#i straight up did not exist in anyone's memory

[drownedchimera]

sometimes i think about how often people forget im present in a situation and how easy it is for me to leave them just because nobody notices i left at all

[nintendont2502]

WHERE is that 'did you let me die in your arms in the timeloop' post it reminded me of something

[girlthativealwaysbeen]

i really want to be all grown up and keep up with the news but

[tainbocuailnge]

this is a final fantasy fourteen dawntrail post. it speaks incredibly for the desperation of the people of alexandria in its decline that they both couldn't bear to remember the dead and couldn't bear the thought of the dead no longer being remembered, and thus created this contradictory system where the dead are only remembered by something other than those to whom that memory is meaningful. so crushed by collective trauma and grief that they directed every effort to eradicating awareness of mortality altogether and it's resulted in a paradise where everyone is incredibly blasé about dying because the dead live forever in the cloud until they run out of spare souls and are completely paralyzed with fear of their own mortality.

but even more than desperation it speaks of a naive sincerity that the scientists and officials behind the project just actually genuinely built and maintained this giant memory database to preserve the deceased at increasingly large cost, rather than just lie that they totally did that to a populace who won't remember those deceased anyway. they're not harvesting souls to power the war effort while using a recreation of the beloved princess as puppet figurehead, they completely sincerely recreate the dead from their memories and simulate them living happily ever after, started by a sincere desire to not lose their beloved princess. living memory is an eternal theme park that actively goes out of its way to facilitate letting people who remember each other fondly meet again. it's the manifestation of a childish wish for a world where there are no partings, only reunions. it's a theme park rather than an actual city with a dmv and shit like amaurot was precisely Because it's a childish dream. it's fundamentally an artificial experience, but one which sole motive is to bring joy and relief from everyday sadness.

and sphene is the first and most prominent victim of that naive sincerity. she's the mascot of this theme park, and because she's the mascot in charge of providing this artificial but kind experience she can't ever break character. the people of alexandria couldn't bear the thought of her being forgotten, so they created a memory of her that would last forever, but they also couldn't bear to actually remember sphene, so she's a mascot instead of a person. she loves her people, and they love her, but none of them can possibly understand the weight that love puts on her shoulders. the sphene we meet is fundamentally trapped by other people's deeply limited understanding of her.

it's so so so important to her character that she's a small dainty feminine woman that exists to take care of everyone emotionally and be loved by them for being so nice and sweet and loving, and when she tries to arrange some kind of secure future she ends up with an abusive husband who ignores her wants and needs for his own ambitions, and she is fundamentally unable to act outside this highly gendered framework. sphene reads like the commonplace tragedy of the straight woman to me to the point where making her in lesbians with wuk lamat is like. I can certainly understand wanting to grant sphene the sense of liberation and comfort that many lesbians themselves feel at the realisation that they don't have to marry men, so far be it from me to say anyone is wrong to do so. but it's kinda ignoring part of what her deal is for the sake of that comfort I think.

not that lesbians have never ended up in abusive marriages with men but sphene very explicitly does not have other options, part of the tragedy is that you fundamentally cannot actually grant her that liberation and comfort. cahciua explicitly says there's no way to know what the real living sphene would have done because this sphene is a recreated memory of the beloved princess whose job is to sustain living memory. their darling sphene who will always listen to all their troubles and is always nice to them and will always take care of them. she's literally trapped by the role society assigned her, and that role is essentially to be their tradwife mother. the living sphene may have been into women, but the people who recorded her to create the sphene we meet never even considered the option.

do you guys know that tweet thread where OP describes going to a funeral for a woman they didn't know who'd died young of a heart attack, and the husband spent most of the eulogy talking about himself instead of his recently deceased wife, and by the end of the ceremony OP had learned nothing at all about what this woman was like beyond being a wife and mother? everyone fondly remembers the princess and queen of alexandria, but nobody remembers sphene. and just like all OP could still do for this woman was go to her casket and acknowledge that she too had been a full person in her own right before the stress of swallowing everything about herself killed her, all wuk lamat can really still do for sphene is think of her as the full person she must have been.

we're not told anything about what sphene was like as a leader, what her policies were, how she actually did her work, her vision for the future of her country before she died and was reconstructed. they only tell us everyone loved her so dearly because she was so kind to them. we're shown her dying moments and it's her using her airship to shield a civilian, so we can assume her love for her people was indeed true. but none of sphene's history that we're shown and nothing of how otis (who knew the living sphene) talks about her tells us anything about what she was like outside her role as beloved princess. her memories from after her "revival" are dissonant and corrupted and possibly not even real, and her policy of preserving living memory no matter what is a wish implanted in her by the people who reconstructed her. we don't even get to see what she looked like when alive. the only sphene the people know is the theme park mascot of living memory.

cahciua was exactly as erenville knew her and was true enough to herself to be able to turn against the system, so we're not given reason to believe any of the endless were tampered with. but sphene was already dead by the time they even tried to figure out how to preserve her memory, her actual soul and memories definitely long gone by the time the technology worked. we're explicitly told that nobody in everkeep really cared who or what sphene was as long as she adequately fulfilled this role of loving them all so much. she can't even tell you her favourite food, none of the people who labored so intensely and sincerely to bring her back bothered to write down even her most basic personal preferences when they reconstructed her. she has to deflect the question with "when I think of the people who make the food I can't pick just one" because the only preference she's allowed is loving all her people equally. she's completely thrown off that wuk lamat would even ask.

and it's precisely because she is remembered only as this kind loving woman who gave everything for her people that she is weak and powerless to actually do whatever it takes to keep them safe. she does not have the freedom to assert herself, let alone to be cruel or violent or take extreme actions. society does not give her that freedom, because she is a small dainty woman and (therefore) the only role allowed to her is to be their tradwife mother. so while her desire to protect her people is as real and true as it can be part of her plan to lobotomise herself in order to become someone capable of violence and cruelty also reads to me as that specific female frustration of wanting to destroy the sweet babygirl image of yourself by doing something extreme. like britney spears shaving her head. but in sphene's case destroying the babygirl image amounts to destroying herself completely, because the babygirl image of her is all that comprises her. and so when all is said and done the only fragment of sphene that is restored and lingers just a bit longer after that image is destroyed is the sphene that wuk lamat sincerely wanted to get to know.

[irisintheafterglow]

been having a very odd moment in my brain so take exes to lovers with prohero!shoto

"hi."

"what are you doing here?"

i'm still in love with you.

"i wanted to see how you were holding up." you're a different person compared to the last time he saw you. you from the past would smile at him, softly thanking him for his concern and inviting him inside with a hand on his shoulder. you in front of him, however, just laughs. it's humorless, pained even. you don't laugh the same as you did with him. "what is it?"

"nothing," you say with a shake of your head. "i appreciate you coming by, but i swear i'm fine." he catches the way your eyes space out, if only for a moment like your consciousness disappeared into a different plane of existence. "yeah, i'm fine," you reiterate when your senses come back and you move to close the door. he carefully but firmly stops you from shutting it and you narrow your eyes. "the fuck do you think you're doing?" you never swore when you were with him.

"i brought you food," shoto offers, pulling the plastic bag from behind him and watching patiently as you analyze him like you were assessing his threat level. what had your asshole of an ex done to you to make you so guarded? "it's your favorite," he adds when he interprets your silence as apprehension. without another word, you nod and open the door, no reassuring hand on his shoulder.

you quietly take the bag from him and set it on your kitchen counter, neatly arranging the to-go containers while shoto moves on pure muscle memory to where you keep your plates. he opens the cabinet to find it bare, along with the cabinets to the left and right of it. perhaps you'd rearranged the place with your new--no, old--partner. he doesn't notice the heavy silence until you clear your throat, swallowing thickly.

"i...i smashed all the dinnerware because i was angry...at him," you croak, your head hung in shame. he hums his understanding but his heart sinks into his stomach. a memory flickers to life in the back of his mind: you and shoto in the local pottery studio, painting strawberries and penguins on matching dinner sets. you beam at him and hold up your newest creation, a baby blue bowl decorated with red and white hearts. it's beautiful, love, he says and your grin grows wider. you tell him the colors of the hearts are to match his hair, and that the bowl would always be your favorite because it reminded you of him. i can't wait to eat soba from it, then, since the art will always remind me of the artist.

"there should be paper plates in the bag," he says gently, shutting the cabinet softly because he knows you don't like the sound of it slamming. "if there isn't, i don't mind eating straight from the container."

"thank you for coming over. it means a lot," you murmur with a container and a fork in your hands, bypassing your dining set and opting for the floor of your living room. he follows you, sitting a respectful distance away that violates every thought willing him to hold you close.

"has anyone else been by?"

"mina, momo, and jiro yesterday. midoriya and uraraka the day before that." you release a little puff of air through your nose, an indicator of sad amusement. "even bakugo stopped by with kirishima. that asshole must have known you were coming because he brought cold soba and i told him i don't eat it."

"what did he say?"

"he told me 'i know you don't, but he does.' weird, isn't it?" your eyes flicker from your food up to his own, watching him again. "did you tell bakugo that you were gonna come over?" he shakes his head, the honest answer. "we've been broken up for two years but people still predict how we operate."

"maybe they know something that we don't," he proposes and your expression hardens.

"don't say that. you can't say that."

"you told me relationships are built on trust," he reminds you. "i won't lie to you, even if we aren't together." your grip tightens around your fork and you forcefully set your container on the coffee table. he steadies his resolve, preparing his defenses so that when you lash out, he can take it in stride. you're in love with them, dumbass, bakugo said to him with a scowl during a night at a pros-only bar. they're in love with you, too, so get your heads out of your asses and get back together.

he's not prepared when tears start rolling down your face.

he reaches out on instinct and you dodge his hand, unsuccessfully wiping your eyes with the heel of your hand.

"the reason why we didn't work was because you were honest. you told me it wasn't the right time, that maybe we could try again in the future," your voice cracks and so does something in shoto's chest. "and then we didn't. you moved on, which forced me to move on too, and now you think you can just walk in here and expect me to open up?"

say it.

tell them.

tell them everything you never did. tell them everything you wanted to but couldn't find the words.

tell them you still love them.

"i want you to let me love you again." what?

"i don't understand." that's not what he meant to say...was it?

"i don't either," he whispers and you finally let him brush a tear from your cheek. his body gravitates toward you magnetically and, even after so long, your skin is a familiar sensation. "all i know is that i miss you, and i'm sorry." another round wells up in your eyes but you know it's not from anger; it's from longing.

"he didn't love me," you sniffled. the muscle in shoto's jaw clenches so tightly, he could chip a tooth. "he loved the idea of loving me, but he didn't love me. i hated who i was when i was with him. and," you pause to exhale shakily, "i miss who i was when i was with you."

"i miss who i was when i was with you, too." he offers you a sad smile and you laugh through your tears, a genuine laugh that he knows in his soul is real. "there you are."

"you still love me? even after two years?"

"it felt longer than that," he admits and you smile the kind of smile that you only have when you're with him. "i can't undo leaving, nor can i undo how he was with you...but i can promise i can bring you back to yourself again. because i love who you are when you're with me."

"are you asking me if you can try again?"

"i'm begging you to let me try again," he pleads, taking your hands in his. they're rough and calloused and familiar and safe. "please."

your eyes sparkle and you stand unexpectedly, moving to rummage around in the fridge and kitchen cabinets. when you get back, you're holding a bowl of what he can only assume is bakugo's cold soba. you place it in front of him and settle into his side, resting your head on his shoulder as you grab the tv remote. with a satisfied smile, he opens his chopsticks and looks down at the bowl.

baby blue with red and white hearts.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! commissions and nsfw requests can be sent through my fiverr! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[elanorpam]

it's been way too long since i last did wildly self-indulgent fanart, so of course i did it for an SVSSS AU that doesn't even have any actual fanfiction written of it yet. but what can i say! it's a compelling scenario! Just check the original post for details!

here's a workplace doodle for his mess of an outfit, too:

Xin Mo is floating behind his back, wrapped in talismans. the collars are meant to be vaguely inspired on a flower bud.

Some notes i came up with for this version, copied straight from a month-old discord convo:

he may have protagonist halo now, but he's for sure not a stallion protagonist. he literally exchanged fates with his favorite person in the world in order to spare them a hellish trial-- that's romantic as fuck!! damn!! this is old CLAMP shoujo and no mistake!!

binghe may no longer be the protag, but he's still a half-heavenly demon. power-wise, heavenly demons can't be topped, and all the remaining heavenly demons are accounted for. so, SQQ can't be a heavenly demon, even in part.

HOWEVER, as a protagonist, there's a factor more important than power! it's the CHUUNI FACTOR. what's more CHUUNI™️ than being part demon?

one option is being part demon and part angel.

how would that even fucking work??????? IDK man, you can either pull from chinese folklore for fairies or heavenly beings or spirits, or you can blame Airplane and go "he accidentally implied the existence of christian elements by means of importing unexamined anime tropes"

Shen Jiu conveniently has a big fat blank on his parentage. We as fans can and have put whatever the hell we wanted there.

SQQ would jump into the abyss still under the impression SJ was a shallow villain. If his trip through the abyss involves recovering SJ's memories somehow, that sure would be fun times, huh?

so he awakens a mysterious ancestry and survives the abyss and takes Xin Mo, but he probably takes longer than Binghe did due to being squishier.

but Xin Mo isn't ACTUALLY his! so he papers it over with sealing talismans, and to battle the temptation to wield it he takes to wearing these longass sleeves. they're probably covered in talismans as well.

guessing Xiu Ya stayed behind to be mooned over by the clown trio in Cang Qiong. let's go full sparkle-sue here and say he's now fighting almost entirely via musical cultivation. i like swan-necked konghou harps so let's go with that, it'll look dope.

why is he barefoot? why WOULDN'T he be, is the question. fragile!! suffering!! dainty!! he's a shrinking flower, tormented by the weight of the One Sword To Rule Them All!!

also for extra pathos, his constant mental struggle against Xin Mo means he can't spare energy to front. it takes constant focus! he's still a bit in his delusional shit, but even when he's going "oh no, binghe is only latched throat-deep onto my dick because he's a good boy who's concerned about me and the danger i could pose by losing control" he'd probably… well, he'd probably say that out loud to anyone who asked. he's in a half-trance, mentally battling the crazy-making sword. lying is too much work.

Wouldn’t resisting Xin Mo’s influence be the mental and spiritual equivalent to training under 400x gravity or something? his wife-beam is going to be off the charts when he puts it down.

also also: who the hell dressed him like that? fucking shang qinghua, of course, after SQQ showed up in the northern palace to punish MBJ for hurting binghe in the conference. did the system explain shit to SQH? on the one hand, extremely funny if it updates him on the role change out of nowhere mid-alliance. on the other hand, extremely funny if he only finds out because Binghe is crying safely in Qing Jing while the scum villain apparently jumped into the abyss.

Here's another link to the original AU post! I've had it open on a tab all this time just so i could point to it when I was done, so make sure to check it out!

[alphajocklover]

500 Followers Special: The Hometown Hex, Wally’s Visit

Wallace Power was parked in his parents driveway, a confident grin on his face as he unbuckled his seatbelt, his impressive biceps flexing slightly as he did. While, that wasn’t exactly right. Wally Power was the one getting out of his car and confidently strutting up to his parents house, excited to see his family. Wally Power was a manly, buff, straight, conservative bro who believes in traditional values and masculinity. He was not Wallace Power. Wallace Power was a skinny, sweet, gay man who had a steady boyfriend and, at least currently, was just a voice in the back of Wally Power’s head. The reason for this strange situation was Wallace’s/Wally's hometown of Maxford.

Maxford is a very unique place, one that has a strange effect on the people who live there. Anyone who enters Maxford is transformed into a conservative, traditionally attractive, straight version of themselves. Wally, having been born and raised in Maxford, had spent his entire life as a straight manly jock. Until he went to college and, upon leaving city limits, transformed into a very confused Walllace. Wallace had enjoyed being himself, living without the town's influence, but he wasn’t always able to avoid coming back home and turning back into Wally. He didn’t want to ice out his family completely afterall. He loved them, in both forms. So, Wallace had driven into town and allowed himself to transform into Wally, a horny straight playboy who couldn’t even remember Wallace existed.

Wally knocked on the door, his usual confident smirk replaced by a more genuine, excited grin. It had been way too fucking long since he saw his little bro Eddie. He loudly knocked on the door, and grinned as a younger but equally muscular man opened the door.

“Eddie! Happy birthday lil bro!” Wally said with a grin, taking the younger jock into a short, manly bro hug. Eddie smiled back, accepting the hug happily before pulling back and jokingly punching his older brothers arm.

“Thanks bro. It’s good to see you. Feels like it’s been forever! Always seems like we have to drag you away from that college.” Eddie teased

“Well, you know what they say about college girls.” Wally said with a charming wink and a crude laugh. Deep inside Wally’s head, Wallace sighed. Whatever changed people when they entered Maxford also supplied false memories for their time outside. As far as Wally was concerned he had been fucking sorority bimbos left and right, but in reality Wallace actually had a steady boyfriend named Micheal. Wallace adored Micheal. He was a sweet, loving guy who made Wallace weak in the knees. The only strain in their relationship was that he hadn’t introduced Micheal to his family. One day he’d have to tell Micheal about Maxford… but that was for another trip. Wallace was so deep in thought (technically all he was was thought at that moment) that he barely noticed that Wally kept talking.

“So, what’s with your hair bro? Why’d you dye it blond? It looks fucking gay.” Wally said, making him and Eddie both laugh obnoxiously. Eddie flexed his biceps before replying

“What can I say, girls like blonds. Trust me, no one is going to think a fucking stud like me is a queer.” Eddie said cockily. Wally laughed, filled with pride in his brother. Wallace however only felt saddened. Wallace, while only a voice right now, actually did have some influence over Wally. He had only been able to exert enough influence to get Wally to convince Eddie to drive to a bar out of town. The second Eddie had left, Walllace had gotten to meet Ed. Ed was smaller than Eddie, which was to be expected, but he was also so much… meeker. He had so much more fear in him. Ed couldn’t handle not being Eddie, so he begged Wallace to take him back. Wallace didn’t want to lose Ed… but he didn’t want to make him miserable. So Wally and Eddie went to a local bar. Wallace had always regretted that he hadn’t been able to show his little brother the world outside Maxford… but Wally didn’t give a fuck.

After a while of talking about their recent fucks, football, and how annoying fucking queers are, the two studs made their way out to the backyard, where their parents were waiting. Wally’s dad, Rick, was waiting out there sitting with their Mom, a hand on the MILFs perky ass. He greeted his sons with a confident grin and a strong handshake

“There’s my boys! Glad to see you home after so long Wally. Guess you had to come for lil Eddie’s birthday.” He said, teasing both his sons lightly, who just rolled their eyes at their dads antics. “Glad to see that college hasn’t turned you into some kind of queer.” He continued, causing the whole family to burst into laughter. Wallace sighed. If only they knew

Wallace tried to spend the next week as unalert as possible. He had found it was easier that way, sinking into the background and letting Wally do whatever he wanted. If he didn’t he’d have to put up with the homophobic jokes, the toxic masculinity, and the rampant sexism the entire time. Better to just let Wally take the reins. He just kept to the back of Wally’s mind as he worked out, but partied with his little bro, played football, and (much to Wallace’s horror) hooked up with old girlfriends. Wallace would come out shortly whenever that happened, but only to exert all his will to force Wally to wear a condom. If he got a girl pregnant here he’d never be able to leave. After a week of all of this and 3 different old girlfriends doing things Wally that Wallace would never be able to forget and Wally would never let his brother forget he got to do, Wallace had almost had it. Still he was determined to stick out the final week. Until one day he heard a knock at his door.

Still slightly hungover from the night before, Wally strutted over to the door and opened it, a cocky smirk on his manly face. It took both him and Wallace a moment to recognize the man in front of them. When they finally did they almost couldn’t believe it.

“Mikey?!” ‘Micheal?!’ Wally and Wallace thought simultaneously .

Wally couldn’t believe it. His roommate and best friend had come to surprise him in Maxford! This was the fucking best!

Wallace couldn’t believe it. His boyfriend, the man he loved, had come to surprise him in Maxford, and got turned into a straight jock. This was the absolute worst.

**Hope this was worth the wait guys! I had a blast writing it! I’ll go into Wally’s second week at Maxford and Micheal/Mikeys surprise visit another time. I might even go into Eddies experience one day. Hope you enjoy’**

[armageddidnt]

Welcome to My Collection of Random Thoughts during my nth* rewatch of Good Omens Season 2

*only amazon prime knows the exact number at this point but I’m fairly certain it’s in the double digits

Episode 1: Gabriel’s fly lurking in the box when Aziraphale first takes it inside 👀

Crowley’s promise of “two minutes” basically means that he’s been homeless and living in his car for the past 4 years strictly so that he can be within 2 driving minutes of Aziraphale at all times in case his angel needs him I’m not crying you are

So here I think the key word is “fragile,” Crowley knows they are ostensibly safe from their respective sides but that could change at any moment so he’s basically spent the last 4 years in anxiety-ridden terror hovering as close to Aziraphale as he can to try and protect him from heaven, hell, and anyone else that would want to bring him harm after all that business they pulled in season 1 with stopping Armageddon

Episode 2: I just happened to pause the episode while Aziraphale is lying to the angels about his miracle and LOL Michael really outdid himself here (Sheen, not the Archangel)

Gabriel trying to swat flies and almost smashing the repository of every single one of his memories

I’m cAckling

So if Good Omens exists in Good Omens, does that mean Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett exist in Good Omens?? Do you think they based their Aziraphale and Crowley characters on Aziraphale and Crowley??

Episode 3: So I’m trying to find any hints or foreshadowing of the Gabriel Beelzebub thing bc tbh I did kind of feel like it came out of nowhere which is really the only issue I have with them. I found this one scene where Beelzebub almost ?? seems to be concerned about Gabriel ?? But it’s blink and you miss it and there could be lots of other reasons why Beelzebub doesn’t want to fail in locating Gabriel (pressure from/leverage over heaven, etc) so idk

More Foreshadowing Fly content 🪰

Episode 4: So here we’ve seen that Shax can just appear inside the Bentley bc she did it earlier to talk to Crowley. Shax only pretended to be a hitchhiker so she could be invited in because Azirpahale was driving so technically she needed permission to cross the threshold of an angel 👀

This scene will never not destroy me the 1941 flashback is the absolute sOFTEST thing ever to happen on this show

We really need more context here I need to see the Crowley-Furfur Monkey Rides

Episode 5: ahahaha thank you google translate for absolutely destroying my sanity this evening

POP goes the Ziraphale

Okay I know you can’t hear it in the gif but just before Nina takes Maggie’s hand, there’s a very quiet miracle noise, like Azirpahale literally MADE Nina dance with Maggie, he said I’m writing a Mina Jane-Austen-Ball-AU and my otp will KISS godDAMMIT

Azirpahale seems lowkey kind of manic this whole scene tho, he’s controlling literally everyone to force Nina and Maggie together and whenever Crowley says anything that pokes holes in Aziraphale’s Magical Jane Austen Ball Fairytale, Aziraphale just straight up denies it. He wants Nina and Maggie to dance and he wants him and Crowley to dance and he refuses to acknowledge anything beyond that.

Is this just Shax insulting Crowley for how much of a nuisance he’s been or a reference to his former status as an angel ???

They’re both completely dismissive of each other when they’re trying to say something important and that’s the main issue they’ve been having this entire season tbh

Episode 6: I think it’s funny that Crowley describes the angels as bees here because in the book, Neil/Terry describe humans the same way. Guess we have more in common than we thought huh?

So the metatron was the one who originally decided Gabriel would be memory wiped and not sent to hell, and he was also the one that decided not to sound an alarm about Gabriel for some reason and said ‘just go find him yourself’ instead. The metatron has definitely got his own agenda and you can bet he doesn’t want Aziraphale up there in heaven because he’s a “leader” and he’s “honest” like that’s exactly what Gabriel was and look where it got him 👀

There’s just something I can’t quite put my finger on about the metatron bringing Aziraphale a coffee from “give me coffee or give me death” and then asking Aziraphale if he’s going to take the coffee he’s giving him…

I have not seen a single person talk about this since s2 came out but Nina literally calls Maggie “angel” because that’s the term of endearment they hear Crowley using for Aziraphale !!!! I’m still going fERAL over this and I can’t believe no one else is eitHER

Something about this part of The Final Fifteen compared to this scene from the first episode is so representative of the entire season. Azirpahale keeps saying “my way or get out” and Crowley finally hits a wall and can follow Aziraphale no further. So he does just that. He goes.

I’m sure a lot of us by now have seen this post that brings up how Aziraphale literally pushes the remains of Crowley into his mouth and swallows and it’s the only thing I see when I watch this now

We still don’t know for certain if Crowley queued up this song to play on their way to the Ritz or if the Bentley started playing it all on its own and it’s driving me insane

Basically how I am doing after my Truly-Alarming-Number-th watch of this traumatizing episode/season. WELP hope you enjoyed this garbage dump of my thoughts and feelings time to go cry for a bit again BYE

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 12: Dinner

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: Dearest gentle reader, welcome to another chapter of Nyra exists and Azriel is obsessed because who wouldn't want a morally grey, shadow-wielding, winged male obsessing over them?

Warnings: Azriel's wrath. It's mad. He's the Spymaster for a reason. Hints of lust here and there because he's obsessed with his mate.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

Azriel's POV

"You're a real piece of work." Amren said, examining Nesta like a cat with her silver eyes.

"Why do your eyes glow?" Nesta asked coolly. Nyra looked at Amren's eyes, noticing the glow for the first time. She tilted her head, an action that indicated her confusion. Azriel felt a semblance of peace at how adorable Nyra looked like that. Like a curious innocent female he wanted to corrupt so badly.

"Don't you already know why?" Amren looked at Nesta and then at Nyra.

"Decorative purposes?" Nyra asked, knowing completely well that was not the case. Azriel felt mischief rise within her. She was starting to forget all the guilt and grief in relation to Feyre. Amren shot her a glare and Nyra raised her eyebrows, her chin dipping just a bit, inviting challenge.

"We are the same." Amren announced. The twins blinked and sat straight. "Not in flesh, not in the thing that prowls beneath our skin and bones..." Her eyes narrowed. "But... I see the kernel. The two of you did not fit—the mold that they shoved you into. The path you were born upon and forced to walk. You tried, and yet you did not, could not fit. And then the path changed. I know what it is to be that way. I remember it, long ago as it was."

"You're that old?" Nyra asked. Azriel couldn’t help but be in awe at the way her moods changed. From a bloody fucking panic attack not an hour ago, she’d hopped on to confusion and then a whole load of guilt and in between all of it, she’d flirted with Mor, started a weird sort of banter with Amren and he could not even understand her enough to predict what she’d feel the next moment. 

And this was… refreshing. 

A storm of emotions and how she carried all of them so openly. 

Nyra’s concern for Feyre after they met after the latter was Made. Scolding her sisters for going for each other’s throats during dinner. Laughing at the entirely wrong time when Nesta ignored Cassian and trying to cover it up with a cough. Her knowledge of the political situation in her part of the world. And the humour—fucking brilliant sense of humour. Flirtatious on occasion. Serious too. And she owned every last one of her feelings with such grace. 

Those newborns… they were born because of her. Because of how fascinated he’d been by her as their first meeting progressed.  

He remembered what he told her back then before leaving after Rhys had caught the Attor. “If fate wills it, we shall meet again.” The memory of him kissing her hand had the shadows around him fluttering. 

"Speak carefully, girl." Azriel returned to the real world when Amren delivered a warning. She took a sip from her goblet filled with blood and licked her red lips, her eyes narrowing into glare as a warning for Nyra. 

"A manner of speech unlike anyone else here despite the age gap of five centuries between us and them. Are you perhaps older?" Clearly, Nyra Archeron found it far too amusing to notice or if she did, she did not heed it but Azriel could feel the power rising to the surface. That feeling charged him from within.

"I am ancient." Amren watched like a predator ready to pounce. Nyra simply hummed. The petite female frowned.

"Older than ancient ruins?" Nyra felt the power within her rising. Allowing her to see so much about this seemingly delicate female.

Amren's silver orbs remained on Nyra. And Azriel's hand was already ready to unsheath the Truth-Teller. 

The ancient one smirked and raised her glass towards Nyra. "When you strike, girl, cleave through providence." She turned to Nesta. "And when you erupt, make sure it's felt across worlds." And she emptied the goblet, the blood staining her lips as she continued to smirk. "And keep off your silly dagger, shadowsinger."

Azriel continued to remain wary even as all eyes turned to him. His shadows danced wildly around him. Watching. Waiting for anyone to breathe wrongly. Mistress went into the shadows. Azriel froze immediately. He commanded more information. She was upset earlier. We went to her and took her with us. Her twin found her. He looked at Nyra in shock and slight fear. The shadows had claimed her. They had already started claiming her, even when she was mortal and now, they'd cemented it. She was crying. They sounded upset. 

For now, there were a few mysteries.

The shadows had only ever used words and phrases with him but now, they were using proper sentences.

The shadows never did anything without his instructions. Until Nyra. The little shits were always touching her. And now, they had taken her to the realm of shadows on their own accord.

How did Nesta find Nyra when she was in the shadows? Did it have anything to do with them being twins?

As he contemplated these new developments, Azriel watched the twins. Nesta Archeron had piqued his interest. He knew from Nuala and Cerridwen that twins shared a certain bond that siblings with age gaps did not. It had something to do with an exclusive connection forming between them during their time in the womb. And it was another matter that the Archeron twins were thrown into the Cauldron at the same time. Was there something more because of that?

Azriel figured the best way to distract himself tonight would be with the varieties of delicacies served for dinner tonight. He looked around, trying to identify which ones he'd prefer. The shadows kept telling him about the twins and how Feyre served the first dish to Nyra and from then on, the twins served their own food and passed the dishes around. Lucien Vanserra is nervous. Azriel looked at him to see the male looking at his food and looking around. He had been unconsciously placed at the head of the table with Nesta and Amren by his side.

"You get used to it—the informality." Feyre addressed Lucien.

"You say that, Feyre darling, like it's a bad thing." Rhysand served himself some trout before passing it to Feyre. She served herself before looking at Nyra questioningly. Nyra shook her head, took the dish and passed it to Nesta. Azriel observed her hesitation. She does not like trout.

"It took me by surprise that first dinner we all had, just so you know." Feyre's comment had Cassian snickering.

"Oh, I know." Rhys grinned.

"Honestly, Azriel is the only polite one." Cassian and Mor cried in outrage as Feyre said that but Azriel smiled a little and took a dish from Mor. "Don't even try to pretend that it's not true." A small ball of delight hit the shadowsinger in the chest when he saw that Nyra had taken the delicacy he had just served himself. Chicken roast. She might like it. He certainly did and now he'd wait for her verdict.

"Of course, it's true." Mor sighed. "But you needn't make us sound like heathens."

Azriel watched Nyra pick up her fork and play with the food for a few seconds before she took a bite. Her eyes widened a little and she took her next bite, thoroughly pleased by the taste. Azriel made another mental note. She likes roast chicken.

And that was enough information for the shadows to have another celebratory dance. The older shadows around him loved her but they could control themselves. In a sense, they were mature. Clearly not mature enough to go through one dinner without complimenting her, but at least they weren't singing and dancing like the younger ones wrapped quite literally around her fingers. They were small, their touch featherlight and they had already ascended to her wrists and above to give her space to handle cutlery.

“Do you like chicken?” Mor asked, a smile on her face. Nyra slowly nodded. “Then you should try it with this.” She passed a bottle of sauce but Nyra simply stared at it and looked back at Mor. What if she turned her gaze and looked at him? After all, he was sitting right next to Mor. And he fought a smile. A very difficult battle but he won.

Just as Nyra extended her hand to take the bottle of sauce, the younger shadows around her wrist darted forward to take it from Mor’s hand, taking care not to make contact with the latter’s skin. They opened it and set the bottle near Nyra’s plate. She smiled gently and whispered. “Thank you.” 

“Try it. Mor likes it and I tolerate it. It’s chili sauce. Spicy as it is, it’s quite good once you get used to it.” Rhys spoke as he looked at her. Nyra nodded and took a tentative bite and her eyes snapped to Mor who waited for the verdict. Nyra nodded with soft enthusiasm and then hummed before looking at Rhys who grinned with the raise of his glass. Azriel was observing everything. She liked it with that sauce.

The shadows near Azriel's ears were dancing with joy and subsequently, tickling his ears and irritating him. He banished them away from his ears and focused. He was the Spymaster. Surely he could spy on one female sitting across from him during dinner without his shadows.

“Thank you.” She addressed Mor once she had chewed and swallowed the piece in her mouth and then turned to Rhys and nodded at him. The High Lord lifted his spoon in acknowledgement and ate his peas.  

“So, what are your favourite foods?” Mor eagerly began. 

Nyra was silent for a while before she replied. Chocolate, Azriel noted. "My diet was regulated owing to my illness."

"You have no illnesses now." Amren spoke up. "Take complete advantage of that." Azriel hoped Nyra would enjoy the world and all that it had to offer now that she was no longer ill and had a long, immortal life ahead of her. Explore places. Eat foods from all over the world. Meeting new people, not in a romantic capacity else he'd accidentally slice their necks. Enjoy the weather—the sun, the rain, the snow. Everything she wanted, he'd lay down at her feet.

Nyra hummed thoughtfully, cutting through a particularly large piece of broccoli and asked. “Do you eat flesh too?”

The ancient one smirked. “What makes you think that?” 

“Bloodthirsty people being flesh eaters does not sound too odd.” Rhys spat his wine. Mor and Cassian laughed and Azriel smirked, the back of his hand pressed to his mouth to restrain the laughter. Nyra and Nesta were the only ones who did not laugh—the former looking amused while the latter looked grumpy. Why was Nesta so grumpy?

“Troublesome female.” Amren spoke after the laughter had died down, a wicked smirk on her face as she imagined something that nobody was too eager to know. Nyra did not reply and resumed her meal. The chicken and potatoes and the broccoli, she decided, were too delicious to be ignored in favour of a bloodthirsty midget. "No, I don't." Amren's voice had Nyra looking at her again. "I don't eat flesh." 

Dinner progressed with Nesta telling Feyre about how she understood the difference between the food in Prythian and in the mortal lands. It was when Feyre brought up training with Cassian that Nyra paid attention. "What time are we back in the training ring tomorrow?"

"I'd say dawn but since I'm feeling rather grateful that you're back in one piece, I'll let you sleep in. Let's meet at seven."

"I'd hardly call that sleeping in." Feyre muttered.

"For an Illyrian, it is." Mor sighed again. Azriel was already starting to get irritated at the banter between Cassian and Mor and at his stupidity for situating himself between them. His peaceful observation was being interrupted by these loudmouths. His shadows were also joining that group anyway.

"Daylight is a precious resource." Cassian's wings rustled as he took mock offence.

"We live in the Night Court." Mor countered.

Cassian grimaced and turned to his brothers. "I told you that the moment we started letting females into our group, they'd be nothing but trouble." Azriel did not bother paying him any mind.

Rhys raised an eyebrow. "As far as I can recall, Cassian, you actually said you needed a reprieve from staring at our ugly faces, and that some ladies would add some much-needed prettiness for you to look at all day. And now, we have more pretty ladies with us." Rhysand threw a welcoming smile at the twins who were suddenly overwhelmed at the sudden ball of attention thrown towards them but they did acknowledge him with a nod of their heads.

"I was a young Illyrian and didn't know better." The movement of Azriel's shadows caught his attention and Cassian pointed a fork at his brother. "Don't try to blend into the shadows. You said the same thing." Azriel sighed, annoyed at Cassian for not shutting up and letting him watch Nyra in peace.

"He did not." Mor objected. "Azriel has never once said anything that awful. Only you, Cassian. Only you." Cassian stuck out his tongue. Mor mimicked his action. Azriel, who sat between them, now regretted his choice of seat. He should have chosen the seat on Mor's other side. He would have had an easier time observing Nyra without the two chatterboxes of the millennia breathing down his neck.

"You'd be wise to leave both of them at home for the meeting with the others, Rhysand. They'll cause nothing but trouble." Amren's words surprised Lucien. Nyra focused on her food while conversation progressed regarding the High Lords' Meet but then the mention of a Court of Nightmares seemed to have caught her attention.

"What is the Court of Nightmares?" Nyra asked Rhysand but it was Lucien who answered.

"The place where the rest of the world believes the majority of the Night Court to be. The seat of his power. Or it was." Nyra looked at the red-haired male.

Azriel was beginning to feel even more irritated. This Autumn-born was an unwelcome guest in their Court and he was already stealing her attention. Something within him stirred with rage. The thought of anyone other than him trying to do anything for her woke up all the wrath he had carefully concealed. And even when Cassian slung a seemingly friendly arm behind him, Azriel felt the strength in the warlord's grip.

Rhysand's presence waited for him outside his mind's realm. I urge you to calm down, Azriel. The Vanserra is here for his own mate, not her.

Then he should stay away from her. Azriel's response was cool but he knew that Rhysand understood his rage. He is responsible for their transformation. It was unbearably painful and traumatising for them.

Partially responsible, yes. Rhysand countered, trying to placate him but Azriel was having none of it.

The Cauldron did something to her. And her sisters. She died in there, Rhys. Very painfully. And he was complicit in how things turned out for all four of the Archeron sisters even if he has a mating bond leading to one of them. I don't understand why we are dining with him instead of taking him to the prisons. Azriel knew he had spoken more than he usually did. It was uncharacteristic of him but then again, he'd already lost his mate once and that made him immensely protective of Nyra. And the rage within him rose like the icy wind it was. Cold and unforgiving. 

Azriel knew his anger was something everyone feared, even Rhys. And this was the most powerful High Lord to ever exist. And that cold, cruel feeling continued to swirl within him like a blizzard. 

Azriel. Cassian's voice spoke. They're simply talking. 

He, who is responsible for the pain she endured, be it partially or wholly, is not worthy of her words or attention. Azriel declared his verdict. He could feel himself shaking.

His shadows were trying to calm him down by saying good things. Sweet memories of his mother. Her latest letter. How lovely his mate was. And how he had yet to tell his mother about his mate. The anticipation because his mother, the sweet female, had been waiting for him to bring home someone. Had prayed for him to meet someone who would love him. And here she was. The only female he was capable of loving. The shadows panicked and danced around him, ready to take him to the realm should he snap in front of Nyra. 

Oh, how he’d carve this Autumn-born. He’d start with that metal eye. Rip it out of him and crush it. He’d pour whiskey into the bleeding socket before pushing the crushed metal eye back into it. And Azriel would take his time. He’d cut and carve into his skin with the Truth Teller. 

Mistress is looking here. And at that, he froze. He finally noticed Nyra looking at him, doubt in her gaze. He noticed the ironclad grip on his shoulder by Cassian. Mor and Amren seemingly invested in the conversation but radiating their power subtly enough to put forward that they were ready to strike. By then, Rhys had taken over the conversation but the High Lord was ready with the night to restrain him. 

And then there was her. 

This beautiful, wonderful female. 

The way she was looking at him, ocean blue eyes wide and questioning. 

She’d guarded the heart of her youngest sister, the newest addition to his family, his sister. And now, he was ready to beg her to protect his own because he’d seen Feyre so happy whenever she talked about Nyra, was talking to Nyra, was even near her. The comfort Feyre had found in this female was something he’d started craving. He could see how Nyra sitting between her sisters was a good arrangement. Both Feyre and Nesta craved the comfort she’d offered. And in their own flawed way, they returned it. 

Was he capable of offering her comfort? Since it was for her, it could not be anything less than perfect and he was anything but. And that thought saddened him more than he expected. 

“Are you alright?” She mouthed the question, trying to ensure secrecy but everybody was focusing on their interaction except for Nesta and Feyre. Everybody pretended to be in a conversation to indulge the other Archerons at the table while she was asking him. How beautiful she’d be with his cock in that pretty mouth. Or maybe, he should make her beg. Or even scream. 

“Yes.” Azriel mouthed back. Erotic fantasies about Nyra were better than murderous fantasies about the Vanserra. Anger dissipated like the fog and she then smiled at the shadows which had tugged at her fingertips. She then looked at him with that smile and Azriel swore the moon rose in those blue eyes. 

Has she always been this impossibly enchanting? 

And what was that smile? 

Was she happy? 

If he kissed her right now, as her lips smiled at him, would he get a piece of that happiness for himself? 

Azriel stood up and nearly began leaning towards her before Cassian caught his arm and jerked it. He came to his senses and immediately knew everyone was looking at him. He spotted the first dish near her and took it, pretending that he’d needed to stand up for his hands to reach there. Just as he sat, Cassian coughed rather loudly. Of course, the bastards he had as brothers caught him. 

"It still is to everyone outside Velaris." Nyra turned to Rhys who had spoken. He nodded at her once before looking at Mor. "And yes, Keir's Darkbringer legion is considerable enough that a meeting is warranted."

"Why not just order them?" Nesta questioned, her brows narrowed. "Don't they answer to you?" At this point, the three Archerons turned their heads to Rhys simultaneously, waiting for him to answer.

Azriel watched them in surprise. The three Archeron sisters with startlingly similar features turning to look at Rhys was an incredible sight. Golden brown hair, blue eyes, fair skin glowing under the golden faelights. All of them were wearing something dark. When a lock of hair escaped their respective hairstyles and fell near their left ears as they immediately turned to face Rhys. When they placed their cutlery on their respective plates in unison. The way their hands rested on the table and they assumed the same posture as they waited for Rhysand to speak. It hit him too hard that these three were sisters, in blood and bond. No matter how fractured those bonds were.

"To think there's another one of them upstairs." Amren muttered, taking a heavy gulp of blood. It seemed the stark similarity in looks, postures and overall disposition as it seemed at the moment had caught everyone unawares.

"Unfortunately, there are protocols in place between our two sub-courts regarding this sort of thing." Cassian spoke, his back straightening when Nesta shifted her gaze from Rhys to him. "They mostly govern themselves with Mor's father—their steward." Nyra looked at the warlord sitting to Azriel's left. The shadowsinger noted how particularly different Cassian behaved around Nesta and how Nyra had noticed the same.

"The steward of Hewn City is legally entitled to refuse to aid my armies." Once again, the three sisters turned to Rhysand. "It was a part of the agreement my ancestor made with the Court of Nightmares all those thousands of years ago. They would remain within that mountain, would not challenge or disturb us beyond its borders... and would retain the right to decide not to assist in war."

"And there are no loopholes in this agreement?" Nyra asked. He could feel her thinking. He could not discern her exact thoughts but he was glad at the way her mind had been distracted from the grief and guilt she was consumed by earlier.

"None that we have identified so far." Rhys answered.

"And have they refused?" Feyre asked.

Morrigan's fumbled response brought Nyra to another realisation. And as dinner progressed, Azriel felt her as she let her grief be a forgotten thing. The conversation continued regarding the Court of Nightmares and Feyre's training with Cassian.

"Let's train at eight tomorrow. I'll meet you in the ring." Feyre spoke after the silence in the wake of their discussion on the Court of Nightmares.

"Seven thirty." Cassian countered with a grin.

"Eight." Feyre tried to. negotiate. "Care to join, you two?"

"No." Nesta's answer was final, not inviting any negotiations.

"Nyra?" Feyre tried. Nyra was in the middle of looking at the table for broccoli. She looked to her right to her youngest upon being called. 

"What exactly are you training for?" Nyra asked and then took a bite of the chicken, resuming her search.

"Combat." Cassian grinned at her. "What are you looking for?"

"Care to elaborate? I'm looking for broccoli." Cassian noted that the bowl of vegetables including the broccoli was next to Mor. He spoke to Nyra and tried to keep her attention as much as possible while Mor discreetly pushed the bowl as quietly as possible to Azriel's part of the table. The shadowsinger looked at her once and nodded.

"You'd learn to be a badass like me."

"I highly doubt anybody wants to be like you, Cassian." Mor interjected. Azriel quietly lifted the bowl and stretched his arm. Nyra extended her own arm to take the bowl from him.

Azriel always wore fingerless gloves and today was no exception. It concealed his scarred hands as much as possible but the fingers were bare in case he needed to write or handle small objects. And right now, he felt Nyra's fingers brush against his under the bowl as she took it from him. He froze and slowly withdrew his hands. Soft hands. He wanted to hold them. Feel her hands on his chest, his neck. Wanted them tugging on his hair. And he’d die if one of them ever descended and snuck inside his pants.

"Moving on from that unsolicited comment, you'd be learning to control your breathing, balance your body, work on your muscles, throw nasty punches, wield weapons. Basically, you'd be a badass at fighting like me." Cassian already sounded excited at the possibility of teaching another Archeron how to fight.

"I'm sorry, Cassian, but I cannot participate."

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you want to stay grumpy and read all day like your twin." Cassian's gaze turned to Nesta who was doing her best at pretending that she was not the centre of his attention. Azriel did not know whether to envy his brother at being able to confidently look at Nesta even when the female seemed confused between killing him and fucking him.

"Reading is fun." Nyra frowned. "Being grumpy is not my preferred method of passing time. But I want to focus on training my magic. It is,” she lifted her left hand and looked at it. Lightning crackled between her fingertips. “Rather dangerous and I might end up hurting someone if I don’t learn how to control this.”

“I’ll help you with that.” Rhysand offered. 

“Nonsense. I’ll teach you. Both of you.” Amren declared and waited for anyone to challenge her decision. Nobody dared. Azriel wondered how this little demon would be while teaching the sisters. He’d have to monitor for the first few days at least. Cauldron knew whether the mouse-sized female would terrorise Nyra. And maybe not even the Cauldron would know how Nyra would react to that. As endearing as it was to him, Nyra’s moody self might not be appreciated everywhere. 

“Why the sudden interest, Amren?” Feyre asked teasingly.

“Your sisters, High Lady, possess powers like no other. They require training not only to wield it effectively and efficiently but also to keep themselves from harm.” Amren left it at that. 

****

"The King of Hybern." Feyre breathed deeply. And at the mention of the scum, everyone felt the power shift. The Archeron twins' eyes began glowing, albeit faintly. Nyra gripped the arms of her chair and Nesta clenched her fists. Azriel swallowed, trying to keep away the envy against the arms of the chair. To keep away the question as to why it was not his hands or arms that she was gripping so tightly. Those beautiful hands, as small as they were in comparison to his own, had quite the grip as observed by his shadows. Would she hold his arms or shoulders that tightly when he’d thrust into her? Would she scratch his back and mark him? 

"The king is trying to bring down the wall." Nyra began calming down, her curiosity taking over her rage slowly. She turned to Feyre, a silent command to continue speaking. "By using the Cauldron. There are already holes in it and he wants to expand them. I might be able to patch up these holes, but you... being made of the Cauldron itself... if the Cauldron can widen those holes, perhaps you can close them, too. With training in whatever time we have."

Nyra looked at Feyre, as if she were assessing something. "Fine. I'll do it." She turned to Amren. “Do you have anything introductory for me to read through the night or will your lessons be completely practical?” 

Amren brought her palm forward and a few books appeared. And then they vanished. “They’re in your room. Read as much as you can before tomorrow morning. We start at ten. And before you ask, it’s their responsibility to bring you lot to the city whenever you need.” 

“How do you expect her to read those overnight?” Cassian sounded outrageously shocked. 

“We will see that tomorrow.” Amren smirked at the spark in Nyra’s eyes. A challenge had been ignited. Azriel felt Nyra’s determination to win. What he did not realise was the quiet wave of encouragement he had sent across the bond. Nyra’s eyes widened at the warm feeling rising within her and before she could dwell on it any more, Feyre addressed Nesta.

"What about you?"

The sisters stared at each other impassively. "Fine." Nesta spoke in the same tone Nyra had—giving up the stubbornness.

"Good. We'll go to the Court of Nightmares with you and find objects for practice." Amren clapped her hands once.

"What?" Feyre immediately looked at the delicate female, the idea of her sisters going to the Court of Nightmares appalling to her. 

"Let the girls get a feel of something like the wall or like the Cauldron." Amren added when Azriel seemed poised to object. "Covertly."

“Is there something in the Court of Nightmares we should be worried about?” Nyra asked casually but the silence that followed was not so casual.

“The Night Court does not exactly have the best reputation.” Lucien spoke, breaking the silence. Cassian cursed and Azriel could feel his anger rise again and be a palpable thing that demanded he tear the red headed male to shreds. Nyra looked at Lucien and Azriel would have roared in anger if it weren’t for Rhysand’s presence right outside his mental shields, trying to subdue the beast that was him. 

Nevertheless, the Autumn-born continued oblivious to the bloodlust rolling off the shadowsinger. Bloodlust that was warded by Mor and Amren, Cassian physically restraining him and Rhys casting and maintaining a mental shield. 

Lucien continued. “To outsiders, this place is cold and cruel and Rhysand is a merciless High Lord. They believe it to be a structure of Hel in the land of the living and equally, if not more miserable.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Nyra spoke, her impatience rising. 

“This reputation stems from the way he holds court and from now on, how Rhysand and Feyre will hold court. He rules over them with an iron fist like some dark lord and it feels like a mausoleum in there. Blood and deceit coat those walls. People adorn masks to pretend like every gathering is a luxurious party when it’s just the inhabitants of Hewn City putting up a performance so that Rhys is not displeased.”

“And what happens when Rhysand is displeased?”

“The general executes. The spymaster tortures. Anything could happen.” 

And Azriel froze at what Lucien had revealed about him to Nyra. At the implications of it. How it could influence her opinion on him. On his family. He looked at Rhysand. Why did you not silence him?

She would have found out sooner or later. She will make her judgement after seeing us in the Court of Nightmares. Rhys sounded worried even after he said this. As if it was not only meant to convince Azriel but also himself. 

She deserves to be at peace. You of all people know how being strong can tire your spirits. She needs time to process this transition before she’s introduced to other horrors. Azriel all but yelled at his brother.

And I have no doubt you’d make it painful for anyone who dares to breathe wrong near her. Rhysand nodded once. We all will. The sisters won’t be harmed, not by any member of my Court or by any power in the Night Court territory so long as I’m alive. This is my promise. Azriel felt the tingling sensation of a bargain near his left waist. And even with a bargain, the shadowsinger was not in favour of this. 

Nyra could be taken to the Court of Nightmares after some time. After she had time to process all the trauma she had been recently subjected to. He seriously debated what was worse—facing horrors one after the other or facing them all at once. Nyra did note once that the former was what Nesta had gone through. He’d understood enough to know that Nesta’s mental health was in a very fragile condition.

Azriel only wanted Nyra to have enough time to process the transition before she learned about everything. He’d personally teach her as much as he could. He had no intentions of hiding or sugarcoating anything. He simply wanted her to have enough time to cope with the trauma and the stress it brought. 

Silence ensued. Feyre waited for Nesta to say something because this Archeron had been glaring at her plate for too long. To kill all hope. But she posed another question. "Why not just kill the King of Hybern before he can act?"

The shadow of death seemed to loom above them. Cassian, the Lord of Bloodshed, and Azriel, the shadowsinger, seemed to thrive off of it. Nyra and Nesta felt at ease, as though they were home. Death really seemed to be a comfort space for the four of them.

The room descended into the cold as Nesta’s eyes burned silver. The younger shadows around Nyra were trying to create a wall between the twins out of fear for their mistress’ safety. A few of his older shadows joined the endeavour. His hand went to the hilt of the Truth Teller. And with everyone on guard at how Nesta could release her mysterious power, Nyra’s hand broke through the shadowy barrier and grabbed her twin’s hand. Lightning crackled just a bit. Enough to jolt Nesta out of her trance. 

Silver bled into blue and Nyra released her hand. Nesta looked at her twin once and nodded. The twins resumed eating as though nothing had happened. As if Nesta’s presence had not suddenly made them feel like they were in a battlefield with their lives endangered. 

"If you want his killing blow, it's yours. Both of you." Amren said, her voice taking an understanding note. 

And as Nesta looked at Amren with the eyes of a predator, Nyra clenched her hands. She had already abandoned her cutlery but the way her power roared like a storm within her was becoming too much. She needed an outlet. The shadows around her wrists started tickling her hands and she was too scared of releasing her grip. Too scared of letting the power go away. And the storm was becoming uncontrollable. 

Azriel was beside her in an instant, his large hands covering her own. “Let it out.” That was all she heard. 

Thunder roared in the skies above Prythian. Lighting flashed a great many times. Nyra’s breathing became heavier. The shadows swarmed around her body and the darkness consumed them. She felt herself in an embrace, warm and strong. Nyra whimpered, her power starting to become painful. And through the bond, Azriel felt it all. And he held her through all of it. 

She released her power in that realm of shadows, enough to tire herself out. Azriel was surprised by how welcoming the shadows were. How the realm had welcomed the roar of her storms so easily. And he realised that this was not a change. It was a preexisting factor. And that the shadows were waiting for her just as much as him, if not more. The compatibility of his shadows with her lightning was showing itself. 

Her eyes glowed and her neck craned. She trembled under the weight of her own power, groaning and nearly screaming under the weight of her own power. Mistress. Lightning. Perfect. The shadows caressed her arms and hands. Azriel’s hands were on her waist and head, holding her close. 

“Nyra.” He called out when the lightning had stopped roaring. 

“Azriel?” Her voice was so small and confused, he was beginning to worry. “Where are we? Why is it so dark?”

“We are in the shadows.” He responded, worried about how she’d take that news but he couldn’t lie to her. She did not deserve to be lied to.

“I think I was here before.” Her voice was a clear indication of her tired state. She had released so much power that he clearly understood that she could take down all the High Lords and their armies easily. He could imagine the extent of her power if she were to be taught how to control it.

“Yes. The shadows told me that they brought you here earlier.”

Nyra did not say anything and he continued to hold her. 

“Are you embracing me?” Nyra asked. He could feel her hands trying to move around to analyse their surroundings only to fail because he was holding her close. 

“Yes.” His grip on her loosened and his soul faltered at the possibility of her not wanting his touch. After all, how could these desecrated hands touch her? However worthless he was, he did not want her to remain in the shadows if she was uncomfortable here. 

“Do you want me to release you? I must tell you that we do need to maintain contact to navigate back safely but we can simply hold hands.” And even when he’d used the word ‘simply’, there was nothing simple about holding her hand. How had he not already fainted? 

Nyra’s hands rose and her palms found his chest, fingers curling to grab the fabric. Azriel was suddenly afraid of breathing. Of making a single sound. He would have willed his heart to still if he could since it was beating so loud and fast. Her fingers were so gentle as they found his shirt to hold. 

“Did I hurt the shadows?” She asked softly. Azriel could hear the shadows whisper to him. How touched they were by her concern for them. “Did I hurt you?” It was a good time to fall into a ditch and stay there because Azriel severely doubted whether his knees had enough strength to stand and to not falter as he held her. 

“No, we’re fine.” He felt her shift, move just a bit to the back. If they could see each other, they would probably be looking at each other’s faces. 

“Are you sure?” She sounded determined to know if she’d hurt him or the shadows even in the slightest. And with that sweet voice of hers, she’d awakened something so wholly pure within him that he’d doubted whether that feeling would be corrupted by existing inside someone like him even if it was his own. 

Azriel had already believed that he was in heaven as he embraced her. Was it not the best thing to be able to touch her even though he was an undeserving bastard from the dirt? But he was a selfish bastard. And that selfishness demanded that he take every scrap she’d leave in her wake. Anything she’d throw at him. 

“Az?” That was the first time she’d called him by that nickname and his heart leaped to his throat at the realisation.

“Yes?” He held her because he was afraid to let go. And it felt good to take a page from her book and start acknowledging that. Not that he’d ever say it out loud but he was afraid. He’d lost his mate once and he certainly had no intentions of letting her go to some place he couldn’t follow. Or maybe, he could. He could follow her. The shadows let him travel anywhere and if she were to go to the afterlife like last time, he’d simply follow. The Truth Teller was always with him so he wouldn’t have much trouble arranging his own death. 

“I’m so tired.” She felt so much fear and pain and confusion and Azriel felt it all. He wondered whether being able to feel her through the bond helped her. If he could at least take a part of that pain for himself. 

“Go to sleep, Nyra. I’m right here.” The hand on her head began patting her. After a few moments, the hand stopped patting and began stroking her hair. Azriel pushed wave after wave of calm towards the bond and he felt her breathing slow down. And like a baby, she was asleep in his arms.

****

TAGLIST:

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @impossibelle @esposadomd @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @judig92 @bunnyredgirl @sh4nn @a-frog-with-a-laptop @kattzillaa @ronnieglennn @wallacewillow0773638 @forgiveliv @justdreamstars @donttellthecats @cat-or-kitten @jojodojo02 @wandas-dream @evylynny @weasleyreidstyles @stqrgirlies-blog @why4anne @acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe @macimads @footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley @deeshag @footyandformula @nebarious @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @5onedirection5 @hanitastic @sevikas-whore @krowiathemythologynerd

[callsigns-haze]

Memories Fade V

Eris x Rhysand's Sister!Reader Summary: Not so long back Rhysand lost his sister. Years after Helion and Elain can raise her memories from the past to see what truly happened to Y/n. Warning: Mentions of death and drinking, mentions of violence

Part 1 here

Previous part

Seventy years had passed since that fateful ball at Helion’s court, and life had taken Y/N through many twists and turns. Now, she found herself in the familiar solitude of the cabin, a place of refuge and reflection. The years had brought healing, but the scars—both physical and emotional—remained.

The cabin was quiet, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the distant chirping of birds outside. Y/N stood by the window, lost in thought, when she heard a soft knock at the door. Her heart skipped a beat, and she quickly moved to open it, glancing around to ensure she was alone.

She opened the door to reveal Eris, his fiery hair now streaked darker, but his eyes still as intense and captivating as ever. He stepped inside, and she closed the door behind him, locking it securely. Without a word, she threw her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“It’s been too long,” she whispered against his shoulder.

“Far too long,” Eris replied, his voice thick with emotion. He held her close, savoring the moment before finally pulling back to look at her.

As he did, his eyes roamed over her outfit, and a grin spread across his face. Y/N felt a blush creep up her cheeks as she remembered what she was wearing—a horrendous dress that Rhysand had insisted she wear to the upcoming High Lords’ meeting. It was a garish shade of dark purple with an overly elaborate design that did nothing to flatter her figure.

Eris tried to keep a straight face, but the sight of her in the dress was too much. He doubled over, hurling with laughter, clutching his stomach as he struggled to breathe. “Y/N, what in the world are you wearing?”

She groaned, rolling her eyes. “Don’t laugh at me! Rhysand’s idea of a joke, I think. He’s forcing me to wear this monstrosity to the meeting.”

Eris’s laughter continued, tears streaming down his face as he tried to compose himself. “I’m sorry, I really am,” he managed between fits of laughter. “But it’s just... it’s really something.”

“Oh, shut up,” Y/N said, playfully swatting at him. “I know it’s hideous. You don’t have to pretend.”

He finally calmed down, wiping his eyes and still chuckling. “You could wear a sackcloth and still be the most beautiful person in the room,” he said softly, his tone sincere.

Y/N’s heart warmed at his words, and she reached up to cup his cheek. “You always know just what to say,” she whispered, her eyes locking onto his.

Eris’s expression grew serious as he leaned in to kiss her. The world outside the cabin ceased to exist, and for a few precious moments, it was just the two of them, wrapped in each other’s embrace. When they finally pulled apart, Eris sighed, resting his forehead against hers.

“I’ve missed you,” he said quietly.

“And I’ve missed you,” Y/N replied, her voice filled with longing. “But we can’t stay hidden forever. The meeting...”

“I know,” Eris said, a hint of frustration in his voice. “But for now, let’s just enjoy this.”

----

The High Lords' meeting was in full swing, the grand hall filled with the palpable tension of ancient rivalries and unspoken grievances. Y/N sat beside Rhysand, feeling the weight of the various stares and whispers directed her way. The years had not dulled the memories of the attack or the scars she bore, but she held her head high, a testament to her resilience.

The conversation was heated, with discussions ranging from border disputes to trade agreements. The air crackled with the power each High Lord wielded, their magic swirling subtly in the background.

Then Beron, with his characteristic sneer, dropped a comment that caused the entire room to fall into an uneasy silence. "Has anyone considered the myth of the Phoenii?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm yet carrying an undertone of curiosity.

All eyes turned to him. The Phoenii was a legend as old as the Cauldron itself, a tale of love and rebirth that few took seriously. But Beron’s tone suggested he was hinting at something more.

"The Phoenii?" Tamlin scoffed, his golden hair catching the light as he leaned back in his chair. "You can’t be serious, Beron."

Beron's eyes glittered maliciously. "Oh, but I am. A myth, yes, but myths often have roots in reality. Ash and Flare, one as black as nigh and the other as warm as fire, lovers reborn from their own ashes, wielders of beyond magic. Could it be they were more than just stories?"

Helion leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. "It's said Ash died protecting Flare, and she, unable to live without him, ended her own life. They rose again, transformed, and became guardians of the beyond magic wood as for what they're long dead now."

Rhysand exchanged a glance with Y/N, his brows furrowing. The myth was familiar, but it had always been dismissed as a romantic tale rather than a historical fact.

Helion’s rich voice filled the silence, "It's a beautiful legend, a story of love transcending death. But it’s just that—a legend. It dates back to the time of the Cauldron’s creation, a time shrouded in mystery and myth."

Y/N, sitting beside Rhysand, spoke up. "Legends often contain kernels of truth. What are you suggesting, Beron?"

Beron’s lips curled into a smirk. "I’m suggesting we’ve overlooked the potential truth in these stories. If the Phoenii did exist, and their magic was as powerful as the myths claim, could there be remnants of it? Could it be something we could tap into, especially in these uncertain times about the mountain witch?"

The room erupted into a cacophony of voices, each High Lord and their retinues arguing over the possibility. Some dismissed it outright, calling it foolishness, while others, like Kallias, considered it with a more open mind.

"Even if the Phoenii were real," Tarquin interjected, "how would we even begin to search for their magic? The beyond magic wood isn’t exactly on any map."

Rhysand, ever the diplomat, raised a hand to quiet the room. "Whether the Phoenii existed or not, and whether their magic remains, is secondary to our primary concerns. We face real, tangible threats right now."

Eris, who had been silent, leaned forward, his gaze intense. "But what if the Phoenii’s magic could help us against those threats? What if it could be harnessed to protect our lands and our people?"

Y/N watched him, her heart aching with the unspoken connection they still shared. She admired his courage in speaking up, in daring to consider the impossible.

Helion nodded slowly. "It’s not worth exploring, if only to lay the myth to rest once and for all. But we must tread carefully. The past is fraught with dangers and unknowns."

The room fell into a contemplative silence, each High Lord and their advisors weighing the potential of the legend against the reality of their present struggles. The idea of ancient magic resurfacing was both thrilling and terrifying.

As the meeting continued, the topic of the Phoenii lingered in the air, a reminder that even in a world of power and politics, there were still mysteries to be unraveled and legends that might hold more truth than anyone dared to believe.

----

The High Lords' meeting finally concluded, and the tension that had filled the room began to dissipate as the participants vanished one by one. Y/N, glancing around to ensure no one was watching, caught Eris’s eye. With a subtle nod, they slipped away from the grand hall, their footsteps light and quick.

Hand in hand, they ran through the moonlit forest, their laughter echoing through the trees. The weight of politics and responsibilities melted away with each step. Eris led her down a familiar path, their destination a serene lake that had witnessed many of their secret moments over the years.

As they reached the wooden bridge that spanned the lake, they slowed to a stop. The night was clear, the sky a tapestry of stars reflected on the still water below. Eris lay down first, pulling Y/N down beside him. They stared up at the glittering sky, the cool night air brushing against their skin.

For a few moments, they simply enjoyed the peace, their breaths synchronizing. Y/N finally broke the silence, her voice soft. “What do you think about what your father said? About the Phoenii?”

Eris let out a sigh, a mix of frustration and amusement. “My father is a maniac. He says mad shit all the time.”

Y/N laughed, a light sound that blended with the rustling of the leaves. “True, but he seemed serious this time. Do you think there’s any truth to it?”

Eris turned his head to look at her, his eyes softening. “Honestly, I don’t know. The Phoenii are a beautiful story, and maybe there’s a grain of truth in every myth, but Beron? He’s more interested in stirring the pot than finding any real answers.”

Y/N nodded, her gaze returning to the stars. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just... the idea of ancient magic like that is fascinating. It makes me wonder what else is out there that we don’t know about.”

Eris reached over, intertwining his fingers with hers. “The world is full of mysteries, Y/N. Some we’ll uncover, and some will remain hidden. But no matter what, we face it together.”

She turned to him, her heart swelling with affection. “Together,” she echoed, squeezing his hand.

They lay there for a while longer, the worries of their worlds forgotten as they shared this stolen moment. The stars watched over them, silent witnesses to their bond that had endured through time and trials. The lake’s surface mirrored the night sky, a perfect reflection of the vastness above, and in that tranquility, Y/N found a sense of hope and peace.

But not for long....

part 6

Tagging some:

@callsign-magnolia

@kmc1989

@hardballoonlove

@senawashere

@hookslove1592

@marvel-molly

@lucky7rosie

@daughterofthemoons-stuff

@lilah-asteria

@crossfandomslut

@pit-and-the-pen

@inky-sun

@the-sweet-psycho

@why4anne

@bunnyredgirl

@rcarbo1

@pandabiiissh

@adalia-jaycee

[chocmoon-latte]

"Hancock has no regrets about becoming a ghoul"??

It baffles me when some people think Hancock has zero regrets about becoming a ghoul. Absolutely none at all apparently. Like yeah, he plays it up when you first meet him before he's a companion, but let's be real he plays up pretty much everything in regards to the whole "sexy king of the zombies" image he projects.

It takes travelling with you away from Goodneighbor to give him some time to be introspective for him to finally realize that him becoming a ghoul was just another escape route from himself again. He's got several lines of dialogue that literally reiterate this. It's a key point of his character:

Hell, running from myself is what made me into… into a damn Ghoul.

Well, I mean, I didn't always look this good. The drug that did this to me, that made me a Ghoul, I knew what it was going to do.

I just couldn't stand looking at the bastard I saw in the mirror anymore.

The coward who'd let all those Ghouls from Diamond City die. Who was too scared to protect his fellow drifters from Vic and his boys.

If I took it, I'd never have to look at him again. I could put that all behind me. I'd be free. Didn't seem like a choice at all. Turns out it was just me running from somethin' else in my life.

I mean, after reaching max affinity with you, he realizes that maybe it wasn't such a bad thing after all (because he's finally got an honest friend he can be open with now). He now feels comfortable where he is - but to imply that he doesn't have at least the tiniest amount of regret? Heck, if you go onto romance him (or attempt to), he stops referring to himself as handsome and literally starts calling himself ugly, which naturally goes entirely against the image he projects:

Why don't we just agree to keep it friendly for now or till they find a cure for ugly? Heh.

You don't want to wake up to this mug every morning. Never wish that on anyone I cared for.

You sure you want to be stuck with this ugly mug?

(You could even say he implies it beforehand with another line of dialogue elsewhere in-game when he says "I'd be mad too if I was that ugly." But that's a stretch I guess.)

Combine that with the fact that 99% of ghouls don’t choose to become ghouls. Hancock did. But he didn't do it for a fun experience. He was already in a bad place when he became a ghoul. He didn't turn to be cool and edgy like he pretended he did when first getting to know him.

He lost his appearance, any connections to his old identity and old friends/people he might’ve been associated with (for better or worse), and in return gained hostility from bigots towards him for merely existing, from an overwhelming majority of the Commonwealth population that hates ghouls. There's the Institute and Brotherhood who want to kill anyone like him on top of that. Plenty of people out there who think he and other ghouls are monsters for just being alive.

Not only that, but something which adds onto this is the fact that he's a client of the Memory Den, and they're very selective with their customers. And what's the whole point of the Memory Den? Reliving past memories. Irma's terminal entry about Hancock, as well as the other two ghoul clients Kent and Daisy, all imply the memories they go back to relive are primarily from their human days. (The one on Hancock straight up says "if you thought he was handsome and dangerous now, you should've seen him before he turned ghoul.")

I genuinely refuse to believe that Hancock has never had any regret whatsoever about becoming a ghoul. The man who's spent a decent chunk of his life running from his own problems instead of confronting them, has NO regrets about taking a drug that alters his entire being and functionality on a biological level and will force him to outlive everyone he knows? This man is FULL of regrets!

[atryoshka]

Frenchie and Izzy getting together would be genius and tbh I can't unsee it now

Love that Izzy and Frenchie actually have a lot in common on a deeper level that wasn't really apparent to me until s2 when we see how they deal with trauma in equal but opposite ways. We have Frenchie with his little box that allows him to straight up ignore the dark shit he's been through like it doesn't exist, happily eat some blood cake, and thinking that his death being given a clear deadline is a comfort. Then we have Izzy trying to stone face his way through having his body parts severed, just business as usual bc that's the pirate life and it won't change even though he's visibly holding back tears, and then accusing the crew of being too cowardly to kill him, actively inviting death bc he doesn't get why any of it even matters so keeping him alive is pointless.

What's interesting is that given the right circumstances, they could easily trade places, with Izzy being more lighthearted and Frenchie falling apart at the seams.

We've already seen signs of this with Izzy being much more chilled out after the crew made him the new unicorn, finding something in this terrible life that make him see them, and himself, in a more positive light. Like yeah, life is still filled with unimaginable horror, but now has a custom gold painted unicorn leg to trudge through it with, which is absolutely absurd but now he can't help but smile. So he decided his life is so unserious right now and you know what? A shark took his leg, end of story, here's a little wooden shark I made today just for fun lol. Frenchie on the other hand is still pretty relaxed despite everything that's happened so far, but I have a feeling that he was probably very similar to izzy in the past before he joined the crew of The Revenge. His past is pretty mysterious even with the little tidbits we get like him being in the service for bit. It doesn't sound like he was doing it for too long so the other things in his life that he doesn't talk about remain unknown, probably even to himself. The box exists so he can pretend any trauma he experiences doesn't even exist, unlike a fiction which still somewhat acknowledges that there was something that happened to him in a way he could accept. The truth is, he actually never moved on bc all the parts of his life that he's ignoring are still lurking inside him waiting to break out at anytime. I think when something accidentally triggers a memory he suppressed, we'll see a different side to him. Less chill, more shrewd survivalist, like when he and the others reunited with the revenge crew after being stranded at sea. He bounced back pretty fast after they got past the pinnata and cake standoff but it was interesting to see how ready he was to be violent and how untrusting he was of everyone's intentions in that context. He'd usually be much more chill and willing to fast talk his way out of a situation, even when he knows someone has bad intentions. (There's also probably something with religious trauma he's hiding but that's a whole other can of worms I won't get into. All I'll say is that combined with his very strong beliefs of the supernatural and grudging flippant way he does the cross symbol on himself when others do it, when they boarded the cursed ship, he was that only one to not step in the satanic circle before anyone even questioned what the strange lines even were. Did he immediately recognize it and consciously avoid it or was it gut reaction? Idk, but he sure as hell didn't speak up about it and just wearily watched the other step into it and draw their own conclusions. ) But getting back on track Honestly, their dynamic would be really interesting to explore in the show bc they could understand and care about each other in ways that would probably surprise them if given the opportunity to spend more time together on screen. tl;dr: All this to say that I fell down the rabbit hole after realizing that they are basically this meme, which has a lot of potential for so many hilarious and accidentally heartbreaking moments

[fuckyeahmhawkefenris]

It is unbearably quiet on tumblr lately, and what little talking there is, it's all about the next game. Yeah, we're no longer in 2012, I get it.

I'll just keep entertaining myself however I can.

I've always wanted to talk about one fic I secretly refer to as one of the hidden gems in the fenhawke archives. I have never ever seen anyone bring it up, and in all these years I've never dared to recommend it to anyone... Don't think you can even find it so easily? For good reason tbh...

Thing is, it's a fill for da kink community on livejournal. Anyone remember that place? The safe haven where anyone could anonimously submit the kinkiest most shameless things you could think of - offering prompts, filling them... Those were some desperate times when we were painfully low on content, and it was very hard to find something to read. Finding a story with characterization that suited your vision was near impossible!

I myself was desprate enough to brave through countless pages of imageries I could not stomach, skimming through them just to get the general idea until something captured my attention.

So I found this, and honestly, to this day to me it is one of the best examples of... idk, not just good characterization, but the overall feeling of the fenhawke relationship, why I can't let go of them after 12 years? It's all subjective, of course, but no fanfic ever resonated with me as deeply as this. Also back then mage Hawke was not very popular and most stories featured rogues... I used to be very sad and lonely!

Warning: it's extremely triggery. I wouldn't even recommend reading the first part at all, because it's too difficult and painful to get through. Hell, I couldn't read it! I was looking through the text very VERY briefly to get only the most basic and vague understanding of what was happening, and it was still hard! There is a lot of abuse, rape, slavery things...

To get the idea:

The Alone quest did not get resolved as planned. Danarius managed to win that battle, captured Fenris and returned to Tevinter, gravely injuring Hawke in the process (Fenris thought he was killed). To break the remains of his will, Danarius threatens to erase Fenris's memories of Hawke, and he succumbs and stops resisting altogether. I don't want to recall the details, but it was awful. Go straight to part 17 (it's a flashback) to read a very lovely take on fenhawke first night together. It's super sweet and gentle, though painfully sad in context. Still, beautiful. Well, it gets worse before it gets better! Somewhere in part 19 Fenris's friends come for him (they sailed all the way here on Isabela's new ship) and he's rescued. What follows is an exceptionally touching tender reunion with Hawke. Oh, and then, once all is settled comes the second part - All the King's men, which is much less controversial and fairly easy to read. Fenris copes with his experiences, and Hawke is always there for him. There are some truly fantastic moments as they slowly get close to each other again! Isabela is pretty great here, and Anders... sorta made me warm up to his character? And it's all fairly believable and close to how we see them in the game.

I'm saying all this and linking this fic on the off chance that someone with tastes similar to mine ever needs something like it. I know I am grateful it exists, and still hold it very dear to my heart. Definitely never regretted finding it!

[stemmmm]

Close to a year and four rewrites later, I present to you...

Stem's Thoughts on the Game Design of Harvest Moon on SNES

I’m not going to lie, if you don’t like farming sims, you won’t like this one. At their core, every farming sim (at least in the rpg genre) is nearly identical, and that’s because of this game. In a way, I might dare to say that Harvest Moon for the SNES is the perfect farming sim because it has every one of the usual elements in their most simplified form and it just works straight from the get-go. It works so well in fact, that after this game came out in 1996, four more entries to the series were released before the year 2000.

If you are someone who does like farming sims, I can’t recommend this game enough. It’s simple and to the point, with a fast pace and enough random events and points of intrigue that the game kept me relatively engaged for my whole playthrough.

Also, by nature of this being the first game and therefore hard to cover concisely and by nature of taking so long to write this... it's long as hell! Enjoy! :) <3

I can’t say my appreciation of this game doesn’t come with a few caveats. I’ve intermittently played HM games all my life, starting with the GameBoy port (GB1) all the way to Pioneers of Olive Town, so while I don’t know exactly how the series has evolved, I’ve seen it at some of its earliest and at its latest. My vague childhood memories of GB1 (a game I didn’t own and didn’t play much of) were that it was pretty sparse and bland, so knowing that this original game was allegedly the same thing but with a little more content, I was expecting the bare minimum. I was prepared to never even be able to leave my farm, but the first thing the game did was shuttle me off to the nearby town and blocked the exit until I talked to everyone there. 

(Maps of the town, mountain, and farm via The Spriters Resource)

You learn everything you need to know about the game right here at the beginning; Firstly, that this town is small as all hell and has hardly anyone in it aside from the five girls you can marry and their immediate family members. The next thing you’ll learn is that there’s a fence on your farm, and you need to be taking care of that. Of the few repetitive lines of dialogue any given person in town has to share with you on any given day, a fair amount are devoted to reminding you to fix your fence, to make sure it’s in good repair. There was just a big storm so watch out! Remember to check it every day! Are you chopping enough wood? Because you’ll need it for that fence!

I’m being dramatic of course, you aren’t reminded about it that much, though the thin variation of dialogue means it comes up a lot. The emphasis on your fence does exist, and it isn’t for nothing: while it doesn’t matter as much if all you do is grow crops– if you keep animals, the game tells you that the ideal thing to do for yours and the animal’s happiness is to put the animals outside to graze. Animal feed bought from the livestock shop will keep them fed, but it's nothing compared to fresh grass grown on your farm. You can’t even buy animals without a certain amount of grass planted! And sure, you can cut the grass to store for later, but it’s at its best straight out of the ground. However, the way the game is programmed, the animals only eat when the day rolls over, so putting animals outside for the day and taking them in at night isn’t an option, and on top of that, there’s things that come out at night that can hurt your animals. This is where your fence comes in.

The Utility of Fences

At the entrance to your farm is a cluster of buildings: your house, a small lumber shed, a barn, coop, and silo, a tool shed, and an old, dried up well. Just barely surrounding all of these is a little wooden fence that looks more like a row of upright logs than anything else. Despite this farm having presumably been abandoned, the fence is in perfect repair. You’ll quickly discover that the fence as it is won’t work out; there’s hardly space to plant anything within it, and with the well dried up, you’re forced to hop it to get to a water source to fill up your watering can. It’s pretty clear that you’ll need to expand your fence, and it’s easy to do with all of the tree stumps littering the massive field that it’s blocking off. 

On top of needing to expand the range of your fence, the individual planks eventually will rot away and leave useless stumps. They show up more frequently after rain or a large storm. The posts don’t rot away completely so they have to be manually removed, but replacing them is as simple as smashing the old post with a hammer or ax and popping a new post in its place. It becomes a very natural part of your daily routine to run a lap around the farm’s perimeter before you go to bed to make sure everything looks safe and secure. It’s a good way to ensure your animals are put away and debris is cleared out, too! It slotted very nicely into my daily schedule until a certain point.

With how much time you have to spend hopping over the logs to get to the rest of the area too large to fence in, you might be tempted to leave one out of place for easier traversal. When night comes, it’s clear why that would be a mistake. Sometimes when you go to bed, you’ll hear your dog barking. It’s a small detail, one that took me a long time to notice because I didn’t always play with the sound on. There are wild dogs that prowl around the wilderness surrounding your farm, and only at night do they dare to come close. Your dog, if left outside, isn't able to do anything other than warn you of their presence if they show up. There’s nothing to notice during the daytime if it happens, unless you happened to leave one of your animals outside. There was one night that I left my chickens outside, having thought my fence was in perfect order and repair. I went to bed and heard the dog barking, followed by a horrible crunch. When I went out in the morning, I saw where my chicken had been before, it had been replaced by a pile of feathers. On the north side of my farm was a rotted fence post I’d failed to fix. 

The Reality of Fences

After losing my chicken, a cluster of pixels on my screen it may have been, I didn’t feel comfortable leaving my animals outside. I didn’t want to take a risk again, the sound and sight of feathers was upsetting enough. On a more logical note, the chickens didn’t even lay eggs if left outside so there was no value in it. Cows were a pain to put back inside the barn too, because of some silliness with the game’s collision. As much of a disappointment as it was to not have my animals roam around, it was just easier. At the time, I was focusing on upgrading my house anyways, so I didn’t have time to take care of my animals outside where time would pass when I could use that time gathering wood, and everything I had was being saved up for the house so I didn’t have any extra materials to repair my fence with. My fence was all rotting away. Because it was inconvenient for getting to my crops, I started smashing all the old posts as they went, too. That’s when I noticed something: the wild dog wasn’t coming anymore.

I didn’t pay much attention to it until I was looking up a completely different mechanic and discovered a forum explaining how the fences were broken. Rotted posts attracted the wild dog, they said. It didn’t matter if you had gaps in your fence, or even a fence at all–in fact no fence was the best kind to have because the mere existence of posts that could rot was a liability. 

I was hesitant at first to test this concept, after all there wasn’t much I could gain from it. My chickens wouldn’t lay outside, and my cows would be too challenging to get back in if the forecast called for rain. The thing that got me to finally try it was when I was trying to hatch more chickens. My coop felt like a nightmare to navigate due to its current population. I wanted less animals inside that I had to feed, so I threw a couple chicks outside–they weren’t laying yet anyways. Lo and behold, the dog didn’t come. More days passed and more animals were left outside, and it never came. My fence had rotted until there was nothing left at all. No dogs could ever come to my farm again. And I realized that the game’s own insistence on its mechanics was all a lie.

How You’re Told To Play - How The Game Lies

Of course, my animals didn’t stay outside. For a minute it was fun having a crowd of cows milling about while I tended to my crops, but letting them wander free and uninhibited made it impossible to find and milk all of them without any trouble, and there were the rainy days to watch out for. After the novelty wore off, they went back inside and stayed there. The thing is, that didn’t make a single bit of difference in how much they liked me compared to how they were living in the barn. On top of that, they didn’t seem to care whether I was feeding them grass or store-bought food either, though I mostly stuck to the grasses since they were cheaper and easier to get. Nothing about how I was told to care for animals really mattered past feeding them every day, petting it and maybe brushing it, if it was a cow.

It gets worse. The most basic aspect of the game is the fact that time passes. The story takes place over 2 and a half years, running through each day until the end, and these days last from 6AM to 6PM according to the game’s own internal time setting. After 6PM, all of the shops aside from the bar will close and you lose the ability to sell anything as you’re told it would rot in the shipping bin overnight, so there’s nothing to do but sleep until the next day. Issue with this is that when the days stop at 6PM… they just stop. Time doesn’t flow anymore. The game doesn’t give you any kind of clock to know the exact time it is until after you’ve upgraded your house, so all you have to go by before that is the color of the environment and whether or not your character has played an animation to eat something (you’re automatically fed when you wake up, at noon, and at night). I discovered this because I was curious if I could actually see the wild dog by staying out, and left the game running for probably 20 minutes in real life only for nothing to happen. Because of the time freeze, the time after 6PM actually becomes really valuable for farm logistics. You can’t sell anything, no, but you can pull up all the weeds on the farm, water your crops, fix your fences, feed and care for animals if you hadn’t already, and harvest wood for fences and house upgrades which would have taken a lot of valuable time to get during shipping-hours. The only thing that gets in the way of doing all that is you running out of energy.

Your energy is what allows you to use your farming equipment like your ax or watering can. Running out of it doesn’t mean you fall unconscious or anything, but your character will play an animation of them stumbling over and will fail to use any tools. The most obvious fix to this is to simply go to bed, as sleeping gives you a full recharge. You can also, however, recharge it by going to the hot spring on the mountain, or by eating food bought at the restaurant in town or foraged for in the forest. You can’t tell easily how much is refilled, as there’s no visual indicator like a health bar, but you’re able to eat more than once, and jumping into the hot spring seems to count whether you did it or not more than how much time you spend in there, so you can hop in and out a couple of times and call it good. 

Individually, time freezing at 6PM and energy being endlessly replenishable aren’t bad things. Even together, they’re not the worst. Having free time to focus on profitless chores is nice, and I think it’s important to be able to replenish your energy in case you have a limited amount of time to do things like for example, cut all of your grass before winter kills it. What makes an exploit out of these is the fact that the resources in the forest will never run out. Every time you re-enter the forest, all forage items and tree stumps are respawned. The infinite amount of forage makes for infinite energy refills, and could also make for an incredible money exploit if you didn’t have a very limited amount of time to ship things. You don’t have a limited amount of time to cut up tree stumps though. If you wanted to, you could run up to the forest after 6PM, chop every stump, then simply reload the area, and everything’s back. You can get all of the wood you would ever need to fully upgrade your house in one night. It’s a bit of a grind to do all at once, but it’s a grind you’d be doing over time anyways. It’s not the worst exploit in the world, since you still need money to pay for the house upgrade, but arguably because of how you have to focus your energy elsewhere for most of the game, the wood is the harder thing to get. Additionally, when the game has very little to do in both fall and winter due to the lack of crops, this exploit takes away just about any reason to play those two seasons other than to take care of animals. It’s an optional exploit of course–as all exploits are–but once you learn about it, it’s hard to resist the desire to get the grind out of the way all at once and mess up the pacing of the game.

The Charm of the Game

Learning that the fences were completely broken as a mechanic was a huge disappointment for me. From the moment I got a grasp on how the game was supposed to work, I wanted to eventually surround my whole field with fencing and keep my animals outside so I would have some life on my farm while I worked. I didn’t just want this, I was excited for it! This was something I’d never done in a farming sim that didn’t already manage putting animals in and out for you like Stardew Valley or newer Story of Seasons games do. My routine is always the same: I go into the barn and coop to tend to each of my animals, I take care of my crops outside, then run straight to town to talk to everyone, and go to bed. The change in routine that would come from taking care of the animals outside and patrolling the fence every night felt fresh to me. It made me feel that even though this was the first game of its kind, it was different and required new things of me. But in the end, I played it exactly the same.

Harvest Moon is still very different from all of the games that followed it, though. In many ways, it’s because it has less “stuff” in it– both in terms of items and things you have to do. But I wouldn’t say that it feels incomplete. Harvest Moon runs over the course of 2 and a half years before your work is evaluated. Until that happens, you have the ability to farm four different crops, you can raise both cows and chickens, you can upgrade your house to have more features, upgrade your working tools, build relationships with the townspeople to a small extent, go to town festivals that happen each year, and you can get married to one of the five girls living in town with whom you can have up to two children. Everything that you would come to expect as a fan of games like this is already here from the very first iteration. The most notable lack this game has, and one that seems to be completely unique to this game, is that there aren’t any crops in the fall or winter, which means that unless you have animals, there’s a whole half of the year that you don’t have anything to do. The game is clearly aware of this though, because in an average playthrough, this is where you’ll start to run into the story events.

There isn’t much of an overarching story in the game, past the general concept that you’ve run away from home to work on an abandoned farm. The conclusion rests on how good of a job you actually do. In between those two points are smaller events, usually tied to when you get tool upgrades or special ones for each of the romantic interests. The first event you’re likely to run into happens on the very last day of summer, where one of the woodsmen comes to your house in the morning to ask if you’re okay because he heard a huge crash at night and you should check your farm. What I found was that a tree in my field had fallen over, and its remaining stump had a big empty hole in it. When I inspected the stump, I was suddenly underground in a cave filled with loud and industrious music, and I was faced with two, little green people–Harvest Sprites, though I don’t know if they’re called that yet here. One asked me if my scythe worked well, and when I said yes, told me that they had made it and that I should check my shed tomorrow for a better one. Other tool upgrades are obtained in similar fashion; one comes from feeding a starving sprite a mushroom and another comes from another hole in the farm opening up to reveal another part of the cave system that has a couple of hints on how to unlock other things. 

The events for romantic interests happen at less scripted times, as they’re tied to how strong your relationship is with each girl. Each girl only has one event, and it only triggers when your relationship is high enough that you would ask her to marry you. The events usually take up a whole day, and don’t necessarily add much to each character. Ellen’s revolves around how she’s no good at keeping pets– something established on your second day at the farm when you get your dog from her, Eve’s hammers in her fraught relationship with her grandpa, and Ann’s is about losing the chicken weathervane, or “weathercock” which sits on the roof of her workshop and goes missing every time there’s a storm. Conversely, Nina and Maria’s scenes bring up entirely new events that bring up a number of questions while providing no answers. Nina disappears while looking for a medicinal plant because her mother is apparently sick, and Maria vanishes for days until you find her hiding away with the woodsmen for some reason. All of these events, whether they share new information or not, manage to add some greatly appreciated depth to each character by giving them more room to speak and be sincere than their short and repetitive day-to-day dialogues do.

The dialogue in this game is simple, to the point, and sparse– probably because there was only so much memory that could be reserved for approximately 15 people who all have multiple lines of dialogue, and only so much money to pay someone to write more. There is simple dialogue that doesn’t tell you much more than “hello, how are you” would, more dialogue that I’d label as tutorial text, and a few lines that I truthfully couldn’t understand well because of the sub-par translation this game received for english. The dialogue that exists to inform the world really manages to create a unique vibe though. Nina’s dialogue, almost always about plants, goes into forays about how they’re creatures with wills to live, too. Ellen’s uncle who runs the ranch shop tells you that it’s much better to feed your animals fresh grass if you try to buy any from his store, and if you decline to purchase he laughs as if he’s won something. There’s even dialogue referencing the silent player! Multiple lines exist to comment on him not paying attention, and inspection prompts have people telling you not to touch something rather than being an item description. It was the last thing I expected, to get the same level of personality out of the main character as I did from each of the girls, albeit very subtly. He went from a kind of nothing, self-insert into being what I perceive to be a hyperactive boy, akin to a border collie who was let out into a field of sheep for the first time–the exact kind of person crazy enough to take on an abandoned farm and succeed.

It’s these short little character details that bring life into the game. Each day, you’ll really only see one line of dialogue from each character, be it new or old, with that dialogue usually only changing if there’s a change in season or festival coming up. The repetitive, pretty mindless routine of the game can turn into a sort of meditation if you let it, where you spend your time working thinking about the folks in town and what they had to say to you the previous day. The developers took this concept in stride and gave the side characters loads of dialogue about life, about God and religion, and about… very basic morals, but morals nonetheless. It’s a children’s game after all. When you take the thoughts, questions and prompts the characters give you back to the farm to do your long and tedious routine, you have to ask yourself– what are you working so hard for? For the feeling of accomplishment? Recognition from your peers? For the sake of some higher power, if you worship one? For me personally, it was to write this essay, but it was also for a good grade on the high score screen at the end, so to be honest a lot of this stuff was lost on me until just now when I was reviewing the game to get screenshots.

Setting The Standard - Why You Should Play HM SNES

You may read all of this and still think, well, it doesn’t sound like the game has much in it. And you would be right, it’s a very small game, but it’s also extremely quick. On average, my days only lasted about three minutes of real life time. Everything flew by, and I think I finished the game in 20 hours or less. I barely got a chance to notice that there wasn’t much going on because every second of my day was spent busy doing something, and when I wasn’t busy, the break was appreciated. I didn’t start to run out of things to do until I was finished with the second year, and when I looked up what I needed to do to get a decent ending, I was already most of the way there. It was easy to push through those last two seasons to get to the end, and it was so, so worth it. 

As I mentioned earlier, the game ends with a high score screen, meaning it has to track all of your accomplishments. These include, but are not limited to: the number of things you ship, number of each crop you grow, number of animals you have and how much they like you, how upgraded your house is, who you married, how much all of the girls in town like you if you didn't get married, how many kids you have (which basically equates to how long you were married), your happiness score (increased by going to festivals and decreased by having animals die), and how many times you’ve pet your dog. In addition to these being tallied up and presented to you, you get special cutscenes not just for each one of these accomplishments, but additional ones for if you managed to do even better! I got a cutscene for having a cow, followed by one for having lots of cows, followed by yet another for having cows that loved me! Watching them play one after the other felt like taking a victory lap even without getting the best possible result. Seeing all of my numbers come up at the end made me want to try again to actually get those other cutscenes, not to get to see them, they’re so easy to find on Youtube, but because the game made it feel like an accomplishment! If I weren’t following this game up by immediately playing its GameBoy port, I absolutely would have started a new file right away. I’ve been playing the Harvest Moon series since I was a little kid and this was the first time I’d actually managed to beat one of these games. I struggle to think the finale of any game following this will feel as good as this one did.

I started writing this whole thing about the fences because it was an easy and silly entry point to get into my core issue with the game, and so I could have an opportunity to dig into game mechanics and the way the knowledge you have of them will completely alter your playstyle, because that’s all fun and interesting for me to talk about. Another reason why I focused on that was because it was near impossible for me to pick any kind of focus point when talking about this game. After all, I’m trying to study a whole series of games that spans multiple decades, and this is not only the first game in that series, but a game that created the whole genre of farming sims and defined that genre so thoroughly that you can see its DNA in every single game that followed.

 I didn’t expect much to come out of my experience with this game. My expectations for it before I even picked it up were that it was going to be basically featureless, as informed by my experience with one of the first games I ever played as a child, Harvest Moon GB, which I will get into next. This game was not that at all. I think that everything it did manage to get working right came together just about perfectly. Harvest Moon is exactly what it wanted to be, and where it wasn’t, it lied about how it worked to try and make you play the correct way anyways. When I believed that lie, my time playing was even more enjoyable. Maybe if farming worked just a little bit more like how you’re told it’s supposed to, and if there was just a little bit more story, those would cover the things I felt wanting for the most. But maybe a little flexibility and ambiguity is a good thing. Maybe actually maintaining a fence is just too hard, and maybe if the girls were more fleshed out, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy filling in their gaps in my head.

There are many more things I could say and wanted to say about this game, but this has grown far too long already so I'm cutting myself off here. I'm sure my later entries aren't going to get near this length. If you managed to get to this point, thank you so much for reading!

[betterfettered]

Bruh can I be honest and say your Yan! Leviathan kinda scares me because Levi already lives rent free in my head and I kinda don’t wanna know what would happen if he figured it out?

I’m literally not joking about leviathan straight up living inside my brain rent free, like he actively takes up a shit ton of my thoughts enough for me to get the Tetris effect when I sleep.

And idk why but something tells me that if he knew that I’m practically obsessed with him, I wouldn’t be touching grass or seeing anyone else ever again for my entire existence.

Hey anon!! I am sorry this took so long, it got really long (3k words!!) and kind of went in its own direction hahaha. I hope you like it!! It turns out that you were right, and no one will ever find you in his clutches LOLL Let me know what you think?

(AFAB!reader x AMAB!yandere)(Plus size reader💖🫡)(noncon)(stalking)(18+ readers only please, mdni)(sort of kind of an AU but not really?)[This is fetish content and rape and stalking are disgusting and inexcusable in real life.]

Your reaction was strange to Leviathan because he'd imagined it over and over again in his head no less than a thousand times but had not been able to divine what you actually reacted like. In his mind when he'd intentionally spilled his drink on himself you'd make a little surprised noise or say "oh no!" or laugh, but in reality you just frowned, your eyebrows lifting in shock.

The important part, however, you still did: you turned to your bag, rifling through it for some napkins, and offered them to him like it was nothing, like making his heart jackrabbit to the point of nearly shattering was nothing. He snatched them quickly so that you wouldn’t see how his hands shook in anticipation.

Okay, next say thank you, he said to himself and tried his hardest but was unable to pry his lips open or make eye contact with you or even breathe. When the elevator reached the floor that the both of you lived on, he sprinted from the elevator to get to his door, spilling plenty more cherry slushy on himself in the process. He could barely get his hands steady enough to get the key into his door, but the second he was inside and had slammed the door behind him he tossed his soiled jacket and the half empty slushy to the ground and hurried into his bedroom, dropping on his knees in front of his shrine of you.

Well, it wasn’t a shrine just yet. It was too small – he had only the things he could salvage from your trash, like an empty lipstick tube, a plastic fork from some takeout, a debit card statement listing all of your purchases six months ago. This was the first thing you had ever given to him, though, the first gift with your scent and blessing on it. He shut his eyes and held the napkins up to his nose, inhaling deeply and summoning the image of you to his mind.

Leviathan focused on your eyes, thinking about how your gaze meeting his meant that you were not looking at anyone else and, he imagined, not thinking about anyone else. It didn’t take long for the memory to become a fantasy: he imagined you looking at him still, but now with your bottom lip caught between your teeth out of sheer lust for him. Reaching into his nightstand for lube, he imagined your outfit, which was the standard button down and pencil skirt combination that was something of a uniform for office workers. It was unremarkable but for the way it hugged the soft protrusions of fat on your body. He liked to imagine that your larger size made you unpopular on the dating market, so he would (in his fantasies and occasionally dreams, when he was lucky) be the first to touch and squeeze and lick you – he’d be the only one that you granted such access to, because he and only he was that special to you.

He placed the stack of napkins on his bed and pushed his face down into them to free both hands to undo his belt and slather his cock with lube. Even just touching his shaft made him shiver and clench his jaw, but he didn’t start pumping just yet because his fantasy was still incomplete. First, he needed you to turn to him in his mind, walking towards him until you had sandwiched him up against the wall, every plump part of you pressing up against him like a full bodied hug. Then, when he nearly collapsed with desire both in reality and in his mind, you reached a hand down to his pants, running your hand back and forth over his cock and looking up at him and only him. Only then did he begin stroking, murmuring your name to himself and clutching his bed. It was only a minute or two before he reached his peak and came so hard into his other hand that he became incoherent, his own moans shoving your name out of his mouth to take its place.

Once he caught his breath and the immense pleasure receded, he was filled with a longing that made his eyes begin to tear, his mouth pressing together as he tried to hold himself together. He needed you. At this point, his fantasies were almost as torturous as they were alluring. Just imagining was not enough and never could be, because while he was here with you, you were off thinking about or talking to someone else. He needed the entirety of you and he needed to show you with his body just how much he worshipped you, the same way he did in his mind every night before sleeping.

His hands were slick with cum and lube, so he shut his eyes for a moment once more and rubbed two fingers into the other palm, imagining that it was your tummy covered in his cum instead, but could only tolerate the fantasy for a few seconds before climbing to his feet to go clean up both himself and the mess he’d made in the entryway. He spent the rest of the night hugging a pillow on his couch and watching the old Ruri-chan OVAs from his favorite season and trying to hold back the tears pressing against the backs of his eyes.

Leviathan did not see you again for another week – perhaps you had been working early or late. When you once again met in front of the elevator, he felt downright giddy and reflexively covered his face with the back of his hand, but the glee turned to pure shock when you turned to him and said “Oh, happy birthday, Levi!”

What he did not know was that the day before, a pair of gentlemen (one ginger, one with hair graying only at the tips) had mistakenly knocked on your door. The shorter one pointed and released a party popper right at your face, and the taller one held out a cake that had bites taken directly out of it. Surprise! They had said, and then the three of you were surprised indeed, because you were not who they were expecting and you had not been expecting anything but still could never have imagined this would happen. They asked for a Leviathan, you pointed them next door, and the one with the frosting on his face apologized around another bite he had taken right out of the cake. The other apologized, too, but distractedly, as he was preoccupied with sadness that he had wasted his only party popper on you instead of his brother.

No, Leviathan was not aware of any of that, because Beelzebub couldn’t control himself around the cake and Belphegor wanted a new party popper, so they gave up and planned to come back tomorrow, the actual day of, without saying a word to him. If Leviathan could have spoken in that moment, he would have asked you how you knew, but he could not, so instead he stared at the ground and tried to figure out how you knew. He didn’t generally think of himself as disposed to illogical thinking, so when it occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, you had been just as taken with him as he was with you, he figured it was the most obvious conclusion.

He imagined that you had gone home after giving him the napkin and touched yourself, too.

Maybe you also had a shrine for him in your home, and one of the things in it told you when he was born.

“Have I said something wrong…?” you asked, eyeing his stunned expression.

It was all he could do to shake his head, because you had actually said the best possible thing that you could have. Was he dreaming?

When the elevator arrived to the right floor, he allowed you to get off first and then trailed behind you, not even noticing the antlers starting to sprout out of his head and the scales started to spread across his skin. It was as though he was mesmerized by you and couldn’t do anything but follow.

You got to your door, opened it, and then cried out when you felt his full weight against your back, pinning you to the ground. His tailed whipped out and slammed the door shut behind the two of you, and he pressed his nose into your hair, inhaling and shivering a little, feeling his common sense melting away to be replaced with only intoxicating lust.

“What are you doing?!” You demanded, your voice wavering with fear. “Get off of me right now!”

He didn’t reply, only focusing on how the way you were struggling was rubbing your ass up against his cock and making him pant. Was it really possible that you were here beneath him, all his for the rest of your lives together? Distantly he wondered why you were struggling if you were obsessed with him, but brushed it away as not important.

“Please, just get off of me and leave,” you said, your voice becoming thick with the tears starting to pour down your face.

He got to his knees, putting one hand on your shoulder and one beneath your tummy, pulling both upwards to flip you onto your back. You only resisted for a few seconds before allowing him to turn you over onto your back, your shimmering wet eyes meeting his crazed ones and drawing another sob out of you. This did not seem to stop him, as he almost immediately rested back on top of you and pressed his lips to yours, jamming his long tongue into your mouth before you had a chance to clench your jaw. You gagged a little at the length of it, long enough to reach the back of your tongue, and tried to push him off of you, which he merely ignored until you stopped.

He only pulled away and sat up when he noticed your elbow working against your side, at which point he wanted to observe what you were doing with your hand. You were holding your cell phone and trying to type something into it, but as soon as you saw him notice it you pulled it closer to your face, typing as quickly as possible. He felt his heart sink: even though you were in love with him, you were thinking of someone else while he was kissing you. Despair settled over him until it gave way to a sort of panicked jealousy: would you ever unlearn this? Could he trust you to commit to only him? You were going to be his first (and already had been his first kiss)…was he really ready for this? This would be your first fight with each other as a couple.

While he was thinking, he snatched the phone from you and crushed it in his hand, tossing the broken bits aside and pouting.

“Who were you going to call?”

“N-no one.”

“O-okay, well then! Who were you g-gonna text?!” he asked, being able to hear how pathetic he sounded himself.

Try to sound like Lucifer! He told himself, and sat up a little straighter. You can do this, you can do this.

“Th-that…was cheating,” he said, and then tried making his voice a little deeper. “Don’t think of any one else. Ever again….uh, d-do I make m-myself c-clear?”

Complete fail, uggghhhh

It took a moment for you to calm yourself enough to speak.

“Please just let me go,” you repeated around sobs. “I won’t call the police or anything. I won’t even mention it to my friends. Just…please don’t....”

He climbed to his feet at that, though he didn’t leave you even a moment to think your pleas had worked on him before he wrapped you up in his tail, lifting you off of the ground and above his head. You cried out and struggled, kicking him with your feet a few times until he held you further away, but he paid no mind and instead locked and deadbolted the door behind the two of you, then walked deeper into your apartment, checking all of the doors in his path until he found your bedroom. He wanted to pause to look around and examine every last bit of you that the room contained, but he was so hard that it was starting to hurt, so he darted over to your bed and slammed you down onto your back, unwrapping his tail so he could sit down, push your legs up and put them on either side of his waist.

Unfortunately, you still had not learned your lesson about struggling, so he clamped his tail down on your neck to hold you still, tightening it when you started to move around too much, and grabbed both of your wrists to hold them beside your head where the end of his tail could wrap around them, too.

You were talking, or maybe just crying, but he couldn’t focus on that. His attention was completely absorbed by his cock pressing into the heat of your core and your writhing body.

He reached out with shaking hands and undid the buttons of your shirt, taking a while not because he was savoring it but rather because he was trying to undo them too impatiently with his uncoordinated fingers and not being that successful to the point that he ripped the last few buttons open in his haste. His hands pressed down into your plush stomach and then, after a moment of enjoying your inviting softness, he ran them upwards until he held your tits in both hands, squeezing them in a circular motion the way he had seen in a few hentai movies and then pushing his fingers into your bra to touch your bare skin and catch your nipples between his fingers, pinching them until you gave a short whimper that made his cock twitch. He slid his hands out and yanked the bra down to reveal them, then leaned down into your chest and shoved his face right in the center of it, squishing your tits against either side of his head while his hips started to buck against yours, greedily craving the friction between you. His face felt so hot at this point, and yet was no match for the warmth of lying there against your heart.

While he’d had plans to lick and suck your tits and maybe bite them a little to see if he could get you to make noise again, he didn’t think he could wait any longer to penetrate you, he sat up and shoved your skirt upwards around your waist until he could reach your panties, then pushed your legs together in front of him with his arms so he could pull them off of you (and stash them in his pocket). He felt so relieved that he’d only worn joggers today and didn’t need to bother with a belt or a zipper, so there was only a second between your panties being removed and the head of his cock pressed right into the folds of your pussy.

“Don’t! I’m begging, please don’t!” you wailed.

“But y-you’re wet,” he observed, rubbing his cock up and down your slit to spread your juices.

You didn’t reply fast enough; he lost patience and shoved into you with a desperate whine. It felt even better than he had imagined day after day all of this time, so he didn’t move at first to try and avoid cumming immediately. Instead, he reached for your hands, freeing them from his tail so he could weave his fingers into yours and press them into your sheets on either side of your head.

“L-look at me,” he panted, tightening his tail around your neck when you didn’t obey. “I s-said to look at me.”

It took a few seconds for you to run out of air and begin struggling to breathe, but you did eventually look at him, instantly making his heart pound. Suddenly, he felt unbearably shy, so he buried his face in your neck as he started to fuck you, slowly but insistently, his pelvis grinding up against yours like he couldn’t get deep enough inside of you, his moans muffled beside your face. Feeling your breasts jolt against him with each thrust he couldn’t help but start to fuck you a little harder, too, just to feel them bouncing beneath him.

He didn’t think to tell you when he was about to cum, since his mind was completely whiting out from the pleasure and his moans sounded frantic and irregular because he couldn’t quite control the sounds he was making, so you only knew that he was filling you when he stopped suddenly, releasing your hands to grab your hips hard enough to hurt and pull you as close into him as possible. His entire body shook against yours for a while. Once he relaxed, still panting but not digging his fingers into your flesh as hard any more, his entire frame draped over yours with exhaustion.

Ten minutes later, he finally sat up to address you, lovingly stroking your hair and cheek.

"That was so much better than in my head. I don't think I've ever been this happy in my life.

“Um, I don’t think you finished, right? S-sorry, I’m…anyway, I’ll read a little more about how to satisfy you on reddit! Then I’ll show you what I learned. We have a lot of time for me to practice until I get it right. I'll definitely make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

“Just let me go,” you murmured, out of tears.

“I never will,” he answered, his voice so resolute that it grew steady even if for only a moment as he promised that. “I’m in l-love with you, a-and you’re going to love me. And only me, no one else. If you think of anyone else, I’ll…I’ll hurt them. And you, too.”

Perhaps you weren’t out of tears after all, as the words made you start to cry again.

This time, he pulled you upwards and wrapped you in his arms while still inside you, grateful for the opportunity to feel as though he was taking care of you. His mind was already starting to wander to plans of where you both would live, how he could punish you to make sure you never spoke to any one else again, and what he would tell his brothers and closest gaming buddies about the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Dreams really did come true. The two of you only had happily ever after in store for you.

[chopper-base]

@shadestepping

Ok, that was honestly more like 15 minutes, but whatever. I did not edit this at all. I just basically word vomited on the page and this shit came of it-

"...organic chips."

"Yup"

"...implanted in our heads."

"Mhm."

"...to control us?"

"Precisely."

Fox rubbed his temple, already feeling the headache forming. "And the Chancellor is responsible??"

Fives nodded, his arms crossed. "He told me himself because he's gonna try to have me killed."

Fox locked eyes with Fives, trying to search his expression for a hint of a lie. He found none. He knew Fives had a habit of pranks and jokes but the ARCs face remained deadly serious. "Surprisingly," Fox shrugged, placing his hands on his hips, "I believe you."

Fives mouth fell open, his arms dropping to his sides in disbelief. "Wait, YOU DO?!"

Fox threw his hands up in defeat. "It'd explain a lot. The random memories missing, the bad osik I apparently do and then don't even know about til Thire mentions it." He turned, running his hand down his face. "...I hate that this makes sense but I do enjoy the extra excuse to hate the Chancellor."

Fives cocked his head, a look of confusion on his face. "Wait. You already hated the Chancellor?"

Fox had to laugh, shaking his head. "With every fiber of my being. Don't even get me started."

Fives put his hands up in surrender, not questioning it further. He dropped his hands, watching the Commander as he slowly paced the small room. Fox was racking his brain. They couldn't exactly just march up and declare that Palpatine was orchestrating both sides of the war to the senate or even the jedi council without some sort of proof. The most they could prove was the chip's existence and he was sure the Kaminoins would come up with some Banta osik to explain it. The Commander refused to ignore it though, knowing his brothers lives and entire galaxy were at risk. He knew what the Chancellor had planned to do with being able to control every clone in existence.

"...Fox?"

Fox turned to Fives who was looking more anxious by the minute. The ARC was practically shaking in his boots. Most of the Coruscant Guard were searching for him. There were orders to capture him but Fox knew the moment anyone found him, he'd be dead not long after. That was Fox's first glaringly red flag. Why would the Chancellor order the entire Guard to search for one clone? The only explanation to Fives' supposed rampage was he attacked the Chancellor which Fox had to force himself not to laugh at. He'd dreamed of doing the same thing and knowing one of his brothers beat him to it was honestly kind of hilarious.

"We can't just march up to the senate and declare the Chancellor is responsible for the entire war. We'd probably both be shot on site. We need proof."

"The only physical proof we have is the chips themselves and we both know the Kaminoins are going to cover their shebs." Fives explained, pointing to the scar that now decorated the side of his head.

Fox sighed deeply. "The only thing I can think of that'd stop this is killing the Chancellor and that's not exactly an option."

"Why not?"

Fox took a step back in shock, staring at the ARC. "Why n- Fives! He's the kriffin Chancellor! What'd you think would happen if we marched up to his office and but a blaster bolt between his eyes?!"

"...we'd solve the problem?"

Fox turned away, letting his face fall into his hands with a groan.

"Okay, maybe not just march up there but if he's the head of this plot, killing him would stop it!"

Fox couldn't get himself to turn around to face the ARC. Opting to stare at the wall, trying to keep down the angry bubbling in his chest. They needed proof. Or killing the Chancellor would just open another can or worms that neither of them could expect.

"Fives. You said he admitted this to you, correct?" He turned back around, finally locking eyes with Fives.

Fives nodded. "Yeah, he admitted it straight to my face."

"Did the room you were in happen to have security cams by chance?"

Fives froze, his eyes lighting up. "I think there just might have been."

A grin wormed its way onto Fox's face. "If there were cameras, his confession would give us everything we need."

Fives mirrored his smirk. "See, this is why they made you a commander.'

Fox got ahold of a set of Coruscant armor which Fives had quickly donned, placing the bucket over his head. From there, it was almost too easy to make it past the patrols that had begun to swarm the cool streets of the city. Getting into the security center was even easier, not a soul thinking to stop the Commander.

Fives was on the console in a heartbeat, searching swiftly through the camera feeds. "There!" He pulled up one of the feeds, turning the volume up.

Fox watched, anger radiating off of him as he watched the Chancellor admit to orchestrating the war. Admit to the plan against the jedi. It was all there. He started to download the recordings before the tape had finished, stuffing it in his belt pouches the moment it finished.

"Now can we go kill the son of a bitch?"

Fox smirked under his helmet. "I get the first shot."

They marched their way towards his office, determination in every step. The walk there felt like hours, but both clones held their heads high. Fox didn't hesitate for a second when they arrived, the door opening with a hiss. The Chancellor had barely turned around in his chair when the first shot rang out, hitting him dead set in the middle of his chest. Fox removed his helmet, letting the man who made his life a living hell look him in the eye as he died.

Fives had his blaster trained, finger iching at the trigger. "This is for my brothers, motherkriffer."

Fox couldn't even keep track of how many times Fives pulled that trigger, decorating the Chancellor's chest in so many blaster burn, it looked as if it was on fire. He didn't stop firing til Fox gently laid his hand on his vod's shoulder.

Fives lowered the blaster, taking a shaky breath. He had done it. He'd killed the man that was responsible for this whole war. Responsible for sending all his brothers to die in a battle with no true winner.

They were free.