#i'm sorry i brought another dose of reasoning to your ask

[bucksdaffy]

I 100% agree with your Oliver post you made earlier. But I would love to make another point but coming from a bisexual man.

Like I said I agree with everything you said. But the only thing for me is that it’s sad it took him almost 5ish months to post something about the storyline? You could have easily posted something during pride month (yes I know it was hiatus and he was clearly off social media) but it’s sad he didn’t engage with buck Tommy fans a little more even if he didn’t know the storyline wasn’t going to last past 7x10. The storyline was introduced and he could have engaged. A lot bisexual started watching the show because of this storyline and see themselves in this storyline. So actions sometimes speak louder than words.

Again this me just ranting along. I seriously loved your post because I agree with all of it and so many valid points in it! I just hope this season he does engage more or just don’t engage with any fans stuff to make it fair.

yeah. i want to reiterate for those who haven't seen the post that i don't blame him one bit for not engaging, especially considering his past with this fandom. i believe there are plenty of possible reasons why he's not doing it, all of which i explained in my previous post. ultimately it's not his job; his job is to act, not to interact with fans on social media.

that being said, i definitely see your frustration. hell, i was frustrated myself when i saw he liked a buddie post once around the s7 finale, while still paying no mind to bucktommy. i can certainly understand why the silence during pride month could be especially disheartening. after all, this is the time when we celebrate queerness. seeing a person involved in the story who you admire not acknowledge it can definitely sting a bit. i could never blame you for feeling this way.

but i do think it says more about us than it does about oliver. why do we need his validation so much? why do we feel personally offended if he does something we don't necessarily approve of or like? why do we care so much about him telling us that he is on our side? of course, it's good to have validation, but it shouldn't be detrimental to our well-being. if we don't agree with the way he lives his life, well, it's not his problem. he shouldn't have to change just because we want him to. and as i said, i think he has many valid reasons for choosing not to engage.

and besides, why don't we hold lou to the same standard? why are we so harsh on oliver but let lou slide? he hasn't engaged with anything bucktommy since the s7 finale, including during pride month. he's also a vital part of this story. what's the difference? (just a disclaimer: this is not me trying to make light of lou's situation. i'm very well aware of the differences, although i would argue that they don't make oliver's experience any less valid).

i join you in hoping that season 8 brings about a more comfortable oliver who doesn't shy away from interacting with bucktommy content as well. or perhaps a more self-assured oliver who doesn't engage with either buddie or bucktommy stuff. and if that doesn't happen, i hope we can find peace within ourselves and stop caring about what the actors portraying these characters do on their social media. the only thing that should matter to us is the show. let's focus on that!

[cherrylovelycherry]

𓂅new order. "tarte aux fraises, éclair au chocolat and a mille-feuille."

Clumsiness

pairing. Dr. Ratio x gn!reader cw/genre. slight angst, fluff, comfort, microwave explosion, use of the word "Idiot". full menu requests open

It was known that his partner was not the brightest star in the sky. One might ask: but how had he come to love this person? After all, Ratio had always claimed aloud that he despised idiots. Well, in short, he didn't see you as a simple, ignorant fool, just adorably unintelligent.

Your partner had a great mind, incredibly knowledgeable, with a memory capable of storing unquantifiable information, or a creativity that no normal human could ever hope to comprehend. But you were still an idiot. Unable to solve simple tasks, too gullible to be left alone and too clumsy for basic security.

And right now it was a perfect example. Ratio stood there, in the doorway of his kitchen that no longer looked like one, for the simple reason that the microwave was in a thousand pieces, black trails rising from the walls to the ceiling, fragments of wood scattered everywhere.

"You're an idiot." Was the first thing that came out of his half-open mouth after contemplating this catastrophe for already two minutes. "Everyone knows that metal in the microwave is a warned and extremely dangerous hazard." Ratio sighed from the depths of his longing, not only because he was exasperated with these wild experiences his partner always brought into his daily life, but also because he was inevitably very worried.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." You spoke in a hurried manner. You felt ashamed of what you always did, this was nothing new, one way or another you always had to get something wrong. Or, as in this case, you forgot that you shouldn't put something metal in the microwave.

""Oh, I'm so sorry" Really? You know what would have been nice? Not to destroy my microwave. He said with a heavy dose of sarcasm and condescension in his voice. "I guess I should at least be grateful that you didn't accidentally kill yourself with this. But still…" he groaned in exasperation, now looking irritably at the broken microwave.

"Besides, what would have happened if you were alone, eh?" He spoke again, running a hand over the bridge of his nose. He was scolding you.

You couldn't find an excuse, he was absolutely right. You had been careless… Again. You bit your lip and remained silent at his annoyance, while he stared at the broken microwave. After a minute, you finally responded:

"It was an accident, I was just trying to heat up my lunch". That was all you were willing to say in your defence. Even if you had tried, you couldn't find a single argument in your favour, so you simply waited in silence as you listened to the man's reprimands.

"It's always the same story! You always do something that puts you in danger, you know you're doing something stupid when you do it, you say you're sorry and you keep doing the same stupid things over and over again" Ratio's tone became harsh and accusatory, his expression changing from frustrated to irritated.

"But at this point, is there really any hope left in that head of yours? Should I just prepare for the day when you set off an explosion that kills us both?"

You shuddered and felt a shiver run down your spine. Was this what you had always been? A fool? A danger to life and your environment? An idiot? You felt all those words echoing in your mind, filling your heart with trepidation. You let out a small sigh, closed your eyes and leaned against the wall. You felt like crying, but you refused to cry in front of him, so you answered quietly, trying not to let him hear your trembling voice.

"I'm sorry…"

The sudden sight of you trying to hold back tears was something he hadn't expected at all, after all, he thought you was used to his harsh words. He felt a pang in his heart, as his mind filled with conflicting emotions.

"Damn it…" He uttered, before letting out a frustrated sigh. But then he looked down and his expression softened.

"Y/N…" he said, his tone suddenly kinder and gentler, just a little.

He walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you in a comforting way. His breath caressed the top of your head as he buried his face in your hair.

"I know I can be… harsh with my words sometimes." He spoke softly. "But you must understand that it's tiring for me too." He said, his tone now serious and more vulnerable.

"Please be careful, that's all I want from you."

His words had a powerful effect on you and you could not find a way to respond to it. You simply closed your eyes, silently thanking him for not scolding you anymore, besides his words were comforting in one way or another. But in that moment of peace, a new question popped into your mind. A question you always asked yourself but never dared to ask.

"Why are you with me… Why are you with an idiot who always ruins things?"

A second passed, then another, while Ratio simply remained silent as if contemplating and evaluating what his answer might be. Finally he spoke:

"I love you, with your faults, with all your faults. You're a complete fool, and that's precisely what makes you, and only you, special." Veritas gently pulls away from the embrace, taking your face in both hands and stroking it with his thumbs.

"Hmm… yeah, also, I wouldn't consider the term 'Idiot' good for you, for me it's more 'Clumsy' and 'Adorable'." He finished saying smiling slightly.

His sweet words and gentle caress on your face made you blush, feeling the skin on your cheeks redden. It took you a few seconds to recover and then, with an excited tone, you replied.

"Wait, wait, are you saying that… that you actually like my awkwardness? That you even think it's cute?" you chuckled. "Then why are you always mad at me?"

His expression softened even more as he continued to caress your cheeks, his warm breath blowing lightly against the skin of your face.

"Because I do care about you, and, you know what, it's not really anger, it's more like…. Anxiety…" He confessed, lowering his hands as his gaze returned to your eyes. "I love you, but I'm also very worried about you, see? I'm always afraid you'll get hurt," he added, speaking softly and sincerely.

You remained silent, letting the words penetrate you. You finally understood. His "anger" was more a symptom of his love, more of worry than exasperation.

"Ohhh, I see…I promise I'll try to be more careful." You said, with a bit of firmness in your voice, keeping your words more of a promise to yourself.

His eyebrows arched a little when he heard your promise, as he was impressed by your determination. It was good to know that you were willing to make an effort for yourself and your relationship. Ratio stroked the side of your face again, his thumb gently brushing your lips. He had this expression of tenderness and joy in his eyes, which then brightened as he added in a soft tone:

"But you know, I'm not going to complain too much if you keep messing up. I like being your saviour, you know…"

Laughing a little and with some mockery in your tone, you said; "So, my savior, help me pick up the pieces of your destroyed microwave."

He laughed quietly at your banter. You sure were witty, he had to admit. Then he nodded his head and his gaze softened even more with affection. You were an absolutely adorable idiot.

"Of course, my clumsy princess," he gave you a playful smile, before walking over to the pieces of the microwave. He picked up several broken pieces and looked at you expectantly as he put them in the rubbish bag.

"And let's hope you don't explode your fingers while we're at it…"

©cherrylovelycherry do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[sugamamacustard]

Feed Me

Pairing: Alpha! Keiji Akaashi X Omega! Reader, Alpha! Wakatoshi Ushijima x Omega! Reader, Alpha! Rintaro Suna x Omega! Reader

Genre: Fluff

Request: Ooooo what about when Alphas 🐘 ( maybe akaashi, ushijima, rin and kuroo) find out that their omega has not been eating enough like (their only eating little things like granola bars or fruit) so their upset that they had to find out through someone else and they scold them for that but then their told that they have gain some weight and that gets them even more upset because they think their perfect etc.

Summary: Some times, people do things because it’s what they think is best. You don’t tell your alpha about some weight gain you’ve noticed, and try taking care of it yourself because of this.

Author’s Note: Hey, you. Yeah you. The beautiful person reading this? You are perfect. You are worth it. Your feelings are valid and you shouldn’t feel bad about having them. You are so amazing, and even if I don’t know you, I am so proud of you. You are so strong for making it so far. Keep going. Never change. :) Also your nice comments? Literally my dose of serotonin

did I mention my OC one or twice? Yes. Am I sorry? No. Also, idk if anyone is curious, but Yuka doesn't actually go to Shiritorizawa but whatever.

Requests: Closed!

Buy me a coffee?

Trigger Warning: Mentions of (Semi?) Starvation.

Keiji Akaashi

➵Now, Keiji is pretty on top of omega and significant other care.

➵ Like, weirdly so. It's honestly kind of creepy?

➵ In an endearing way.

��� He always says 'Bokuto-Kun prepared me in a way.'

➵ Honestly, he loves doing this for you too!

➵He loves caring for you so much.

➵ Like I firmly believe Akaashi's love language is acts of service.

➵ So things like bringing you food, leaving sweet notes in your locker, helping you with your homework.

➵ He lives for doing these things.

➵ Especially feeding you snacks and things.

➵ It made his inner alpha purr because that meant he was caring for you. Providing for you.

➵ Being the very thing that made him worthy of an alpha.

➵ Prove that he could continue being the alpha you needed and wanted.

➵ Unfortunately, there were downsides.

➵ Your hips had the beginnings of small love handles, a little more chub on you tummy, thighs a little squishier.

➵ Let's not lie, Keiji absolutely adored this, by the way.

➵ I also think one of his biggest kinks is praise

➵ He makes sure you know how loved and how perfect you are.

➵ It's sometimes hard to believe him though.

___

"Y/N?"

You hummed an acknowledgment at Keiji's call, typing the final words to your essay before turning to look at your beautiful alpha- Sometimes you questioned how you hooked him. His gorgeous emerald eyes shining with love and adoration.

"I'm gonna go run and pick up some supper, what would you like beloved?" He came up to squeeze and massage your shoulders, leaning down as he pressed a small peck to your temple, your purr a sweet melody to his ears.

You swallowed behind your purr, trying to hide the small panic in your eyes. Your mind instantly flashed to your reflection this morning, how you pinched your hips with a frown. You already had been slowing down on the snacks, and fast food made you shiver.

"I-I'm okay for now, Keiji. Thank you though." You smiled, nonetheless, holding Keiji's cheek in your hand. He quirked a brow, frowning slightly before nodding lowly. Another peck was pressed to your cheek before he left, ordering your favorite from the diner he took you to for your first date.

-

"Beloved, I'm back." Keiji called, once more tearing you away from your essay; you were always thankful for the distraction though. He set down the take out bag, taking out the top box and handing it to you before shrugging off his jacket.

"Keiji? I said I was okay-"

"I didn't believe you. Now come on, you need to take a break and I'm touch starved." The raven didn't even look behind at you before pulling out his own box, dragging your rolley-chair to the bed. He pulled his sweater over his head, handing that to you as well before giving you a sweet peck.

His eyes locked with yours. Your breath hitched. So many silent words swam in his eyes, asking you, demanding you, to tell you what was wrong.

"I just- I've gained a little weight lately and-"

"And? My love, you are just as gorgeous as the day I met you. Nothing is wrong with a little weight, even if I think you're foolish to think you've gained weight. Never think otherwise. Even if you do, let me know, my job as your alpha and boyfriend is to make sure you feel as good as possible no matter what."

He slipped the sweater over your head, rehanding you your meal that he took from you momentarily, running a hand through your hair.

"Your my beautiful omega. Nothing should keep you from your happiness."

Wakatoshi Ushijima

➵Unlike Akaashi, Wakatoshi is little more...Hesitant (In a way) when it comes to omegan care.

➵ He never really learned how to? Ya know?

➵ Both his parents were alphas, and he was never around omegas consistently enough to learn.

➵and it's not like you were a volleyball that he could use the same techniques to up-keep.

➵ He also couldn't ask his team.

➵ Well, he could, but only one other person on his team had an omega. (It was Satori and his advice, though helpful, could only go so far.)

➵ He was doing good though, especially with you holding his hand through the entire thing.

➵ The first time he noticed something was up was when you didn't show up to lunch-- texting him a picture of you in the library, tongue poking out as you held up a peace sign to assure him you were okay.

➵ When he brought it up to Satori, who had his own omega (A small, but fiery brunette named Yuka) leaning on his side as she played some sort of phone game on his phone (Mama's slusheria? He thinks?) .

➵He explained he didn't know what was going on with you while Satori listened with a hum before giving him a sad smile. "Sorry I can't help you further Ushi-waka, but as you can see-" He slid his unfinished lunch towards Yuka, who popped one of the Dango skewers into her mouth without looking up. "I'm not very familiar with the problem."

➵ He offered his help as much as he could nonetheless.

➵ He slowly began to pick up on smaller things, locking them in his steel trap.

➵ Like a good boy :)

➵ He put hours of research into omegas after this (not that he hadn't previously). Keeping strenuous notes beside him.

➵ They were colorful and highlighted :)

➵ And he followed the advice that 'Mommy Luna-boo' posted on the blog he found like a goddamn Mantra. ('Sometimes Omegas need a little more love! Their bodies, especially during high school years, will change a lot! They may feel a little down! As an alpha, make sure you remind them how beautiful they are!')

➵She was mother Theresa and he was her follower.

➵ Well after he followed you.

➵and after he made sure you were feeling better

___

"Omega?"

"Toshi."

Walking into your dorm room, Wakatoshi set down a small bag filled with goodies. He set it down on your bed as he sat down as well, watching you carefully.

When you gave him a small smile with a quirked brow, he took a deep breath, remembering everything Tendou had coached him through.

"Have you been eating enough lately?"

You sucked your tongue at the question, shuffling your shoulders. Truth be told you had been missing out on a few lunches after noting a few extra pounds you hadn't noticed earlier. You never meant to worry him, that was never your intention, but it seemed the world was working against you. You had no clue where to go from here. If you told him the truth that would do nothing but worry him, but lying was never good in any form of relationship.

Your hesitance to tell him was more than enough though, as his larger lands encased your own, holding them tightly.

"Why?" His tone wasn't accusatory nor was it angry in the slightest. Genuine curious if anything. If he could get to the bottom of the root of the problem, he could prevent it from happening in the future. Right?

"I- I just...Noticed a few extra pounds and-"

"That's it?"

You looked up to him with a tilted head, like a lost puppy. "What do you mean that's it?"

Pulling you closer, Wakatoshi effortlessly pulled you onto his lap, using one hand to dig through the bag beside him while the other wrapped around your hips. He pulled out a few of your favorite snacks laying them out in front of you.

"That's, in my opinion, a silly thing to worry about. If you feel that's a big problem, I can offer my services to you in any way you wish-- whether it be support or as help, it is my job to be there for you." He nuzzled your scent gland, voice rumbling against your shoulders.

You purred in response, leaning back onto your alpha.

Rintaro Suna

➵ Suna is a lot like Akaashi in the sense that he has incredible observational skills as an alpha.

➵ His eyes are like sniper scopes.

➵ The minute something is wrong, he's on it.

➵ Like he looks aloof but he's not.

➵ He had notes.

➵ So hiding something from him is not easy at all.

➵ But you two most likely ended up together because you gave him a run for his money.

➵ You made him work at being an alpha.

➵ And he loved you for that.

➵ It did come back to bite him in the ass though.

➵ The only reason he heard about this was because the betas at Inarizaki were loud mouths.

➵ Honestly he learned so much tea from them.

➵ Like this third year was sleeping with a first year because she planned on baby trapping him and-

➵ It was wild.

➵Though most times it was nothing more than a source of entertainment for you and him to laugh about.

➵This time the gossip was actually useful.

➵ He wasn't thrilled they were talking about you, but provided some very useful information.

➵ And he was set into action.

➵ typing a few things onto his phone he set out to find you.

___

"Rin, I said I'm not hungry-"

"I know and I'm making the executive decision to ignore you."

He squinted his eyes at the carefully written instructions in front of him, sending a silent thanks to Atsumu's mate Haruka. (;)) She had written a step by step instruction sheet to making Onigiri while also dropping off all the ingredients (Pre-prepped). The only reason she didn't make it was because Suna's alpha, no matter how much he trusted her, wouldn't have let it near you.

"Rintato-"

"Look, Y/N. I love you, you know that. You know a lot of things, you're my smart little omega. So you must also know this isn't good, right?" Sliding a plate of, albeit mediocre, onigiri towards you, Rintaro focused his gaze on you.

"You know this, eh?"

You swallowed before grabbing one of the triangles, nibbling on the top in an attempt to appease your alpha. His sharp gaze still focused on you, making you shiver as he rounded around the counter. He turned you around so you were facing him, his hands holding your hips.

"You know this."

You wilted under his expectant gaze, knowing what he wanted from you. "I know this."

He smirked, leaning to take bite from your snack, licking his lips as he did. "Good omega."

"Rintaro that's mine!"

[idkhbtfmc]

it's the dead of night, and i can't sleep for my life. i can hear my father from the other room, snoring away like he doesn't have a care in the world. i should give him something to fucking care about. i get up from bed and unlock my door, heading to the garage. we usually have a gas can near the car.  i sort through the random items for a bit before finding it. it's a little heavy, but i can lift it fairly well, so it doesn't matter. i bring it back inside the house.

i slowly creep into my dads room, carrying the gas can. walking over to the side of his bed i left the gas can and slowly start pouring it into his mouth, watching it pour down his throat. air bubbles slowly rise to the surface, his chest struggling to rise and fall. he's trying to breath. like i'll let that happen 😇😇. 

 a rotten odor came just as swiftly as the sudden disgusting squelches. did this man just shit himself? hell, what did he have to eat? it was worser than the starvation that bit at me while my family was sinking lower in debt. in the faint moonlight, i could see the shit stain his pants. i back away, revolted at the sudden distasteful actions. done right in front of my eyes.

that's extremely disgusting, but, to be fair, i am drowning him in oil. we can both agree that we're both disgusting! the oil is pouring out of his mouth and over his body. it would look like it was coming from him if you couldn't see me. he still isn't awake, and he isn't dead. he's still struggling to breath in and out. should be just a few more minutes.

i smile, finally that fucker isn't snoring like a damn car engine. then i step back. footsteps came from the hall, getting closer to my position. i panic, freezing up, my feet not daring to move. "anyone up? you've been creating quite some sounds," my sibling's voice yells out from the hallway.

i whisper a curse, trying to find a place to hide. "father? violet?!" i could hear the fear in my sibling's voice as they look at father's body; shit and oil mixed together. what a horrifying sight.

"you were the one who did this, violet? i'm.. i'm sorry. but i need to call the cops on you." they brought out their phone, dialing 911. fear had overcome all common sense i knew. as they hastily talked on the phone with the dispatcher. they'd be here in around 5 minutes.

i sprinted towards my sibling and poured a [un]healthy dose of oil in their mouth. hey, the police are already arriving. why not do another crime? anyway, they tried spitting out the oil, which i, of course, wouldn't allow 😇.

i could hear the outside noises outside as i stare blankly at the ground. the reality and weight of my actions seeping in. but you know what? i've already killed two people. why not more? the dispatcher's still on the phone, they didn't get the chance to hang up. kneeling down, i pick up the phone.

"hello! what's going on?" i ask, trying to play innocent. they don't respond right away, you can hear a pen scratching on paper.

"where are you?" asks the person, in a gentle voice. they're probably trying to comprehend what's going on. did hazel give them the address? i can't remember. probably not, if they're asking. or they want to know if i was there during the rest of the call.

"i don't know. what's going on?" i ask again, avoiding their question. i step over my sibling's body, sprawled out on the floor, oil coating their face. i make my way out of the room and to the kitchen. we have matches in this one cabinet somewhere.

"your, huh, sibling didn't explain much to me. i was hoping you would know." the dispatcher's trying to reason with me, and understand why i took over the call. guess they didn't hear hazel's death. "but i guess not, since you keep asking me about the situation." i make it to the kitchen, muting the call and opening multiple cabinet's until i find the right one.

i unmute the call for a second to say, "i don't know what's happening. i just woke up." i take the box of matches from the top shelf, standing on my tippy-toes. it only has a few left, unfortunately. i mute the call again, as the person talks.

"well, do you know your address? all your, uh, sibling told me was that someone has died." they still don't know our relationship yet. they were right, we are siblings, but it's funny. "so we can come over and investigate." i unmute the call before i set the bodies aflame.

"i don't. i'm sorry." i give up on muting and unmuting the call, lighting the match on fire and entering my father's room. mom works at night, she shouldn't be home for a long time. i grab the gas can and set my father on fire. it should spread to hazel eventually. i get out of the room quickly, slamming the door. i notice the call is silent. i hang up, walking back to the kitchen and grabbing my dad's wallet and keys, leaving the house.

i don't bother locking the door behind me. i drop hazel's phone on the doorstep, walking to dad's car. unlocking it and sliding inside, i start the engine and buckle my seatbelt. i back out of the garage and start driving away from the house. i must really have a short temper, huh?

flashbakcs

[beomglocks]

in the morning ; k.th

summary : taehyun tries to keep you safe from the world’s wandering eyes.

pairing : yandere!taehyun x “captive” s/o!reader

warnings & other : angst (?), blood, there’s a dead person, yes the body is described (not in too much detail), enclosed spaces, dehumanization (?), honestly ignore the title i didnt know what to call this

w/c : 1.7k

your bedroom door creaks open allowing a sliver of light to shine onto your bed and down on to your face. you scrunch your face in frustration but merely turn over to face the wall to continue your peaceful slumber.

a finger pokes at your face annoyingly and you swat at it to leave you alone. "my love, wake up," you hear someone whisper.

you groan but make no indications that you'll be listening to the annoying voice in your head. you feel something cold drift across your face and down your neck which makes you shiver. when you bring your hand up to your neck to pull it away, you flinch and sit up quickly.

"ow!" you inspect your hand which now has a large bleeding gash from gripping whatever was on your neck. now that you're semi fully awake, you look up to see taehyun. great, he's back from doing whatever it is he does at this godforsaken time. you wonder if it's a normal day when he's home but no- you know there's a reason why he's in your room right now.

"i wouldn't have gripped that like that if i were you," he snickers playfully. you look down at what he's holding and frown at him. "what...did you put a knife to my neck?" crazy bastard, you knew something would go wrong whenever he was within 10 centimeters of you.

"had to wake up the sleeping beauty somehow," he grins. his face immediately goes stony and he grabs your hand, looking at the aftermath of his actions. it scares you how quickly he could change his expression. sometimes you weren't sure how to act around him because you weren't sure how he would react.

"im sorry though, i'll clean it up right away." he quickly gets up and grabs some alcohol and tissues that are laying around, and rushes back to you.

"so no light today?" you ask quietly while he cleans the wound skillfully. he stays quiet for a moment and you're about to ask him the question again in case he didn't hear you but he soon speaks up.

"n-no not today.. i don't wanna be seen like this. it could scare you," he laughs dryly. he scrubs your hands with more haste now, afraid that you'll take initiative to turn on the lights.

you sigh. how considerate of him however it's not like you haven't seen him with blood splattered across his glass skin before. it wasn't out of the ordinary to see him like this after all. your room only has a tiny window above the bed and you couldn't even look out from it since it was too high. the only light that was available to you was the moonlight. unfortunely it didn't even reach far enough to shine down on taehyun to give you the luck of seeing him.

"when are you going to stop this?" you ask mostly to yourself. "i'll stop when it gets through people's heads that you're mine."

he grips your injured hand as the anger of what he had to witness today comes rushing back to his memories. "t-tae my hand," you wince.

he loosens his grip just a little bit, enough for you to not feel that much pain but obviously, it still hurts. god, you really wish he wasn't here right now.

"why...why did he- it's his fault you know. it's not like i wanted to kill him," he says. you can hear the anxiety in his voice and it makes you want to comfort him a little bit. only a small part of your brain feels bad for his current mental state but that's only because of how kind taehyun was to you way before well- this. somewhere in you, you hope that he will change but you know he's too far gone at this point.

"he had it coming though," taehyun smiles, looking down at your wound. "he should've known not to mess with other people's property." you clench your jaw at his words. it's unfortunate how taehyun doesn't see you as a human anymore, only an object for him to keep enclosed in a glass case, like some china doll.

"you're not entirely innocent y/n," he grits. he grips your hand purposely and you let a tear roll down your face now. "taehyun you're hurting me," you manage to choke out. he pouts mockingly at your plea.

"you hurt me and you hurt that guy i had to kill," he says in a matter of fact tone. "when he said hi you should've just kept your mouth shut but no you just had to make conversation and let him hug you like some-"

he cuts himself off before he can say something that he might have to force himself to apologize for later. you both sit in silence minus your ragged breaths mixed with his heavy ones.

"you killed him," he says simply. "what?" you breathe out. "you killed him y/n! if you had just focused on me like i focus on you then i wouldn't have been forced to kill him like i did."

"taehyun i-"

"go say sorry," he sighs. you look at him bewildered but it only takes you a moment to realize what he means. "taehyun," you sob. you don't want to say that you can't believe he brought a dead body home but the sad fact is that you can believe it. he mustve had no where to hide it once he was done. taehyun is not one to make empty threats. he chuckles, shaking his head, "go say sorry to your friend."

he tries to pull you from the bed but you cling onto the bedsheets, adamant about not moving. "what so now you don't want to give him the time of day? earlier you seemed just so over the damn moon speaking with him!" he shouts.

you shake your head frantically. you want to speak, to reason with him, but nothing comes out your mouth other than choked sobs. "don't be like that, it's for your own good. now let's go," he says.

this time he uses all his force to rip you from your hold on the bed. "my love...im gonna teach you something about respect," taehyun speaks lowly. his monotone voice sends chills throughout your frigid body. you kick and scream and punch his back, hoping that you can shake him enough to let you go but nothing you do phases him.

he walks through the house with you slung over his shoulder for about a minute before stopping in front of the jacket closet. he sets you down as gently as he can in front of it and you stare blankly at it, not ready to face whatever is inside.

"it goes both ways," he finishes. you hesitantly look up at him, finally seeing his face for the first time since earlier today. you flinch when you notice just how much blood is scattered over his face. the kill must've been brutal enough to send that many splatters of blood flying.

"don't look at me, look at him. don't be disrespectful," he says. when you turn back towards the closet you flinch harshly at the sight. the guy whom you spoke to earlier was now slumped over in your closet. you remember how lively he was when speaking to you but now his skin was completely drained of life and pale in color. his lips were dry, probably from trying to heave in air to try to live. you're afraid to further gaze at the body because the further down you go the worse it gets. so much so that it's practically dosed in blood.

"say it, say you're sorry!" he commands. you know that you're not really saying sorry to the dead man in your closet. taehyun wants you to say sorry to him. you know he couldn't care less about this man. he wants you to regret putting him in the position to kill another human being.

"i-im- im-" taehyun sucks teeth impatiently. "if you don't say it naturally i will lock you in here all night. i don't want to do that so you better do it right."

a noise leaves your throat when he shoves you closer to the body. you whine, trying your best to control your voice and tears. "i-" your voice gets weak but you use every bit of force in you to say it. you don't wanna risk having to stay in that closet all night.

"im sorry," you blurt. you hear taehyun chuckle behind you, satisfied for now. "was that so hard?"

"y/n you're mine and only mine. i feel so livid when others so much as look in your direction, do you understand?" he says calmly. you nod, already wanting to be back in your bed, under the covers, away from all of this.

you hear taehyun hum and suddenly you're shoved into the closet. it catches you so off guard that your body slams into the dead one. you yell in panic and scramble as far away from it as possible. "taehyun! w-what's going on?!" you call out.

the closet is so dark when it's closed that you can't even see anything. atleast you know you're not near the body. "y/n- i-i'm doing this because i love you ok?" he says uncertainly. "this way no one can look at you or talk to you and try to seduce you."

you bang on the door, your heart beating with each slam. "p-please let me out," you plead weakly. you already know that once taehyun has done something he doesn't change his mind so it's no use trying to reason. "i-im scared- please."

he stays silent for a moment and you're about to burst into tears again thinking that he's already left but he speaks up after a couple beats of contemplative silence.

"don't be scared ok y/n. you'll be fine. i'm going to come back for you in the morning." he goes silent again and all you can hear is your heavy breathing and wet sniffles. "please don't be too mad at me, i love you," you hear him whisper before you hear his footsteps retreat.

the night is spent without much sleep and your fist pounding at the closet door, hoping for an early release but it never comes.

[maplecornia]

chapter 30

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.85K

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: another yoongles focus lol i just figured out that i really don't have much to say in these things anymore, i might save the a/n's for the end next time

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language

tags: @kookaine | @fangirl125reader | @kookiebbyxx | @taradevonne | @rae-bear | @mangminnie | @pixiekooo | @canarystwin | @cana

This is not exactly how you expected to meet Min Yoongi.

His hand tightens around your wrist as he drags you through the halls of BigHit, and you silently pray that your small legs can keep up.

Looking up at him, you can't help but be a bit confused.

Why is he so angry anyway?

You didn't do anything to him.

Certainly nothing worth yanking your arms off.

Wincing as he turns a corner, your eyes widen as he opens a door and practically shoves you inside a dark room. You stumble a bit, an inner instinct inside of you resurfacing. You find yourself frantically looking for any form of exit, any form of a way out. When you find none, you swallow hard, feeling your hands palpitate with cold sweat and your breathing run short. Turning briskly to where Yoongi stands in front of the door, you step forward, ready to push past him and bolt before you’re hurt, but the look in his eyes stops you.

They’re soft, confused and slightly caught off guard. You wonder if the fear that prickles off of your skin is as evident to him as it is to you. Taking a deep breath, you swallow hard, trying hard not to show your discomfort. Inwardly, you chastise yourself for even considering that Min Yoongi would have any malicious intent towards you, but you can't help it when put into a situation like this...

Dark room.

Blocked exits.

No way of escape.

You can't help but be on your guard.

A bit confused, but choosing not to question it, Yoongi gestures towards a clothing rack to the left. Blinking, you turn towards it, begging yourself to relax. When he advances into the room, however, you flinch and frantically back up, straight into a tray of forgotten makeup and hair products.

He immediately stops at the reaction, and you downcast your eyes shamefully praying he doesn’t realize what you’ve tried so hard to cover up. However, as he takes in your frightened eyes, tense stance, and the shallow breath, he knows that somehow he has triggered a memory.

From the looks of it, even a form of trauma.

Definitely not what I expected.

Taking a deep breath, he turns on the light before turning to you with his hands up in a form of surrender. Almost a peace treaty. "Relax, I'm just trying to get a shirt for you."

You swallow hard, already feeling a bit better with the light on. Chuckling nervously, you straighten and nod, running your hand through your hair.

"O-of course you were. What else would you be doing?" you try to swallow the sudden rise of bile in your throat as you rub your arms violently to ease the chill your memories have brought you.

Yeah.

What else indeed.

Confused, but choosing to leave matters out of his hand alone, Yoongi returns to his task and rummages through the clothes dangling on the coat rack. Once he's found his prize, he turns to you and throws it towards you. Your eyes widening, you hardly catch it before he's already heading out of the door.

"Shirt." He explains bluntly, and you nod, a bit surprised that he used English. You smile inwardly at the sentiment, however. The small taste of home certainly helped you to regain your composure. You give a weak smile and tighten your grip around the shirt, hoping that it would be a better outlet to release the emotions bottled inside.

"Thank you." You murmur, and he nods before turning to leave.

He almost makes it out the door, but when he remembers something, he turns back to you.

"Do you know the way back?"

"Back...?" you mutter, a bit confused, and he rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to smile.

Looks like she's back to normal.

"To the dressing room, you're supposed to help us with the photo shoot today." Your eyes widen at his explanation, and you faintly remember your soiled schedule. Cursing under your breath, you wish you had at least taken a picture of the thing before heading to perform your duties. Maybe then you'd have a backup.

Well, guess that's a good thing to remember next time.

Realizing Yoongi is still waiting for a reply, you snap out of your reverie and smile.

"Oh, yes. I think I can manage." He nods before turning around and finally leaving you alone, the door closing with a few words of encouragement.

"Hurry up."

With that, the door is shut firmly behind him and you let out a small breath.

Well, no need to be so cold.

But then again, it was kind of him to offer you a shirt and not to pry when you had that slight panic attack. If you can even call it that. Sighing, you turn to the mirror and place your hands on the desk, staring deep into your hollow eyes.

It wasn't always this way.

There was a time when these eyes sparkled with life. When they were filled with joy and happiness, not a care in the world. Where you could smile without a weight on your heart dragging you down. Where you could live without feeling guilty of it.

Why do you feel guilty?

He deserved what he got.

He deserved to die for what he did to you.

“But still...he was my father.”

Biting your bottom lip, you hardly notice it as your teeth pierce through your skin and blood begins to trickle down your chin. Only when the taste of iron on your tongue pierces through do you realize. Flinching, you shakily wipe the blood away and lick your bottom lip as though that will erase the pain bound tightly to your heart.

No, nothing can erase this.

I don't think anything ever will.

Swallowing hard, you choose to forget that which is best not to be pondered over. Turning the shirt Yoongi found for you, you slowly unbutton your own, pulling it out of the plaid skirt you've garnered today. You're thankful Yoongi has managed to find you a similar shirt to the one you brought in today. A white button-up that reminds you of the 19th century. Something a high-class man would wear to a gala per se. You smirk at the ruffles at the end of your sleeves and try to avoid your reflection in the mirror as you pull it on over your bra.

The only thing you would see would be another daily dose of self-deprecation and hatred.

You'd rather stop before it started.

Once the shirt is buttoned and tucked safely in your skirt, a few small touches added by you in order to fit your look, you look at your reflection and smile faintly. For a man's shirt, it fits your frame quite snugly. You wonder who exactly it belongs to, but figure you could just ask Yoongi later.

This should do nicely.

Smiling weakly in satisfaction, you turn to the door and open it.

You weren't expecting to see a very fatigued Yoongi leaning against the wall right next to the entrance. So you'd say your reaction was justified.

He would probably think otherwise.

At your shriek, he jumps halfway out of the air before turning to you in surprise.

"What the hell was that?!" He cries, and your eyes widen in ignorance.

"Me?! What about you? I thought you were going back to the dressing room!"

"Well, I--" he breaks off, finding nothing to say, and you raise an eyebrow in confusion. Swallowing hard, he turns his face away from you. "You were taking too long."

Rolling your eyes, you scoff.

Sorry, but I didn't think I was on a time clock.

"Besides, I didn't trust you to get there on your own." He explains, turning back to you with a scowl. You narrow your eyes at him yourself before noticing the slight rosy hue to his cheeks.

Is he...embarrassed?

Clearing his throat, he shakes his head before brushing past you and heading back the way you came.

"Let's go."

You stand there in stunned silence before turning to his retreating figure. Smirking a bit to yourself, you scoff in disbelief before jogging to catch up to him. You want to thank him for his help, but as the two of you head back, you find it hard to start a conversation with him.

Biting the inside of your cheek you turn to him, trying to study his expression.

He definitely has some sort of hidden animosity towards you even though the two of you have never met before now. However, he doesn't seem to hate you. He's been kind to you so far. In his own...weird way. But if he doesn't hate you then what's the reason for his behavior? Sometimes he seems perfectly fine, and then others he seems to be incredibly angry by your presence.

Then again...your presence is sort of foreign to him.

Maybe he just needs time warming up?

"She's hardly qualified."

Or maybe...

He knows you don't belong here.

"Do you need something?"

Jolting back to reality, you blink and find Yoongi to be regarding you with a perplexed gaze. Quickly, you snatch your eyes away and laugh nervously. You hadn't realized you were gawking at him this whole time.

"No, it's nothing..."

His expression changes as soon as you look away, darkens into something nearly unrecognizable. Turning away, he swallows hard, as though holding himself back. You, however, find this as a perfect outlet to start a conversation.

"I was just...wondering...W-why are you doing the shoot here?"

He shrugs, trying to avoid your gaze as much as possible.

"It's more convenient this way. Does the shirt fit?"

"Hm? Oh! Uhm, yes it does. Thank you."

He nods in response.

"Good, that was Enhypen's dressing room. They hardly use it other than the times they visit our company for shoots and such. Sunoo has a smaller build than most in our company so I thought it'd work best for you." He examines the shirt on you, and you can't help but blush, half wondering if you should cover-up. "Hm. It's tight in some areas but definitely better than wearing something like Jimin's."

You blush profusely at the comment and cross your arms around your chest. You have half a mind to smack him right then and there, but as a group of employees pass by you, you're forced to hold back. He smirks in satisfaction at your reaction, and you scowl.

"I see...thank you." You mutter between gritted teeth. He doesn't respond, just continues to smile that smug smile. Turning the corner, you find yourself in another realm of silence, but this time you don't really have the urge to talk to him.

He on the other hand...

"Has BangPD talked to you yet?"

Your ears perk at that and you turn to him, shocked.

How did he...

"I'm sorry?"

"About being a trainee." He replies with that debonair air about him. Swallowing hard, it takes you a while to respond.

“How did you know?” He gives a look at the ambiguous answer, but you meet it as an equally indignant one. You feel as though you have a right to know, and you won’t answer him so easily about something you weren’t aware he even knew about. Sighing when it’s clear you won’t give in as easily as he thought, he answers you.

“BangPD met with us to discuss your training.”

“‘Us?’ You mean...”

“Yes, BTS. He said as shareholders of the company, it was only right for us to know he was considering training you. He wanted our opinion.”

In short, they were deciding your life before you even had a chance to decide.

You don’t know why, but the thought puts a sick feeling in your stomach. The fact that a group of people were discussing whether or not to trust you, to accept you without even half of them getting a chance to know you or your abilities...Who gave them the right to decide that? Who gave them the right to take control of your future?

And what if you say yes? Do they even want you to succeed? What if they do? What if saying no let down their expectations? Why weren’t you told about this? Why weren’t you a part of the conversation?

Was it really too much of a risk?

"So?" He prompts before pausing in front of an elevator door and pressing the up button to the dressing room. "What did you say?"

You give him a look, hoping that will let him know that you don't want to talk about this anymore, but he doesn't seem to care. He raises an eyebrow at you expectantly and you find that even if you wanted to, you wouldn't know what to say.

Does he think that this is an easy decision? There are things to consider, your future to think about, people who could be affected...

But really, what is there to consider?

You don't have anything to lose, not really.

And this is your dream.

So why are you hesitating?

You know why.

At the soft ding of the elevator arriving, you break eye contact and turn as the doors open. Stepping inside, you watch the doors slide shut before answering him.

"He told me to think about it."

Yoongi scoffs at the answer, biting the inside of his cheek in annoyance. He knew it'd be like this.

"What's there to think about?" At the question, you flinch but refuse to meet his eyes. "It's a yes or no question."

You bite your lip furiously, at war with yourself.

It's not like he's wrong but...

Yoongi glances at her from the corner of his eye and wonders what exactly everyone sees in her. He wonders what makes her so special. From what he's seen, she's incredibly ordinary. Sure she has a beautiful voice, her face is nice, but she can stand to lose a few pounds especially if she wants to be an idol.

Does she even want to be a performer?

There are so many others who have tried their whole life just to be considered for what they're offering here, and what?

It's too hard of a decision?

Animosity growing like a drug, he scoffs turning away.

"I was against it, you know." You turn to him, a bit confused at the statement. He sighs before continuing, a bit piqued at your behavior. "Your contract. I didn't want you to be considered as a trainee."

You should feel surprised. You should feel wronged, angry. But you feel none of those things. Instead, you understand him.

Smiling a bit bitterly, you turn back to the metal doors.

"I see." You reply, and he turns to you in confusion.

"You're not mad?" You shrug before turning to him.

"Why would I be?" He scoffs at the reply.

"Most would feel offended."

"Well, I'm not. In fact, I'm grateful."

Surprised, he turns to you. "Why?"

"At least you didn't lie or cover it up." You explain matter of factly and he shakes his head at you in disbelief as the elevator dings, announcing your arrival.

"It would've been better if I had." He mutters half to himself as the two of you depart, bowing politely to a few employees waiting to board the elevator. You shrug at the statement before glancing his way.

"Well, maybe I don't like people who beat around the bush."

He can't help but feel a bit stunned as he watches you walk a few steps ahead of him. He can't help but feel that he'll always be a few steps behind you. Shaking the feeling away, he peers your way.

"Are you scared?"

"Of what?"

"Debuting."

You swallow hard, not sure how to answer. Biting your bottom lip in concentration you consider the question.

Are you scared to debut?

"Yes."

Who wouldn't be after all? It's scary not knowing if the public will view you positively or immediately cast you aside. It's scary not knowing whether or not your dream will be achieved, whether or not you'll make it.

"Is that why you're hesitating?"

Spying the dressing room a few feet away, you shake your head at his question before replying.

"No."

You can deal with that fear...but what you're even more afraid of is betrayal.

Like what happened last time.

Yoongi stares at you for a moment and watches as you get that faraway look in your eye, the same look that tells him you're not really here. When the two of you reach the dressing room once again, he can't help but pause a few feet away from you. He has the sudden urge just to look at you, maybe then he'd be able to understand.

"You're not what I thought you were." He mutters, not sure if you can hear him, but at your smile, he knows you never stopped listening. You smile at him over your shoulder.

"I guess I don't like beating around the bush either."

𝔞/𝔫: i feel like this offers a lot of background to yen's past...which may be revealed soon

chapter 31 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

[nocturnalswarehouse]

Chapter 22 - Meeting Nocturnal

Fic Series: At Long Last

Pairing: Brynjolf x Female Dovahkiin|Dragonborn (Adranelle Rolaine)

Premise: Eight years after being declared the Dragonborn, and three years after Alduin is defeated, Adranelle (Adi) Rolaine finds herself back in Riften to help Brynjolf with the Thieves Guild’s reputation.

Masterlist

Taglist: @thequeenofthewinter, @oblivions-dawn

Word count: 1,866

A/N: The past two weeks have been absolute hell on my mental health, but I'm here for another update! Hope you enjoy and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

Adi made her way to the standing stone Karliah was waiting at on her own, Brynjolf quickly saying Karliah wanted to discuss something with him in private. The Dunmer, pacing impatiently in front of the stone, stopped and faced Adi when she approached. Brynjolf took place next to Adi, kissing her cheek in greeting. 

“I'm glad you're here.” All business, no play. From her time with Karliah as they made their way back to Riften, that wasn’t a shock to Adi. 

“What's the significance of this place?” she asked, gesturing to the door adjacent to them. 

“This is the headquarters of the Nightingales, cut into the mountainside by the first of our kind. We've come to seek the edge we need to defeat Mercer Frey.” Karliah’s words were laced with poison at the mention of Mercer. What he did was unforgivable, and she was out for blood. 

“What kind of an edge?”

“If you'll follow me, I'll try to explain on the way.” 

Karliah led them into Nightingale Hall, patiently answering Adi’s questions and telling the two initiates about the Nightingale Trinity - herself, Mercer, and Gallus. “Brynjolf’s father was a Nightingale as well but hated it. He tried to find a way to unbind himself to Nocturnal. Mercer felt that was reason enough to murder him.”

“My father was sick, not murdered.” Brynjolf snapped, almost too defensively. 

“He was poisoned,” Karliah broke the news, turning around to face him. Pity filled her eyes, she’s had twenty-five years to plan revenge on Mercer for what he had done. Brynjolf has been sheltered from the truth his whole life. The Dunmer could only imagine what he felt at the moment. “Mercer used small doses, made it look like a sickness. He wanted to make sure you wouldn’t notice. I’m sorry, Brynjolf.” 

“I-” Adi grasped his hand and squeezed it, giving the Nord a sense of comfort He would dwell on it later. Right now, he needed to focus on why Karliah brought them here. “That’s a matter for later. Let’s focus on why we’re here.” 

Karliah nodded and moved on, leading them into a larger room. 

“So, this is Nightingale Hall.” Brynjolf looked around in wonder. “I heard about this place when I joined the Guild, but I never believed it existed.”

"The assumption that the Nightingales were just a myth was seeded within the Guild on purpose. It helped avert attention from our true nature. What's wrong, Brynjolf? I can almost hear your brow furrowing."

“I'm trying to understand why I'm here, lass.” He said truthfully. “I'm no priest, and I'm certainly not religious. Why pick me?”

“This isn't about religion, Brynjolf... it's business.” That’s how Karliah saw it, anyway. She never felt as though she worshipped Nocturnal. It was more like a transaction. They were partners, and that was it. “This is Nightingale Hall. You're the first of the uninitiated to set foot inside in over a century. Now, if you'll both proceed to the armoury to don your Nightingale Armor, we can begin the Oath.”

“This is enough to make your head spin, eh?” Brynjolf joked with Adi, who agreed. She was already overwhelmed with all this new information, on top of being worried about Brynjolf. She could see it behind the mischievous gleam in his eyes. The news of Mercer’s second murder cut deep. Brynjolf was as ready to murder him as Karliah, if not more. 

As the three of them approached three stones with the Nightingale emblem on them. Adi stood in front of it, unsure of what to do with the stone. “You appear hesitant to don your Nightingale Armour. What’s troubling you?”

“Do we just touch the stone, or…?”’

Karliah chuckled lightly and nodded. Adi turned back to it and, with reluctance, put her hand on the smooth surface. As soon as her fingers brushed it, black tendrils grasped her skin and started to snake up her arm. It formed a fabric that felt unusual on Adi’s skin, melding in with the civilian clothes she wore underneath. Shadows engulfed her vision for a brief moment as the tendrils snaked up her neck and head, the hood and mask making her eyes look like black beads and the world have a purple tinge. As soon as the armour settled into its full form on her body, there was a whispered hiss. 

“Okay, lass. We've got these getups on... now what?” Brynjolf checked Adi out in the armour, not at all being subtle about it. Adi did the same with him, admiring how it fit against his body. The black-as-midnight armour followed the contours of his muscles, making her grateful it covered as much of the face as it did. The last thing Adi needed was for him to see that she was as red as snowberry. 

“Beyond this gate is the first step in becoming a Nightingale.” Karliah walked to a hallway, Brynjolf and Adi following. 

“Woah there, lass. I appreciate the armour, but becoming a Nightingale? That was never discussed.” Brynjolf stopped in his tracks, the uncertainty radiating off him. Adi didn’t want to say anything, but she felt the same way. Why should they pledge themselves to a Daedric Prince? She knew firsthand that nothing good came from that. 

“To hold any hope of defeating Mercer, we must have Nocturnal at our backs,” Karliah explained. She seemed almost… defensive of Nocturnal. “If she's to accept you as one of her own, an arrangement must be struck.”

“What sort of arrangement? I need to know the terms.”

“The terms are quite simple, Brynjolf.” Karliah sighed. “Nocturnal will allow you to become a Nightingale and use your abilities for whatever you wish. And in return, both in life and in death, you must serve as a guardian of the Twilight Sepulcher.”

“Aye, there's always a catch.” there was a pause before he continued. “But at this point, I suppose there isn't much to lose. If it means the end of Mercer Frey, you can count me in.”

“What about you? Are you ready to transact the Oath with Nocturnal?” Karliah turned to Adi. She eyed the half-Breton, almost challenging her. 

“Yes, I'm ready.”

“Good. After I open the gate, please stand on the western circle.” 

Making her way to the gate, Karliah pulled the chain on the right wall and continued on as the spikes retracted. Adi made her way to the western circle, as Karliah requested, and Brynjolf made his way to the Eastern one. Karliah stood in the circle between the two and knelt down in a genuflect. 

“I call upon you, Lady Nocturnal, Queen of Murk and Empress of Shadow... hear my voice!”

The air in the room changed as something ethereal entered. In the center of the room formed a large ball of light, surrounded by black and blue shadows. The room grew cold as it did with any Daedra but cold with power. Somehow… Nocturnal’s presence wasn’t as intimidating as the others. It felt more like a disappointed parent entered the room. A woman’s voice came from it, mature and indifferent. “Ah, Karliah. I was wondering when I'd hear from you again. Lose something, did we?”

“My Lady, I've come before you to throw myself upon your mercy and to accept responsibility for my failure.” She remained in genuflect as she spoke, Karliah sounding disappointed in herself. 

“You're already mine, Karliah. Your terms were struck long ago. What could you possibly offer me now?”

“I have two others that wish to transact the Oath; to serve you both in life and in death.” Karliah herself wasn’t certain that her companions wanted this, but it had to be done. She hoped they wouldn’t speak out against it. 

“You surprise me, Karliah. This offer is definitely weighted in my favour.” While they couldn’t see her corporeal form, Adi could practically hear her thinking. 

“My appetite for Mercer's demise exceeds my craving for wealth, Your Grace.” 

“Revenge? How interesting…” there was a brief pause, then, “Very well, the conditions are acceptable. You may proceed.”

“Lady Nocturnal, we accept your terms.” The Dunmer spoke for everyone, but it wasn’t completely true. Adi and Bryn weren’t at all keen on this deal but had no other choice. “We dedicate ourselves to you as both your avengers and your sentinels. We will honour our agreement in this life and the next until your conditions have been met.”

“Very well. I name your initiates Nightingale, and I restore your status to the same, Karliah. And in the future, I'd suggest you refrain from disappointing me again.”

Before Karliah could say one more word, Nocturnal’s essence disappeared. The three Nightingales met back in the middle, Karliah stopping to address them both. 

“Now that you've transacted the Oath, it's time to reveal the final piece of the puzzle to you; Mercer's true crime,” Karliah revealed how Mercer was able to get through the Vault - and Adi realized that was out they got into Snow Veil. If he had a hold of the key for any longer… it could be catastrophic. “If the Key isn't returned to its lock in the Twilight Sepulcher, things will never be the same for the Guild. As time passed, our luck would diminish to the point of non-existence. And whether you know it or not, our uncanny luck defines our trade.”

“First time I ever set out to return something…” not entirely the truth, but not entirely a lie either. 

"Very true. In our line of work, it's quite rare we set out to return a stolen item to its rightful owner." Karliah laughed. “Now, before we depart, Brynjolf has some business to discuss. I suggest you listen to him.”

“What’s up?” Adi turned to her partner. Karliah began walking away, giving the two some space. 

“It’s about the leadership of the Guild.” he was hesitant. Brynjolf knew Adi wouldn’t be interested, but Karliah insisted. The Dunmer had become quite taken by her, just like everyone else. 

“Bryn, no.” 

“I thought you would say that.”

“Then why ask?”

“Thanks to your efforts, Mercer’s treachery was exposed,” he explained. “Not only that, you’ve been a huge help in rebuilding the guild. After he’s dealt with, we need to find a new Leader. Karliah and I agree that you would be a good fit.”

“I don’t lead, Bryn,” Adi shook her head. “It’s not something I like to do and not something I’m good at. You would be better in that position.”

“I’ve been at this game a long time, love. A long time.” He shook his head. “I’ve stolen trinkets from nobles and framed priests for murder. I’m good at what I do, maybe even one of the best. But it’s all I know. I’ve never been one to lead. Never desired it, never cared for it. Don’t want it.” 

“May I think about it?” Adi sighed. Brynjolf agreed and put a hand on the small of her back as they left Nightingale Hall. Karliah went ahead of them, telling the couple that she wanted to take some time alone to plan their next move. Until they heard word from Vipir and Rune, they had to stay in Riften and sit duck.

[lustbile-archive]

Come Here Often?

MarkxReader

Word Count: 4K

Summary/Warnings: usual for the series. Smut, public sex, sharp objects and blood play. Also rip sorry for the dumb title I thought it was funny

APART OF THE CLUB X SERIES  (recommend reading other works)

“So which dating app did you meet this guy on?” you teased your friend as you stumbled out of the back of the taxi, the last of your friends to exit.

The friend in question grabs onto your forearm, helping you get steady on your feet making sure you don’t fall regardless of the way your words makes her face warm in her shyness, “Bumble. So if it makes me seem any better I did make the first move.”

You pull your arm out of her hold to wrap it around her waist, nuzzling at her neck as the rest of the group laughs at your conversation and begins walking to the entrance of the club. You two follow slowly behind, cuddling and tripping over each other as you walk, “nothing bad about finding him from an app, i’m just teasing because I love you.”

“I know, I love you too,” she lovingly pets at the top of your head as you get closer to the entrance. The person leading the group almost steps through the door, before someone interrupts, quieting the group.

“Wait, don’t we have to show our ID’s?” they ask, warily eyeing two men that stand by the door. Their all black clothing and the way they carry themselves telling you they are the bouncers of the club, but when you lock eyes with the shorter of the two, his eyes look hollow and disinterested as he shakes his head.

“Nah,” you shake your head as you playfully curl into your friend, unable to move your eyes from the men, “I don’t think they really give a fuck about what we do.”

Your words only earn satisfied hums and giggles from your group, and a slightly amused shake of the head from the men, before you crowd the entrance, pushing against one another to get in.

The loud music rattles against you as you continue to cling to your friend, the dark red lighting forcing you to stop and let your eyes adjust to the room. The atmosphere of the room makes your breathing deepens and slows as it feels like there’s something that lingers in the air and slows down your mind with every breath you take. It feels like you’re cemented in the same spot, staring blankly into the crowd of writhing bodies, before your friend’s voice and the way she tugs on your arm breaks you away from your daze.

“C’mon,” a few more tugs and your feet pick up again, and you're following behind her as she moves through the club like she’s been here a million times, “he texted and said they had one of the big booths towards the back.”

You can only dumbly nod as you follow closely behind, some of the other people in your group also following while the others break off in search of drinks.

It’s as if your body had gone numb when you walked in, as you barely register the way that the sweaty bodies of strangers bump and knock into you. You’re only brought back to reality momentarily when a man wearing a decorated mask interrupts your path. He only nods in a quick apology when he sees you jump, but continues walking as if he’s trying to catch up with something.

“Come on, don’t be so slow,” your friend finally resorts to wrapping her arm around your waist and all but dragging you in the direction she wants, as you move it feels like the room is passing you at a hundred miles a minute, “I think I can see the booth.”

She thought correctly, as it's only seconds before you’re approaching a booth in the shape of a semicircle, one half of it being occupied by a group of men.

You’d be lying if you said they weren’t all attractive. All in their own different ways as they look up and smile at your approaching group, but when you meet eyes with the boy at the center you’re hit with a concerning feeling of recognition. The way he smiles doesn’t fully reach his eyes, this and his slim face and dark hair makes it feel like your brain short circuits.

You don’t have time to process the feelings seeing this man makes you feel, nor break the eye contact he’s forced you into, before your friend is shoving you into the booth to sit directly next to him as she babbles apologies for keeping the boys waiting.

You can tell which of the boys she was meant to be meeting, as when you start to settle into the seating, he eyes her in admiration from his spot in the middle of his friends and he reassures her that the wait was no problem. He seems enraptured with her regardless of her frazzled energy as she sits you and your other friends as if you were rowdy children, the infatuation he radiates for her warms your heart so much you almost don’t notice how close your seated to the boy that still continues to stare at you.

You’re smiling at their interactions, when you feel something touch your arm, making you jump. An amused chuckle comes from beside you as you look over to the man, the tips of his fingers still brushing the skin of your forearm. The dark around his eyes makes them seem sharper than they we’re probably naturally, and the taunting smile he wears makes you want to lean away, but there’s an aura that dances around him that makes it impossible to look away and you even find yourself leaning closer when he speaks.

“I’m Mark,” he offers as he smiles at you, the surrounding noise of the club almost muffling as he speaks. His hand moves from your arm as he reaches to rest his arm on the seat behind your head, and you offer your name in return. He repeats your name back at you slowly and moves a few inches closer, the low rasp in his voice when he speaks makes a shiver run up your spine and your body starts to warm.

Your eyes are unmoving from his face as he glances at the other people that sit around you, and you feel your eyebrows thread together at the oddly determined look he wears.

“You don’t seem like the type that would be brought here,” he says when his eyes return to you. You smile softly, slightly confused as when he says it, all he knows so far is your name so how would he know anything about your “type?” But the way he smiles and forms his words, it doesn’t seem like he means it in the way that it sounds.

“Well this is where your friend wanted to meet mine, and since he was bringing his friends, she wanted to bring hers,” you ramble from the way speaking to him makes you nervous, you shrug quickly before continuing, “you make it sound like you come here often, so what type of people usually come in here?”

“Ah yeah,” he nods, reaching to pick up his glass from the table, taking a drink as his arm slips from the seat to rest on your shoulders, “sometimes it feels like I can never leave this place honestly, but with all the people I’ve seen, none of them have been as gorgeous as you.”

Any other man, and those words would have made your skin crawl as you tried to find an excuse to leave, but when his eyes lock onto yours as he speaks, it feels like leaving was never an option and you feel yourself leaning into his hold.

Your mouth opens slightly, but before you can respond you feel your friend grab at your knee to get your attention. She seems just as dazed as you when you turn to look at her, and you exchange dopey smiles. You ignore the way her eyebrows wiggle at the way Mark holds you, and instead let out a questioning ‘hm?’

“We’re going to get drinks,” she says as her and the rest of your friends go to stand from the booth, the group of boys following suit, “you two wanna come with?”

The way his fingers softly dig into the flesh of your arm locks you in place. His hold on you isn’t strong enough that you couldn’t get up if you had wanted, but the way it makes your chest tighten makes it feel like his grip was made of steel.

“Ah no,” you smile, shifting closer to the boy as you shake your head, “I think I’m gonna stay back and get to know Mark better.”

She grins at your words, clearly thrilled that you’ve found someone to talk to so quickly. She nods to the rest of the group and they start to move towards the bar, your head tilting in confusion when the last boy to stand looks at you confused at the last words you spoke.

Your confusion is short-lived, when Mark squeezes at your arm to bring your focus back to him, “well i guess we’re alone now,” the suggestive tone he adopts warms your skin and the pit of your stomach.

“Seems like it,” you nod as you're filled with nerves mixed with a weird sense of calm. Something about the way he smiles and speaks to you makes your mind swim and your stomach turn. With a small dose of shame you admit to yourself that, if he were to ask, you would go home with him right then.

“What made you want to hang back with me?” his head jerks back slightly when he asks, the gesture making you grin at how endearing his mannerisms are.

“I don’t know,” your tone is far more flirty than you had intended as you answer honestly, but he only looks amused as he moves his hand from your shoulder to cup the back of your neck.

“Hm… you will eventually,” he murmurs in a way that suggests he was speaking to himself as he ignores the confused look that returns to your face, “so you just came for your friend huh?”

“Um.. hm yeah,” you stutter and nod as his fingers start to pet at the skin protecting your jugular, making you squirm slightly in your seat, “she gets nervous meeting new people so we wanted to make it a group thing to make her more comfortable.”

“But is that the only reason?” you feel your body flinch back at the nonsensical question, but his hold keeps you in place, “I think you’re also here for yourself.”

“Is that so?” you asked, amused at his assumption. Admittedly, you had been stressed lately with all that was happening in your life but it was odd that he would just guess that.

“Yeah,” he nods as he moves his face closer to yours, “I think you need some stress relief, and lucky for you I'm really talented at relieving stress.”

“Are you now? And how would you do that Mark?”

“Well,” he starts, repeating your name in the same inflection that you spoke his, “I can help in any way that you’re willing to let me.”

His hand lands high on your bare thigh once he finishes speaking, the gleam that dances in his eyes is dangerous and feeds the excitement that builds in your chest. If you were willing to let him take you home earlier, the way that he looks at you makes you even more willing now.

“If you think it will help,” you tease as you start to drag a finger down his chest, “I’d say you can do whatever you want.”

“Whatever?” he asks rhetorically as if he knew that would be your answer.

“Yeah you’ll just have to drive cause we took a taxi,” your nail catches on the collar of his shirt, ready to drag him up from his seat.

“Nah,” his hand moves to hook at the back of your thigh, pulling you from the leather of the booth to straddle his lap. You can’t help but let out a surprised yelp when your skirt shifts up, allowing you to feel his bulge pressing into the fabric of your underwear, “I think I can get what I want done right here.”

“You want to mess around in the middle of this club?” your fingers tangle in the fabric of his shirt to help balance yourself. The cocky smile he wears on his face at your shocked expression makes your stomach flip. Why didn’t this sound like a bad idea?

“Yeah I don’t see why not,” he shrugs, his fingers dance up the skin of your thighs until they slip under the fabric of your skirt to grab at the flesh of your ass.

“Really? You don’t?” you say sarcastically while leaning back to get a better look at his face, “don’t see why messing around with someone you just met in the middle of a crowded club where anyone can see might be a bad idea?”

Regardless of your words, you allow him to start moving your hips to drag you against his crotch, little sparks of pleasure making your shoulders relax and your head tilt back.

“You might think its a bad idea,” he speaks slowly, one hand moving from your hips to wrap around your throat as his hips start thrusting up to meet yours, “but your body doesn’t.”

“Shut up,” you groan as the grip he has on the sides of your neck cuts off the blood flow to your head, making you dizzy. You could feel yourself cracking, your comment of letting him do whatever he wanted only becoming more true, “if anyone sees us, especially our friends, I will kick your ass.”

“Trust me when I say, no ones going to see us,” the intensity in his eyes when he says this makes it feel like he really does have control over everything in the room. He most definitely has control over every inch of you when, after you gently nod with a pout forming on your lips, he pulls you down by your neck to press his lips against yours.

His tongue is warm in your mouth, his saliva mixing with yours and making you feel like you could get drunk on just his lips. You release the fabric of his shirt to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him to your chest, when you get this sudden need to be as closely pressed against him as possible. Your hips begin to desperately grind on him at a faster pace, this and the way you start to quietly whimper into his mouth makes his chest shake slightly as he laughs.

“How wet are you right now?” he breaks away to ask, only leaving centimeters between your mouths.

“Wet enough,” you speak without thinking, but it was the truth. You could feel your thin underwear sticking to your core, his lips and hands and every inch of him getting you aroused faster than you’ve ever been before.

“Good,” his hand falls from your neck, squeezing between your bodies to undo the button and zipper of his pants. As he works, your lips press harshly back against his and you feel him groan roughly into your mouth when he reaches inside his underwear to pull himself out.

You can’t help the happy sigh you let out when you feel his fist brush the inside of your thighs as he tugs on himself a few times. The idea of him touching himself to get ready to fuck you makes excitement build in your body and you begin to bounce slightly on top of him.

“So impatient,” he breaks away from your mouth again, his hand that isn’t wrapped around himself moving to flip up your skirt and move your underwear to the side. The feeling of the stuffy club air hitting your newly exposed skin makes you pant and clench at the possibility of being seen, “but I don’t know if we have a lot of time, so I don’t think I'll get the pleasure of teasing you too much.”

“Mark please,” you plead, pressing your mouth against the skin under his jaw before digging your teeth into the sensitive skin. The pain that shoots through his neck from your mouth, makes his hips stutter against his hand and his dampened tip nudges against your clit.

He must enjoy the way you jump at the contact, as he starts dragging his tips from your entrance and back up to your clit over and over, quiet grunts falling from his lips.

“Feel a lot more than just wet enough sweetheart,” he teases, pressing less than an inch inside you before going back to teasing your skin.

“Fuck Mark,” you curl around him trying to sink down every time he pushes into you, “please just fuck me already.”

He seems fed up with his own teasing, as after your final complaint, he finally pushes fully inside you. The feeling of him stretching you so suddenly has you moaning loudly as you forget where you are. His hands pull you tightly against his chest as you flutter around him in an attempt at getting adjusted to his sudden intrusion. The warmth of his hands petting your skin making you melt calmly in his hold.

You start to slowly move in his lap, making him drag against the nerves deep inside you. You’re unable to move too much from the tight hold he has on you, but the way the fabric of his shirt rubs against your clit and his breath puffs warm against your neck makes you crumble in his hold.

The air is knocked from your lungs, when he starts to cant his hips up to meet your movements, shoving him deeper than you thought he could go. His name is the only coherent word that slips past your lips as your nails dig into the leather of the seat behind him.

“Look at you,” his fingers squeezing your skin in a way that you know you’ll have bruises from him the next day, “taking me so well aren’t you? I knew you would.”

You keen at his praise, your hips moving quicker in response. The pleasure that builds in the pit of your stomach is enough to distract you from one of his hands moving away from your hips, enough to distract you from the sound of breaking glass behind you, but not enough to distract from the stinging pain that bites into the skin of your collar bone.

He doesn’t let up on the way he thrusts into you, or the way he sweetly coos at you as squirm in pleasure and pain. The same moment he discards the jagged glass and returns his hand to your skin, he latches his mouth to the deep cut he left behind in your skin, his tongue lapping at the blood that spills from it.

You knew that if your mind wasn’t fuzzy with arousal and you weren’t teetering on the edge of your orgasm, you would have freaked out. Something about the man below you skews your judgment, making you willing to fold in any way he’d ask.

He doesn’t move an inch from the wound he created as he starts to rub quick circles onto your clit, the sudden friction has you hurtling faster into your finish. It’s when he starts sucking harshly, bruising the skin around the cut, that you start to come around him.

He doesn’t slow his thrusts in any way, making you feel like you’re being pulled apart at every seam. You can feel moans and whines of pleasure flowing from you, but the static that fills your ears muffles the sound.

Tears begin to roll down your face, as he pushes you away to sit up straight. The air hitting the cut stings enough on its own, but it stings even more when the fingers, that only moments before were abusing your clit, brush against it to collect your blood that continues to spill out.

“There you go,” he says darkly, as he shoves his bloodied fingers deep in your mouth. He’s stopped thrusting as he holds you tightly against him to grind with him pressed fully inside you, “make me come baby.”

Your tongue rolls against his fingers, the taste of your blood mixed with the evidence of your orgasm that was left behind makes your heart pound as you grind faster against him. The way his head tilts back against the seat behind him as he watches you move makes you feel like you’re being hunted.

The second his lip tucks between his teeth is the only indication you need to know that he’s started to come, a pathetic whimper muffles around his fingers when you feel him come deep and warm inside you. You clench harshly around him in hopes to prolong his pleasure, a groan deep from his belly a prize you receive in return.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting them to your lips for a second. The now free hand moves to join the other on your hips, slowing your grinding until you’re sat still on his lap.

His warm hands knead the wound up muscles of your thighs as you even your breathing, a dopey smile pulling on your lips as he smiles proudly up at you. You can help yourself as you reach out to run your fingers across the skin of his cheek bone as you stare at him in awe. A weird feeling suddenly fills you as you look down at him, a warmth flooding your chest.

He lifts you from his lap, placing you gently back onto your seat and adjusting your clothes back to the right places. He adjusts himself back into his pants, before he turns back to you.

“Your friends are coming back soon,” the sureness of his words twists at you in a weird way, “I have to get going.”

You sit up straight, your hands latching back onto the fabric of his shirt in panic, “I mean I know I said I didn’t want to get caught, but I don’t want you to leave either.”

“Next time you come here, you’ll be by yourself,” he shifts to move away from the booth, his fingers prying yours from his shirt and holding your hands reassuringly, “and you’ll find me pretty easy.”

Words escape your mind as he lets go of your hands and moves away from the booth, the smile he throws over his shoulder making you shiver and sigh.

You’re sinking into the leather as you watch him disappear into the crowd, when your friends come skipping back, the boys following close behind with their drinks held tightly in their hands.

You immediately lighten up as your friend slips into the booth beside you, a warm smile on her face as everyone else sits as well. Her bubbly mood is dampened slightly when she realizes you’re now seated by yourself.

“Where’s um… the guy,” she turns to the boy she came here to meet to ask, “your friend, what was his name?”

The boy who had thrown you a confused look earlier, adopts the look once again as he butts in to answer, “that guy wasn’t our friend.”

You and your friends let out matching sounds of confusion before you speak, “what do you mean he wasn’t your friend?”

“Yeah no,” he shakes his head as he sips his drink, “said he was friends with you guys but took a separate car and got here before you.”

You turn to look at your friend with a concerned look pulling on your features, but the smile she wears fogs your brain, “this club is kind of weird right?” she asks, a dazed laugh following the words.

“Yeah weird,” something about the words feels like cotton in your mouth. You reach for the glass she placed in front of you, hoping that just a sip of alcohol will help with the mixing emotions in your chest when she starts to poke at the skin of your chest.

“Hey, when did you get that scar on your collar bone?”

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria's Prophet #13

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

[AO3]

((edited because I figured out to add some more history facts that I think are important))

~POV Sinbad~

"The Kou Empire, huh?"

"That is going to make things risky."

With all of the Generals caught up with what happened in Balbadd, they needed to start planning for King Sinbad's trip to the Kou Empire, as well as catching him up with everything that had happened in Sindria while he was gone.

"LadY YamuRAI H AA AA A" A yell came from the hallway accompanied by the sounds of running.

((Sinbad is hidden on the left. There's a hint of him poking out.))

A panting magician gave apologies for disturbing their meeting and ran to the head of Sindria's magicians. "I wish I knew you were here so I didn't search the tower first~" Then he started explaining about some magical proof. Most of his words sounded like gibberish to the rest, but it was clear that he had made some kind of break though.

Yam jumped out of her seat. "How did you finally figure it out?! Who figured it out?!" She whipped her head to her King, "Sorry your majesty," and then looked back to the other magician.

"It was the work of the Prophet!” the magician answered. "We were talking about her illness and she pulled out scrolls that- you just have to read them for yourself!”

Mori had said that she had written other scrolls before she started coping down Fate. This must have been what she was working on.

Both magicians bowed out to go test out this new information. Before they could leave, Sinbad ended the meeting; there was no way he was going to wait to learn what other information Mori had blessed them with. Ja'far followed as did a few of the other Generals.

When they got into the court yard, the doctors that had been sent to take care of Mori were already pushing their supply cart back to their main building. The magician that had stayed behind spotted them and raised two scrolls up triumphantly. "She let me take the scrolls!"

---

News of the scrolls written by a Prophet spread throughout the Black Libra Tower within an hour. Yamuraiha and the doctors explained their significance to King Sinbad.

If even a fraction of the theories in the scrolls proved true it would completely changed their understanding of how illnesses work. If Mori wasn't sick she would undoubtedly be swarmed with questions and demands for proof. According to the magicians, nothing in the scrolls went against any known information. Instead, they gave explanations to why certain things that had been attempted in the past had failed. What she wrote about 'cells' was what really caught the eyes of the white magicians and doctors. As an example, according to Mori's writing there were blood types and most couldn't mix; that would explain why most past attempts at blood transfusions had failed.

The 2nd scroll showed a break down of even smaller particles, and how the structures of different particles made up everything. This was going to bring alchemic magic to a whole new era. Sure, such things would most likely be limited to high magicians, group efforts, and the Magi, but it looked possible now. A lot of common magic of the current day took extreme amounts of magoi in the past because they hadn't found the right formula yet. Mori's writing -if true- could easily be used as a guide to finding the right order of commands for many spells.

And even more than that, Mori had said that she had even more information to share; she had just ran out of scrolls and ink.

Mori's presence in Sindria, and everything that went with it were Fate and the Rukh's guidance. King Sinbad could see it -the future he wanted.

---

~POV Mori~

In Sindria's Palace there is a Great Bell. It is rung during celebrations, and to signify the King returning home like it did earlier that day, but it's main use was to ring every 2 hours to tell everyone the time since clocks weren't invented yet. So even though I was a sick person trying to rest during the day, I was woken up by the Great Bell every 2 hours... which of course is also situated right on top of the guest tower.

For obvious reasons, I was awake again.

I wish I knew how the others responded to the scrolls. I really wanted to know Yam's opinion most. Those scrolls basically gave away the secret to Yunan's signature alchemy magic.

I still had the first scroll I had worked on -the one on the science behind blimps-, and the last science scroll I had started. That one was on DNA, and reproductive systems. It was the last one I started in Balbadd. I hadn't started working on it until sunrise on my 2nd sleepless night and it showed; there were missing words everywhere, many incomplete sentences, and I couldn't stay in topic.

These mistakes were too great to fix with an ink knife. Editing was going be super annoying and time consuming since I couldn't work digitally. I'd have to physically cut up the first draft to put everything in the right order before making the next one.

Wait- Did this world have scissors???

Back home the first evolution of shears that could be labeled as scissors was in Roman barber shops in the last hundred years or so before Rome fell. China would spontaneous also create something akin to scissors not long after. Reim and the Kou Empire seemed to line up with Rome and ancient China for the most part, so I tend to use them to place the time period, but the dress Princess Dunya wears is centuries off and throws all historical accuracy questions out the window. Rome was long gone by the time boning was added to women's undergarments, and that dress had all the signs of boned corsetry.

Fuck it. I'll ask for scissors and if they don't have them I'll just invent them myself. I had been drafting professionally for the past 4 years. That may have been for microelectronics, but it uses all the same skills; I could do this. I needed to get a ruler -or at least a straight edge- and a drafting compass which they probably have based on the look of maps in the series, and pencils, or at least colored inks if they had them. I probably needed to reinvent the French curve(stencil tool used in art & drafting)...

Since I was struggling to fall back asleep I moved to the table and pulled out my test scroll. It was full of random marks and some of my early drawing attempts that I used to practice with the dip pen -it's also where I wrote down the dreams from the Rukh. I'd write the list of things I needed, rip the section out of the scroll, and pass the list to someone who could get me what I was asking for. I added some living necessities too like sleep wear and a comb.

The maids that came to give me dinner, and next dose of medicine were not pleased that I wasn't in bed -I was an important guest who was sick after all. And I wasn't pleased to have to drink more of that bitter medicine, but we can't have nice things all the time, now can we?

My voices was strained but I managed to communicate enough. I gave them my list, and laundry (the clothes I wore on the boat) before they left. They'd get me the things the next day. I was instructed to sleep until someone brings me breakfast the next day... which is what I was going to do anyway since the sun was practically gone. I might be a bit of a workaholic but I'm not going to let myself pull an accidental all-nighter when I know I'm still sick. I'm far more self aware than that.

And besides, the Great Bell didn't ring at night.

---

Maids brought my breakfast (& meds) the next morning and let me know that my clothes would be cleaned and dry by the end of the day. I guess they didn't use magic for everything.

They also gave me all of the drafting and inking supplies I asked for except for scissors. In one of the omakes Sinbad was shown cutting his hair with a knife as a part of his normal grooming. I had hoped he was just old fashioned.

For the greater good and the future of my own hair care, I drafted up detailed designs for a few different types of basic scissors. They wouldn't look fancy, but hopefully I had put enough of a detailed explanation on everything for the smith to figure out what I was asking. Steel wasn't developed until the middle ages and some of the counties of this world matched that so I hoped

that God and anime were on my side. I really wanted scissors that would be a good quality.

And if that didn't work I'd just have to get used to using knives and bladed rollers like a regular person.

The Great Bell rung for 10 am. There were at least another 2 hours before someone would show up, to give lunch, that I could ask to take my draft for the scissors to a black Smith.

I should be resting as a sick person. I should be more exhausted and in pain as a sick person. What was making me recover this quickly?

I still didn't feel like laying back down, so I decided to start drafting up the materials and equipment for proving everything I had written in the scrolls I gave the previous day.

Globally, micro-organisms, viruses, and bacteria were not really accept or proved until the late 1800's. Since Magi seems to take place some time around our 100AD-1300, and Yunan hinting at chemical compounds was seen as shocking by Yam, I knew that my bio scrolls were probably causing an uproar in the Black Libra Tower. I refused to use actual people or wait for an outbreak to prove it like how it happened in history -like how John Snow proved it when finding the cause of cholera outbreaks in 1848 and 1854 England. No, I needed to show how to prove these things in a lab, and to do that I was going to need to explain how to keep samples and invent a way to see microorganisms.

First was for a glass petri dish and other containers for samples. I'd need at least 3 -preferably more. I know glass works have been around since BC, and that this world had glass windows in some scenes, but I worried about the quality of the glass contaminating the experiments. I was going to have to boil them beforehand to sterilize them anyway.

Gosh I wish I had access to nonporous, air tight containers, and a temperature controlled environment. The heat and humidity of Sindria could easily mess everything up.

Wait... I suddenly remembered a scene from the Magnostadt arc when they showed how a sample was being stored. They already had good enough glass. I knew there were magic bio experiments but I had no idea how they worked.

With the realization that I was getting ahead myself, I switched to writing about how to use the scientific method to test for germs. It was basically the bread in a bag test to teach young children about germs but with petri dishes. I also wrote about how to analyze samples with a microscope to see micro organisms so I was going to have to figure that out next.

Lunch came as the perfect break.

Just thinking about reinventing this thing made me nervous. I knew magnifying glasses existed in ancient Rome, but they would be nothing like what I was used to. I had to explain how light moves and made multiple diagrams showing how concave and convex lenses affect light as well as the material of the lens. I ended up also showing how to make a telescope even though I knew Yam already had one.

Magicians were the only ones shown with glasses. Maybe now the rest of the world could have them too.

4 o'clock came and so did 3 doctors and a magician. It was less than yesterday, but still more than necessary to treat or analyze one person. I only recognized one of the doctors from the previous day. All of the new faces looked nervous. None of them looked young by any measure, so I really doubted this was their first time treating someone.

They weren't happy to see me at the table and made me return to my bed -their loss.

The doctor from the previous day was the one doing most of the talking. "Your recovery is amazing. You will most likely be better in another 3 days at this rate if not sooner. It's practically a miracle."

I smiled. "It's pretty shocking for me too." As long as I spoke quietly and kept my comments short, I found I could talk again for a bit.

The doctor was silent for a moment before changing the subject. "I know you need rest, but would you be willing to answer a few questions about those scrolls from yesterday?

The 3 other men looked expectant. This was why they were here.

"I don't mind as long as you don't make me talk too much."

Then came the question I was expecting since I had first made the scrolls. "I know you are a Prophet and the information came from your visions but is there any way you can prove what you wrote?"

I pointed to the table with the scroll I had started earlier. "I can't prove it with the current equipment I have, so I've been drafting up the needed equipment and processes for proving it."

They all turned to look at where I was pointing.

I added, "It's not done, but you're welcome to read what I have so far."

I was thanked as they went to the table they had called me away from when they entered.

'He called it 'visions?' Really?' I had to ask Sinbad later what he was telling his people about me so I could keep the story straight.

The magician confirmed for the others what I wrote about light bending. There was magic to do that, but not everyone is a magician. I had just invented a way for non-magicians to bend light.

Just wait until I show them a prism that can split light into colors. Or teach them how light is perceived in the eye. Or even better, show them the double slit experiment that proves that light is a particle not just a wave... Did they know light was a wave yet?

"Lady Prophet."

I was pulled out of my thoughts.

"You said this isn't finished and there is plenty of space in this scroll for more, but would you let us take this back to the tower so we can get started?"

I wanted to say 'no.' I was still coming up with things to add to it, but I also knew that holding things back because I wanted to save paper was a fool's game. Besides, I could always add more to it later.

I nodded and they thanked me before making me promise not to leave my bed. They were grateful for this new scroll but not at the expense of my health -they were doctors after all.

And then they left.

It was probably about 5pm if my internal clock was on schedule, so I had about an hour before the next ring of the Bell.

Even if I wasn't a man of my word, I would have lost the motivation to work with my current project taken from me while I was still in the middle of making it.

So, I did the thing I grew up doing when I was bedridden from illness: I looked out the window. From the bed I could only see the tops of the buildings on the other side of the courtyard. The Tower that was just poking in from the left had to be the Black Libra Tower.

The waves in Sindria were calmer yet stronger than those in Balbadd. It was probably due to Sinbad's influence. He brought stability and security to his people. I could understand why so many chose to follow him or ally with him. But I knew where all this would lead. As he obtains more power and influence he will stop being able to see himself from the pedestal that he and everyone else put him on; his greed will make him blind to the wants and needs of others, and like a middle aged parent that isn't ready for their child to leave the nest he will take out his frustration on the world that was moving on without him. When Sinbad dies at the end of the manga, Drakon realizes that they all put too much on Sinbad's shoulders.

To change Fate, I was going to have to make sure I never put him on that pedestal nor rely on him for much. And I was going to have to convince the 8 Generals to do the same -or at least to start pulling more of the weight.

The 6 o'clock Bell came faster than I expected, as well as my dinner not long after. They brought my clean laundry, a sleeping gown, and some other common clothes and things for my convenience.

I would have preferred something much shorter for the night gown since I hate having a lot of extra fabric around my legs when I already have blankets. I was not going to risk being walked in on by doctors or whoever when sleeping naked, so I would make do for now.

There was no way King Sinbad wasn't going to reward me for those scrolls. If it was some kind of treasure I'd sell it and buy a new wardrobe for myself that actually suited me, and if the reward was a request then I would ask that he pay for everything directly.

The light coming in my windows changed, and I watched my 2nd sunset in Sindria.

When Sinbad found this island 10 years ago, he completely terraformed it. He didn't get rid of all of the vegetation that was here, but he did break down one of the sides to allow for easier access by boat. The side he carved out faced northish towards all of the other known countries, so no boat would have a reason to circle the island. It was a decision that would benefit the merchants and make it easier to defend.

It also meant that my windows faced west, so I could watch the Sun set every day. I couldn't help but see that as a blessing and a curse. Sure not getting the sunrise meant I'd need to put more effort into

waking up in the morning but that wasn't the part I was worried about.

See- The thing is... I have synesthesia (having 2 or more senses overlapping). I see sounds, letters, and numbers as colors and textures. I have it mild enough that I can normally block it out so it's not too distracting (thank God because music is a main stim), but sometimes I'll hear something and get overwhelmed by how it looks.

Each letter and number is a color. So every voice can make every color, but language, pitch, tone, and accent all affect the colors and textures I see from a person's voice like a filter. There have definitely been some people that I struggled to give my full attention to when I first met them because I was entranced by how their voice looked. The more I hear a person's voice the more I'm able to move its visuals to the background so I can focus -desensitizing myself to it.

Luckily, Sinbad's voice is normally not so distracting that I stop paying attention. Since it's like a merger of every voice actor I've heard play him (All the characters I had met so far were like this.) I'm already desensitized. The similarities across all of the VAs meant that his voice looked like a sunset -full of deep purples and magentas, and bright reds, peach, and gold, and with a smooth and flowing texture like painting in acrylic with a wet brush -like a painting of the last moments of a sunset.

His voice was as pretty as he was.

I hadn't actually gotten to see or hear him for a whole day. But I'd get to look at his voice's equivalent every day while living under his protection.

It was frustrating to admit -I barely knew him as a real person- yet I couldn't deny that I missed him. I feel asleep watching the sun set.

((I wasn't going to write about my synesthesia, but this is my fanfic and I thought it might be fun to reference the colors peoples voices make when the characters talk. I'm not going to paint every VA and head cannon, but I will describe them as I go. Ja'far's Japanese and English VAs have voices that look very different so finding the middle ground is proving tricky.

Also, anyone who noticed that the purple I see in Sinbad's voice is the same as the purple I've been using for the illustrations and comics is super smart and cool.))

[goldstonegolem64]

Hope returns  chapter 49 Ragna By GoldstoneGolem64

It was early morning on the seventh day of the rings construction on the Wrap ring. An in the castle of lions  Adam ,Shiro ,Hunk ,Pidge ,Lance. Keith ,Matt and Jay were all sitting in Shiro and Adam’s room sitting around the potted Gain tree as it was about to bring the latest member of the Paladin Family into the world.

”When is the little guy going to show up we’ve been here since three” Lance said as he rubbed his eyes 

“ Lance my friend this things take time.But luck for us  they will be arriving shortly “ Jay said as he lay on the floor with a book over his face 

“ How can you tell your face is covered” Pidge said as she looked down from her seat a top of Shiro an Adam’s bed 

Jay slowly moved the book of his face just enough to show off his eyes “ I know because I’ve been reading through a book my great grand father wrote seeing as he was the one who made the Gain. An from what I've read “  Ja then grabbed the book off his face and started reading allowed. Once the flowers are fully in bloom and the trunk starts to glow . In four to five hour after the glow starts a child will be born. “     Jay finished reading an place the book back on his face 

“ Ok how long have we been waiting then?”  Lance asked 

“ Three hours and fifty four minutes “  Hunk chimed in from the other side of the bed

“ So We have six minutes “ lance said through a yawn

“  Or another Hour “ Keith said as he was leaning his head on Lance’s Shoulder 

“ God I hope not “ Pidge add as she leaned her head back on to lance’s Shoulder 

“ Well no matter how long it takes I’ll just be happy to see the little guy’ s smiling face” Shiro said 

“ Same here.” Adam said as he held Shiro’s as both he and Shiro sat at the foot of their bed looking down at the faintly glowing blue potted tree  

“ So you two have a name for the little one yet” Matt asked as he was laying behind Shiro an Adam

“ We were thinking about Naming them after Takashi Father Izuku if it’s a boy and on the off chance it’s a girl will name her Hilda after Shiro’s Grandmother ” Adam replied 

“ Wait your Grandmother name is Hilda” Jay said as book still on his face 

“ Yes that is her name why is that surprising ” Shiro asked 

“ I don’t know. For a second it didn’t add up in my head that a man named Takashi Shirogane would  have a grandmother named Hilda. By then I remember that your middle name is Felix and that you mother and her family is from Sweden    “Jay replied 

“ How do you forget that i told you like thirty minutes ago”  Shiro asked .

Jay just lay there in silence for a few seconds  “  No commit”  

“ How someone as forgetful has  you got into medical school an got a pilot’s license is a mystery to everyone here”   Adam said  

“  I'm just as surprised as you my friend. Now on the topic of my medical skills. Pidge. How's the new leg suiting you?” Jay asked

“ Well it feels nice to have my equilibrium back. But is it normal not to feel the metal and wires that are now in my body “  Pidge asked 

“ Do you normal feel your bones “ Jay asked as he pulled the book of his face and put his glasses 

“ No “ Pidge replied 

“ Then your good .If you were feeling anything that would be a problem.”  Jay said as he slow got up from the floor an sat down on the edge of the bed. 

The team continued to talking about random topics for another thirty. An as they did this the Gain tree glow started to getting  brighter

“  It’s time” Shiro said excitement booming from his voice As

‘Everyone cover your eyes “ Jay said as the gain tree’s light started to engulf the room.causing everyone in the room to cover their eyes

“What is going on ?” Shiro asked 

“ Your child is being brought into this world “ Jay yelled 

 The entire room was engulfed leaving everyone blinded for a few seconds and as the light faded. Everyone to a minute to regain their sight   

“ Hey Jay next time warn us about the blinding light.”  Lance said as he rubbed his eyes

“  Sorry I though you guys were smart enough know if someone yells Cover your eyes. You’d do it “ Jay barked but doing that caused a something small to start  crying. Everyone froze when they heard the crying sound 

Adam was the first one to move towards the no treeless pot an looked into it. A smile came as he bent down an reached into the pot an pick up the crying child who  slowly stopped crying  . He then turned around with tears starting to round down his face along with a smile an Said “ He’s so small Shiro”  He said as he was looking down at his son. “ Look “ Adam the presented The Small green skinned Gain Child. Who Had Dark brown hair, Gray eyes ,They had Shiro’s noise pre Scar, Adam’s Jaw line and had a little bud growing on the back of their head. 

Shiro stood there in a stunned silence as he  looked at the Child in his Husbands Arms. He quietly walked forwards an reached out to touch the side of his son’  s face. At first he reached out with his metal hand an was about to brush the side of his sons face. Only to have Izuku grab onto the his metal pointer finger an pulled it towards them their hand barely wrapping around the metal finger.

Shiro felt his heart melt as his son just held on to his metal finger “ God he is so small”     Shiro couldn't  help but start crying tears of joy. as he pulled Adam and His newly born son into a hug 

Everyone in the room watched this heart warming sense. Only for jay to ruin it

“  So dose this mean I'm off the hook then?”  Jay asked 

“  No your not but thank you for messing up on are wedding night “ Adam said as he handed Izuku over to Shiro 

“ Your welcome an Beau can you get a med bay ready so we can make sure are newest arrival is heath “ Jay said in to his phone 

[ Already done sir Also I informed Princess Allura, Coran and An Crew me who is Awake. That Young Izuku has been brought into the world.] Beau went quiet  for a second [ They will meet you in the medic on level twelve ] Beau said with  a up beat tone to his voice 

Elsewhere

At  Galra Central command Zarkon had spent the last Three hours trying to Beat Information out of the now captured Thace. Zarkon looked at the bloody an beaten Thace for a few seconds before returning to the interrogation    

‘So i’m going to ask you again Who are you working for”  Zarkon landed a heavy punch to Thace’s gut “What were you plan“  Another punch to the gut” An dose it have anything to do with what the paladins are planning “ Zarkon followed that Question with a Brutal blow to Thace’s Face Causing a tooth to fly out of Thace's mouth.  .

Thace looked at Zarkon with his non swollen eye cracked a small smile an stayed quiet. Which resulted in him getting another punch to his face. That time he felt his jaw fracture from that one 

Zarkon smiled an Grabbed Thace by the low jaw and raised his head up so he could look Thace in the eyes “ I can see that this is going no where .  I respect your loyalty to your cause and to what ever group you belong to. But that loyalty will be your down fall once my Wife’s men take over. So tell me  what you know an I will make your death nice an quick and painless” 

“ An What will she do if I don’t tell you what you want to know ?” Thace Asked

“  She will make you experience pain far beyond what I can do”    Zarkon said 

“I’d like to see try “ Thace said 

Zarkon’s smile faded then he let go of Thace’s face an  was about start his integration again. But then the intercom came on 

[Lord Zarkon Lady Haggar wishes to talk with you in here  her personal Lab.]  The intercom worker said 

Zarkon let out a low growl then lowed his fist”  It looks like we have to cut are conversion short. “  Zarkon said as he started walking out off the room “ You too make sure that he is ready for when one of the druids arrive to continue the interrogation” He said to the two Doctors that were there to keep Thace alive During the Interrogation . 

“ Yes sir “ Both Doctors said as the door closed behind him 

A few minutes Later Zarkon found himself in front of  Haggar personal.

“ So what do you wish to talk to me about my love ?” Zarkon asked as he walked into the lab an saw his wife stand in front of a screen an on that screen was a tall young Purple skinned Altean man . Wear a black jump suit with purple and Orange lining it.  

“ Hello Father it has been a long since we’ve last talk. ”    The Man said 

“ Hello Son. It has been far to long and we have much to discuses. Have you been informed about the return of Voltron and of Princess   “  Zarkon replied

“  Yes I know the  rumors have reach me. I didn’t believe them at first. But after hearing  that  There was an Attack By Voltron on Central Command. An seeing the Bounties out for the paladins. I was wondering when you were going to call me “   The man said with a smile on his face 

Zarkon ignored that last part  “the reason We have contacted you is because there are other things beside voltron we have to worry about”  

“ Yes the Valkyrie and that colossus correct and the reason you contacting me is to ask for my help or are you contacting me just to tell me I'm  no long able to take the throne once you captured All three of them” 

“ Watch your tongue Lotor “  Haggar said Annoyed at her sons statement 

Zarkon waved his hand tell her to calm down your jokes aside I wish to bring you back into the fold for a small time to help capture Voltron and these two new problems we have an if you Prove Yourself you will have a place at my side again “ Zarkon said 

Lotor sat stood there for a few seconds “ How long do I have to decide ?” Lotor asked 

“ Until I capture Voltron and their two Allies “ Zarkon replied 

“ So Another ten thousand years then maybe longer “ Lotor said with a smile on his face 

Zarkon laughed a little knowing that he walked right into that one ” Its good to see that you haven’ t changed that much Since we last talked. But  know this if you decide to take my officer keep your snarky remarks to my leadership to a minimum”     

“ Alright Father is their anything else you wish to talk to me about or can I return to my work “

“ that will be All I hope you make the right choice “ Zarkon said as the Screen turned off 

Lotor Stood Alone in his room. He stood there for a few minutes an felt a tear slowly roll down his face . He quickly wiped it away an processed to sit down on the chair that was given to him as a  by the current governor of they Ion Cluster. The moment he sat an Altean Cat jumped onto his lap and processed curl on. Lotor smiled a little an started to pet his feline friend. Which caused the cat to start play fighting with his hand

“  Oh kova even in the Darkest of times you always know just what to do to me brighten my Day “  Lotor said as he play with his pet 

“ Is everything Alright my Partner “ A very refined voice said from the darkest  corner of the room 

Lotor Jumped in his seat caught off Guard by the sudden Appears of the Voice “ I’m fine Ragna I just spoke with my Father for the first time in sixty five hundred years So you tell me how I'm felling my Oldest friend 

From the darkest corner of the room A pitch black Wolf with a purple mist coming off of their fur walked  out an moved towards the Lotor’s side. “  I’m guessing it Didn’t go well did it ?” Ragna asked knowing the Answer already 

“ He wants me to Return to his side to help him Capture Voltron Along with other two mechs the named The Valkyrie and Vanguard.” Lotor stopped again an rubbed his chin then spoke again” I have to ask are those other two like you and the being inside Voltron?” He asked 

“ Yes they are .” Ragna replied 

“ So my Father is going to lose an the empire will fall “ 

“ Most likely even if we had Finish working on me new body we would never stand a chance the Against three of them “  

“ So we move on to plan b then.” 

“ Yes my Partner we move to plan B. But for now let us sit back an watch what happens next” Ragna said as  two screens turned on to Show Of The teleportation ring that the Paladins were working on then Another screen Appeared Showing The Latest an Finally model of Project titan.” The Coming battle will be fun to watch an learn from “ 

[victorluvsalice]

AU Thursday: Londerland Bloodlines -- With This Blood. . .

Happy Independence Day! Let's have a fic from the Londerland Bloodlines world about Alice giving Victor another drink from her veins and thus binding him to her all the more! XD More seriously, after last week's chat with Mercurio -- well, Alice still doesn't particularly like the blood bond, but she likes the idea of losing Victor, even to old age, a lot less. (Plus, Mercurio brought up a good point that Victor is "hot property" among vampires as a ghoul -- I'd still like to fit in something earlier about both the Giovanni and LaCroix wanting him as a personal slave to add to their own power. And maybe the Anarchs wanting to beat the shit out of him because of who his father is.) So she heads home, ready to make a commitment -- though, of course, not without talking to Victor first. . .

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"Alice!" Victor grinned at her, trying and failing to conceal his puzzlement. "I didn't expect you back so soon. . .is everything all right?"

"Yes," Alice assured him, kissing his cheek. "Better than it has been for a while, in fact." She slipped past him to plop herself on the couch, patting the cushion beside her. "Do you have a moment to talk?"

"Er – of course," Victor said, sinking down beside her. "What about?"

"Us. And our relationship."

"Oh." Victor worried his lower lip. "Are – a-are you asking to be e-exclusive? Because I. . .w-we should probably wait for Victoria and Emily if that's the c-case–"

"Oh, no, no," Alice assured him, holding up a hand. "I am perfectly happy with the set-up we have right now. Victoria and Emily are wonderful women, and I am delighted to be able to share you with them."

Victor visibly brightened, sitting up a little straighter. "Oh, good. N-not that I don't love being with you, of course, I just – I love being with them too. With all of you together. You're all so amazing, and I'm–" He sighed, one of those sweet, dreamy smiles passing across his face. "I'm just so lucky."

"So am I." Alice twisted her fingers together in her lap. "Which is why. . .I want to keep you, Victor."

Victor's brow furrowed. "Keep me?"

"Yes. Keep you with me. Forever."

Victor's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hair – though, given how little forehead he had, that was a fairly easy feat. "What – you – w-wait, I don't understand. You – you d-don't even want to blood bond me. S-suddenly you want to Embrace me?" His face filled with suspicion. "Did one of those other vampires do something to your head?"

"No!" Alice cried, waving her hands. Oh damn it, she should have known this would happen, given what she'd been like their entire time together. "Victor, I swear, this is all me. And I'm not talking about the Embrace. I would never drag you into the eternal night. You deserve better than that."

Victor stared hard at her – then his face softened. "My friend's saying you're telling the truth," he said, tapping his temple. "And I've learned to trust him. . .but – the only other way of k-keeping me is the blood bond. And you said – why would you change your mind?"

"Because I went to Mercurio tonight," Alice explained, leaning forward to take his hands. "To ask him his opinion on being a long-time bonded ghoul. And he said that, after years of service, he would do anything to make LaCroix happy. But he also still considers him – in his own words – a 'prissy bitch.'"

Victor snorted. "Really? LaCroix's best ghoul said that?"

"Yup – which should tell you everything you need to know about LaCroix, frankly." Alice smirked briefly, then turned serious again. "But that was his point – even through a loyalty written into his very veins, he can hold an unflattering opinion of his master. Which means his mind, his soul, isn't completely gone. He was clear that he was still not truly his own man, but . . .he's not a toy either. Or, at least, he's less of one than I thought."

Victor nodded slowly, a terrible growing hope on his face. "So – what does that mean for – us?"

"It means – I might be willing. To make you mine." She took his chin, looking deep into those dark brown eyes. "But I won't let you walk into this blind, Victor. Everything I said before still applies. The blood bond is not true love – it's slavery. If you drink twice more – you are going to be devoted beyond mortal reasoning. You will do anything to please me, even things you would otherwise find distasteful. Even if things go wrong between us, you will still be magically bound to me. Still want my blood more than anything else in the world. There will be no way to break free except by mustering up the willpower to flee into the night and never see me again, or by my Final Death. I'm only willing to risk this because–" She swallowed on outdated instinct. "Because I love you. And I can't bear the thought of you dying, even of old age. Or being used up by some other vampire. And I believe you love me beyond that taste you got of my vitae. I believe we can somehow make this work, around that twisted horrible core. But – you have to know the risks. You have to be sure."

Victor was silent for a long moment. Then he reached out and cupped her cheek. "I'm sure," he whispered. "I – I know it's not – ideal, w-what we have to do to be together. But I don't want to leave you. I love you. I love when you come out of your bedroom in the evenings and give me that little smile, so – genuinely happy to see me. I love when we're sitting on the couch together during a quiet moment, your hand in mine, even if it's cold. I love going out to the movies with you and – well, I don't get to have all the popcorn to myself anymore, do I?" he corrected himself with a laugh. "But it's still so much fun, going out with you and Victoria and Emily and Lizzie and Sam and just – enjoying a night out. Like we're all normal." He took a deep breath. "And – and I don't want to belong to just any old vampire either. I've talked with Mercurio too – and Knox, and Romero. I know how most vampires treat their ghouls. You have been nothing but kind to me ever since we met, and – I want to be with you. As long as you'll have me. I trust you."

That was what did it, Alice decided later on. The fact that Victor knew what she did sometimes to survive as a Kindred, knew how dangerous it was to be a ghoul – and still trusted her. Still loved her, glowing so brightly with sanguine energy for a moment she was sure she'd accidentally popped on Auspex. Deep down, she knew the "right" thing was to push him away, let him go. . .but she also knew she simply couldn't force herself to do it. He was already hers, in a small but significant way – and judging by the way her withered guts cried out at the thought of him leaving? She was his. And if she couldn't save him from Kindred society altogether. . .she could at least save him from other Kindred. "All right."

The Vorpal Blade was in her hand in a moment, hissing with delight as she drew it from its sheath. One quick slash, and her wrist was laid open. Victor's eyes locked onto the blood, oozing from the wound. She offered it to him, and he grabbed it firmly in both hands, licking his lips in anticipation –

Then, an inch from drinking, he paused. His eyes flicked back up to her face. "You're – y-you're really sure?" he asked, voice aching with longing – but also worry.

"He'll refuse if you refuse," Cheshire informed her, smile hanging by her side. "Rescind your permission and he'll pull himself away. Addiction is a strong vice, but his desire not to harm your feelings is stronger still. He'd give up eternity if he thought you would drown in the guilt."

I probably will, Alice thought back. But I'd drown too if I refused and tomorrow night LaCroix dragged him to his tower, or some gang-banger shot him down. At least this way he can throw me a life preserver. She nodded, with a bittersweet turn of her lips. "Go ahead."

Victor needed no further coaxing – he pressed his lips to the cut, sucking down the vitae with the same desperate eagerness she'd seen in the clinic. Alice allowed him a couple minutes to get his fill, then gave her arm a gentle tug. "That said, I can't really let you drink me dry. . ."

Victor lifted his head, breathing hard. His face was utterly transported, almost like he'd just finished making love to her instead of feeding on her vital fluids. He licked the red stain from his mouth with his eyes closed, shuddering. "Sorry," he breathed, not sounding it at all. "Just – oh, Alice. Drinking from you. . .it's like. . .like a big, warm hug." He wrapped his arms around himself, rocking gently back and forth. "Your love for me is right in my veins, and it's wonderful."

"That, I think, is the blood bond talking," Alice commented, pressing on her wrist. The cut sealed over, flesh carefully knitting itself back together. "Or possibly a dose of Malkavian madness. I've heard we can be flowery."

"Maybe a little," Victor allowed, blushing as he opened his eyes. "But – it truly is amazing, Alice. You're amazing." He leaned in and kissed her, mouth delightfully warm against hers. "Thank you."

Alice wrapped him in a tight embrace, returning the kiss with eager passion. "You're welcome."

They stayed like that for a moment, floating in a happy tide of gushy feelings. Then Victor pulled away, his ardor cooling into concern. "Alice? What – what about Victoria?"

Ah yes – this awkward moment. There wasn't just one mortal in this relationship, after all. Alice ran her thumb over her recently-abused wrist. "I want to have a talk with her first," she said. "Explain in exacting detail what this all means. But – I'm going to make her the offer. Same as you."

Victor's face lit up. "Really? You are?"

"Well, yes, of course! Do you think I want to watch her grow old and die while the rest of us continue on eternally?" Alice shook her head. "I love her as much as you do!"

. . .oh. Oh crap. She'd said that out loud. Victor's eyes widened – then crinkled up with sudden mirth. "Do you now?"

Ugh, why did being a vampire mean that she could still blush?! Granted, it took a little more effort, but her body seemed annoyingly willing to make it. "I – I think that's a conversation that should wait until she and Emily come back," she said, refusing to look at him.

"Of course," Victor agreed, and she could tell just from his tone that he was grinning like Christmas had come early. "Should I text them?"

". . .if you would."

[yourboyfriendaizawa]

So I was suffering from a splitting headache but couldn't sleep. Then I found your reader story. Then I scrolled down your ENTIRE blog. And I went from pained scowl to helpless beaming and I'm so grateful??? Holy shit I love your soft Aizawa. My first reaction to him was confused howls of laughter and now I LOVE him. Amazing. This is stupid long sorry but lastly, can I request soft lover Shouta just taking care of his poor sick bby? It can be a headache or actual fever I'd really appreciate it ❤

You had known last night before you went to bed that the ache you felt deep in your bones was different that the ache of muscles that came from a long day of working, but as per usual you had another busy day ahead of you the next day and didn’t have the time to even consider the possibility of falling ill, so you’d simply taken a hot shower and gone to bed early and fallen into a deep sleep almost instantly. You hadn’t even woken up when Shouta had slipped in bed behind you several hours later.

When you did finally wake up the next morning though, you knew instantly that what you’d tried to brush off last night as something small and manageable was going to be much worse; on top of the weak ache that had started the night before had settled into your bones and made a home there; your skin was clammy and hot and yet you felt exceptionally cold despite the warmth of your heavy blankets and your boyfriends arms wrapped around you; your head was pounding so hard it was difficult to think and a fire was lit in the back of your throat any time you made the move to inhale or swallow.

With a tremendous amount of effort, you managed to turn in your boyfriend’s arms to face him. “Shouta.” You croaked, wincing at both the sound and the way the word felt in your throat. “Shouta.”

Shouta’s face scrunched up just a bit as it always did when he was woken up from a deep sleep, before he cracked an eye open to look at you. “Hm?”

“Shouta, I don’t feel well.” You said, your voice still quiet despite the effort you put in to making it come out.

He regarded you silently for a second, then removed one arm from where it rested on your waist, bringing his hand up to rest atop your clammy forehead. “You’re sick.” He said, “I think you have a fever.”

You closed your eyes and let out a whine. “I can’t be sick. I have work to do.”

The hand that had lain across your forehead curled into a loose fist which Shouta then lightly rapped it against your temple. It didn’t hurt, but you could tell it was meant as a form of reprimand. “You couldn’t get anything done if you tried right now. You’re staying in bed and getting some rest.” He said firmly.

You began to pout, but didn’t try to argue– both because you didn’t have the energy to do so and because you knew he was right. Regardless, Shouta disentangled himself completely and moved to get out of bed, stopping briefly to throw a glance back at you.

“Stay put.” He ordered.

“Where are you going?” You asked, but he was already gone down the hall. You let out an annoyed huff, but you dutifully laid back against the pillow regardless, drawing the covers up close and trying your best to think of anything but the pounding in your head.

—

When Shouta stepped back into the bedroom some time later, he wasn’t entirely surprised to see you had fallen back to sleep. When he’d opened his eyes that morning it only took a moment of looking at your flushed face and glazed eyes to tell that you were very ill. He’d felt the heat rolling off of your body even before he’d pressed a hand to your forehead.

He placed the tray in his hands on the side table before sitting down on the edge of the bed hand moving to brush a strand of sweat-damp hair out of your face, then gently cupped your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open in response, a weak groan fighting its way from your throat.

“Hey,” he said quietly as your eyes finally came up to meet his, “I made you some oatmeal and brought you some juice. You should eat something before you take any medicine.” You nuzzled your face into his hand and threw him a small grateful smile, though your eyelids began to droop again almost immediately. To keep you awake, Shouta tapped your cheek lightly with his thumb. “Eat now– you can go back to sleep afterwards, I promise.”

He moved some pillows behind you to help prop you up as you pulled yourself into a sitting position, then handed you the bowl of oatmeal he’d brought in. You took it from him and began dutifully spooning it into your mouth despite clearly not wanting to eat anything at the moment. In the meantime, Shouta turned to the nightstand and grabbed the bottle of Nyquil he’d brought in, pouring out a dose and replacing the cap while you ate, though when he turned back around he could see you eyeing him with a frown.

“I hate that stuff.” You rasped.

“So do I.” He replied, handing the small cup over to you. You took it, but were clearly reluctant. “It’s a good thing I’m not the one who’s sick.” He almost let out a chuckle at the returning glare he received. You weren’t particularly threatening to begin with, but with your sickly form currently huddled under a mountain of blankets and sporting ridiculous bed hair you looked like a kitten playing at being a tiger. He refrained though, if only to keep you from refusing to take the medication out of spite.

Luckily, you didn’t attempted to argue any further, instead taking a deep breath and throwing the viscous green liquid back like a particularly foul shot of tequila, even pulling a similar face after you had swallowed. After handing both the medicine cup and bowl of oatmeal (half eaten) back to him, you promptly flopped back into the pillows as though all of your energy had left you in one fell swoop.

Shouta grabbed the tray with the used dishes and brought it back to the kitchen, placing them in the sink and running water of them to let them soak. He’d clean them later on, he reasoned as he made his way back to the bedroom, rounding the bed and slipping under the covers beside you.

“What are you doing?” You asked as one of his arms draped itself over your waist, “You’re going to get sick too if you get close like that.”

“We were already in bed together all night. I’m already contaminated.” He said, making no move to distance himself.

You would have rolled your eyes at him, if you had been capable of movement at all, but everything was feeling significantly heavier now, including your eyelids. Instead, you mumbled, “I won’t take care of you when you start getting feverish.”

“You will.” Shouta replied confidently. He was right, of course.

It was silent for a few moments longer as you began to drift off to sleep, but before you let yourself fall into complete unconsciousness you remembered to say “Thank you for taking care of me.” Shouta most likely replied, but whatever he said you were too far gone too hear.

Maybe he’d tell you again whenever you woke up.

[americanpsycho1991]

hi, this might be way too personal a question and if it is I'm really sorry, but my psychiatrist recently brought up ECT as a possible treatment option for me and I was just wondering what it was like for you, and did it help at all. it feels like such an intense thing to go through but he says it can really help (but i know things work differently for each person). thank you so much, I'm sending you lots of love

Long answer, it’s under the cut

Hi. No need to apologize.  Let me give you one of my classic, incredibly long answers where I say the same thing a hundred different ways and do minimal editing before I post it.

ECT is a lot to think about, and I don’t feel that I was given the proper amount of information to make a well-rounded decision at the time.  In addition to this, if you search online, you’ll find a lot of people writing about their personal experiences.  These can be intimidating, as the accounts that appear online are often the very negative ones, where people feel they were pressured into the treatment and/or sustained significant memory impairment afterwards.  You’ll find people comparing ECT to lobotomies, and saying it shouldn’t be allowed except in the most extreme of cases.  I truly don’t believe that those accounts accurately represent the procedure, but I do recommend you read a few, so that you’re aware of the kind of worst-case scenarios that hospitals won’t tell you about.  I can give you an overview of my experience, and list what I believe are the main things that are important to consider before you make any decisions.  My biggest recommendations are that you a) gather as much information as you possibly can, and b) try TMS first.  I’ll talk a little more about TMS later on.

I got a course of ECT starting at the tail end of an inpatient stay at McLean hospital, through a 2-week residential DBT program on the same campus, and after I went home as well.  I don’t recall exactly how many treatments I was intended to get; I got quite a ways in, but didn’t end up finishing the entire course.I was 19 at the time.  Some of the patients in my inpatient ward felt that the hospital was a little too enthusiastic about performing ECT - while their treatment providers weren’t pushy per se, they suggested it to a lot of patients, and didn’t seem to share the typical view of ECT as a last or extreme resort that many treatment providers have.

McLean - while certainly not perfect - is considered one of the best psychiatric hospitals in the country, and is very much oriented towards research and trying out new and modern techniques.  As such, they’re more than happy to sign up patients for ECT and TMS (which is a less extreme option that I’ll bring up later).  My memory is foggy, but I definitely remember taking several surveys and approving them to be used for research purposes.

I specifically asked for ECT, because I was feeling desperate after two previous hospitalizations and a long list of failed medications.  They gave me a basic overview of ECT and TMS, and signed me up immediately once I confirmed that I did want ECT.

The hospital absolutely did not give me enough information.  I don’t think they fully conveyed the risks, and I think they are far too eager to sign up anyone with any interest in ECT as long as they’re old enough to medically consent.  I was 19 for christs sake, and no one asked me twice.  Honestly, even if they had properly prepared me, I probably still would have chosen to go forward with it, but that’s not an excuse.  And when I say I feel like I wasn’t properly informed, that’s after I took it upon myself to ask extensive questions beyond what was on the pamphlet they handed me.  I still didn’t get full answers.  If you’ve ever been put on a medication by a doctor who didn’t even list the most common side effects, you know how that feels.  Except instead of getting a headache and not being able to orgasm, you can get permanent brain damage.  So.

I don’t fully agree with many of the people online who say that patients are pressured into being lab rats, but I do think that the hospital’s mission to make progress in the psychiatric field is sometimes placed above their duty to provide a responsible level of care to their patients.  So basically the lab rat thing, but a little more forgiving.  And again, my experience is just from one hospital.  There are far worse places to be than McLean, and I’d imagine many of them offer ECT as well.

the procedure: one of the main issues with ECT is memory loss, so my memory of the actual procedure is a little fuzzy, but here’s what I do remember: you’re either wheelchaired to the ECT waiting room, or you walk there, depending on whether you’re inpatient or not. The first time I went there, and I think once or twice afterwards, they had me sit at a little computer station and fill out a basic survey on my symptoms (rate how true each statement is from 1-4, “I feel hopeless about the future,” etc.). Once it’s your turn, they take you to a small room where you lie down on a stretcher.  They might take your vitals, and they have you take off your jacket or roll up your sleeves so they can put little electrode stickers on you. I don’t think they have you change into a gown unless you’re wearing clothes they can’t get out of the way, like skinny jeans or something. They roll you into another room, and they put an IV in your arm and put you out with anesthesia.

You wake up shortly afterwards, in a long room with full of other people waking up in their stretchers, with medical gel in your hair. That’s one of my most vivid memories; always needing to shower afterwards to get the gel out of your hair.  Someone comes over and gives you some water or juice, or crackers, makes sure you’re feeling okay, and after a little while they clear you to go back to the waiting room.  If you’re inpatient, you’ll be wheeled back up to your ward, and if you’re outpatient, they have you sit in the waiting room for a little while longer before they let you walk back out. I always felt fine - well rested, even - after waking up, but some people get more nausea and whatnot. It’s unusual to have severe symptoms. I couldn’t give you a time estimate, but it’s a surprisingly short procedure, and most of your time is spent in the waiting room or the recovery area.

Afterwards, you’ll be very tired and sometimes spacey for the rest of the day. Once I was outpatient, and getting driven to and from my appointments, I would often fall asleep in the car on the way back.  Sometimes I wouldn’t remember things that had happened that same morning.

At first, it seemed to work. On my non-ECT days in inpatient, I found I had more energy, and felt less depressed.  After a few weeks, though, it petered out and I stopped feeling positive effects from it.  I forget who was monitoring my process, but it was mutually decided that there was no point in finishing the full course.

That was about a year and a half ago. Since then, I’ve noticed that I’m more forgetful than before. I’m trying to work out my brain these days (which I probably should have done right away) to try to restore my memory, and many people who do experience short term memory damage say it fades after a few months to a year.  Even if it sticks around (like mine seems to have done), it’s seldom a level of damage that significantly impairs quality of life.  Like I said, though, there are plenty of horror stories online from people who suffered significant, permanent brain damage and have definitely been impaired by memory issues.  Just because it’s uncommon doesn’t mean it can’t happen.  I assumed that because I was young and in relatively good health, I wouldn’t have as many issues as I ended up having.

In addition to the short term memory impairment, I lost the majority of two years of memories.  If you asked me to tell you about the college courses I took during that time, I could only give you a few course titles, a vague impression of what one or two professors were like, and absolutely none of the information I learned.  I had a major confrontation with a family member during that time, that I only remembered happening because my dad brought it up recently. I still only have a vague idea of what was said.  Even my memories before that time are more blurry and distant than they used to be, and many memories that used to be present in my mind are only familiar once someone else reminds me.

Which brings me to some points to consider before making any decisions (in no particular order):

1. Being put under general anesthesia multiple times a week isn’t good for you.  This was a risk that wasn’t even mentioned to me.  It’s not like I didn’t know anesthesia isn’t good for you, but as a desperate, suicidal 19 year old, I was understandably not making the most balanced choices.  And for all the hospital knew, I could have been a very uneducated person.  I don’t blame the hospital for the decisions I made, but it should have been their job to educate me about the risks, make sure I fully understood them, and to the best of their ability, make sure that I was making as rational a decision as a suicidal 19 year old in her third inpatient ward can be expected to make.

I don’t actually know, but I assume the dose they give you for ECT is lower than it might be for surgeries.  I would still recommend you do some research on the long term effects of general anesthesia, because they can be quite concerning.

2. You can lose a significant number of memories and sustain damage to your working memory.  One of the reasons ECT is often considered an extreme resort is because of how common, how profound, and how permanent the side effects can be.  It’s like looking up a new medication that you’re taking on drugs.com and discovering that some of the most severe side effects that you’d expect to be under less common or rare are actually among the most common.  Older people or those with pre-existing neurological issues are more prone to damage from ECT, but it truly can happen to anyone. There is no way to predict it beforehand, and there is no way to tell what damage you will sustain based on how you feel during the treatments.  I sort of subconsciously assumed that, because I often felt fine and recovered more quickly than those around me in the treatment, that I wasn’t getting the bad side effects at all.  Nope.  You’ll often feel loopy, sleepy, or spaced out during the course of the treatment, and you’ll lose a lot of your immediate memories during that time, so it’s impossible to tell what kind of effects you’ll end up with in the long term.

Then again, the treatment does wonders for some people.  It’s a difficult question - do I try a treatment that may or may not help me at all, which may or may not give me long-term memory damage, but which has the potential to make a massive improvement or cure me altogether?  No one can answer that for you.

3. It’s likely you won’t be given an accurate impression of the treatment by the facility providing it.  Stories on the internet will give you the worst impression of ECT.  The hospital that provides it will give you the best impression of ECT.  In my opinion, the “truth” is somewhere in the middle.  Still, ASK.  Be irritating.  Drill whoever you’re talking to.  Ask them what the worst case scenario is.  Ask them at what point in psychiatric treatment they feel it’s appropriate to introduce that kind of risk.  They’ll tell you about the people whose lives were changed by ECT, but ask them about the people whose lives weren’t changed.  Ask them about the people like me, whose lives weren’t ruined, but weren’t saved either.  Ask how likely it is that you’ll end up with a moderate amount of damage and no benefit.  Remember that you can always have ECT in the back of your mind, but once it’s done, you can’t undo it.

Looking at websites like mayoclinic and whatnot does not provide an accurate impression of the risks. It just doesn’t. There’s no one source - except me, of course :))) - that will give you a truly accurate, balanced impression of what ECT is like.  I just googled a few sites to see what they had to say, and their descriptions make ECT sound like a walk in the park.  It’s not.

It’s not a decision that you need to make quickly.  Again, if I had been told I wasn’t allowed to get ECT until I was out of the hospital and judged to be a little more stable, I still probably would have done it.  But again, everyone is not me.

4. How will you feel having ECT as a possibility in reserve vs. having tried it and failed?  Before ECT, the stakes of my psychiatric and theraputic treatment weren’t quite so high.  They were worth a solid try, but there was always this mystical treatment that I could get if my depression got to the point where all that was left was this “extreme resort.”  I always thought it was strange and probably for insurance reasons that ECT was only for extreme cases, if it had such potential to turn my entire life around.  Why wait year after year, wasting my life trying every class of antidepressant and driving 45 minutes once a week to tell a woman I paid to listen to me that yes, I was still depressed?  Clearly I needed help, so why waste all this time making sure nothing else could possibly work first?  It gave me a sense of hope, but it also put me in a mindset where I found it difficult to fully commit to the therapy I had at the time.

The aftermath of ECT required coming to terms with some tough truths.  It was never a miracle cure.  There were perfectly legitimate reasons why it was reserved for extreme cases.  With that sense of hope gone, I felt crushed, but in a sense, I’m better off.  I feel hopeless very often, and I feel desperate, but at least I’m desperate enough to throw myself into the therapy I have, rather than wonder about the possibilities of what I don’t have.

Of course, there’s no guarantee that ECT would fail for you.  It might change your life.  A lot of people who are helped by it will go back every 6-12 months for a “tune-up.”  But I think it’s a significant enough decision that you need to evaluate how not getting ECT could affect your attitude towards other treatments, as well as being prepared to cope in case you try it and it fails.  You need to enter the treatment with the mindset that ECT failing does not mean you’re a lost cause.  It’s an extreme resort, but it’s never your last resort.  Many things - even the effectiveness of different medications - can change with time.  You can even have another go at ECT years down the road, because sometimes it works differently once you’ve had even more time to age and mature.

5. It’s not considered an extreme resort because it’s a risky-but-potentially-miraculous cure.  Like I said in the last point, I’d held misconceptions about ECT and the reason it’s not done more often for a very long time.  It’s considered an extreme resort because it’s an intense procedure, that most people don’t need, and which doesn’t have the greatest track record.  Some people have life-changing experiences with ECT.  That’s fantastic.  But I’ll bet the reason they don’t advertise the statistics is because an awful lot of people don’t.  Medication and talk therapy has a much higher success rate and much less severe or permanent downsides than ECT.  I know I’ve said it a million different ways, but it’s an awful lot of risk for something that doesn’t seem to have a particularly high success rate.

6. TMSTMS (Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation) is like a less extreme, and much more recently invented version of ECT.  I don’t know the exact details of the treatment, but my roommate at McLean (a woman in her 40s, who had gone up and down during the years but still hadn’t given up) was getting it at the same time I was getting ECT.  Instead of shocking your brain and triggering a brain seizure, TMS is a constant electrical pulse. You stay awake the whole time. It also has potential negative side effects, but they’re generally less extreme than those of ECT.  If you’re in the US, many insurance companies have already approved coverage of TMS.  Many patients who were receiving TMS at McLean were doing so as a less extreme alternative to ECT, with the plan that if TMS was ineffective, they would be open to moving up to ECT.  If TMS can help you, it’s much better to avoid undertaking the risks of ECT altogether.  I was desperate at the time and didn’t see the point of going for the milder treatment, but in hindsight I think it’s a much wiser idea.

I’ve actually thought about TMS for myself.  I don’t know what the likelihood of it working for me now, a year and a half after ECT not working, and I’m concerned that it would make my mild tinnitus worse, but it might be a possibility.  Again, it’s a more extreme treatment than most psychiatric medications and talk therapy, but it’s not on the level of being put under general anesthesia and having a brain seizure two or three times a week.