around your ankle, when his lips burned against yours as he moved inside of you, you held onto that hope so tight.

But the home you’d dreamed of is gone.

Your life is… gone.

And what’s left of those pretty daydreams? You’re nothing but a ghost. No money, no possessions, no clothes but the ones and your back and even those aren’t really yours at all. You have nothing.

Even your Quirk, the pretty parlour trick that it was, has abandoned you.

So why bother moving? The rain is icy as it lashes at your skin and there’s a gnawing ache in your stomach - you haven’t eaten since last night.

You have nothing left.

More dead petals fall and you hug yourself tighter, sniffling under the downpour. Where were you supposed to go?

Did Dabi know that the rest of the world had moved on without you? He’d never brought up your family or your friends, not even to threaten them when you acted out. It was as if the moment he’d stolen you away, they ceased to exist. You were his now, and that was all that should have mattered to you. He wasn’t wrong, you suppose. Everyone likes to believe that they’re special, irreplaceable but… they’re not. You’re not.

Except, maybe, to him.

“Mine,” he growls, one hand wrapped around your throat, the other entwined with yours as he fucks you into the worn down mattress. “My girl, my fucking- hah - my fuckin’ babydoll.” He steals another kiss, always too rough, too much teeth and tongue, but the heating broke last week and Dabi is so, so warm.

He’s softer, later. One arm slung over your waist, your bare back flush to his chest. There’s a brand on your hip, and his fingers trace it idly. “We’re leavin’ this shithole soon,” he murmurs after a while. “Heroes sticking their noses where they don’t belong and all that crap, gotta lay low for a little while. Means I’m gonna be home a little more than usual, but… ” he breaks off, and you can feel his lips curl into a smirk as they brush along your neck, “you don’t mind that, do you, babe?”

We. Always we. From the moment he’d stolen you - saved you, in a twisted turn of events you preferred not to linger on - there was never a doubt in his mind that your future was his. Whether it was with the League or going at it alone, your place would always be with him.

He stole you. Kept you chained to his bed, fucked you until you were a babbling mess and burned his name into your skin. He hurt you when you acted up and sometimes just because he liked the way you looked, all scared and trembling in his arms. He teased you mercilessly and forced his love onto you at any and every opportunity, but-

“You know I’m never gonna let you go, right?”

He’s said it enough times that you don’t stiffen anymore, but you roll over regardless to meet those burning blue eyes. “Why?” you whisper.

Dabi’s silent for a little while, staring at you. You’ve been with him for months now, and not a day has gone past that you haven’t wondered, but never once have you asked him.

Afraid of the answer, maybe.

You still don’t know what possessed him to step in that day, whether that was truly the start of this obsessive mess, or merely the tipping point.

Eventually he shrugs, “‘cause you need me,” he says, like it’s a simple fact - an undeniable truth of the universe, “and I fuckin’ need you.”

You should hate him, and maybe a part of you does, but when the air around you crackles and blue flames flicker to life a few feet away, it’s not fear that races through your heart.

Dabi’s soaking wet, his normally wild black hair plastered to his skin, his ragged tee translucent and hugging the toned muscles of his abdomen - even his flames sizzle ominously under the deluge, but if the downpour bothers him, he doesn’t show it.

His cerulean eyes are fixed firmly on you - huddled in the corner, pale and trembling, illuminated only by the soft glow of his Quirk - and the grin on his face is almost manic.

“Time to come home now, doll, don’tcha think?”

It’s almost definitely a threat. You know him well enough by now to recognise the rage that blazes under that too wide smile.

You could try and run. See how far you make it before those pretty blue flames reach you. You might even be lucky - if you’re quick enough, maybe you could lose him in the dark warrens of the city’s underbelly.

But as you rise to your feet, soaked to your skin, teeth chattering and shaking like drowned rat, you don’t.

It’s a cold night, and Dabi is so, so warm.

[ddarker-dreams]

New Oath. Yan Dabi x Reader [COMM]

warnings: isolation, food mention, unhealthy relationships, implied not sfw, not sfw dialogue and beginning of stockholm syndrome.   word count: 3k.

It feels easier to live a life without regrets.

To know that every opportunity that presents itself had been taken, is a justification that you maintain to keep your sanity intact. This life that you’ve been forced to live -- one that has clipped your wings -- denying all forms of freedom. Every aspect of the day revolves around survival, nothing else. You’ve tried different methods of overcoming with varying results. The most prominent being escape, or working towards one. 

No person was meant to be secluded in an environment like this. Not even taking into account that lack of socialization that’d be enough to drive anyone mad, but the one person you get to speak to is a pain in his own right. Speaking to a brick wall is more inviting a concept than holding a conversation with Dabi. At least a brick wall remains quiet, not trying to provoke you for a reaction. You don’t know how much longer you can maintain your cool around him.

Looking from the decaying state of the ceiling to the walls around you, which are in even worse condition. This apartment building is definitely violating some building codes. Cheap paint peels off the wall from the slightest humidity, the ceiling fan creaks with every pained turn, and the lone light bulb in the room has been prone to flicker. While you aren’t sure what Dabi’s salary might be, you infer it must be enough to live in a place better than this. A semi abandoned apartment complex with dogs barking at unholy hours of the morning, and sirens going off just as often. If you were to guess on why he chose such a seedy residence, it’s because of the advantages it brings. Any screams for help will go ignored here, as they’re commonplace. 

You’ve had lots of time to reflect. It feels like the world is against you, nothing ever going according to plan. The hours spent revising and considering every variable were for naught in the end. It felt like for each step forward, Dabi would be another two paces ahead. You had considered the fire escape, only to find the bars singed. The windows were a no go, having been fastened so tightly a tool set is necessary to undo the screws. He thought of everything when he decided to hold you captive. This might be enough to drive anyone to the brinks of despair, but not you. You continue preparing, looking for an opening, and acting accordingly. 

You don’t want to lose to someone like him.

Dabi is human, and humans are fallible. One day, in the near future, he might make a mistake. Forget to lock one of the many latches on the door, or ignore a hole in the wall that could soon crumble to sweet freedom. You tell yourself this, not sure if you even fully believe it anymore. You long to have that hope. The hope that this nightmare may yet come to a favorable ending, that you could pry your life back from his vice like grip. Even if it meant breaking your own moral code, resorting to the lowest of tactics… what he had done to you is far worse. This is the drive that drove you to strategize for weeks on end.

Just to fail, like all the times before.

Your lift your arms, grimacing at the sensation of cold metal around your wrists. The punishment for your latest transgressions against Dabi. Everything had been going so well -- too well, now that you’ve had time to think on it -- only to blow up on your face. Weeks of batting your eyelashes at him, playing the role of a perfect, enamored partner went down the drain in a flash. You click your tongue, recalling with disdain how smug he had looked. That’s what got to you the most. Getting underneath your skin and festering with all your other negative feelings for him. 

He knew what you were planning, for god knows how long, and just wanted to see how much you could pull off. Treating it like a mere game. Dabi let you taste coveted freedom, observing from the shadows with intrigue. When your feet had hit the ground, everything felt right with the world once again. You had been held prisoner to the four walls of Dabi’s apartment for what must’ve been months, each day more miserable than the last. You remember the fresh air that swelled into your lungs. The rush of adrenaline that had every nerve on high alert. How your eyes had stung, and threatened to spill over with tears of joy. Nothing could compare to the high from that moment.

It wasn’t a lovely area. At the time, you had still been situated in an alleyway; surrounded by animal carcasses and unsavory items. None of that had mattered at the time. All that mattered is that you could run, far away from his condescending words and threatening presence. You could finally run back to the life that was stolen from you. A supposed light at the end of the tunnel. Nothing in life is that easy, you think in the present. Nothing that involves Dabi is that easy.

There had been a feeling in you gut that eyes were following your every movement. A premonition that came true, and horror in the flesh made his appearance. He had clapped, and expressed how impressed he was with your valiant plan. Dabi cooed at how adorable the sight was, that he had watched you scramble to get everything done in secret. He complimented you on the tact necessary to pull it off. Then his demeanor changed, to something far too sinister to be human. Maybe it was betrayal, or offense at the audacity displayed in going behind his back. Whatever it was that clouded his eyes, you pray you never have to see it again.

Which leads you to the present. 

What you wouldn’t give for some pain killers, even over the counter would do. Anything to dull this pain in your back from sleeping on a spring mattress for days on end. Even this was a luxury that you had to earn through demeaning acts. When Dabi first threw you in this grimy room, the concrete floor was all that you had to sleep on. Through some coquettish speech and unbuckling of pants, you had earned this mattress on which you currently sits. You never thought you’d be missing the dingy, shared bedroom with Dabi until it was taken from you and replaced with something worse. There’s no way of knowing for certain how much longer this punishment will last. From the lack of windows in this room, you can’t even know the time that has passed since the punishment began. It can’t be more than a few days, you thinks. How much longer will you be held here…?

Eyelashes flutter shut, figuring that sleep is a solid way to pass the time. There’s nothing to do until Dabi decides to make an appearance. Gauging from how hungry you’re feeling, it’s been around five or six hours since he last showed up, bringing food with him. Your attempt at sleep is interrupted at the distinct sound of footsteps approaching. So your guess was on the mark. You listens carefully, no detail to be overlooked. There’s a click from unlocking. Then four more after it. So he’s placed that many locks on the door? Seeing as you’re not even able to move an inch with these restraints, you find the precautions excessive. Not even a master escape artist could get out of this. It’s nice to know he thinks you so resourceful.

Faint light shines in your room as the door screeches open, revealing your captor. In his scarred hands is a bag of takeout. He offers a nod of the head in acknowledgement to you, shutting the door behind him. It’s impossible for you to ignore the quickening of your pulse in his presence. You collect yourself to the best of your ability, face remaining composed. Will he make another lascivious offer in exchange for more comforts? The fear of the unknown is like a shadow in the night, creeping over and devouring you. There’s no telling what Dabi might do or say. It’s a constant guessing game. You square your shoulders, making a point of looking Dabi in the eye. Maintaining eye contact is a sign of strength.

“What? No thank you for your knight in shining armor?” Dabi inquires, tilting his head. His voice holds a playful lilt that almost makes you roll your eyes. He’s enjoying every second of this. 

“That’s not the role I’d associate with you.” You respond with a dismissive shrug. The two of you always banter like this, seeing who will crack first under the immense pressure. You have found yourself getting used to these encounters. At first, you didn’t find it wise to possibly earn the wrath of your captor with snark, but those feelings have since changed. Now that you’re more familiar with Dabi, the words flow from your tongue with ease. He never makes a point of stopping the behavior. There’s a tension in the air whenever you’re in a room together, that Dabi always instigates. You’re only returning his own energy.

“I was thinking,” he starts with a sharp inhale, taking a seat in front of you on the ground. “You seemed so willing to do what I asked last time. Why not always keep that attitude up, sugar?” 

You raise an eyebrow at the implication of his words. “That depends on you. What’s in it for me?” 

“Oh, I dunno. Maybe getting out of this shithole? Not that you seemed to like my other place much better,” he motions to the derelict room around you to emphasize his point. “Still beats this dump. How ‘bout it?” 

It’s like you predicted. After Dabi got a better taste of you, he can’t help but want to come back for more. You can’t deny the thrill that comes with hooking up with him. There’s a semblance of control, knowing that you can hold something over him. He could theoretically take whatever he desires, yet prefers you give yourself to him willingly, for whatever convoluted reason. It’s difficult to deny the satisfaction from your previous rendezvous. One of the first things Dabi explained to you was that life would be so much easier for the both of you with your compliance. Resentment and pride were roadblocks to this initially. Now you’ve grown weary of all the games and hiding. The sparks of resistance have been methodically snuffed out, and all you want now is a little solace. 

Your reply comes as a surprisingly fast response to you both. “Sounds like a deal. After I eat though.” 

Dabi wasn’t expecting you to be this easy, not after the stunts you’ve pulled. His eyes search, scrutinizing your schooled expression for something hidden beneath the surface. You’re met with distrust, despite him being the one who made the suggestion in the first place. Having sex on an empty stomach doesn’t sound like the best idea. If that’s what it takes to get out of this room, then you’ll  do it. You’ve been waiting for the offer. It doesn’t make you as sick to your stomach as you thought it would, knowing the prize that’ll await after it’s all said and done. Life is a game of adapting, and you’re playing by those rules. The rules that Dabi himself established.

You break the silence yourself, hunger making you impatient. “You did offer me this food, right?” 

“You’re a sharp one, princess. I picked it out for you myself. Hope you like Chinese.” 

He reaches into the bag, shuffling around for the takeout containers. The scent of fried noodles, rice, and chicken fills the air, which piques your attention. It’s by all means a simple meal, and you couldn’t be happier. When you’re as hungry as you are, it might as well be a gourmet buffet. Dabi himself admitted to not being the best chef, so most of your meals have consisted of this quality. Or, on the occasion, he’d let you cook. Partaking in one of your hobbies is a nice distraction that he makes you work for. He’s always such a pain in the ass...

Dabi fiddles with the key ring in his pocket. Looking you in the eye, he gives a sly smile. “You wouldn’t do anything stupid, would you?” 

You look down at your restraints, a result of doing just that. “Me? I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Mm. Let’s hope so. Would hate for you to make me think up yet another punishment.” 

You don’t want to give him the fearful reaction he’s longing for, opting on maintaining your current visage. Lips pursing together, eyes indifferent, and nose upturned to him. Dabi works through the various locks, the shackles falling to the ground as he unlocks each one. He suddenly takes on a more apathetic air. You know better than to take this at a surface level, feeling him observing your every movement. Anything that could be mistaken as a sign of resistance. You decide to act as natural as possible, to mitigate the suspicion. Really, what does he think you’re going to do? Stab him with the plastic fork this meal comes with? A few months ago, you may have given that a shot, but things feel different now. All you’re interested in is regaining your strength. The first step to that is getting rid of this gnawing hunger. 

There are indents in your wrist from where the shackles were. You stretch the sore muscles, and proceed to go for the food.

“Thanks for the food.” You offers a closed mouth smile, using your now freed hands to open up the boxes. You waste no time indulging in the meal. The grin that you’ve grown accustomed to seeing on Dabi’s face is no longer in sight, replaced by thinly veiled distrust. This conversation is oddly normal. A stark contrast to the extreme circumstance, at least enough to perturb him. What makes him on edge or not is none of your concern. You’re complying, as he’s demanded numerous times. Shouldn’t he be over the moon, if anything? To finally get what he wanted, after months of poking and prodding, a subservient version of yourself. Dabi’s the one who molded you into this shape of his own design.

He props up his chin on his knee, watching you devour the meal. “I wasn’t expecting this room to be what did ya in.” 

You swallow a bite of orange chicken, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. You don’t want to entertain Dabi in conversation right now. It takes too much brainpower to keep up with him, Dabi always trying to get you to trip over your words. Ignoring him isn’t one of the cards at your disposal, so you give what you hope to be a satisfactory response.

“If it’s of any comfort, it wasn’t just the room.” 

Dabi hums, keen on gaining more information. “Would you be so sweet as to fill me in?” 

“It’s nothing that interesting. I had lots of time to think, or reflect to be more exact. You said it best. What was it again… something among the lines of, the day I decide to be a ‘good girl’, life will be easier,” you reach for a box of rice next, Dabi handing it to you when it’s too far away. “So, this is me doing that. A novel idea, I know.” 

He can’t help but agree with the statement. “You said it best.” 

Dabi’s budding curiosity must’ve been sated by your word, as he now lets you eat in relative peace. The gears in both your minds are turning. Trying to predict what the other may or may not do. It’s a tedious dance, you having a lot more to lose than him. This is what makes it an uneven match up, Dabi capable of exercising far more power over you, even without putting it on display. You’ve seen enough little details to be wary of him. How the news stories in the morning speak of victims burnt to ash, the occasional spots of blood on his jackets, and suspicious material from his shoes. Whenever you’ve worked up the courage to inquire on the origins of it, he’d offer an unsettling smile and ask if you really want to know. 

Ignorance is bliss. Months of isolation, suffering, and cruelty have left you in a state of latching onto any consolation available. It’s a bittersweet idea that your tormentor is what doubles as an essential distraction. When you’re in a heated embrace with him, bodies sweaty and head in disarray, the rest of the world melts away. As if it never existed in the first place. You can forget about your own loneliness, the tears that would normally stain your cheeks that time of night, and the burning resentment for the one on top. Every touch erases a pain, even if it’s for a moment. Giving into the desires of the flesh has never felt so good. 

“Looks like you’re almost done, babe.” Dabi comments with a wolf-like grin. He crawls towards you, uncaring of the lousy conditions of the room. His hand grasps your cheek, massaging the skin, and moving down to your lips. The coarse pad of his thumb rubs circles into your bottom lip, looking down at you through lidded eyes. If you’re going to let him take what he wants, he couldn’t be happier. The possible ramifications will be considered later. For the time being, he wants to feel you underneath him, months of pent up lust finally gaining an outlet. 

“You shouldn’t be the impatient one,” you can’t help but remark, shivering underneath his touch. “I’m the one who has been locked in a room for days.” 

“You’ve got it all wrong. I've just missed you oh so dearly,” Dabi coos into your ear. His lips part to place open mouth kisses over your bare neck, hands starting to feel you up. “From how you’re responding, it looks like you’ve missed me too. How precious.” 

“Keep dreaming, Dabi.” 

“I don’t have to anymore, now that I can fuck you as much as I want.” 

[saphirered]

I just found your account recently! I love your style of writing, and you portray the characters so well! Can I please make a request (if it suits you!!) for Dorian, Opal and Dariax with a reader when they take a watch together by the fire and the reader tells them they look pretty in the light? Just some soft feelings, words, maybe a kiss...?

Welcome and thank you! Hope you like this one just as much as the others! 😘

(Dorian)

The sounds of the night are accompanied by the soft strumming of strings and a hummed lullaby just quiet enough as to not wake the fast asleep companions, save for you and the bard himself. Someone had to take first shift and neither of you were opposed so you were put in charge of keeping the fire going and assuring nothing would succeed at brutally murdering you all. The latter seems to have become a serious concern you could do without. But at least it gives you evenings like these. Who wouldn’t appreciate a private concerto from your favourite genasi bard?

There you are, seated comfortably on a log staring over the flames, captivated by the melody, the nimble and practiced fingers plucking at the strings with an airy grace, staring into the night. The firelight hits Dorian just right. He reminds you of the sunset, right before the last light leaves the sky, that mix between the blue fading dark, with hints of reflected orange and gold; an image of true beauty. Were it not for that beautiful song keeping you grounded, you might as well have drifted into the ethereal and forgotten your task entirely. You find yourself humming along.

You’re pulled out of your trance by Dorian himself whispering your name. By the looks of it you had missed the first few times he called for you, the song coming to a close shaking you back to reality. Dorian had been a little louder than he intended to and you watch some of the others’ steer. Both of you share a look and hold your breath until you’re sure they’re still fast asleep. He beckons you over, something to say and not willing to take the risk of speaking just a little too loud again so you step over the sleeping bodies and find your way to Dorian’s side of the fire, sitting down next to him on the makeshift bench of a fallen tree.

“Hey, everything alright? Not to offend but you looked a bit out of it. Copper for your thoughts?” Dorian whispers as he absentmindedly plucks at the strings.

“Just deliberating wether you’re some sort of siren in disguise enchanting those who’s eyes fall upon your dashing looks and hear your angelic melodies or not.” Dorian’s very glad it’s dark but the fire still allows you visual of the lovely shade of purple he’s turning at the cheeks. He stops playing and puts the instrument to the side, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side. His plan to prevent you from seeing him so flustered fails as you only get a clearer view looking up at him with a smug grin.

“Is that your way of saying I’m pretty?” The first words may have been a bit more high pitched than he wanted to. You chuckle and feel Dorian’s knuckles jab playfully into your side. It doesn’t deter you from that smug sense of accomplishment remaining.

“Do I have to spell it out for you or would you prefer it in song?” You lean in, grabbing his chin and angling his face down closer to yours.

“I certainly wouldn’t be opposed-“ That’s all you need to hear before you close the distance, placing your lips on his. Dorian’s very happy you can’t see the blush grow or he might never hear the end of it. Your ability to get him all hot and bothered is something he both enjoys and fears but then there’s moments like these where he’s reminded exactly why he likes your occasional smugness.

(Dariax)

Dariax sits by the fire to preserve as much warmth as he can. The night is colder than expected and he had given you his blanket to stay warm yourself. He doesn’t regret the decision because you’re warm and comfy and that’s all worth suffering the cold but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish for some more warmth. Clutching his spear tightly to keep the blood flowing he stands sentry like a valiant guardian. Little does he know you’re still awake, or rather, awake again.

You hear the deep breaths being taken, sounds of movement; pacing. You open your eyes and there you are met with a sight you could wake up to more often. The gentle light of the flames highlight and shadow as they move in the breeze giving Dariax the appearance of a protector watching over you with an air of radiant divinity. There’s even a sense of grace. But you also see him shivering lightly.

Dariax watches you sit up and stretch your arms, blanket still in your grasp. You make eye contact and he offers you a smile. You pat the spot next to you on your bedroll and not one to question, Dariax does as suggested, sitting down next to you. You engulf him in the warm layers and feel Dariax relax just a little at the change of temperature. You lean your head on his shoulder and cuddle up against him as much as you can. He puts the spear aside and wraps one arm around you, the other holding the blankets close against himself. While he continues to keep watch you begin to drift off, not fully asleep, but more daydreaming of the divine sorcerer sitting next to you.

“You know you look real pretty, especially in the light of the fire, right?” You mumble and Dariax has to do a double take if he heard that right. Not that he’s not used to people calling him handsome or any variant of the term but more so you speak so openly and unrestrained.

“You sure you’re not still dreaming?” Dariax pushes back a laugh as he leans his head against yours. You’re cute when you’re sleepy and compliments like this from you are definitely something he could get used.

“If I am, it’s a damn good dream but I don’t think I am. You tell me oh-radiant one.” You smile leaning your chin on his shoulder and kissing his cheek feigning innocence and obliviousness. It’s definitely moments like these that have Dariax completely smitten by you and he’s not ashamed to admit it.

“One way to find out?” Dariax pinches you and you gasp. The audacity. You’re clearly awake now. Game over? Not yet. Dariax looks very proud of himself as you swat his arm but put your ‘dreamy’ face back on.

“Hmm. I don’t think I’ve been convinced.” Dariax does not like the mischievous grin peaking through. It’s a look he’s seen many a time and it’s always an omen for something you’re plotting. He fears for what he might have set in motion if you’re seeking revenge.

“Need me to pinch you again?” Dariax asks somewhat hesitant. Sometimes he’s really oblivious and it’s sweet but you might just have to take the lead here or you won’t get anywhere just yet. While Dariax is a very good flirt, being on the receiving end it may just take him a second longer to process. Don’t worry. You’ll help him out.

“I’ve got something else in mind.” You softly place your lips on his. That’s all the explanation Dariax needs. arm around you finds your back and pulls you just a little closer to deepen the kiss.

(Opal)

Opal is tossing and turning. What does she have to do for a nice and comfortable bed? The life of an adventurer is fun and all but she would really appreciate a soft mattress that doesn’t smell of grass, dirt or whatever other surface she has use as a base. Homegirl’s used to the fineries of societies so the life on the road is not and will never be her comfort zone no matter how many times she’s in the situation. She’s used to it though and she likes this life so she’ll accept and embrace every part of it.

Your attention shifts to the human at the sound of moving covers and groans of discomfort trying to find a more suitable position to fall asleep in as you keep watch. With a huff Opal sits up scrunching and readjusting, more like beating her makeshift backpack pillow in annoyance. She tries it one more time, putting her head down but still she doesn’t deem it right. Another huff and she sits up meeting your eyes. You offer her a nod and she grumbles, gets up and places herself next to you.

Grabbing a stick on her way Opal prods at the fire, the flames responding in a small burst of embers but you’re in safe range. Opal relaxes a little having found company in you and something to focus on rather than wallow in annoyance. She doesn’t say anything but the half smile she offers you is enough to make you feel appreciated for just being there.

Opal returns her focus to the flames staring into them getting caught up in her own wandering mind you watch. You can’t help but notice how the flames enhance the opalescent… everything to her, through a beautiful glow. She looks like a living breathing jewel. Just simply breathtaking. Don’t get this wrong, Opal is pretty no matter what. This is simply another angle you had never seen before, the way the light of the fire hits her features just right and how the flames reflect in her eyes, the sparks of ember changing that flow every so often, she’s a true visage.

“Hey, Opal?” She looks at you. “I just wanted to say you look lovely.” Opal lights up at the compliment with a warmth akin to that of the fire in front of you both. She knows damn well she’s gorgeous and looks aren’t everything but that doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy the compliments you offer her. If anything, she really enjoys it coming from you and makes her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“Why thank you. I have to say you look amazing yourself. What can I say, this light does great things for us gorgeous people.” There’s a hint of jest in her voice as she brushes a hand through her hair, pursing her lips with a wink. You hold back a laugh at the joking self-obsessed tone she uses.

“Even the light of a fire dulls in comparison by the shine of the Gem of Byroden.” You hold the back of your hand to your head as if you’re about to swoon. The gesture sends Opal into a muffled giggle fit as you quickly cover her mouth.

“Shhh. Let’s not wake the others.” You whisper. Opal pulls your hands away, checking over the others as she kisses your palms and making sure the others are still asleep. Luckily they are. Unsatisfied with just your hands to kiss she pulls you closer and kisses your lips instead silencing your surprised squeal.

[year2000electronics]

paper mario hot takes? (or only pmtok whatever you prefer)

by nature the paper mario series is one that already has so many hot takes that theyre not really new and crazy but here we go 

- ttyd had the worst soundtrack out of all the games (not really in an actual musical quality way, i just dont really vibe with the soundfonts and less songs stick out to me)

- pm64 IS worth revisiting, dont listen to people who say its redundant bc ttyd did it better. its charming and quirky and is entirely worth your time 

- tok’s partner system works stronger as a story element than ttyd’s partners

- new paper mario fans need to be careful because not allowing people to dislike the newer games is just becoming an uno reverse card version of the notorious ‘toxic ttyd fans’ 

- lord crump is so much sexier (platonic) and cooler and epicer than grodus. i think itd be funny if he was the mainish baddie and was being manipulated by the shadow sirens or smth. what if dr eggman turned to ultimate darkness 

- captain t. ode is painfully underutilised and i wish he was a partner (not really an uncommon take but like. cmon) 

- spm’s gameplay has not aged well at ALL despite it still being my favourite game of all time it feels like every chapter makes me go ‘oh its THIS chapter again’ 

- this is like. a really really hot take. but a lot of the classic pm versions/classic pm original enemies are kindaaaa [taps fingers together] uglyyyyyy

- peach is painfully underutilised- they give bowser and luigi such quirky original personalities which are so full of love and character but peach JUST! KEEPS! GETTING SIDELINED!! SHE WAS AMAZING IN SPM LET HER GO ON ADVENTURES MORE!!!

[p1nkwitch]

@lonelyeyesweek

Day 1 - First Meeting

Peter was very reluctant to go to the Magnus institute funding party; uncle Nathaniel informed him that one of his new duties would be to make business with James Wright and he really didn't want to do that. A beholder… What a nightmare.

I would've stayed at home

'Cause I was doin' better alone

Peter was very reluctant to go to the Magnus institute funding party; uncle Nathaniel informed him that one of his new duties would be to make business with James Wright and he really didn't want to do that. A beholder… What a nightmare.

The party was unfortunately the most informal way to meet the man, otherwise he would be forced to enter a small room with the watcher to make sure he didn't dry up his family money for an indefinite amount of time.

So he was really dreading the moment he would be meeting this man, Simon kept telling him that James was an old friend and that it would be fine, that he was actually funny beneath all the politeness, however he wasn't so sure about that.

Due to Simon’s and his uncle’s influence he has a very loose idea of some boring old man, a type of academic with a nondescript look that he will forget as soon as he leaves.

With any luck he would just make his acquaintance today and then he may go from the party, Peter preferred to be at home instead of dilly dallying with the masses. As much as he likes to observe people, he likes it better when it's on his own terms and when he is not forced to be part of an event.

So he goes with very little hope for the night, the only positive is that he may get some free food and some alcohol, albeit champagne will not do much for him.

The moment Simon sees him, he zeroes on him and stays nearby talking about his trips to Europe. He also tells him about a few sacrifices he made that actually seemed rather interesting. Still Peter preferred the ones he committed at the ocean, but he knew the man was always more partial to the sky so its not surprising they are all on that vein.

“What about you Captain? You have a few voyages under your belt now lad, how did those go? Were they to your liking?” And the answer to that is a bit complicated, Peter is still getting used to handling a ship, his crew hasn't been properly trained yet to keep themselves in check so he has to… ugh make a few rules.

The other problem is that most of his crew is formed of older, more experienced sailors. Peter is 26 and unfortunately has a rather… soft looking face, he has been trying to grow a beard to at least make himself look a bit more rugged or older looking, but that will take time and he just has a five o’clock shadow for now. It will take him months to have anything resembling what he wants. The graying hair does work a bit better, that he can count for at least.

He is considering hiring someone to relay his messages to, so that way he can stay away most of the time and he can practice his solitude in peace. He really would love to not be perceived until he looks like he wants.

“Its ok, I still need to figure out a few things to be honest, I would love it if the crew was a bit less…”

“Talkative?”

“Friendly” Simon nods at him and pats his shoulder before going back to another story of a trip he made like 250 years ago. It is quite interesting, albeit Peter gets struck with how old the man is. Most of the time he can forget it, easy to do when Simon is so lively, but when he tells him these stories…. hard to ignore in all honesty.

Picking up an offered champagne glass he listens distractedly wondering when he will meet the man organizing this whole charade.

The older man talks to him but at some point his sentence drifts off and he looks behind him with a grin. A bit lost and now concerned, those grins never end up well for him, Peter turns back to check what exactly was his companion watching.

The answer comes to him like a hit to the face.

An older man talking and entertaining several people at the same time, Peter doesn't realize that he was gripping his glass very tightly until Simon waves and calls for the man over.

He wasn't boring looking like his uncle or very, very old like Simon. He must be in his fifties, he was dressed up impeccably with a black shirt that had his sleeves rolled out to his elbows, a deep green vest with golden details and dark green pants.

The man also has a pencil moustache and a few moles near his jaw, which made him stand out. He was also a bit shorter than him, but most people are so that doesn't surprise him.

The air of surety, of knowing he had made him feel bigger than he was however.

Peter swallows and feels his face warm up for reasons he can't comprehend.

When the man turns around towards Simon, he can see his eyes-

Grey.

Peter never looks anyone to their eyes and yet, and yet-

For a second it feels as if the man also froze looking at him, he had a look of….surprise almost?

But it was only for a second, the next thing Peter knows is that the man starts to approach them while he is struggling to not disappear in a puff of smoke. Oh, Forsaken protect him.

“Hello Simon” His voice is very low and amused, oh fuck.

“Hello James!! It's been a while hasn't it?” Ja-

James?

“You are James Wright?” Peter cuts off the man before he answers back to Simon and he realizes that he is an idiot, shit-

No wonder he was so eye-catching then.

…

For some reason James' lips twitch upwards as if he was trying not to smile at something. Peter has no way to know what is so funny.

“You must be Peter Lukas then? Nathaniel… told me about you, its a pleasure to meet you” Peter smiles his usual vapid smile to keep him from prying, he already feels exposed and kind of confused about the man. Better to make this quick and go.

“Yes, uncle mentioned you too, albeit he did not do you justice” ???? What the fuck is he doing, what is wrong with him??? Why did he say that??

Peter feels his hands sweat and his face warm up, he is praying he is not red in the face.

James looks perplexed and he feels Simon staring at him with the biggest grin ever as if he was having the time of his life which knowing him, he probably did, he loves drama after all.

“Is that so?” The man crosses his arms and Peter has to keep himself from staring at the flex of it he has to.

What the hell is wrong with him?

“Yes! He made you sound like a boring old man to be honest, but you are quite the opposite, you look very-” Peter spends a lot of time alone, meaning he doesn't properly talk with people. His usual mechanism of defense is to talk so much that everyone just lets him be.

That translates into him not having a filter, because of that he just says what is on his mind, even if he knows he shouldn't. In this case it is a shot in the foot and he has no idea why, why is he reacting like this? The man is-

Is just a bit good looking thats all!! No need to be so nervous.

“...Good” His face is burning, Peter knows he must be red all over.

He is an embarrassment to the family name, he has to go, he has to go now. How is he going to face him to do business oh shit-

James for his part seems to look at him with something akin to wonder an a bit of curiosity, while Simon-

Simon for his part is sighing mentally about his nephew’s taste in man. Very on brand for a Lukas, albeit Jonah seems to be quite taken aback.

Peter might look like Mordechai but they are not alike at all.

“Well thank you Mister Lukas”

“Peter is alright” Why won't he shut uppppp, what is wrong with him? This has never happened before, a little bit more and he will spontaneously combust.

James smiles at him and something in his chest squeezes. Is he dying? Is his heart giving out on him so soon?

“Well Peter, it was lovely meeting you. I can't wait to make business with you. I'm sure we will get along… very well”

“I can't wait” !!!!!! He wants to die.

Peter is going out to sea for the next 4 months just to get rid of whatever this is.

James grins at him and is about to leave, making him let out a breath of relief when he turns slightly.

“Say… I was going to ask Simon to drink with me after the party, in my office. Would you like to join us?” No!

“Sure” The man gives him a smug look and goes.

Simon pats his back.

“You need to get better at flirting, albeit i do believe you impressed him quite a bit, he usually ignores all the Lukas that come to make business with him”

“Im going to kill myself” He hates his life so much.

“Ah lad don't be like that, its just a few drinks, it doesn't have to go anywhere else”

Several years and flings with the man later. Peter is left with only grief at James sudden passing. They had something of a thing going on, not really labeled, since neither liked that. But the man suddenly broke things up and Peter in his anger left for months on end.

By the time he came back he found out James died and he had a new replacement.

Elias Bouchard.

He hates him on principle.

Peter is cold with him at every little meeting, speaks just as necessary and goes before the man even attempts to chat him up. At least he has his own loneliness, the only thing that truly lasts for him.

It sings out to him, like a siren song, it's easier to get lost on it, to just… become colder and harsher. What else should he do? It's not like Peter could ever love someone like that again.

Or want to.

“-ter, Peter!!”

“What do you want Mr Bouchard?” The younger man was glaring at him and it feels unfair, he should be the one glaring.

“I was asking you if you intend to stop being difficult and listen to me for once! I swear i get you lonely ones love playing at the grief stricken partner, but its been months already im getting tired of trying to talk to you like pulling teeth. Listen- i know i was kind of an ass, but really i needed to do the switch and i was worried a bit about people talking about some favouritism-” What the hell is he on about now??? Also how dare he!

“What- are you talking about? I'm not faking- what are you-!? Listen, I'm not up for games, let alone your games. I have better things to do than be your little entertainment, give me the papers to sign and I will be on my way, off of your life-” Elias gets up and slams his hands on the desk making him flinch.

“That attitude!! I don't want you out of my way!!! I said what I said as James because I was going to change bodies and people were talking about our relationship too much, it would look odd when I became Elias and we hooked up again!!”

Peter freezes.

“What- what do you mean became Elias?” The man who is not Elias??? Narrows his eyes and then suddenly looks surprised and confused.

“You don't know-”

“What do you-”

“How can you not know I told you- i-” Elias? Drifts off and looks to the empty room with a blank expression.

“I forgot to tell you”

“Um-”

“I thought i told you after- oh, oh fuck we ended up sleeping together after sacrificing that woman at the restaurant, i got distracted and-”

Peter starts to piece together a few things.

“James…?” Elias flops on his chair covering his face and doing a muffled scream into his hands.

“I can believe i forgot i got so excited that you let me tie you up that i completely forgot” Peter’s face burns.

“I-”

“Yes, yes it's me, I thought you were being difficult not that you- oh my god you actually were grieving me weren't you? You sap” His face turns smug, and it's so familiar-

The eyes-!

“Yes, those are really mine”

“You-!” Peter wants to punch him.

“Me?” Elias already closes his eyes expecting a punch. Yet he side steps the desk, comes closer and pulls him up to his feet by his tie.

“If you- you want to choke me-” He shuts him with a kiss. It takes a bit to register on the other’s mind because once he does he grips his hair and pulls them closer practically melting against him. Peter doesn't stop kissing him, cnat.

“You twat-” In between kisses he curses him out, he was making the rounds across his neck, decided that he was going to leave pretty little marks for everyone to see. Elias? James? Doesn't seem to mind much.

“Sorry-”

“You- fucking- bloody- ass!!” A bite close to the jugular has him moan a bit, Peter’s hands go to grip his thighs and the other catches his meaning because he lets him lift him up. He carries him to the small couch and drops him there with an ompf-

“Hey-” That he interrupts when he climbs on top of him and starts to kiss him again with a very clear intention in mind.

“Oh…” Yes, Peter is glad he can use forsaken to soundproof the room, he had no intentions to let the other be quiet.

Now that he is not upset, angry or… turned on, Peter lays his head on top of Elias' chest, while he explains the whole being Jonah Magnus, and thinks that he is very handsome.

Not in the same way as James was, no, but he was still very handsome.

“I was leaning more into pretty but unassuming, but thank you for the vote of confidence for the new body” What a smug prick.

“He is not…?”

“God no, only fragments or echos, the real Elias is very dead, its just me”

“Jonah?” Elias nods at his question.

“Basically”

“Huh” The shorter man’s hands play with his hair making him nuzzle his neck. He thinks about it for a bit, but decides to go for it, after all he has gotten this far anyways “Pleasure to meet you Jonah”

The other stays quiet for a bit.

“Pleasure to meet you Peter”

Their relationship is not conventional or normal by anyone's standards, but…

It works.

Somewhat.

“So… I got you so distracted you forgot to tell me huh?” Elias sighs.

“I can show you exactly how enticing you looked to me to make me forget, do not tempt me” Feeling his face heat up he tries to play it off.

“Maybe when we are in an actual bed and want to experiment a bit” Elias chuckles and then turns into a full blown laugh that makes him feel the rumble of it against his ear.

“I can't believe this, but i missed you” He hears Elias heart speed up while admitting that to him, it makes his face warm up.

Peter knows he missed him too, but he wont admit that, too out of character. So instead...

“Will take that with me, feels delicious”

“Oh hush, you already cannibalized yourself, don't be a prick”

Yes, he definetly missed this bastard and he will have so much fun re-aquitaining to him properly. They are closer in age now, Peter’s body is a bit older than Elias now, just 6 years, but it feels good.

This time people will give Elias looks instead of him, Peter’s gray hair and beard made him look older.

“You are impossible Peter”

“Stop reading my mind then” Elias sighs and kisses the top of his head hesitantly.

“Don't make it so easy then” Peter lets out a breath.

Prick.

"Never"

"Rude, what a rude person you are" Peter nuzzles him and that shuts him up.

Better.

[hwauas]

🕊️: "dangerous drive"

kim hongjoong (김홍중) - 2,166 words.

     the past few hours had been more animated than your entire life. and your whole life got impacted for ever.

who could have predicted this? who could have known that being here, at this moment, would change your life?

     your arms were tightly holding this man, the one driving the motorcycle at high speed. your hair were flying behind you because of the speed. neither him nor you had time to put a shelter on. you had to go away. for a reason absolutely unknown to you.

     the truth is that you were scared of high speeds. not all type of high speeds of course — even though you weren't really comfortable in a train, it was not a problem. no. the problem was car or motorcycle going too fast on roads. this was the real problem. this was what you were scared of. and even though you were holding tightly the man driving the motorcycle, you still were scared.

     “shit, they won't leave us alone!”

you heard him screaming in anger as he sped up the pace. you tightened your hold around his waist. you didn't care if you were restraining him to breath. you needed something to hold tightly.

“there's only one way... hold on me tightly dear.~”

you cursed multiple times in your head. your eyes were already closed: you didn't want to see the whole world passing by you at a crazy speed. but you closed them harder. you were even frowning. the only things which were proving the high speed were your hair flying and the growling motor.

     the man suddenly turned to leave the highway. he was slaloming between the few cars on the road. still at a high speed. you could have had a panick attack, but something was holding you back.

as if your subconscious wanted you to keep a control on yourself. or maybe... because your body loved the feeling of the adrenaline rushing through your veins? or the feeling of powerlessness you were experiencing?

     you felt the motorcycle shaking a little bit more than before. and you could hear an another type of noise coming from the ground, under the wheels. quickly, the speed slowed down. and you eventually managed to open your eyes.

you were in a desolate place. the road was in fact a little path surrounded by trees here and there, and grass. a small hill was hiding you both from the main road. you heard the police cars and the sirens coming closer, and then going further to finally disappear.

this man outwitted them.

     you let go of the man, and got off the motorcycle. you pushed your hair back and started to walk around to calm down.

     “you're crazy! you're fucking crazy!”

you shout to him. a mix of anger and fear was growing up inside of you.

     “i'm happy to meet you too.”

the man said in a sarcastic tone. he even rolled his eyes and looked away.

     “what? are you kidding me? you little piece of- calm down, y/n, calm down...”

you tried to count in your head to try and call down. this man was literally playing with your nerves.

“you scared me! you took me and you forced me to sit on your motorcycle! and then, you drove like a crazy to escape the cops! i don't even know why they were following you! i literally faced one of my biggest fear while you were driving! or should i say while you were challenging your motorcycle's motor? and-”

     “actually both.”

the man replied with the same sarcastic tone.

but this time, a smirk you didn't like at all was spreading over his lips. you felt like he was testing you and your patience.

     “DON'T CUT ME OFF!”

you screamed in anger and came closer to him.

“and now, i'm in the ass end of nowhere because of your stupidity! and the only thing you're telling me is that you're happy to meet me?”

     “damn, you're pretty savage.”

he pushed his hair back, and turned over to face you.

“i guess you would have preferred to stay there, where you could have been killed?”

you stayed quiet in front of him and his answer. you couldn't do anything. he was right.

“huh? tell me, i'm listening? or maybe the little savage girl/boy is speechless now? did she/he lose her/his tongue?”

     “i'm sorry. i didn't think about that.”

you looked down to your feet, feeling a little bit sorry and awkward.

     “good. i prefer that. because i don't really want innocent people to die in the middle of a gunfire.”

he sat again on his motorcycle, ready to ride away from here.

“now come and sit or i leave without you.”

     you looked up to him. you were playing with your fingers, trying to control your nervousness.

“about this gunfire... why did it happen? why were you involved in this gunfire?”

     “damn, we met each other not even thirty minutes ago. is it usual for you to be this.. intrusive in other's lives?”

he was looking deep into your eyes with a deadly gaze.

     “for you information, mister blonde guy. i was in the middle of this gunfire too. even though i didn't choose it. so i have to know something about it!”

you tried to build you more impressive in front of him to try and have informations. but it failed.

     “come. and. sit.”

to push you to come, he spinned the handle to speed up. the motor growled.

“come on an y/n. or i leave without you. last warning.”

     you sprinted to sit behind him again. you didn't want to take the risk to be here, alone, without him.

     “this gunfire... it's because they trapped me. these bastards.”

he waited for you to be a little more comfortable and ready, and then started to drive away.

     “who?”

once again, even though he weren't driving that fast, you were holding on him tightly.

     “S-SK. the mafia band. i'm sure they warned the cops i'll be here. when i saw them, i escaped. one of S-SK started the gunfire. cops heard it, and of course, they shoot back. happy to know that?”

     you were daydreaming, thinking about what he just told you. you have been involved into a mafia thing. and you couldn't think properly.

you always hated this. but in an another hand, even though you've been involved in this, you've been saved by someone linked to mafia things. you were almost rethinking your opinion on this.

     “y/n! you don't listen when we're talking to you?”

he even beeped to catch your attention.

     “sorry! i was daydreaming.”

     “no shit, Sherlock.”

the man drove into the highway again, going back to the city.

“i was asking for you address? to drive you back home?”

     you nodded, and gave him your address and some indications about the surroundings to be more precise.

“thank you.. hum..?”

     “Hongjoong. you're welcome.”

     the ride was quiet. none of you talked. but the atmosphere was less tensed now he was less angry. you were less scared for your life to hold this tightly on him. and even his muscles felt less contracted than they were before.

     when you reached the town again, Hongjoong turned and turned again in the streets, until your district. but then, you both heard voices screaming 'they're here!' and deep inside you, you knew they were talking about you.

Hongjoong sped up to try and tricked them. when you both were far enough from them, he quickly stopped the motorcycle and urged you to get off.

     “come here!”

he took your hand and ran with you through the dark streets — the street lights were bright enough just to see few meters away, that's all. there was more shadow between each street lamps' light halo than light.

     Hongjoong brought you into a dark alley. to be sure you would both fit in the darkness of the alley, and the shadow, he pushed you against a wall, and didn't hesitate to come against you. he was blocking you with his whole body. his arms on each side of your head. and his whole body against yours.

     you felt like you were burning inside of you. even though you didn't paid too much intention of his face, you couldn't deny the fact he was charismatic. and he was now against you. was it even real? was it even the truth?

    you were looking right in front of you. your eyes were wide open. you noticed his body's proportions. his large shoulders but his marked and thin waist to contrast. his developped chest: his pectorals' lines perfectly visible through his shirt, his collarbones visible through the collar. not to mention his Adam's apple on his throat.

     you were in awe. and this moment could have last for hours, you wouldn't have complain. but Hongjoong went away when the footsteps were not hearable anymore.

     “they're not here anymore. let's go to your place, quickly.”

he grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of the alley. you barely had time to realise what happenned, and to process where you were now. you've been just too unsettled.

     you followed him. you had no other choices anyways since he was still holding your wrist. but why was he still holding your wrist? you had no idea. but you were enjoying the touch. his hold wasn't tight at all, just enough for your wrist to stay in his hand. his warmth was relaxing. and his skin felt soft.

under the armour, there was someone totally different. a tender heart and soul.

     once you reached your place, he let go of your wrist, and turned over to face you.

     “this is where our paths seperate.”

he put both his hands in his pockets, waiting for you to go back home so he can leave.

     “i guess so...”

you looked down to your feet again. you felt nervous. should you ask why he walked you home? what his reaction would be? will it be disappointing for you?

     “oh please just tell whatever you want already.”

Hongjoong sighed. he was looking at your petite form in front of him.

     “but! i'm nervous! stop!”

     “nervous? after you shoot at me? after you called me crazy? after you were about to call me piece of shit? nothing to be nervous of. go ahead.”

     “i...”

he was right. after all, it wasn't that horrible. you handled his anger pretty well.

“i wondered why you walked me home? you could have let me come back home alone, and just.. ride your bike again to go wherever you want.”

     “hmpf...”

he giggled at your question. it was cute, but you understood he was making fun of you.

“after they saw you? they would have follow you and maybe kill you. i don't wanna be linked to a murder case, if you know what i mean.”

he shrugged and looked away.

“i didn't want anything to happen to you.”

     you stayed quiet. you were blushing. first, you were quite sensitive and needed nothing to blush. but with this man, it was worse. anything, absolutely anything, could get you blushing. you were just weak. and it was a fact.

     “now go home. and sleep. forget about this.”

Hongjoong mentionned your front door with his chin, and walked away.

     without thinking twice, you grabbed his arm. you didn't want him to go away now.

“Hongjoong!”

     “hmmm?”

he turned over to look at you. he raised an eyebrow because of the surprise.

     “you know the address now... can you.. pick me up.. someday..?”

your face couldn't be more red than now. even a tomato was less red than you. but hopefully, the darkness was hiding your state.

     “babygirl/babyboy already like the taste of the danger i see?”

of course he would play with you. it was the perfect opportunity to satisfy his ego.

     “shut up and answer.”

you were still looking away. but you were losing hope. didn't he answer because it was a no? and he didn't want to tell you? but you felt like he was the type to say the truth, no matter how hurtful it is. you were just lost and hopeless.

     “i'll pick you up tomorrow at night. at 8. be ready. not a single minute more.”

he removed his arm from your hold.

“usually.. i don't like people who shoot at me, call me names, or dare to be, you know... savage. but you. it's different. you're adorable when you're angry.”

he smiled, showing off his perfect teeth.

     you were too shy to answer something. and he was already leaving.

you stayed here to look at him until he disappeared in the corner of the street. you entered your own house after, and locked yourself up in it.

resting your back against your door, you sighed with a bright smile. it was a very light sigh. the one you make in happiness.

     tomorrow, you'll be seeing Hongjoong. again.

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Lost Boys: Promised Prize

Dwayne x Reader

Word Count: 1,768

Summary: After final exams are over, Dwayne makes good on the reward that you guys worked out. 

A siren blared as a police car zoomed by your building, waking you from your impromptu sleep. Where the sun had previously forced its way through the gaps in the blinds, nocturnal darkness had completely taken over and doused everything in shadow. You stretched leisurely on top of the sheets, giving your eyes time to adjust as shapes blurred into focus.

Propping yourself up on your forearms you reached for your alarm clock, the glowing red numbers flashing 10:14 pm.

Well then.

It appeared that you had literally slept half of the day away and then some. You blamed it on your body’s post-finals bid to finally catch up on the sleep that you had been depriving yourself of for the past two weeks.

You also hadn’t seen much of your boyfriend during that period, although that wasn’t by your choice. When he found out how busy you were with finals prep he basically disappeared which was his way of giving you space so you could be productive. He didn’t even talk with you about it, he just straight up stopped coming to your apartment. 

It was a good thing you knew him as well as you did otherwise you might’ve taken his ghosting to mean something else entirely and you told him as much when you finally saw him over the weekend.  

You went down the hall, switching on lights as you walked by on your way to the kitchen. A cool glass of water from the fridge always hit the spot after waking up. The water was extremely refreshing and several large gulps followed the first.

You took the water bottle with you so you could continue sipping from it while you went outside to get your mail. The small metal door creaked open and you juggled everything in your hands you flipped through the stack of envelops and inserts.

Junk. Pizza coupon. Bill. Bill—oh! Something from the college!

Unable to wait until you were inside, you tore open the envelope with shaky fingers. The paper unfolded and you scanned over the typed font with nervous determination.

You lowered the grade report in shock. Did you read that correctly?

You held it up again and, sure enough, the verdict was the same—you aced all of your final exams! And in doing that, your semester grade point average was high enough to make the Dean’s list.

The whole apartment complex was treated to your victorious banshee yell as it echoed off the concrete and glass of the apartment complex. Even some of the wildlife scattered.

High with endorphins, you scurried back to your apartment, laying the paper smack dab on the center of the kitchen table. There was another person who needed to see it as well.

The sun had been set for a few hours, plenty of time to find a first meal of the night, which meant that he would be dropping by at any time.

You found it impossible to sit since you were still feeling the excitement so rather than sit around and wait for him, you decided to channel the energy into something productive.

Cabinet doors were opened and closed as you took out different ingredients that were all thrown into a mixing bowl and kneaded together with your bare hands. Some of the mix stuck under your fingernails but you were more than happy to suck it off your fingers.

Separating the tan dough into small balls you carefully placed them on a cookie sheet and stuck it into the oven. Ten minutes later and they were out, cooling on the counter.

Dwayne still hadn’t arrived even after your cookie quest. You blew a couple of strands of hair away from your face. Time to do some dishes.

You slipped a Ratt cassette into your boombox, cranked it, and got to scrubbing. In the middle of cleaning the tines on a fork, you heard him enter.

He was bent over, taking off his shoes when you met him by the door.

He stood up and leaned in for a sweet kiss, but you stopped him to wipe some stray blood droplets off of his lips before you allowed it.

“Come on, there’s something I wanna show you,” you insisted, pulling him to the kitchen.

He sniffed the air.

“Peanut butter?” he asked hopefully.

“Yep. Sit down and I’ll bring you some.”

He sat down obediently and you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist reading the only readable thing in front of him. While you took your time with the cookies, you watched him out of the corner of your eye and saw the exact moment he took the bait.

He slid the paper closer with his pointer finger and read it silently. Even when he faced you there was no discernable reaction that most people would’ve noticed, however, you weren’t most people. The warmth in his brown eyes and the slight softening of his mouth were very clear to you.

“I aced everything,” you boasted, setting the plate pile of cookies in front of him.

“And the Dean’s list,” he added.

You were touched that he remembered that bit and gently scratched his scalp which had him rolling his head in a feline manner. “That means I get my reward too.”

He reached out and stroked the outer rim of your ear. “A promise is a promise. Wanna do it now?”

Back when you were stressing out all the tests and essays, and before Dwayne ghosted, he promised to give you a gift to keep you motivated. Anything you wanted. You told him you wanted a piercing done midway up your ear after seeing some people at school with them and he promised to do it for you.

You swiftly nodded. You really wanted the piercing.

Without another word, he shoved two peanut butter cookies into his mouth for safekeeping and tugged his shoes on. For being as old as he was, his inner child was always near the surface and you loved that about him. Most of the time.

“Heathen,” you razzed as you playfully hip checked him out of the way so you could grab your silver boots.

Opting not to retaliate, he merely winked and ushered you out the door, cookies still in his mouth.

The drive to the cave was short and uneventful. A benefit to the apartment being closer to the bluffs than it was the pier or the boardwalk. Dwayne expertly guided you down the rickety, wooden stairs and to the mouth of the cave.

Earlier in the relationship he always offered to fly you down so you didn’t have to use the stairs, but he respected the decision to do it yourself unless you were too tired or tipsy, in which case he made the final decision.

He prowled around the cave, grabbing supplied from seemingly random spots. “Do you still want it on the cartilage?”

You told him yes and sat on the cool edge of the fountain, noting how quiet it was with just the two of you here.

“What’s the rest of the crew up to?”

“I left the boys on the beach and Star wanted some more stuff for her bed. It’s not even midnight so they’ll be gone for a while yet.”

“I need to hang out with her more now that classes are done for now,” you said resting your chin on the tops of your knees.

“She’d appreciate any company that isn’t us at this point.”

You remembered the blood he had on his lips earlier. And the crumbs he left on them after eating the cookies. “I can’t imagine why...”

He plopped down next to you on the fountain and spread everything out, handing you a box full of earrings so you could pick one out.

“Fingers crossed you guys didn’t rip these off of your meals.”

Dwayne chose not to say anything, preferring to watch your squirm at the thought.

You did have to admit that there was quite a nice selection to pick from, no matter the source. There were shiny studs, pieces with all manner of materials dangling from them, and delicate hoops both decorated and plain. But a small, snug silver hoop with a pearl-colored sphere attached caught your interest.

Dwayne noticed and started rubbing your ear with alcohol to disinfect the area. Then he held the piercing needle over a small candle flame to sterilize it. Star had taught them a lot about piercing procedure and etiquette; not wanting to jeopardize your mortal health, he put her words to use.

Needle ready, he swung around with one of his legs resting in your lap.

“For grabbing onto if it hurts,” he offered and you settled your hands onto his jean-clad thigh. The needle was poised against the cartilage midway up your ear and you couldn’t help it when your heartrate sped up. 

The last time you had your ears pierced you were a little kid and you couldn’t remember the pain. You hoped this new one wouldn’t be too unbearable.

He nudged you gently to see if you were good to continue.

“I’m good. And you’d better not hit a nerve and paralyze me cause then I’ll have to beat you up.”

Were there any nerves to hit in that part of your ear? You weren’t sure but it came out of your mouth last minute.

“Good luck punching if you’re paralyzed,” he smirked punching the needle through the flesh as he spoke. He had a bottle cork pressed on the back of your ear so that the needle didn’t stab into your neck when it came out on the other side.

Your lids slammed shut and your finger nails dug into his leg. It wasn’t the worst you could imagine but it was still a sharp, noticeable pain.

Dwayne was quick with it removing the needle and dropping the cork in order to work the earring through the freshly made hole. He clicked the earring closed and gave the area one last wipe down with a water soaked q-tip.

“Well? How do I look?” You were impatient and he wasn’t moving fast enough for you. 

He held up a mirror so you could see it. You weren’t sure how he conjured it since none of the vamps in the cave used them, but you were more interested in seeing at your ear at the moment.

You gasped as you turned this way and that to admire it.

“I love it, Dwayne!” You peppered him with kisses.

Dwayne looked at you with evident pride. Pride in your smartness, pride in how you handled the pain, pride in the way the piercing turned out.

Beautiful, he thought.

_______________

Congrats to everyone that’s finished with finals and good luck to those who are still working through exams. Thanks so much for reading! 

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

(WHILE COLLECTING THE STARS) I CONNECTED THE                                                                                                                  DOTS

or, how Nesta accepted the bond and decided to give living a try // ao3

Adoption /Self-Discovery/Domestic/Witch!Nesta/Mating Bond/Nessian/found family bc why the fck not/Healing

Heal the scars from off my back

I don't need them anymore

You can throw them out or keep them in your mason jars

I've come home

The first thing she notices is how small the girl is.

Her feet are dangling far from the ground and, even though she’s perched on a stroll and Cassian is kneeling on the ground, he’s still towering over her frame. The top of the child’s head barely sticks above the table. Her tucked-in wings make her look even tinier; tiny and miserable, wrapped up with a blanket like an abandoned kitten.

Nesta’s still high on all the magic. There is dark paint smeared all over her skin and her veins are buzzing with the sheer power that she and her coven has just leeched off the very bones of Illyria. She’s only starting to regain some composer and maybe that is why, for a good few minutes, she stays on the corridor and watches as Cassian patiently asks the girl if she wants something to eat or to drink, if she’s warm enough, if maybe she wants to take a nap, hearing nothing in return except for the stubborn, shell-shocked silence.

It’s only when the child pulls her knees up and hides her face in the material of the blanket when Nesta actually makes her presence known.

‘’Hello?’’ she calls quietly from her place on a threshold, not wanting to spook the girl further.

To Cassian’s credit, he does not whip his head towards her – but, after all, he probably knew she’s been here all along.

He always knows she’s near, just like she does.

‘’Hello, Nesta.’’ He says and there is something so heavy, so terribly dark ringing in his voice that she cannot help but shiver. ‘’Sorry, darling, are you fine sitting alone for a while here? I’ll be right back.’’

He raises his hand as if to pat the girl’s knee, but decides not to half-motion; it falls awkwardly to his side when he slowly raises to his full height.

The girl just buries deeper into the blanket.

Something about her – the clear despair radiating from every pore of her body – pulls  Nesta towards her like a siren song. She cannot tear her eyes off her, even when Cassian ushers her to the corridor, his hand burning her lower back.

‘’Sorry for no heads-up.’’ He whispers, face half-obscured by the shadows.

It’s almost dusk; the lovely pink light of the dying sun makes everything less real somehow. Or maybe it’s still the magic, the leftovers of it from the sabbath, she’s not sure.

She knows why he’s apologizing. Strangers still threw her off, especially here, in this – space they’ve created. The space where she walks barefoot and with her hair unbound, only for him to see. But how he knows that she doesn’t feel comfortable with unexpected visitors, she has no idea. Sometimes, she wonders how the hell Cassian even knows half of the things he knows about her, because she doesn’t tell him even a quarter of them.

Unexpected visitors that make her uneasy definitely don’t include little lost girls, though. Especially since there’s an unpleasant pounding in Nesta’s head when her mind starts to mull over why the girl would be here in the first place.

‘’Oh, stop being an idiot. Why did you bring her here?  Is she- is her mother-‘’

‘’Gone? Yeah.’’

Nesta closes her eyes so tightly that the whole night sky blooms on the underside of her eyelids.

That’s Illyria. – he told her the first time when he came home reeking of blood, his knuckles scraped to the raw meat. – It happens.

And there was not an ounce of acceptance in his voice, only this defeated helplessness. The same helplessness she’s hearing – she’s feeling – now.

‘’She doesn’t have anyone else left? No family?’’

‘’No one. Her father was killed in the war, as far as I know.’’

It happens. Females disappear. Females evaporate. Females appear with their wings clipped, with blood running down their thighs. Females find themselves in the wrong place, the wrong time… especially young, pretty widows, trying to make a living in any way they can, selling whatever they have, including themselves.

Nesta does not have to ask for more details, does not have to dig deeper. Cassian fixes her stare on the chandelier above her head and breaths deeply and, when she looks down, she can see dark bruises blooming on his knuckles, turning them all shades of purple.

Her hands are still cool from the autumn air. He shivers when her thumbs brush across his tender flesh.

‘’Those who did it to her – they won’t do it again to anyone else, will they?’’

‘’No,’’ Cassian growls, his fingers curling around hers. ‘’No, they won’t.’’

She lets her lips curl into a smile, the one that makes Devlon piss his pants whenever he throws a hissy about her coven, or rather about her dragging the clipped females to the woods at night to howl to the moon, as he calls it.

‘’Good.’’ She breathes out.

Her eyes slide on the wooden panels on the wooden panels, back to the kitchen; through the ajar door, all she can see are the black curls, the small talons on top of the girl’s wings peeking from the folds of the blanket.

She’s just so small. She cannot be possibly older than five.

‘’What’s her name?”

“Nicassia.’’ Cassian answers without meeting Nesta’s eyes and something akin to a laugh bubbles in her chest. Nicassia. What a pretty name, swishing like a mountain stream on the rocks, like the wind in the valley.

Ni-cass-ia.

It seems the irony has not escaped Cassian too, because he smirks slightly at her stunned silence.

‘’What are the chances, huh?’’

‘’Yeah.’’ She sounds a bit breathless. Nicassia. ‘’What  - where are you planning to take her?’’

She rather feels than hears his hesitance when he says:

‘’Well. There’s an orphanage in Velaris-‘’

Something tightens like a rock inside her core. Of course.

She bites on her tongue. Stop being ridiculous, Velaris is not the source of all evil in the world. She has no doubt that they will take care of her well there – keep her well-fed and clothed, educate her. Give her the care and attention she needs. Maybe she’ll be treated as something … something else, different, but not worse, Feyre would never allow that. Still-

There’s this nagging thought, coming back to her over and over again as she raises her eyes to the small bundle of misfortune on the stroll in the kitchen Nesta has started to think of as hers – what about the things they cannot give her in Velaris?

Nesta’s been living in the Illyria for three years now; she keeps count of every day while pretending she’s absolutely not doing that. And during this time, she has just begun to grasp the magnitude of her ignorance of how these people live and how they think and feel – but she also knows now just enough to realize that there will be no coming back for Nicassia if she’s sent to the Night Court so young.

No one will teach her the songs to keep the rhythm while sewing – no one will teach her how to sew in the first place, how to weave the promises and good fortunes into the fabric. No one will teach her the strange language, full of whistles and hard vowels, impossible to really grasp for somebody who did not grow up hearing it every day. No one will teach her how to put pebbles on the windowsills for protection or to hang bundles of herbs above the fireplace for prosperity and health. No one will make a rowan necklace for her upon her flowering, every hope, and dream that her mother has for her captured on the rope along with the fruits.

No one will teach her the sacred, secret language of Illyrian females, the rites and rituals of their womanhood. If Nicassia grows up in Velaris, she will be forever an outcast in her own home. Not High Fae and not quite Illyrian either.

She will once sit around the fire with other females just like Nesta does with her coven and she too won’t be a part of the story.

And Nesta cannot bear this thought, cannot help but fixate on it.

‘’Nesta.’’

Cassian’s hand is warm and steady on arm, gentle, when he squeezes it.

He’s always gentle with her now, hesitant almost. She’s trying not to miss the times when he was challenging her with every move, every word, driving her insane. It’s better this way, when everything between them is so delicate, fragile like an eggshell. It’s better like that, she tries to convince herself every day, every night laying alone in her bed, her very skin burning from desire.

Sometimes he sleeps beside her to keep her nightmares at bay, but honestly, she almost prefers the nightmares to this unbearable, painful distance between them.  

‘’You cannot – you can’t keep her, Sweetheart.’’

She knows what he means by that – she knows he means all the sleepless nights and the emptiness still present in her eyes more often than not. Her still too-skinny hands, her still-not-quite mastered powers. How she would not touch booze for all days of the year except for the anniversary of her father’s death when she gets so absolutely pissed that she sleeps through the next week. The fact that they share fears and dreams and silence, trade quiet feelings, small kisses, absent-minded caresses every day, but they have still not traded the actual words, did not dare to voice anything they feel for each other.

She knows he only wants to protect her.

But maybe a time for coddling has passed. Not when there is a child sitting in their kitchen, small and alone in this world and this time, she has power – power, and strength, and will – to help her.

‘’Maybe I can’t’’. she says softly, slowly. Nicassia’s dark curls spill on her shoulders. Nesta’s hands itch to braid it the way it’s supposed to be braided, just like Emerie explained to her one time-  first parted in two, then divided into four strands and woven together (Health. Protection. Love. Devotion.). Nesta’s no Illyrian, but she can learn. She can ask her coven to teach her, to teach her how to sing lullabies in Illyrian, which bedtimes stories she should tell-

Ni-cass-ia.

Nesta thinks about a boy of five, dumped onto the cold mud, taught over and over again in the most horrible way that he has to kill, beg or steal for every little crumb of love in his life, that it will never be given freely to him, that he will never be worth it.

Nesta thinks of a girl of eight, burning with anger too vast to be contained, only learning decades later how to be gentle, how to allow others to be gentle to her.  She thinks of Feyre and Elain, of loving too much and not enough simultaneously, of not knowing how to feel anything without this magnitude of feeling devouring her whole.

Nesta turns around to face Cassian, her hands gripping his too-strongly. There’s fire – fire- burning inside her brighter than any magic ever did, hotter than any rage ever did.

She needs us. – she thinks and then: I need this. I want this.

I want this for us.  

She doesn’t remember ever wanting anything more. She doesn’t remember the last time she has felt so much.

How can they continue to pretend they’re walking on eggshells when she feels every rise and fall of his chest as if it was her own? When she could’ve as well grabbed on this bond between them or hang herself on it, that’s how strong it is. Forged from some ancient metal. Hardened in flames.

Cassian kneeling on the floor in front of this girl. Nesta coming home.

‘’But maybe we can.’’

His eyes burn golden, staring down at her. She can almost hear his heart stumbling in his chest. She’s trembling, waiting for him to tell her, no, to tell her that’s insane and wrong, to try to reason with her.

But maybe her own heart is painted on her face or maybe the implication of her words are too vast, too great to grasp, or maybe it’s that fact that all her walls go down for a moment when she’s too desperate to keep them up and he sees her for what she truly is for a moment, or maybe it’s all of those things altogether or something else entirely – but Cassian doesn’t say no.

He looks to the kitchen again, his jaw clenching and eyes turning soft when one of Nicassia’s bare feet emerges from the blanket to dangle above the floor.

‘’Are you sure?’’

One step, two steps before she’s so close she could’ve counted the freckles of hazel in his eyes.

Be brave.

‘’I want this with you. I want her. Do you – do you want it too?’’

And she means more than Nicassia, or rather – she means all Nicassia can possibly mean, the whole ocean of dreams she has never dared to venture into, so deep they could both drown in it.

In her grand romance novels, he would’ve pulled her into his arms, give her a sweeping kiss. But in these books, there seems to always be a perfect moment for everything, the exact seconds when stars align and the realization comes like a lightning strike. Nesta does not believe in this type of love any more- doesn’t believe in the perfect moments. It was always Feyre’s brand of romance. Everything in Nesta’s and Cassian’s story has always been complicated and ill-timed. She doesn’t expect to be swept off her feet or wooed anymore.

She just wants to come home. Finally, after all those lonely years.  

Cassian doesn’t give her a grand kiss. Instead, he raises their linked hands to his lips and whispers against her skin – quietly, like a secret, like an oath:

‘’I do. Fine then, love.’’

And for a second she can almost see that small boy entering Rhysand’s mother’s cottage in the war camp, craving family and belonging above all reason once again.

Her body turns soft, jelly; her arm raises up, palm resting in the crook of his neck, thumb brushing the line of his jaw. She’s on her tiptoes before she realizes she has even made a move.

For the first time since they met, they meet each other halfway; his forehead resting on hers, his hand pressing hers to his heart.

‘’Fine then, love.’’ She echoes and, all at once, warmth erupts under her skin like a raging forest fire when the bond tugs on her insides and snaps in place, sweet and familiar, the gravity keeping her feet on the ground.

[reh-sa]

A Moonlit Bath - A Captive Princess AU

TW: Mentions of forced marriage, including vague mentions of possible marital r*pe // Very vague mentions of suicide 

The most desirable bachelorette in all of Vere is called Laurene.

She might be known to be a sullen princess, but as the only living child of former king Aleron, her beauty is only matched by her dowry and the man who will marry her will inherit it all. So naturally, when her uncle made his vows to her, no one was under the illusion it was out of love. He is ruling as the king de facto since, locking his niece tightly away, as he can only keep his position and wealth as long as he owns her. Laurene has been living a very secluded life since, miserably being a prisoner in her own home.

It is not until Damia, crown princess of Akielos, visits the Veretian court that Laurene realizes how truly miserable she is. Damia is so strong and free, and she walks so confidently among her lines. Laurene can do nothing but watch her from the shadows with envy.

Meanwhile, Damia is surprised by how little glimpses she catches of the mysterious Veretian princess. Dead-set on wanting to meet a great beauty like hers, she starts searching Arles for the hidden princess...

...but it turns out to be an arduous task. Damia is told the princess Laurene is locking herself up in her room all day, mad with grief for still not being with child, but Damia believes it is a lie. One day, she passes the doctor Paschal on his way to the princess’ chambers, delivering a fertility potion that oddly looks and smells like utterly unfertile moon tea. 

“Dana,” Nikandros sighs. “I think you are reading too much into this. Don’t take this the wrong way, but did it occur to you they might keep you away from her because you have a reputation as a wife-stealer? The king would not be the first man to find his lady in your bed. Some may take offense in that. I’d like to remind you of that incident with Kyra.”

“The bigger offense is that these lords do not know how to please their ladies,” Damia shrugs. And then, after a moment: “Who was Kyra again?”

But eventually, fortune favors Damia one starry night.

She fantasized countless times about meeting the princess on a balcony, perfumed with the scent of the night flowers welling up in the air. But it turns out Damia would encounter Laurene in a place she did not think of yet: the baths. 

Since there were no lights ignited inside, Damia believed herself alone for a moment upon entering, but her eyes quickly adjust to the moonlight, drawn to the silver figure in the glowing pool. Princess Laurene is even more ethereal than the rumours, wet hair clinging to a well-balanced face, her milky body disappearing into the scented water. Droplets are dancing over her curves, more beautiful and shinier than pearls. For a moment, the image in front of Damia’s eyes is one of utter serenity. But as sweet as the Veretian princess looks, she is quick to reach for a dagger hidden inside her pool when she hears Damia approaching. 

“Like what you see?” she purrs with the voice of a siren.

“Very much,” Damia answers truthfully, “though the dagger is quite worrisome. Since I heard of the case of Queen Yseult, I get nervous when I see a melancholy princess alone at night in the baths with a dagger.”

That earns her a sheepish look, and Laurene genuinely blushes.

“I…I did not want to…Queen Yseult did it because she was about to birth a bastard. I’m not with child.”

“So I have heard. And I would express my sympathies, princess, if not for the moon tea you have been drinking,” Damia says.

The dagger Laurene throws cuts through the serenity in a swift motion, faintly striking Damia’s cheek until it comes to a rest in the wall behind her.

“What do you want from me?!” Laurene snaps. “If it was just to see my tits, you have seen them now. Your goal is accomplished and you can gloriously return to your chambers. I ensure you, there is no need to spy on me further.”

“Oh no, actually…” Damia says while wiping the blood from her cheek, “I came to take a bath.” 

And with that, she unbuckles the pin on her chiton, the fabric slipping to the ground and revealing her naked body all at once, muscle upon muscle. As Damia walks down the steps into the water, she faintly notices from the corner of her eye that Laurene is staring at her, until the princess seems to remember in some charming display of Veretian modesty to look away. Her blush spreads even further, and Damia cannot help the bit of amusement she is feeling at that. Without a blade in her hand, Laurene seems to be much more tame.

“Also,” Damia continues, the tension in her limbs unwinding in the warm water, “I hoped to make a friend here. I am tired of having conversations with old men all day, and I think your husband does not like me. It is good to talk to another woman for once. Can I use your soap? I’ve left mine in my chambers”. “Have it,” Laurene nags, throwing the little piece of soap at her, and quickly averting her eyes again. 

Veretian soaps are wonderful, made from rich and creamy almond milk with a hint of cinnamon, and so very different from the Akielon olive soaps. Even somebody like Damia can appreciate these Veretian niceties. She starts to lather herself until she is covered in luxurious foam, and for a moment there is no sound but the soft rippling of water. Eventually, it is the Veretian princess who breaks the silence.

“I have never seen a woman as muscular as you. If you didn’t have the tits, I would almost believe it was an oxen intruding my baths. Are all Akielon women build like that?” she asks, quite brazen. Damia cannot help but to grin at her rudeness. She loves that the princess has a mouth on her.

“No...I can assure you we too have some sweet, fickle maidens. But I like the competition.”

“The competition in sports, or in conquering fickle maidens?” Laurene asks.

“Both, sometimes,” Damia smiles. “I think wrestling is wonderful. Sports, I mean. It is easy to learn but hard to master. You don’t even have to have my physique, mind you, that is merely a preference. In summer, we host tournaments with challengers from all over the world. There are even women from the warrior clans of the mountains of Vask coming. And some challengers give themselves the most pretentious nicknames, you cannot imagine. Especially the men! The celebrations go on and on for days, there are competitions at day and food and drink at night. And I haven’t even started to tell you about the Okton, where we compete with different weapons on horseback-”

“Are you good with weapons? What kind of horses?” Laurene blurts. She likes to hear stories from the world outside, Damia thinks to herself.

“I shall explain it to you. But tell me first, princess, why is it you never seem to see the daylight? You would think a man with a wife looking like that would parade her through the city as if she was an expensive steed. No offense. Yet, I did not see you at the banquet, nor in the gardens or at the dance. Why is that?”

“Maybe I am simply not fond of company, princess Damia,” Laurene answers in a cutting tone.

“Oh, please call me Dana.”

“I call you however it pleases me. And for that sake, I am not fond of intruders into my baths either.”

“My apologies, princess,” Damia says. “I was not aware you would bathe at such late hour. And your baths are so lovely, I wanted to see them for myself. Those patterns are simply dazzling. Yours have depictions of naked women on the walls. In the other baths I have seen, there were nothing but cocks.”

That earns her a giggle from Laurene, as much as she tries to keep her sullen facade up. The Veretian princess might look like a shy nymph, but seems to be quite naughty. Damia decides that she likes that. 

She wonders if she can go one step further.

“Princess Laurene. After showing me your baths, I wondered if you would be willing to show me the markets in the city as well. I’d love to get my hands on these colorful Veretian sweets you make from syrup and rosewater. How about tomorrow? You could dress up as a peasant girl and sneak out. Nobody will notice.”

“Lovely. Like in a fairytale,” Laurene says. “If I could overcome the minor inconvenience of not being able to leave the palace by dressing up as a peasant girl, I would use it to flee the country, not to buy candy on a market.”

That has Damia alerted.

“So much for the dislike of company. You are even willing to flee your own country?” she asks. “You can get a divorce, you know. I believe nobody likes being married to their own uncle, especially one that never lets you outside, and I don’t see the political gain for you either. So what is with that match?”

Laurene sighs. “If I didn’t know my uncle hated women so much, especially those in power, I would believe he had sent you to spy on me. But I am inclined to believe you are here out of your own free will and your raging pheromones, so I’m telling you. Yes, I could get a divorce, but there is one problem. The Veretians fear nothing as great as bastardy. If I happened to be with child at the time of the divorce, the curse still applies. I need to proof to the court I am not pregnant by being physically and geographically distant from him for…”

“...nine months?”

“Exactly. You are learning the Veretian customs fast. He knows this of course, which is why he is locking me up. Silly, isn’t it? I need to stay miles and miles away from my lord husband before they believe me I am not pregnant, as if breathing the very same air as a man’s could leave me with child. And as long as the gods and the moon tea do not fail me, that shall not happen,” Laurene explains bitterly.

“That is terrible,” Damia replies in all honesty.

“Don’t look so sad. I had a brother once, and he was very brave. I am brave, too. And I know there will be an opening for me, one day. If a foreign princess can stroll into my baths just like that, I shall be able to do the same but in reverse.” And then, in a whisper: “I’ve been even studying the sword.”

“You have?”, Damia hums, smiling at the thought of the princess strapped in a Veretian breastplate. Laurene nods, so proud that she is not able to suppress a smile herself, soft crimson coloring her cheeks. It was very charming.

“But it is difficult. There is a man from my Princess’ Guard I’ve been seeing- ...oh, don’t make that face, not like that. He teaches me. But I can only meet him in secret, since I must not be with a man alone and there is no woman here to teach me. I’ve wondered…” Laurene says, abruptly breaking off. 

When she doesn’t continue speaking, Damia asks: “You’ve wondered?”

“Ah-...No, it’s nothing,” she blurts.

Suddenly, Laurene rises, water dripping from her golden hair, a view that is dazzling Damia once again.

“I’m sorry, but I have to retreat to my chambers now. I’ve been here for so long, they will wonder where I’ve been,” the princess says.

Damia simply nods, watching as Laurene emerges from the water and towels herself down in a very practical way, without a hint of sensuality. Just as she was about to leave through the door, she turns one last time.

“Dana,” Laurene says, a little shy, and Damia is dizzily struck by an emotion she cannot quite identify upon hearing her nickname from Laurene’s lips. 

“You were right. It was pleasant to talk to another woman for once.” And then, a little hesitant: “I like to take baths at midnight. Goodnight.”

Damia nods, smiling at the hint.

“Goodnight, princess. Sleep well.” 

And with that, the ornamental doors close and Damia is left alone in the pool. 

She closes her eyes and lets herself float freely in the water, the moonlight casting patterns on her body. The baths feel so vast and empty suddenly, as if the princess herself was the one whose presence had lightened them up. Now, she was nothing but a faint dream. But Damia will meet her again at the next moon. She had said so.

In the silence of the night, a memory surfaced to her mind of what Nikandros had said earlier to her. 

She was not called Damia wife-stealer for no reason.

[spell-cleaver]

Xtober Masterlist!

 This... oh boy, there’s a lot on here. According to my computer, I wrote 70k in October and that spans over all these 70+ ficlets. That’s a lot of ficlets, and it took me a while to put it together, so if any of the links are wrong, please let me know! They might well be, and if I know it’s wrong I can go back and fix it. But let’s just get to it.

If you would prefer to use AO3, however, I have embarked on archiving most of these ficlets there as well.

This is organised first with Whump-, Angst- and Flufftober, in that order, then I have lists collecting together AUs that spanned three or more prompts saved under that, if you’re still reading by then. I have links to other masterposts, for the longest two AUs, that hold them in order up here:

For brevity’s sake, my two longest AUs are marked with emojis, and I have also linked their masterposts or AO3 uploads:

⚔💮 for Swords and Starflowers

🏴‍☠️ for The Pirate Son

With that explained, buckle up and here we go!

@whumptober2020​

Day 1: Let’s Hang Out Sometime

🏴‍☠️ Luke Skywalker, pirate, is led to be hanged.

Day 2: In the Hands of the Enemy

⚔💮 Vader muses on his newfound son.

Day 3: My Way or the Highway

🏴‍☠️ Palpatine offers Luke a deal to avoid the gallows. Same as Angstober Day 2.

Day 4: Running Out of Time

🏴‍☠️ Vader has captured, and is determined to save, his son.

Day 5: Where Do You Think You’re Going?

🏴‍☠️ Vader captures Luke. Same as Whumptober Day 9 and 10.

Day 6: “Please...”

Vader argues with his beloved son and it ends poorly. Sequel on Day 7.

Day 7: I’ve Got You

Prequel on Day 6. Vader takes Luke to the medbay. Sequel on Day 11.

Day 8: Where Did Everybody Go?

Luke investigates a seemingly abandoned Rebel base.

Day 9: For The Greater Good

🏴‍☠️  Vader captures Luke. Same as Whumptober Day 5 and 10.

Day 10: They Look So Pretty When They Bleed

🏴‍☠️  Vader captures Luke. Same as Whumptober Day 5 and 9.

Day 11: Psych 101

Prequel on Day 7. Luke wakes up and Vader has to face the consequences.

Day 12: I Think I’ve Broken Something

🏴‍☠️ Luke and Vader argue about their situation, after Vader has rescued Luke from the gallows.

Day 13: Breathe In, Breathe Out

⚔💮 Vader nearly captures Luke, not knowing who he is, and Luke makes a desperate escape attempt.

Day 14: Is Something Burning?

🏴‍☠️ Vader rescues Luke from the gallows and things go up in flames.

Day 15: Into the Unknown

⚔💮 Vader and Luke sparring and bonding even more. Same as Angstober Day 15 and Flufftober Day 15.

Day 16: A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

🏴‍☠️ Luke has a run-in with a siren.

Day 17: I Didn’t See That Coming

🏴‍☠️ Vader tells the truth, after the sirens.

Day 18: Panic! At The Disco

Prequel on Angstober Day 13. Luke has to interrogate someone. Sequel on Angstober Day 20.

Day 19: Broken Hearts

Set in the same AU as my fic Sparks: Vader finds Luke.

Day 20: Toto, I Have A Feeling We’re Not In Kansas Anymore

⚔💮 Luke and Obi-Wan move to Tatooine.

Day 21: I Don’t Feel So Well...

⚔💮 Luke talks with Vader about his arm.

Day 22: Do These Tacos Taste Funny To You?

Luke Skywalker, the Imperial Prince, is at a ball. Same as Angstober Day 10 and Whumptober Day 23 and 28.

Day 23: What’s A Whumpee Gotta Do To Get Some Sleep Around Here?

Luke Skywalker, the Imperial Prince, is at a ball. Same as Angstober Day 10 and Whumptober Day 22 and 28.

Day 24: You’re Not Making Any Sense

⚔💮 Leia is captured and sees the Empire’s new fortress.

Day 25: I Think I’ll Just Collapse Right Here

🏴‍☠️ Luke’s friends come to rescue him.

Day 26: If You Thought The Head Trauma Was Bad...

Vader and son are ready to enact a coup against the Emperor, but there are some things Vader doesn’t know.

Day 27: Okay, Who Had Natural Disasters On Their 2020 Bingo Card?

🏴‍☠️ They run into problems with a storm and a monster. Same as Flufftober Day 29.

Day 28: Such Wow. Many Normal. Much Oops.

Luke Skywalker, the Imperial Prince, is at a ball. Same as Angstober Day 10 and Whumptober Day 22 and 23.

Day 29: I Think I Need A Doctor

🏴‍☠️ After that unfortunate run-in with a monster, Luke’s friends take care of him and they talk.

Day 30: Now Where Did That Come From?

🏴‍☠️ After saving Luke from the monster, Vader worries about his mortal son.

Day 31: Today’s Special: Torture

Luke stumbles on an incapacitated Vader in the woods.

@angstober​

Day 1: “I Did It For You.”

Luke Naberrie attends a ball and his absentee father kills his friends for him.

Day 2: In the Hands of the Enemy

🏴‍☠️ Palpatine offers Luke a deal to avoid the gallows. Same as Whumptober Day 3.

Day 3: Memory Loss

Vader tells Luke about Padmé.

Day 4: Graveyard

⚔💮 Sabé goes to spy on Vader’s mansion and has some bitter thoughts.

Day 5: Terminal Illness

Vader finds out Luke’s diagnosis.

Day 6: Nightmares Come Alive

⚔💮 Luke wakes up in Vader’s care to the sound of a lullaby.

Day 7: Skeleton

⚔💮 Luke finds the bones of a severed arm in the garden.

Day 8: Mist

Luke, while escorting Senator Naberrie off Naboo, has a strange experience in a graveyard. Same as Angstober Day 9 and 21.

Day 9: Ghosts

Luke, while escorting Senator Naberrie off Naboo, has a strange experience in a graveyard. Same as Angstober Day 8 and 21.

Day 10: Poisoning

Luke Skywalker, the Imperial Prince, is at a ball. Same as Whumptober Day 22, 23 and 28.

Day 11: Missing In Action

🏴‍☠️ Luke’s friends hear about his capture.

Day 12: Disaster

Luke’s mission was a disaster. Sequel on Day 13

Day 13: Traitor

Prequel on Day 12. Luke tries to talk to his father about his doubts. Sequel on Day

Day 14: Insult

⚔💮 Vader muses on Toivo,  his newly captured son. Same as Flufftober Day 14.

Day 15: Cold

⚔💮 Vader and Luke sparring and bonding even more. Same as Whumptober Day 15 and Flufftober Day 15.

Day 16: Smoke

⚔💮 Vader deals with the destruction of the Death Star. Same as Flufftober Day 16.

Day 17: Separation

⚔💮 Leia writes to Luke. Same as Flufftober Day 17.

Day 18: Condemned

⚔💮 Luke learns that Leia has been captured. Same as Flufftober Day 18.

Day 19: Embrace

⚔💮 Vader returns to Luke from visiting Palpatine. Same as Flufftober Day 19.

Day 20: Deception

Prequel on Whumptober Day 18. Imperial Prince Luke interrogates the terrorist Princess Leia. Sequel on Day 24.

Day 21: Hauntings

Luke, while escorting Senator Naberrie off Naboo, has a strange experience in a graveyard. Same as Angstober Day 8 and 9.

Day 22: Shadows

⚔💮 Palpatine hears about Toivo, and his “grandson”.

Day 23: Prison

⚔💮 Imprisoned by Vader, Obi-Wan dwells on his regrets.

Day 24: Damaged

Prequel on Day 20. Vader dwells on his son and his choices.

Day 25: The Unknown

⚔💮 Padmé leaves her son behind.

Day 26: Fallen

Prince Luke Organa is blackmailed into serving the Sith to save all that he holds dear. Same as Day 27.

Day 27: Deal with the Devil

Prince Luke Organa is blackmailed into serving the Sith to save all that he holds dear. Same as Day 26.

Day 28: Whisper

⚔💮 Luke wakes to find his mother gone. Also written for Flufftober Day 13.

Day 29: Truth

⚔💮 Obi-Wan wonders if he should tell anyone the truth.

Day 30: Trapped

Prequel on Flufftober Day 20. Luke and Han are in a cell and Vader comes to tell Luke the truth. Sequel on Flufftober Day 31.

Day 31: Monster

⚔💮 Luke finds a portrait of the Emperor.

@flufftober​

Day 1: In the Shadows

⚔💮 Han teaches Luke how to pick locks.

Day 2: Comfort

Loose prequel to my fic Sparks: Vader comforts a young Luke who’s trying to sleep. Same as Flufftober Day 7.

Day 3: “But you said...”

⚔💮 Luke badgers Vader to teach him magic.

Day 4: Wounded

Luke convinces his father to go to a medbay.

Day 5: Sparkle

⚔💮 Luke begins to embroider.

Day 6: Quicksilver

Luke and Leia escape from Vader by hiding in plain sight.

Day 7: “Stop hogging the blankets!”

Loose prequel to my fic Sparks: Vader comforts a young Luke who’s trying to sleep. Same as Flufftober Day 2.

Day 8: Unwavering

⚔💮 Vader teaches Luke about mage duels.

Day 9: Monochrome

⚔💮 Luke presents Vader with the capes he’s been decorating.

Day 10: “Once upon a time...”

⚔💮 Padmé tells Luke a story.

Day 11: Radiance

⚔💮 Vader and Luke spar with magic.

Day 12: Clenched Fists

⚔💮 In hiding in Tatooine, Luke got into a fight with some boys and Obi-Wan is left to pick up the pieces.

Day 13: Whispers

⚔💮 Luke wakes to find his mother gone. Also written for Angstober Day 28.

Day 14: Possibilities

⚔💮 Vader muses on Toivo,  his newly captured son. Same as Angstober Day 14.

Day 15: Breathless

⚔💮 Vader and Luke sparring and bonding even more. Same as Whumptober Day 15 and Angstober Day 15.

Day 16: Smoke

⚔💮 Vader deals with the destruction of the Death Star. Same as Angstober Day 16.

Day 17: Yours

⚔💮 Leia writes to Luke. Same as Angstober Day 17.

Day 18: Things Left Unsaid

⚔💮 Luke learns that Leia has been captured. Same as Angstober Day 18.

Day 19: Hand Holding

⚔💮 Vader returns to Luke from visiting Palpatine. Same as Angstober Day 19.

Day 20: Enigmatic

Prequel flash fiction. Han, escaped from Vader’s custody, comms his boyfriend. Sequel on Day

Day 21: “I don’t understand.”

🏴‍☠️ Vader learns Luke’s name.

Day 22: “Do you trust me?”

Young Luke Vader has been captured by the Rebellion, but someone is here to get him out. Sequel on Day 23.

Day 23: Childhood Bedroom

Prequel on Day 22. Luke Vader is returned to his father.

Day 24: Serendipity

Vader finds a Force-sensitive teen on Naboo.

Day 25: Resilience

⚔💮 Luke and Padmé, on the road. Same as Day 26.

Day 26: On the Road

⚔💮 Luke and Padmé, on the road. Same as Day 25.

Day 27: Half-written

⚔💮 Luke has a letter to remember his mother by.

Day 28: Starlight

⚔💮 Luke attends a ball celebrating the victory over the Death Star. Same as Day 30.

Day 29: Thunderstorms

🏴‍☠️ They run into problems with a storm and a monster. Same as Whumptober Day 27.

Day 30: “You had to be there.”

⚔💮 Luke attends a ball celebrating the victory over the Death Star. Same as Day 29.

Day 31: “Make me.”

Prequel on Angstober Day 30. Vader muses on his son and his companion.

Collected  AUs:

The Hero: AO3 link here

Luke’s realises that his mission has ended in disaster when he’s injured, the Rebellion is crushed, and his father has come for him. (Warnings for unhappy ending and major character death.)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Just Like His Mother: AO3 link here

Vader lashes out at Luke during an argument and regrets it soon after.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

A Straightforward Smuggler: AO3 link here

Han’s relationship to Luke and other misunderstandings get him caught up in the family drama.

Part 1 (not Xtober), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4