#if all of my base needs were met. MAYBE it would be distressing

[actual-corpse]

I wish I was allowed to be lgbt+

I wonder if I would be happier. Feel more fulfilled. Find love, not only external but also internal.

[drama-glob]

SPOILERS FOR "OOPS"

OMG TO ALL THE FLUFF WE GOT IN THIS EPISODE!!! <3<3<3 Literally squealed at how adorable Fizz and Ozzie are (which I already knew ;) ) and the fact that Fizz can't cook. ^_^<3<3<3 I also find it funny that they really weren't doing a good job at keeping their relationship under-wraps and how Fizz himself was not being low-key. XD I do love all his little fly dogs and the fact that one is in a wheelchair is absolutely adorable because he really does care about them as we see. ^_^ <3<3<3

Of course fate would bring Blitzo and Fizz's paths to cross, although I'm still surprised that we got Striker in this episode because I had heard about Crimson's men since it was in Greed after all, but dang, he must be trying to get business outside of royals since the last one didn't pan out. :/ I had a feeling that if it wasn't a hit put out on Fizz, then he'd be ransomed, so it just broke my heart at seeing how distressed he was at almost every turn; at least with talking with Blitzo it served as a distraction for him. It's still awful that he and Blitzo got kidnapped and in a way proved part of the reason for Fizz and Ozzie trying to keep their relationship secret (which admittedly didn't seem too well based on what Crimson said >_< ).

I do love that Blitzo obviously does have feelings for Stolas, and Fizz made some pretty good points about not all royal demons being the same as well as acting superior to others does cast you as snobby rich jerks; I know Fizz's been treated so well by Ozzie for over a decade, but he still came from humble beginnings and probably dealt with the same racist stuff other imps faced. :/

It was nice to see Stolas and Ozzie interact, even if it mainly was to go over the ransom demands, but I love that Stolas was empathetic and helpful in Ozzie's time of need even though Ozzie was withholding the crystal because of Fizz's hatred for Blitzo; I do hope Blitzo and Stolas will have their talk in the "Full Moon Ritual" episode because there is still so much he doesn't know about Blitzo's past. ;_;

I'm so glad that we got the confirmation that Blitzo caused the fire that cost Fizz his limbs and horns, but also the fact that he also lost his mom in the same fire...and it was all an ACCIDENT?! It was truly heartbreaking even if we were fed plenty of clues as to that being the reason why. ;_; It does figure that from there it was a whole misunderstanding that tore Blitzo and Fizz's friendship apart and I wonder who this "They" are that lied and said that Blitzo didn't come and Fizz didn't want to see Blitzo. Maybe Mammon's men if he was pick up by the Deadly Sin at that point? I do wonder why the fire was green while the sky was red like they were still in Pride. Hmmm. More to the mystery perhaps. ;) I'm guessing we'll see how Ozzie and Fizz met in the next episode. So excited!!! ^_^<3<3<3

Fizz's song was definitely VERY distracting and yes, I will look at this. O_O XD It is funny that none of the men seemed to catch on to their plan. XD

It was so beautiful and heartwarming that Blitzo and Fizz hugged and it seems to me like they're making their way back as friends, if they aren't there already. ;) I don't blame Fizz for being mad that he got blown up again, but like Blitzo said, at least he stayed around this time. ;) ^_^ <3<3<3 I'm still worried about Striker coming back though. O_O He just keeps getting more and more unhinged with each loss. >_<

When Ozzie and Fizz reunited those, I went "AWWWW" so hard and I love the way Ozzie said "Fizzy!" ^_^<3<3<3 It was really sweet though that Fizz told Ozzie to give Stolas the crystal for Blitzo as he DEFINITELY earned it today for saving Fizz's life. I wonder if Blitzo will tell Stolas? :/ Either way, seeing the amount of care the Ozzie gave Fizz and didn't blame him for anything that happened and just wanted him to take it easy, seriously kept melting my heart over and over. ^_^<3<3<3 They're so cute together and deserve all the happiness! ^_^<3<3<3

[stealingpotatoes]

Invitation to talk about Sayuri and Nymie?

:D CAN OF WORMS: OPENED!! i'll tell u abt how they got found as Jedi

ok so Sayuri is one of the students that doesn't rlly go home bc there isn't much to go back to. Basically her parents were Rebellion pilots (or one was a pilot the other a mechanic. kinda unsure) but were both killed in action against the Empire abt 3-4ABY ish. obvs the Rebellion couldn't look after a 7-8yo while fighting the Empire

so the remainder of the squad manage to get her back to her parents' home village/ where she was born. so having like Everything change all at once leaves her pretty ?? and gives her some serious trusting-her-environment issues. her coolgirl "i dont care" persona is very much a result of this bc she's worried abt getting too comfy in smthn. (which is at odds w the OTHER issue she got from this event which is "deathly afraid of flying" an issue not helped if Master "traffic laws are just guidelines" Skywalker is piloting. but she tries 2 act like shes fine)

this is gonna get kinda long so im gonna smack some unposted art here and then go into a readmore

anyway fast forwarding to when Sayuri's abt 13 (roughly 9aby) she's visiting her parent's old squadron on a New Republic bc they'd all come visit whenever she could and after the Empire's fall they did a lot more pick her up and fly her to a base to ALL see her. and they're like omg Sayuri you came at the PERFECT time bc this rlly amazing pilot war hero who's also some like. mystical whatever is here!! he's on his way to some magic place we heard. maybe u can meet him!! which sayuri meets w her usual whatever bc she's not that gassed abt war heroes.

very worth noting that the squad's probably all seen her move shit with her mind, but theyre like oh you know how it is with teenage girls. the "nobody knows what a jedi is" + "the empire existed for a decent bit of her childhood" thing has kept anyone from being like yeahh sayuri should like. talk to someone abt this.

anyway she goes along when the squad are like c'mon let's see if we can see him. ok the only way i can describe this is you know the spiderverse like... spidey-sense recognition thing? that's basically what happens LOL Luke and Sayuri both have a FORCE USER RECOGNISED?? moment and Luke then makes a beeline for her then realises oh shit tiny teenager not jedi. would you LIKE to be a jedi?? and sayuri who hates her village and is feeling the strongest emotional connection she's felt in forever w this stranger she met 2 seconds ago is like okay fuckin sure yeah. and woo jedi!!

i posted my unposted nymie art yesterday but likkeeee pretend theres some here <3

So Sayuri falls into the "one of the Jedi found them thru the force or by chance" category of students who get found. However Nymie very much falls into the second category, which is "CAN SOMEONE DEAL WITH THIS WEIRD SUPERPOWERED CHILD FOR US????"

So 2 things about Nymie: 1. like i've said before, she's from a very rich high class pantoran family. super stuck up, mostly raised by nannies & tutors, but somehow Nymie just didn't get the stuck-up genes like all her (4!!) siblings who are just obsessed w their social standing etc and is instead just :D all the time. 2. her proficiency ig is the living force esp in the 'good at connecting to animals' way (which I think means I legally need to draw her w Ezra).

so the former often led her to escaping her family's stuffy parties and galas or whatever (usually to whoever's house it is' garden or somewhere she wasnt meant to be) to find something interesting. usually a pet <3 one particular time when she was 9 she was following her Pet Sense but couldnt find anything in the house. so she kinda just reached out more and long story short thats how Nymie managed to call this hugemassive beast (i'd tell u what it was if i knew pantoran animals LOL) out of the nearby countryside to her. massively distressing for everyone, all these rich ppl were like "OH MY GOD I NEARLY DIED" (it didnt attack anyone). very funny exciting time for Nymie who was enjoying this new beastie friend til animal control showed up. saddening. everyone is confused bc HOW did that happen

a dude old (and cool) enough to have seen more than one jedi in their heyday (+ idk uni researcher knows his shit) noticed what happened w it going straight to Nymie and overheard her account and realised what happened and was like hi nymie's parents. i think u need to get into contact w the new republic bc thats a jedi right there (which they take and go oo social climbing. we have a jedi child people will think we're cooler. bc theyre assholes)

and yeah im losing steam now but luke shows up and she joins the academyyay!

[lukaherehelp]

Playboyy EP3 - Sacrificing Yourself

okey had my girl dinner, I'm going in!

Just like I did last week, instead of a full commentary, we are going through some pointers, which are A LOT in this third episode.

So!

Ladies, gentlemen and nonbinary dieties, we can all take the clown makeup off, we can leave the river Denial, it was roleplay!

I swear motherfuckers I spend the whole week in distressed thinking this was for real, you assholes! You are still the cutest tho

Let's start with them, shall we?

Soong & First

We dodge the bullet of Soong being an actual psyco and jump into "problems in paradise" which FAIR, cause we've barely seen any communication between this two for this first two episodes. Mind you, it could have being off screen, this roleplay adventures had to be talked about at some point... But I feel like that was the extent of their communication.

I want to remind y'all that the Baddie Bunch is a group of young rich kids (all of them are 21), so the Playboyys are bound to have much higher street smarts and wisdom when it comes to life that the twinks. Soong, in specific, is 3 years older than First.

Why am I remarking this? Because First is clearly drunk in love with Soong but his "love" for him is purely based on them being sexually compatible. Is there anything else that they enjoy apart from rough sex? We don't know, fuck I don't even think they know!

And that's were the whole "we can have normal sex for once?!" thing comes from. Soong seems to like First back, to the point of allowing this now broke kid to stay with him even tho he can barely provide for the two of them. That's also the reason why Soong probably is taking more clients than before, even if that means spendid less time with First and paying less attention to him. First calling him a leech when First is now the leech was so ironic...

But First is so drunk on love that he cannot compute Soong not being there with him physically and mentally 24/7. Again, this kid lived in a golden cage for 21 years of his life, he thinks he knows but doesn't know shit about how real life works, even less so when you are at the lower ranks.

If they want to work out, First needs to have a reality check and grow up, learn that a relationship like the one he wants cannot be based soly on roleplay. And learn that life outside his cage is tough and requires "sacrifices".

Staying with them for another second, we need to talk about this:

Now, we are going wild. Rightfully so, this is the first hint we get that is not attached to Nont's investigation. So I wanna throw my two cents about it:

I don't think this is hinting that Soong was involved in whatever happend to Nant. You see, we have being especulating about Nant doing sex work, obviously, but I don't think he ever actually worked at Playboyy at any point. In any case, I don't think this scene hints at that.

My theory is that he probably was doing sex work in a room in the same apartment building where Soong lives. Could have being during one of the first sessions with Dog Man or maybe another client that went way too far. Either way, my two cents is that Soong probably met Nant after aiding him against a problematic client and that's why First crying in distress triggerd the memory: Nant seems like he's pleading, so maybe he thought Soong would rat him out, not knowing that Soong is also a sex worker.

He could have also asked Soong to not tell anybody about what happend, scared that his "secret life" would come out. I'm staying in that theory for now.

We don't have much about this two afterwards: Soong missing First and First being angry and heartbroken about the whole ordeal. So yeah, moving on!

Now, to the Lovebirds™

Teena & Zouey

Oh lord this was hard to watch... But let's talk about it.

Everything starts good, everything gucci. Teena is acting like a "top-tier" boyfriend see what I did there to Zouey even in front of the Baddie Bunch.

And then we get them being cute in private. You know, cuddleling, kiking about Zouey's friends where did I hear the "do you care about my friends?" line before /s. You know, boyfie behaviour... although they are not dating. Nothing wrong about that. All good.

Things start to fall apart as soon as this two sit up and Zouey goes "be my boyfriend! I'm ready to have sex now!". Oh lord.

Zouey clearly likes Teena and wants to be with him. And Teena also seems to like Zouey back. The thing is, due to the Baddie Bunch, Zouey has gotten this unspoken idea (to us) in his mind that to keep Teena, to be his boyfriend, they have to sleep together. But as much as he "thinks" he is ready, Teena and us clearly see that he is not. Teena tells him again that they don't need to have sex, that he doesn't need to "sacrifice himself" for them to be together.

But Zouey pushes through, saying that he "is in the mood", that Teena has "succeeded in making Zouey want him". Baby boy, you have been wanting this man since you first layed eyes on him, you are just cautious, which I applaud you for. But, with a second assertion from Zoueys part, we have Teena taking the lead and being sweet and slowly easing Zouey into what's about to happen:

picking him up to sit him on his lap while he kisses Zouey's temple

observing how Zouey is still cautiolsy touching him

the tiny kiss to the nose

Teena spends the whole time reasuring Zouey that he would not mock him, he knows how inexperienced Zouey is. He's making sure Zouey feels save.

Now, the downfall starts the moment Teena introduces a safe word. Which is always a good thing to have, but no to relay on solely with a first timer, buddy. also wanna point out how I kept singing red lights by skz everytime teena said red light because I'm that unserious

So, when we are "at the gates" of this taking further, hell breaks loose. Zouey asks Teena to go one step further but quickly regrets it. Now, I'm a girly that firmly believes that anything apart from a yes is a no, so Teena being a little pushy after Zouey shows discomfort already made me go nah uh buddy, but I can see where Teena is coming from...?

Zouey is freaking out, as he has done many times and is trying to make him relax again... but it doesn't work. And that's when the unfortunate phrase comes in:

" If we're going to be a couple, we'll have to do this someday. "

First of all, bullshit. You can have a serious relationship with somebody without the need of getting sexual. HOWEVER, and I can't believe I'm about to say this, I have to side with Teena here for a second.

HEAR ME OUT BEFORE THROWING STONES AT ME! Their relationship has being highly sexual from day one, period. Does that mean that the prospect of taking it all the way someday is there? It doesn't... But Zouey did start this encounter with "be my boyfriend! I'm ready to have sex now!". He's the one that put out there that if they date they will get intimate, not Teena.

Now, it wasn't fortunate from Teena's part to be "we should just do it" as if they were treating this like it was a fear to bungee jumping.

And Zouey, again, uses words that have never came from Teena's mouth (that we know of) to express his discomfort with the situation. Yes, Teena said that they didn't need to have sex if Zouey didn't want to. But Teena never said that they couldn't date because they didn't have sex. That last part, has only happend on Zoueys head. And why? Because that's what he has being hearing from the Baddie Bunch.

The scene ends with Zouey asking Teena to leave and Teena, not wanting to upset Zouey any further, going along with his request.

The last we see on the matter is Zouey and First day drinking at uni (god, I miss sneaking beers into art school lmao) while they compare their heartbreak and talk about abuse and consent. That's a whole post on its own and I still have another two couples to talk about to we closing here.

NEXT!

Keen & Captain

Lord baby jesus, we starting strong with this couple.

That "test" to join the rugby team: fuckin disgusting, I hate men. I don't care if it was for the hahas, nah uh. I'm leaving the gym. Fuck this team. But the team being homophobic... Are we surprised? Maybe is my own experience talking, but I didn't expect less from an sports team of a private university lmao

To light up this post a little, I gotta say: couples that share kinks stay together, so that in my eyes makes KeenCaptain endgame no matter the drama that the future holds for us. I'm going back to Delululand.

They are already giving me Brat Captain and I'm thriving, I signed up for this and I'm getting my moneys worth. Also this:

*fourthreactingtotheearthmixearbiteinthemoonlightchickentrailer.gif*

This sneaky little bitch is recording it and, again, are we surprised, we already knew that was going to happen. WHAT I DIDN'T EXPECT was Captain already releasing the fuckin think and hilariously backfiring on him a comedy I tell you. I fear that tape might get out of the confitment of the rugby team and get Keen, whoms both the team captain AND coach, in deep shit. However, I cannot wait to see what Captain will do with the wig and makeup he requested from Nont.

ANOTHER THING before I get into the last couple:

the gasp I gasped, y'all. Kaya, remind me this weekend to make the kiss/fuck count post, I feel like we are going to need another graphic by the end of this series.

ANYGAY, TO THE JUICE PART OF THIS MYSTERY:

Prom & Nont

Nont is slipping, bruh. To a degree and at a speed I'm starting to get stressed.

Almost getting caught by Captain when he's threatening Phop with penknife, asking for the wrong drink at the house, the accidental slap to Zouey and how not in control he is everytime he's with Prom when he clearly doesn't have ANY control on the situation. Honey, you pretty face and cunty ass is not going to work with Master, sorry to break this to you.

That being said, let's focus on the investigation:

Phop had Nant's laptop but is not truly clear to us where he got it since they got interrupted by Captain before Phop could spill the beans.

Nant was obviously doing webcam.

Now, tell me why Nont is adamant that the person that threw the laptop away was Nant's boyfriend? When did we stablished that Nant had a boyfriend? Nont fits right in into this friend group, another clueless boy that lived in a golden cage and is now seeing the darker side of the world.

the name here is Nant's btw

Here we are introduced with Nuth whom let me pull my guide real quick is described as:

Nuth dreams of becoming a sucessful film director one day, but with the lost of a family member, he has become introverted, depressed and unmotivated, making him currently unemployed. This has made him dive head first into the world of webcam. [...]

Nont, whom clearly has a modus operandi with his way of investigating, jumps right into creating his own account in the webcam site and getting in contact with Nuth after seeing that Nuth and Nant used to text throw the website.

Now, Nuth points out some of his fantasies to Nont:

" Meeting strangers, having sex with twins in a small room, the twins make out and lick all over my body, I wear a mask and I'll make them moan like a dog with the camera on. "

Sounds exactly like Dog Man, doesn't it? Way too soon to be suspicious of him tho, so I'm also putting this under the category of red herring. Nuth does panick the moment he sees Nont's face and blocks him, but I'm not speaking on that for now. Too many posibilities.

With Captain's help, Nont is able to recover the video of Nant with Dog Man and I guess he indeed gets stabbed in the video. I cannot imagine what that has to be like. Seeing something so horrible happen to someone that looks exactly like you... But I guess is not a deadly wound since Nont keeps assuming that Nant is not dead? He could be in denial, that too.

Nont, however, still in the mood to go see Master Prom and I cannot blame him and my brother keeps sliping in front of this man whom clearly knows that he's being lied too but clearly is having fun seeing Nont trip on his feet.

"You used to hate it here", "I had to convince you to come", "I thought you've changed enough to drink wine"... Prom is us, we are Prom. We sharing a braincell with this man, whom clearly is the only motherfucker holding a braincell.

god, now I want wine but I don't have any... sad

The "I can have sex in real life, why do I need to join a call?" line? Sir, I'm free anytime you want me too. I don't have any other responsibility than to please you. What can I say, I'm a simple woman.

"I'll make you moan like a dog". Yeah, I would also get triggered after so many dog references pointing at your brother's disappearance, Nont. That being said, Prom catching that Nont has become terrified and keeps making him more scared... He's making his move in this 3D chess they are playing.

This is him pushing Nont to see for how much longer he can keep the façade. But this leads into a really important frame.

I don't know the rest of y'all, but from my friends that are into heavy bdsm stuff I have learned many things and one is that all the toys, props, accessories, ropes, EVERYTHING is stored in the same place. Is more convenient that way and easier to hide from the prying eye.

So unless it got blood on it and had to be thown away, no dog mask for Prom. Neither the harness for what I can see.

we have a full face mask and I feel like that's the mask he was talking about here and in the foreplay video.

PROM IS AS MUCH OF A RED HERRING AS THAT FUCKING CABINET, I'LL DIE ON THIS HILL.

And with that being said, seems like next week we have more heartbreak but also a lot of mix-and-match and I cannot wait. See y'all next week.

Luka out!

[tea-and-secrets]

I feel horrible about this, but it's escalated to a point where this issue could destroy my life if I don't find a way to stop doing it.

So, for some reason, I get these really intense, obsessive, really disturbing fascinations with people. There's no pattern to them, no specific personality type or anything that sets it off, and I have never had more than one or maybe two per year, although they don't usually last more than a few (3-5) months. They're NOT hyperfixations. I've been hyperfixated on people before. For me, it never lasts more than 2 months (usually FAR less) and is entirely platonic, not at all violent or distressing, and doesn't make me upset in any way. I've had hyperfixations and an obsession at the same time, once I had an obsession and hyperfixated on each of his main friends within a 3 month span rapid fire style.

These obsessive feelings are like. Needing to talk to them, intrusive thoughts about hurting them, wanting to find them IRL (even if they live states away), to show up where they are, to call them at ofd hours, constantly imagining a future together, and they're always very romantic/explicit in nature. They make me feel physically ill from how gross they are. They're like nonstop intrusive thoughts of a relationship, but with this intense desire to constantly act on them and a need to be around the person all the time. And not being close to the person makes the intrusive thoughts worse.

It has never happened with someone I have actual romantic attraction to, but it happens even if I don't know them in person or we never met IRL. Usually after they fade I feel ambivalent or cold or just vaguely normal about the person. So basically after a few months of agony it sorts out and I am free usually for 8-10 months. I've never dated someone I have an obsession with. I understand them enoughto know they wouldn't mimic intrusive thoughts if they were genuinely romantic feelings. Plus, they don't last. They always fade eventually and honestly, they seriously freak me out. I don't want to have murderous intrusive thoughts when someone doesn't pick up a Skype call. That's not my idea of romantic.

Usually, I just wait for these feelings to pass, or limit contact with the person, but this time. It's so much worse.

The person is my friend, and way too young for me. He's not a minor, he's just to young for me (4 years younger, its my personal thing). He's taken, not my type, and I've always seen him as a pesky younger brother of sorts, so I never even considered this would happen. Having these feelings about him makes me feel violently ill. I've tried ignoring him and pushing him away until they stopped, but he noticed and I feel guilty punishing him for a problem that's only in my head. It isn't his fault there's something wrong with me. But I dont know what to do. If I told him about it, I'm worried he might think I like him (I don't think I do, I know how my obsessions are and it isn't love) and based on comments he's made, I'm worried he might actually try to rope me into a polycule or shoot his shot with me. Neither of those would be good places for my mental state.

I also really don't want our other friends to hear about this because I have a crush on one friend who's way older than me (we're both adults but we would NOT have gone to high school together ha ha) and I still want to hold out hope that in a few years she might see me as a viable partner (a bi can dream...) which would be jeopardized if she knew I'm basically a freak of nature.

So I need to figure out how to fix this part of me, FAST. I can't keep doing this and I'm scared things will fall apart or I'll lose it trying to fix this but I'm scared of losing everything.

I wish I could just have been born normal but I wasn't and now I have to fix it. It doesn't feel fair, and I hate it, but I want to be normal and not have to deal with this anymore. I want to just be okay, and I don't know how. I just know that normal people don't do this and this scares me. I don't want to hurt people, I don't want to be like this, and I don't know how to fix it, so I just suffered in silence for years. And now I have to fix it and don't know where to start. I just needed to tell someone about it.

.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Azriel x Reader | Till Death Do Us Part? pt. 3

type: angst warning(s): depressive thoughts, gloomy, mentions of war, mentions of death and loss word count: 1.9k words summary: based on this request: Azriel is shattered over the loss of his mate, his life no longer makes sense until one day when he sees her again. He cannot believe his eyes–this is his mate. Only problem she does not remember him or what they once had and moreover is now part of his sworn nemesis’ court–the Autumn Court. 

masterlist

—all rights reserved—

“I don’t understand,” you breathe, your forehead laying in furrows. What could he possibly be referring to?

“You really don’t remember at all?” The spymaster’s voice is so stern, so empty of warmth. It feels like he is crumbling inside and you feel like you are the reason for it.

But what could you have possibly done?

“I think you confuse me for someone, Azriel.” It is your voice that draws tears to his eyes. He hasn't heard it in so long, but it is still so lovely, so beguiling, so beautiful — his absolute favourite sound in the world. 

“I do not.” “You do. We have never met and you claim to somehow know me. I think you might have mistaken me for someone. I am from Autumn, I have never been here. It would not make sense, Azriel.”

Azriel takes a step forward, somehow looming over you but not in a threatening way. “You are from here. You are not from Autumn. You are from the Night Court. This is your home, this is where you were born. Where we met and fell in love.” Fell in love. The words hang in the air between you, stretching out. The blood rushes in your ears at what he is insinuating. It cannot be possible. You draw in a deep breath, feeling like you are getting suffocated by all this information. You want to tear at your dress, allowing more air in your lungs. 

Azriel must have noticed your distressed expression because he reaches for you, but you quickly pulls your hands away. 

“You died in my arms and now you are somehow reborn.If only I could prove it somehow.”

You died? You think he is speaking in fever. The spymaster must have gone mad. 

“There is no proof. Because there has never been anything between the two of us. I don’t know you, Azriel. You are mistaking me for someone. Or you are going mad. But I am not who you think I am.” “But you are!” Azriel’s voice is loud, louder than you have expected it to be, hollowing in the room, bouncing of the walls. You shudder – not because you are scared, but because of the power in his voice. He seems like he really means what he is saying that…that disturbs you a little.

How could this all be possible? There is nothing like rebirth, is there? “I have a friend and she knows a lot about history, ancient history. And magic, the magic of the Cauldron, the magic of Prythian. We could ask her.” The tone in which Azriel has spoken his suggestion is hopeful. His eyes move over you, assessing how your body reacts to it. Often movements and what a person’s expression says speaks louder than what actually leaves their mouth. 

“I also need to talk to Eris,” you finally say after a moment of silence. Of course you need to talk to him. If Azriel really means what he says, Eris has to know. Maybe he can also help.

“You don’t need to involve him.” Azriel steps forward, eyebrows furrowed. HIs siphons glow when his power stretches our like a dark cloud.

You push of the desk behind you, stalking towards him. “You can’t tell what I can and cannot do. Eris is my High Lord and I have to and want to involve him. He has a right to know.”

The spymaster closes his eyes for a long moment. Then they open and he glances past you, his throat working on a swallow. He assess the office. Rhys’s office where he where questionings and meetings often take place. He looks at the wall of books, calling to every rational part in himself to convince him that he has to let you talk to Eris. He hates Eris with his whole being, but what you say is true – he cannot tell you what you are allowed to do and what not. It is your own decision, your choice.

“Now?” You are irritated and glance at him through narrowed lids when he finally looks back at you. Your breath once again catches in your throat when you are met with the warm hazel of his eyes, his features softer now. “You want to talk to him now?” “I think it is a good idea. I just disappeared with you that is not quite appropriate, you know? He has a right to know.”

Azriel slowly bows his head, extending his hand. “And then we will talk to Amren?” “Who is Amren?” This tears at Azriel’s heart but he does not let the pain show. You truly don't remember anything of your past life. “A friend” he says in a tight voice and watches how you take his hands, your soft palm brushing his callused skin, your hands perfectly fitting like they always did. 

He smiles a little to himself but it doesn’t go unnoticed by you, also not the light blush staining his cheeks. Voluntarily or not, you smile as well, loving how your small hand fits his big one. 

Azriel opens the door with his other hand and for a moment you question yourself why you so easily took his hand. Haven’t you always been rather reserved when it came to males? Never allowed any physical contact because something has always been holding you back? Now, whatever that thing has been, is no longer holding you back. Lets you old his hand without further thought and that does something to you. It makes you think. Think that he might be right. Could it be that you—

“Where have you been, Lady—“ Eris eyes fall to your and Azriel’s entangled hands and he stops, eyes going wide. You quickly pull your hand out if his hold which leaves both you and Azriel with a sudden cold feeling. You shudder slightly, something like pain and disappointment reaching you from—? From somewhere? There is this sudden tangy taste in the back of your mouth and you have no idea where it comes from. Yes, it probably is your own emotion but then…it is so strong and poignant like you are feeling someone else’s feelings as well. 

“We had some business to discuss, High Lord,” Azriel says in a serious tone, his expression stoic. 

“Something I need to discuss with you as well.”

Eris furrows his brows even further, but slowly agrees. 

**********

“His mate?!” You can’t really place if he is outrageous or just shocked. But Eris paces around in the same office you have just been in a few minutes ago. His hands are thrown up in despair and he looks at you like you have grown another head. “What the hell? Is this a silly joke you came up with? How should that be possible?”

“Azriel is summoning a female called Amren. Maybe she can clear everything up. But I don’t understand either, High Lord.” While you talk to Eris, Azriel has informed Rhys and Feyre, Cass and Nesta, everyone. Cass is currently picking up Amren while Azriel waits outside the office so you and Eris can talk. Later on he will bring you to the Moonstone Palace. 

“And he said you died.” “He did. And that I was reborn.” “That is not possible.” “I said the same, but he is so sure.” Eris shakes his head and moves closer to you. “Would you want it?” He swallows and examines your face. “Would you want it to be true? To be mates with him?” One shoulder lifting, you shrug because you have no answer. No and yes. Azriel seems like a genuine male, kind and respectful, but then he is a stranger to you. You don’t know him–maybe you do? You feel like screaming, your head pounding and blood rushing in your ears. This is too much, too overwhelming. Too much is happening, too much information is in your brain. 

You inhale a deep breath when you feel like fainting for a moment. You need answers and a solution to all of it, you know that if no answers was found that night it would suffocate you. 

For a moment longer you talk to Eris and he is a good male, so he agrees to you meeting up with Amren but only under the condition of him joining as well. 

Azriel winnows first Eris and then you to the Moonstone Palace. He wants to give you some time alone to think. And he wants to have some time alone with you to talk once again without the others.

“I am sorry I am putting you through all of this,” Azriel says when he appears again, the nest of shadows slowly vanishing from around him. He moves closer to you, extending his hand once again. “Are you alright?” “I am, but I just want the truth, to know what this is all really about.” Azriel nods and offers you a small smile that you return. When you take his hand he brings you closer to his body, keeping you safe when he shadow-winnows away. You draw in his scent, the smell to familiar it has your chest warming. You more and more start to think that he might have said the truth. He might be right. 

Your eyes widen when the shadows and dark mist disappears and revealed to you is the most beautiful palace you have ever seen. The Moonstone Palace. 

It is made of moonstone and is perched above an enormous mountain. The halls are wide and open with towering pillars and gossamer curtains, swaying in a breeze. 

There are no windows so magic must keep the palace warm. 

Your lips feel a little dry when your turn to Azriel with wide eyes. “It is beautiful,” you breathe and Azriel wants to say that you are beautiful, but he holds back. It wouldn’t be appropriate now. 

Loud voices already reach you when you near what is soon revealed as the dining room. You enter alongside Azriel and are met with Rhysand and Feyre, High Lord and Lady of the Night Court, and some other people. None of their faces rings a bell, but somehow they all feel familiar. This thought makes the content of our stomach sour because you have an inkling what that means. 

“Hello, Y/N,” Rhysand, High Lord of the Night, says and inclines his head. Your curtsy as well, eyes jumping from one person to the other. 

Feyre moves a hand over her mouth, inhaling a deep, shuddering breath while a female next to shakes her head in disbelief. 

“This is madness,” you breathe and feel a presence step closer to you. Azriel. But not only Azriel. Also Eris steps away from Rhysand and nears you. “I think we need some answers now,” your High Lord says, loud and commanding. His jaw is clenched and his eyes trail over your face, stopping at your eyes. “Y/N deserves answers and a solution.”

You look at Eris, offer him a small smile and then glance up at Azriel, eyes narrowing in on his when you feel something in your chest warm. Like some ancient power comes alive. Your body is filled with warmth, electricity flooding your veins.

It is then that a small female with raven black hair enters the room. She wears a feline grin on her lips, eyes aglow. “Hello, Y/N. Seems like someone has conquered death. I brought something for you.”

She lifts her hand, the rectangular canvas she is holding. May eyes widen, I cannot believe what I see. Because what I see…is me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess

[angelosearch]

Happy b-day to my girl Rinoa. I wish I had fic or art ready to post today but I don't :(

All I will say is that writing in her perspective for an extended period of time, and therefore looking at her lines and behaviors over and over again, has just really made me appreciate Rinoa as a character.

A few things I love about her:

As the daughter of what we are led to believe are Galbadia's highest ranking general and one of the world's biggest celebrities, Rinoa is privileged. She comes from a position of power and wealth. She could have just lived a comfortable life but she chooses to use her knowledge and skills to help free a country from violent occupation. Doing so puts her at great personal risk, and although she may not fully understand how risky it is, it is extremely brave and righteous for her to do this. This is why I believe Rinoa is not Ultimecia - because at her core, she is someone who places her values over personal gain when she has power and influence. She can be possessed but I don't believe she corruptible (into Ultimecia, anyway).

On her bravery, we all know that Rinoa fears doing things alone. But many times in the game, she does things alone anyway. Bravery is not the absence of fear but the willingness to challenge it, and our girl challenges it all the time!

Further, she makes the active decision to rejoin the SeeDs after Irvine escorts her out of D-District prison. What I realized in writing my fic, which is an alternate timeline, is that Rinoa actually has no established reason to go to the missile base. But you can assign her to that party. And she will do it without complaint. She is risking her life, not to earn money, or to move her mission in Timber forward, or even to spend more time with Squall. She will go because she thinks it's the right thing to do, and because she wants to help Selphie, someone she has just met.

She gives people the benefit of the doubt. There is no denying that Squall is a huge jerk to her at times early game, but she is emotionally intelligent enough to realize that whatever he is projecting is not about her. And then she tries, over and over, to reach out to him. She is so patient. But also, she gives Deling the benefit of the doubt - they were trying to reason with him on the train, not even blackmail him or threaten him, but just have a conversation. She tries to not kill Edea TWICE. She tries to use the bangle to circumvent assassination and then tries to get the SeeDs to find another way to face her. She even returns to Esthar after they were hostile toward her. She believes in the good of people. Maybe that's being naive but if we were all as cynical as some other characters in this game, the world would completely fall apart.

Rinoa is always thinking. She is crafty, she comes up with interesting plans, and she can even be a bit of a schmoozer. Rinoa is only 17, and so some of this is not always executed in the best way; but I think she is extremely intelligent and creative. And, I mean, you GOTTA BE if you can teach your dog all those amazing tricks.

Don't you DARE call her a damsel in distress. She is just as much the hero of FFVIII as Squall is and YES I will die on this hill. Does she get into some pretty nasty situations? Yes. Are some of these situations caused by mistakes on her part? Absolutely. But this girl is far from helpless and goes all out to save Squall, her friends, and ALL OF TIME AND SPACE. She was willing to go to Edea by herself with a bangle that she had idea if it worked to help her friends. She was at peace with being locked away for probably the rest of her life if that meant keeping the world safe. She was willingly possessed by an evil sorceress for a second time after having a traumatic more-than-near-death experience the first time (she hadn't even experienced an Ellone dream before so imagine how scary this entire prospect was??? Like yes you need to lose your conciousness to some future bitch again and then you have to go into this other bitch's head in the past in this dreamscape you've never even been in and then yeah all of time is gonna collapse if/when you come to, you cool with that, Rinoa?). At the end of the game, she physically travels between dimensions/time/space/realities to find Squall and revive him, and then transport them back to their own reality which is obvious savior stuff. But she also saves Squall throughout the game by staying by his side, asking the right questions, listening to him, and giving him validation that, while he doesn't accept, he needs to hear. And oh yeah she fucks up Irvine to go get Squall out of prison. There's a reason they only call her "princess" once in the game - because she's NOT just a princess.

She cute as fuck js not just physically but also the things she says and her mannerisms. She's just so charming! No wonder Squall fell toss-myself-into-space in love with her! Me too tf

Tbh there are more reasons but this post is already longer than I thought it was going to be. Apparently I just have a lot of Rinoa feelings okay?! Okay.

Love you, happy birthday you absolute angel you ❤️

[janicekao]

My Forever

Pairing: Count Dracula/Gerard Butler x Black oc (dark smut) Summary: Based off of the movie plot of "Dracula 2000." After years of being locked away, the charming Count Dracula visits New Orleans in the year of 2000. As he wanders away from the loud celebration of Mardi Gras, he runs into a damsel in distress... A young woman on the verge of su!cide whose image absolutely takes his breath away. Warnings: vampire, cnc, n0ncon,dub!c0n, narrative pov, rough s3x, d0m&femsub, agegap, bl00d, vi0lence, smut, su1c1de, murd3r, v1rginity taking, s0mno, s0mnophilia etc. 5438 words Wattpad link:

Enjoy my babies <3 -----------------------------------

The year is 2000 and Count Dracula has finally been set free.

Being locked away in a chamber for the last seventy years has dried his body out to a state of decomposed dust. He needs blood, and he needs it now.

A group of thieves expected to encounter fortune and riches as they broke inside millionaire Mathew Van Helsing's property, Mathew being the direct decedent of the famous Vampire Hunter Abraham Van Helsing. Little did the thieves know that Van Helsing's chamber had no riches... The chamber was only used to protect mankind from the evils of a vampire that simply cannot be destroyed.

The thieves opened Dracula's bolted shut coffin and met their immediate demise. Dracula drained each of them of their blood, one by one.

The blood pouring down his throat sends a chill down his spine each time. His crumbling skin turns back into lively-youthful flesh, and Dracula becomes handsome once again.

Awoken! And back to being the womanizer that he's been for thousands of years, he's eager to see what the minxes of this generation will be like... the thought alone hardens his cock and protrudes his fangs.

Before he can enjoy himself and prey on women, Dracula however is seeking revenge... Revenge on the man who captured him and kept him locked away for so very long. And what better way to retaliate than going after his captor's daughter?

Mary Van Helsing, Mathew's only daughter and the latest victim of Dracula's power of seduction and infiltrating one's mind.

She has seen him in her dreams and sometimes even while she is awake. Never knowing to fear the man inside of her dreams, being that each time he comes to her... he is charming, gentle, and even trustworthy.

Little does she know his charisma is all part of the deception. Her life is in jeopardy and now that he has awakened, her dreams are soon to become reality.

As Dracula walks the streets of New Orleans searching for Mary, he is nearly shocked to see the differences in today's women. Shorts as tiny as underwear, blouses as tiny as bras, and daring red lips on faces full of makeup.

Although the sight makes him aroused, he recognizes that the women who dressed like this were once seen as easy. Dracula isn't interested in seducing women that are whores, he enjoys the challenge... The challenge of virtuous women that he is used to seeing when he was awake and roaming the world in the early 1900s. Women who dressed head to toe in long gowns, refusing seduction however would always fail, falling in the arms of Dracula.

Unimpressed with the scantly dressed of Bourbon Street, Dracula feels that maybe his adventures this time will be strictly business... No seductive fun after all, just revenge.

Being that MardiGras is currently being celebrated, the extremely old school vampire decides to leave the racket of loud music and crowded streets behind as he makes his way through the woods, swamp areas, and backroads.

Now in the quiet peace of Louisiana's countryside, he brainstorms his plans that he has for the young and innocent Mary Van Helsing.

He plans to seduce her into sweet sex. He will then have her drink his blood and take her life in a blink of an eye. She will then not only become a vampire, but because of his blood in her system, Mary will be forever attached... Forever linked to the vampire who made her this way, and forever his servant.

During Dracula's walk, he begins to hear the soothing sounds of a lake. He peers through the trees, following the sounds as he longs for the missed breath of nature's fresh air.

He finds this lake, silently enjoying the wind off of its small currents and deeply inhaling its beauty, and then exhaling.

Noticing a bridge that crosses over the beautiful lake, Dracula meets the eyes of the prettiest woman he has ever laid eyes on.

...

"Wow."His breath hitches in his throat, being immediately taken in awe of her presence.

The girl swings her feet off of the side of the bridge as she sits on the bridge's concrete and watches the tiny ripples of water beneath her.

Her hair large and full of black curls, eyes brown, and lips plump... perfectly kissable. But what makes his heart pace the most, is her skin. Tawny and made of silk, however marbled in spots of peach, like the finest China you'd ever see.

Dracula however also notices the sadness in her eyes. Although being at least a hundred-feet apart, he still can see the tears that bubble in her mysteriously dark eyes.

Within a blink of an eye, she jumps...

A suicide attempt.

Dracula wouldn't be himself if he didn't pursue after a woman that caught his eye the way that she did... So just for a moment, Dracula switches his nature from a villain to the hero.

Jumping into the lake, Dracula swims to her, finding her near the bottom of the swampy lake.

Wrapping his arms around her waist feels too perfect for him. Almost like the fitting of the last two pieces of an extremely complicated puzzle.

His determination to save her kicks into high drive.

Although he has many plans of seducing her and keeping her chained to him, at the moment he'd be satisfied with just hearing the sweet voice that will escape her perfect pout when she breathes again.

The two resurface and he swims her lifeless body unto the bank.

Laying perfectly still, the girl doesn't have much life in her. Like sleeping beauty, it's evident that she's inhaled too much water.

Her beauty, so very enamoring and overwhelming, Dracula even hesitates to approach her.

"Magnificent." He coos.

Pressing his strong palms onto her chest and stomach, he begins to pump water out of the girl, watching it pour out of her mouth and down her face.

Hearing her gently cough as she regains consciousness is relieving. However, her wet skin is enticing... Dracula already knows that she will become his, so why wait?

His fingers grace across the vitiligo that perfectly stains her skin as his thumb traces her plush lips and deep onto the bed of her tongue.

Her mouth, so warm... Dracula immediately groans.

The girl's blouse is soaked and as her chest rises and falls with each breath, he can't help but notice her top unbuttoned and revealing the fullness of her breasts and perky brown nipples.

His pale lips press against her neck as his hands gently cup and dimple her breasts. Her skin blushes, drawing warm blood back into her, and damn does it smell good to him.

He wants to drink her blood dry, but he wants to fuck her much more.

Although her eyes are still closed as she finds her way back into consciousness, the girl begins to purr underneath his touch as her malleable tits writhe with goosebumps beneath him.

He smiles, whispering gently against her tiny breaths. "Sweet little kitten. That must feel so good to you, yeah?"

Pressing a kiss onto her lips, Dracula moves down her body into taking her full breasts into his mouth... inhaling and sucking ruthlessly on her flesh.

His fang draws light blood with a nip to her hardened bud. The pleasurable pain makes her gasp, body gently bucking beneath him.

Her eyes slightly peak open and Dracula's immediate seduction calms her worry...

His cock begins to ache in its tight confinements. "Should I continue?"

She hesitates, unsure of why she wants to nod yes, but she does it anyway.

Satisfied with her submissive answer, Dracula immediately drips with his first bead of precum of this century. "Good girl." Grunting out gentle groans, he continues to seduce.

His talon like nail reaches beneath her skirt. He scratches her like a knife from her thigh up to her fabric covered cunt before cutting the lace panty off of her with just a flick of his nail.

Using the soft bed of his palm and fingertips, Dracula's hand dampens as he rubs her plumped cunt until her hips begin to buck.

She gulps. "I-I'm so tired."

Her sweet tone forces him to release his hard cock before it tears out of his zipper. "And that's why you must let me take care of you. What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Dovie." Her sweet voice is barely audible.

"Dovie..." Dracula repeats. "The dove... a symbol of peace, innocence, and beauty. Your name is fitting my love.Dovie, I have been needing you."

He leans furthermore against her, beginning to slide his erection back and forth against her slickness. His hands hold tightly onto her hips, waiting patiently for the perfect time to stretch her with his aching cock.

"Hey!" A woman on a walk around the lake with her dog intervenes... "What the hell are you doing to her?"

He ignores her, overly enamored with his newest love.

"I'll call the cops asshole!" The woman refuses to move on. "Step away from the girl!"

Dracula becomes annoyed. He attacks the woman at the speed of lightning.

As he scratches the woman and draws blood from her neck, his seduction is interrupted and taken away from Dovie.

Dovie sits up in the grass, half nude and confused. She gasps as she takes notice to the man she was just enamored with as he threatens to take a woman's life.

"Just say the word, Dovie." A handsome yet dangerous grin appears across Dracula's face. "Say the world and I'll drain her of her every drop of blood."

Fright fills Dovie like hot lava. "What?— NO DON'T!!" She shouts.

...

He clicks his tongue with taunt. "Tsk tsk tsk, wrong word Dovie."

Dracula's fangs latch onto the woman's throat as he empties her body like a juice box. He tosses her into the lake as if she weighed as much as a feather, letting a Louisiana crocodile chomp on her for a Saturday brunch...

Dovie screams in terror, she tries to get up from the grass however her wet sneakers cause her to slip, making her tired frame fall back to the ground.

By time she gets herself back onto her knees, she feels a hand on the back of her skirt, refusing to let her run.

Dracula forces her still with hands gripped around her waist, he kicks her knees wider apart and she becomes frightened feeling the air beneath her skirt where she is clearly bare. Settling himself behind her, Dracula feasts on her fear. Rubbing his even more aroused cock quicker through her pussy lips.

Dovie cries, trying her best not to become so wet for him even though her body has already been conditioned to his touch. She attempts to pry his fingers from her waist, however all it does is force his hands higher... Higher to the point of rolling her hardened nipples through his fingers and making her squeal with unwanted arousal.

The lake is so empty... Calling for help is a waste of time being that the only one who will hear her is the woman's dog running away and dragging its leash.

Her fear overpowers Dracula's seduction, making him having to kick it into high gear. Dracula bites his wrist, forcing the girl to drink his blood. With his blood inside of her, the worry will pass and only obsession will be left. She will be his until it fades out of her system.

Fighting the wrist against her mouth, the first drop of his blood is all she needs before wanting to hold onto him and drink him empty.

What seems to be the finest red wine oozing down her throat, Dovie's eyes roll back into her head. She continues to drink from his wrist and intwines her fingers with his as he allows it.

Her sweet nature is so intoxicating... His baby.Wanting to hold his hand as he feeds her his blood.

The sensation becomes too much for him. As Dovie drinks, becoming more obsessed with him, she arches her back... beginning to tease him as she glides her wet pussy on the shaft of his cock, even pressing his tip into her tight entry as she taunts him.

Dracula's breath is caught into his throat as he fights the urge to release.

He loses.

His throbbing tip releases a load of cum. Jerking forward each time his nut spickets out of him. He watches her pretty brown skin covered in his milky glaze, nearly falling in love as he watches the girl finger it inside of her.

Becoming dizzy, he realizes how long she's been drinking from his wrist... far too long.

He snatches his wrist from her and the girl immediately pleads for more. "Please! I-I wasn't done!"

"Trust me, you were." He gulps, watching his wound slowly heal. "Dovie, how are you feeling now?"

"I feel incredible!" She falls back into the pillow of grass, unworried about the fact that she's soaked from her suicide attempt of jumping off of a bridge.

Dracula became the way that he is from his suicide many moons ago. He hung himself, and for that sin, the good Lord cursed him with immortality as the beast that he is today.

Suicide has a special place in his heart, he absolutely hates that a pretty girl like Dovie was sad enough to take her own life. No one ever deserves that very last feeling a person gets before deciding to commit suicide... A feeling of being so alone and at an all time low.

"Why did you jump off of that bridge, Dovie?" Full with confusion, Dracula asks the question he was curious about all along.

"Oh.." Her smile fades.

She shrugs. "Honestly...Because life just isn't what it's made out to be. Like in literature, or films, and celebrities. It's nothing like it. Reality is being twenty-four, having student loan debt, a nonexistent love life, and a job that pays less than eight-fifty an hour. I just... didn't have a reason to live... I just felt, tired."

"Hey!" She begins to smile again. "Ya know what? I never got your name!"

"I need to know it if I plan on screaming it all night."Dovie pushes Dracula onto his back as she crawls over him and sits unto his lap. Although he's already zipped up, he almost takes his cock out again as Dovie grinds her bare cunt into his crotch.

"Vlad Dracula, but Dracula is just fine." He instantly stops her hips. "Dovie, when you say nonexistent love life, what do you mean?"

"Hmm, let's see..." She sarcastically teases. "A loser virgin! Duh!"

Mmm.

A virgin.

Could she get any sweeter?

Dracula instantly feels the need to make her forever his, but if he does that... it wouldn't help her situation very much.

What the girl needs, is the opportunity to live.

He knows that he's here in New Orleans for one thing... But, what can he do when he runs into a damsel in distress as pretty as Dovie?

He decides to momentarily put his Van Helsing revenge on hold, now that something much more important has come up.

His newest mission: Give Dovie Larson the life that she'd quite literally kill to have.

Romance, fun, wealth, and whatever the depressed girl's heart desires.

——————

Stopping first at a shopping mall, Dracula thinks that maybe the girl would enjoy dressing like the other women he has come across today. Scantly, however intoxicatingly delicious.

With a body like Dovie's, he is sure the world will soon stand at attention as they admire her beauty. She deserves to see herself as something beautiful, not 'a loser virgin.'

Holding each other's hand as they walk through the store, Dracula still manages to draw attention from his overpowering charm and power of seduction.

"How do you do that?" Dovie perks a curious brow.

"Do what?" He chuckles.

Dovie being territorial, rolls her eyes at the gawking women in pure jealousy. "How do you make every woman, young or old, stare at you like that?"

He hasn't a reason to lie... "Don't let your thoughts deceive your eyes... You know exactly what you saw. I am a vampire Dovie, my powers are to charm and to seduce in order to kill."

She freezes in her path. Dracula sighs, patiently awaiting for her to freak out, hate him, and even storm off..

"I know what I saw." She begins. "I know what you are. But I don't believe in your charm and seduction... Are you saying that that's what you have done to me? Is that why I love you?"

Dracula chuckles, sucking his teeth trying to control his growing feelings for the cute girl.

"You love me." He repeats. "Sweet girl, that's only the obsession talking. You barely know me Dovie, but it's okay. It's still nice to hear sometimes, even for an old decrepit blood sucker like myself. But you don't love me dear, however maybe you will after all of this fun we will have today, yeah?"

She blushes. "Yeah."

The two search for overpriced dresses and outfits that Dovie will feel her best in. At one point so obsessed with him, the girl began to beg for his sex in the fitting room.

Dracula becomes even more amused with his powers. His ability to seduce at an all time high the older that he gets.

The older the wine, the better. Right?

But their sex will have to wait, the girl needs to see that there's more to life than bills and depression.

After modeling a few outfits for Dracula, his temptation gets the best of him as he begins to gently treat her body like royalty...

He loves every inch of this girl... The poor old man can hardly take his hands off of her.

Dovie struts around the dressing room in a gothic blood-red and black lingerie set and instantly sets fire in Dracula's loins.

"Perfection." He kisses her skin gently, leaving hickies at her neck and even on the plushness of her breasts and behind. Her skin tastes heavenly.

As Dovie grins, a heartwarming smile of perfectly white teeth, he yearns for her even more.

She coddles his strong arms as they caress her body and she accepts every kiss that he gives. "Is this something we can have forever?"

Dracula's compulsion on women usually has them at his feet like a loyal dog, never has he felt the literal romance that Dovie continues to drown him in.

He gulps. "If that's what you want Dovie."

She smiles. "It is."

Dracula and Dovie head towards the cash register where he begins to show her another of his powers. With just a look in his eyes, he can compel whatever he wants out of any living soul.

The young cashier pops his chewing gum as he rocks out to the music in his headphones, he hardly even looks at them as he continues to scan each of Dovie's new pieces of clothing. "That'll be $1,300."

"You have such nice eyes young man." Dracula persuades. "Can I see them?"

"Yeah dude!" The cashier laughs. "They say I get them from my granddad—"

Dracula immediately compels him through the eye contact.

"Tony." Dracula reads the cashier's name tag as the compulsion keeps him in a still hold. "These clothes... they are free today."

"Yes." The boy almost sounds zombie like. "The clothes are free today."

Dracula grins. "Very good."

Impressed with Dracula's powers, Dovie can't believe all of the expensive designer clothes that they walk out of the store with, her smile is never ending.

"Dracula, you've done so much for me!" She begins. "What can I do for you?"

"Hmm." He begins to ponder. "Well I am quite hungry..."

Dovie begins in excitement. "Perfect! I know this Burger place that is half off during MardiGras—"

"Not for burgers, my dear." He chuckles, gently placing a kiss to the back of her knuckles.

"Oh..." She gulps. "That's right, sorry, I forgot. You're hungry for human blood."

Dracula nods.

She smiles. "Luckily I know just the place for that too!"

————

The compelling doesn't end at the shopping mall, it continues to the Lavrone Palace, the swankiest and most expensive hotel in Louisiana.

Dracula compels his way through the front desk, scoring him and his newest lover the biggest suite the hotel has to offer.

The room... so dark and mysteriously gothic, Dracula feels immediately at home.

"Now this— this is way better than a steel coffin." He stretches his old and tired body onto the suite's mattress.

"Would you just look at this place!?" Dovie squeals. "It's absolutely stunning!"

She takes her shopping bags of a brand new wardrobe into the bathroom, singing with joy and excitement.

Dracula begins to smile.

Just this morning, the girl was taking her own life. Now she is seeing every reason why she shouldn't have.

"Dracula?" Dovie's voice becomes muffled on the other side of the door.

"Yes Dovie?" Dracula yawns, stretching his popping joints on the comforts of the hotel's decorative pillows.

"Just curious..." She begins. "With your blood in me, are we like... connected?"

Dracula grins over her curiosity. "Yes dear. Almost as if we were one. I feel your presence, as much as you feel mine."

He begins to feel aroused, reminiscing on the way that she looked in her lingerie today at the mall. "Dovie my dear, come back out here. Let me see that little red number you wore for me in the dressing room."

She doesn't answer...

"Dovie?" Becoming worried Dracula continues to call for her.

He gets up from his comfortable lounging, slowly opening the creaky bathroom door... Dovie is long gone, and a window swings wide opened...

He sighs in annoyance.

He often forgets the other attributes of receiving his blood. Although his victim becomes infatuated with him, they also have a sense of adventure and exhilaration.

Dovie's burst of energy has her playing games, wanting Dracula to find her with his sense of connection.

Tired and hungry, the vampire rolls his eyes in aggravation, soon following after the girl with his heightened sense of smell.

Through the streets of New Orleans, Dracula closes his eyes and attempts to follow his instincts.

His senses directs him into a night club. Just opening for the evening as night falls, Dracula pays his door fair and soon finds himself in a packed club full potential victims and blaring House Music.

(A/N: play for throwback club aesthetics😙)

Strobe lights aggravate Dracula's sensitive eyes and per usual, the women can't keep their eyes off of him. But, he isn't interested in any of them, only wanting to find his lover and get out of the treacherous dance club.

He senses Dovie... But she isn't anywhere to be found...

Nearly giving up on searching for her, his eyes immediately meet with hers as she struts down the staircase, coming from the second floor.

Her beauty demands everyone's attention and as beautiful as she looks, she deserves it all.

The song even heightens her strong presence. "Be my lover. Won't you be my lover?"

"Hello handsome." Dovie flirts, twisting Dracula's heart in one of her brand new outfits. "You found me after all."

"I told you I would." Dracula gulps. "Dovie, don't leave again."

She smiles. "You missed me? It's okay. I have a surprise for you, and then we will spend the night dancing."

"Dancing?" Dracula laughs. "The last dancing I've done was in 1920, I had just learned the Charleston, and now I'm guessing that's long out of style."

Dovie chuckles as she places a gentle kiss onto Dracula's lips. "We will have to work on it... But first, come with me."

Dracula takes Dovie's hand as she leads him upstairs. The twisting of her hips infront of him puts his head on dizzy swivel.

"Dracula." She begins. "I'd like you to meet my new friend, Ashley. I told her about my handsome boyfriend that was dying to meet her."

"Hi." Ashley begins to blush, already succumbing to Dracula's charm and seduction. "Dovie here told me her boyfriend was handsome, but you... you are extraordinary. There is a private room down the hall, are you guys up to a threesome?"

Dracula hovers over the girl, he smells the warm blood flowing through her neck and kisses where he plans to puncture her skin.

"What do you say Dovie?" He manages to ask within a devious smirk. "Up to a threesome my love?

Dovie knows not to feel jealous being that Dracula's pure intentions is to drink the stranger dry.

She nods. "I'm right behind you baby."

Into the private room, Dracula locks the door behind his ladies.

He cant seem to take his eyes from Dovie as her new found confidence is breathtaking. She sits on the couch, popping a bottle of chilled champagne as she pours herself a glass.

Dovie crosses her silky brown legs, letting the long slit of her dress tease at the opened flesh of her thighs. She waits patiently for the show, not realizing that the real show, is her.

With focus completely on Dovie, Dracula hardly even notices Ashley latched onto his body as her lipstick leaves stains of kisses on his skin.

As Ashley's hand moves into his pants, Dovie becomes annoyed.

She rolls her eyes, swirling her expensive champagne in her glass. "Foods getting cold, Drac."

Her jealous sass turns him on, forcing a grin at the corners of his lips.

"Yes baby, then I'll make haste." Dracula tears the clothes from the girl's body with his sharpened nail.

Ashley gets pleasure from it. Orgasming from the force and expecting a night of insane sex.

"Ohh pretty Dove?"The girl swoons, singing as she chuckles. "Why don't you join us?"

Dovie shrugs. "I think I'll watch, wouldn't want my new dress to get messy."

"Mmm." Ashley coos, arching her back as Dracula drags a welting scratch down her body with his fingernail. "So take it off."

He pierces the girl's skin. Groaning from the taste of her blood as he licks it off at the tip of his finger.

Ashley gasps, beginning to giggle in drunken laughter. "Kinky! Be easy with me okay?"

"Yes..." Dracula lies. "Easy."

Ashley's eyes grow in shock as his fangs protrude and eyes redden as he tears into her jugular... far too late to scream.

Her body goes limp as the blood splatters on each wall of the room.

Dracula continues to drink... Gulping and feasting on a girl who never expected her life to end tonight.

Finishing his meal, Dracula drops the pale and completely drained corpse to the ground, wiping his mouth to rid his leftovers from his face.

Out of breath, he pants... Satisfied and gently groaning as his cock enlarges and tightens his pants.

"Shall we go dancing now?" Dovie questions.

Dracula has other plans...

He takes the mostly full bottle of champagne, throwing it with all of his force as he shatters the glass window.

"No dancing." He takes Dovie's hand. "Just fucking."

Horny and impatient, Dracula refuses the stairs. He wraps his arms around Dovie's waist and introduces her to another of his powers, the ability to fly.

When Dracula is in his form of a bat, he's able to fly with his black leathery wings. However in the form of a man, he glides through the air with impossibly large jumps.

He takes Dovie to the roof of the nightclub. Forcing her eyes open, he promises that when she's in his arms she'll always be safe.

With eyes wide open, Dovie watches as they soar together rooftop to rooftop. The wind through her curls is perfect, and Dracula was right, in his arms... she feels more than safe.

Reaching the roof of their hotel, Dracula and Dovie enter their opened window as the romance begins.

Lips against each other, their kiss is lewd and sinful. They strip each other of their clothes and obsess over each of their bodies.

Strong arms and a plumped-lengthy cock eager to split her open, and a soft curvy body that has never had its cherry popped.

The air is thick and overwhelmingly hot.

Dracula's power to seduce is nothing compared to Dovie's natural power. She's undeniably perfect.

He can't believe it... A woman who cared enough to sacrifice a life for him to feed... He's never had a woman to care for him in his entire life.

Is it possible to find true love within a day?

His tongue glides up her body. Sliding from tongue kisses on her dripping cunt to leaving a trail up her smooth belly and to her puffy areolas and hardened nipples.

Dracula grabs her by the throat. Not to choke her, just to kiss her so deeply that she'd forget whose air she was breathing.

Spreading her legs further apart, he begins to pump his erection into her tight entry. Only his bulbous head penetrating her, however they both near a climax.

Before it's too late, he goes for it... Plummeting his cock into the tight tunnel of her insides, he loses his breath in unbelievable shock of how fantastic she feels.

Light pink blood begins to cover his member mixed with her nectar... How fucking perfect? Two of his favorite things, blood and pussy.

His thumb circles her throbbing clit until she begs him to stop, he doesn't. He grabs her wrists above her head, continuing to torture her pretty little pink cunt until she trembles with orgasm. "Dracula, have mercy!"

"Fuck me Dovie." Switching positions, Dracula lays on his back as the cutie rides for her first time.

Slowly sitting on the aching eight inches of his girthy cock, Dovie hisses and bites her lip as she takes it all.

Eyes rolling back in pure pleasure and ecstasy, Dracula groans as he watches Dovie's pussy stretch around his erection, taking it so far until the tummy bulge coming through her belly is evident.

He grabs her hips and directs how he wants to be fucked, precum already beetling out each time she bucks against him.

The sounds of lewd skin slapping together, has never sounded so good. Dracula's obsession for the girl is overwhelming, wanting to die in this pussy if he had to.

Her purrs are so enticing. Squealing angelic whimpers through the pleasurable pain, obediently submitting to whatever he wants.

Enamored by the bouncing of her flesh, Dracula cups her breasts and runs his fingers all throughout her body. Feeling his cum erupting, he stills Dovie's body onto his lap, forcing his every inch against her cervix as her sopping wet cunt soaks his balls.

Snatching her by the back of her neck, Dracula tongue kisses her. They both watch as his drilling cock slows to a finish and she gushes his hot seed from her tiny battered hole.

His mind fills with thoughts that he begins to share as Dovie sweetly continues to ride him soft.

"You and me, forever." He gulps, gently heaving tired yet overly stimulated breaths. "This everyday, every second. I need this.You and I can rule the world Dovie. Just close your eyes, with my blood in you, you'll wake up and we can be together forever. I'm in love with you... I now see that the only reason for coming to New Orleans was the universe bringing me to you, nothing else."

Dracula cups her face, staring into her large brown eyes with pure infatuation. "The same way that you brought me Ashley... You will bring me more, my sweet girl. Our next victim, a college girl Mary Van Helsing is her name... you will bring her to me."

....

Dovie quietly begins to redress and pack.

So full of himself and high off of the love they made, Dracula lays back into the red silk sheets imagining what else the two of them can do in an immortal life together.

"Dovie?" He finally begins to question her silence.

"No, Dracula... I can't." Dovie disagrees with his plans.

He immediately frowns... If she's able to resist him, his blood has worn out of her system.

"How long have you been off of my blood?" Feeling bamboozled, his tone darkens.

"Since the club." She admits.

"Then why'd you come back here with me? Why did you fake all of that?" He snaps.

"I faked nothing." Dovie explains, whilst her shopping bags in hand. "Can't you believe that a woman would still sleep with you without your compulsion? Dracula, I have had the most wonderful day with you. So much joy, that I actually want to continue to live. Our sex was only something that I could dream of having before today! But, I can't be what you want me to be..."

"But you've already done it?" Nearly wanting to drop to his knees and beg her to stay, he attempts to convince her to be his forever. "With Ashley? You fed me, you must love me as much as I love you?"

She smiles. "I do! I will love you forever for being the man who saved my life! Isn't this what you wanted? For me to change my mind about suicide?"

It is what he wanted... But is it a shame that now he wants more?

So tempted to grab her and force his blood back into her mouth, he just can't do it. He's never felt like this for anyone in his thousands of years of living. Even with all the evil he's done in life, harming Dovie Larson, won't be one of them.

"I'm not a killer." Dovie continues. "I can't continue to bring you victims because the reason that I gave you Ashley, was because she deserved it. Before you found me, I watched this woman drugging women's drinks at the bar... When they began to get sleepy, she continued to bring them upstairs to her private room and assault them. I decided that the world is better off without people like her. So, I hit on her, told her that you and I wanted to have some fun with her... and then you took her life, as she deserved. I don't regret it, but I don't plan on making it a habit."

She's become so strong. His hypnosis long over with and faded, now that she has finally found her own will to live.

Dracula although heartbroken, he is proud.

"Well, where will you go?" His eyebrows furrow, worried that he will never see the love of his life again.

Flashing her heartmelting thousand-watt smile once more, Dovie gives him a final kiss on his lips. "Home."

He watches the girl leave... Strutting like a reborn superstar, Dovie leaves their suite with her bags of luxury clothes. She gives off an aura of immense confidence and joy... it makes Dracula smile.

Soaring out of the window, onto the hotel's window ledge, Dracula watches Dovie catch a taxi and soon forever leaves his view.

With his blood out of her system, he has no way of tracking her... she's just, gone.

They both will never forget each other.

Dracula wished to show the beautiful and innocent girl how to live, what he didn't realize, is that she had done the very same for him.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Small Prince (Vincent/Apollo)

A belated birthday gift to @bellafarallones2 based on something we discussed on discord!

Apollo is not cut out to be an uncle. But at least he did not have to become a father. 

It happened like this: when he and his brother, Indrid, were twenty-two, they were summoned to the throne room by their father. They were not alone, which was lucky as the look in the king's eyes was the kind that seldom bode well for their wellbeing. 

“Would either of you care to explain this?” His father pointed to one of the four other people in the room, a young noblewoman holding a bundle in her arms. 

“Oh dear.” Indrid murmured as she turned the bundle to reveal the face peering out of it. 

“She claims the father was a Cold.”

“The features are unmistakably that of this house. As were those of the gentleman I met at the midsummer ball nine months ago.” The woman’s voice is not afraid, just tired. Apollo supposes she is beautiful.

Not as much as he supposes his brother holds no interest in women. And he certainly would not take someone he barely knew to bed. For starters, they could easily murder him while there, not to mention the fact that most people become attached after such things and the last thing he needs is dead weight following him about. 

He glances at his twin, meeting his eyes behind those garish red glasses he wears. They are seldom of one mind about things. Maybe if Indrid was actually sensible, they’d have agreed on something since the age of twelve. 

They agree on what must be done. 

“He is mine.” Indrid steps forward, bowing to the woman, “I apologize, both for any distress this has caused you and for the fact that I was so outside my senses I cannot recall your name.”

“Clara.” She curtsies. 

“I suppose this calls for a wed-”

“No.” Their father cuts Indrid off, “I have made plain I will not have some common noblewoman on the throne beside you when my time comes.”

Apollo smirks at the anger on Clara, her father, and her guards' faces. 

“But her father wishes to marry her off without offspring in tow. So the boy will stay here and be raised as an heir. He is, after all, of our bloodline. No one will question it if they know what is good for them.”

“Understood.” Indrid offers his arms, “I can take him.”

Clara looks down at the silk-enrobed bundle, pathetic tears in her eyes, “Goodbye, Orion. Be good for your father.”

Just over three years have passed. For the first of them Apollo never saw the brat at all; he was in the care of a nursemaid, with Indrid spending a truly confusing amount of time with him. Gradually, he’d appear in the gardens, first in Indrid’s arms or, later, toddling between him and his bulldogish brick of a knight. 

Apollo takes it as proof father likes him best that he assigned Sir Capra as his personal knight instead. Vincent is the only person who does not bore Apollo to tears or fill him with a desire to gouge their eyes out, is going grey at thirty-three in a way that he wears strikingly well. He is also, much to Apollo’s annoyance, nowhere to be found. 

Indeed, the castle seems rather empty; ah yes, there’s some silly solar eclipse. Vincent asked if he wanted the knight to accompany him to a viewing. Apollo had snorted and said he had better things to do. 

The trouble is, he has now done them. His father is not as omnipotent as he once was, but Apollo still fears being caught idle. 

Something warm closes around his legs and his hand goes for his dagger. 

“Dada!” Orion looks up from where he’s hugging Apollo’s knees.

“I am not my brother. I look nothing like him! I am far more attractive!”

“Uncle!” The word is a bit mushy in that little mouth. More worryingly, it does not cause the little leech to release him. 

“What do you want?” 

It sounded more demanding and less panicked in his head. 

“Play blocks!” 

“Then go play with the wretched things and leave me in peace!”

The boy frowns, then begins tugging on Apollo’s robe, stubby little nails tearing at the golden embroidery on the hem, “Blocks.”

“As soon as we get to them I am locking you in.” He mutters, following the urchin down the hall. He could just pull away and leave him to cry on the floor, but the noise is so horrible and he is not in the mood for a headache. 

They reach the playroom, and Apollo calls out for Vincent once, in case the knight returned early. The Capras are a large family, and the older man thinks nothing of bouncing Orion on his knee or crouching to speak with him if they cross paths in the garden. 

“Make a tower.” Orion says, more to himself than Apollo. He’s seated on the floor, surrounded by beautifully smooth, birch blocks. Apollo sits picking up a triangular one to study it; this is the same set he and Indrid played with as boys. He remembers the feel of them, the smell of opening the toy chest, wood warmed by the sun.

The playroom has changed since then. No longer drab, no longer stuffed with portraits of kings long dead. Instead, each of the four walls is painted to match a time of day; dawn, afternoon, dusk, and night. Orion’s back is to the night wall, making him look as if friendly hedgehogs are convening on him from the painted grass. 

Apollo’s heart twinges and he wills his ribs to close around it, crush it. The boy is an impediment on the way to the throne. He must not become attached to him, see him as anything more than a potential tool or bargaining chip. 

Orion is stacking rectangles haphazardly. They keep falling down after six or so block, and he’s huffing and pouting at them more each time. 

“If you want it to be taller, you must widen the base. Honestly, did my brother teach you nothing?”

Orion cocks his head,confused. 

Apollo sighs, removing his outer robe and rolling up his sleeves, “Watch closely.”

He starts with two rows of ten, then of nine, then eight, the boy gradually disappearing behind them the taller they get. When he’s hit the top rows, Orion stands and wanders around to join him, eyes wide and smile bright. 

“There. See how much more stable this is? I could make it as tall as I please using the same principle.” He glances at the boy, “why do you want it to be tall in the first place? A small stack of blocks is no impressive feat of engineering.”

“Dragon.”

“Excuse me?”

Orion picks up a stuffed dragon from the floor and lets out a piercing yell as he rams it into the tower. The bricks fall in a clatter, the boy laughing uproariously the whole time.

Apollo wants to be furious. As it is he is confused, first by the action and then by the emotion it stirs in him. 

He remembers taking turns with Indrid to knock the blocks down, the two of them seeing if a troll at the bottom or dragon at the top made the bigger disaster. 

“Again!” Orion claps his hands together. 

“You really are a little monster, aren’t you.” Apollo mutters, but does not feel the venom he meant to put into the words. 

Orion drums his hands on his knees and then crawls over to watch the construction. Apollo widens the base more, making the structure more a true pyramid. 

“There, it would take you a siege engine to destroy that.” 

His nephew accepts the challenge, ramming the dragon into it and sending the blocks cascading once more. 

“Again!”

“Very well. But this time, you must assist me.”

The eclipse comes and goes and neither of them notice it, moving from destroying the towers many times over to seeing if they can build a fortress for the conquering dragon out of the wreckage. 

Apollo figures that is teaching the boy the realities of war, in case any asks him why he was wasting his time in such pursuit.s 

Footfalls hurry down the tiled hallway and the door flies open. Indrid stands in it, his knight behind him. 

“Oh thank goodness.”

“Dada!” Orion runs as fast as little legs allow and hugs first Indrid, then Duck. 

“I am so sorry my treasured one, there was a mix up and no one came to watch you.”

“Yes” Apollo stands, draping his robe over his arm, “the foolish child though I was you and waylaid me when I was looking for Vincent.”

“If you laid so much as a finger on him-” Indrid bites. 

“Dragon attacked the castle!” Orion yells gleefully, then turns to Apollo, making grabbing hands in the hair, “up? I dragon now?”

“It…seems you got along.” His brother still looks ready to break his fingers, which would be admirable were it not unnecessary. 

“Indeed. I taught him the finer points of defense construction. Now that you have returned, I can turn my attention to more important things.” 

Indrid scoops the boy into his arms, “Thank you. For watching him.”

Apollo turns, pulling on his robe, “Just do not expect me too again.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

He’s not sulking. Sulking is what one does when one is upset, and Apollo is not upset. Vincent being out on a date with someone from the city does not upset him in the slightest. 

A stuffed dragon lands on his face and he growls, whipping his head to the side.

Orion, on tip toe, is peering at him over the edge of the bed. 

“Play dragons?” The boy seems to sense his mood and is already looking like he regrets throwing the toy onto him. 

He picks it up. It would be pleasant to rip the head off. 

Then again, perhaps his nephew will let him take a turn as the beast, and he can knock some blocks over himself. That would be supremely satisfying. 

“Yes, let us shore up our defenses once more.”

—--------------------------------------------------------

After that, the boy seeks him out nearly daily, slipping from under the watchful eye of knights and nannies to demand Apollo enable his dragon-based havoc. 

He learns that “Be dragon” means Orion wants him to lay on his back and balance him on his feet, holding his hands as needed so he can pretend he is flying. He decides to use the moments to discuss the finer points of offensive attacks, as well as taking an enemy by surprise. He doubts the boy takes much in, too busy giggling and roaring, but surely no one will think twice about once prince preparing another to lead armies. 

One day, he finds his nephew has been given a small, felt sword. This results in Apollo being given the dragon toy, then chased about the room by the small knight. When he is caught, he takes to falling about dramatically, bemoaning his fate, cursing his luck. Orion thinks it is hilarious. 

“Now” he says after a particularly drawn-out death scene, his eyes still closed, “you must remember, little drake, to check that your enemies are thoroughly vanquished. Indeed, your great great great great grandfather was brought low when his enemy faked his death andAH” 

Orion’s means of checking whether he’s dead turns out to be hurling his whole body onto Apollo’s torso and hugging him. He’s laughing as he does. Apollo puts his arms around him, laughing as well. 

The truth is not often an easy thing to handle. His father insists it is often the harshest things that are true. 

Apollo knows two of them at once.

One: Orion is now the second person other than himself he would truly die for. 

Two: he will never harm this boy. Even if Apollo tries for the throne, he will find some other way. 

The door creaks open and he sits up, Orion still in his arms. 

“Hello your highness” Vincent smiles at Orion, “and your other highness.”

“You saw nothing.” He cannot bear the thought of someone like Vincent thinking him soft, thinking him weak.

“If you insist. But I must say, that is a pity. If I saw what I thought I did, it made me happy to see.”

“Ah.” Apollo looks at his nephew as the boy waves at Vincent. 

“Indeed, since his father and knight are at a function, and his night attendant is delayed, I was coming to offer to read him a story until bed.”

Orion shrieks in excitement and hurries toward the bedroom. It takes some coaxing and bargaining to get him to change into his pajamas, but the two of them–if he’s honest, mostly Vincent–get him settled into bed. 

He should leave, but when Vincent pats the space on the other side of him, he sits down on the soft, butterfly-patterned comforter, shoulder to shoulder with his knight. 

Apollo is not cut out to be an uncle. But he’s certainly starting to enjoy it.

[jorrated]

Some super stray thoughts I had while reading STCO so far:

Knuckles would NOT prioritize his past over Tikal’s suffering are you crazy in the head!!!!

Zak Simond-Hurn’s art is really charming, if it wasn't for the digital onomatopoeias, I wouldn’t mind having this style by a base for an official sonic comic! The design for the red echidna villain however… HM. Not pleasing to the eye.

I like that Ebony are having a bigger role on the fist few issues! But also Ebony’s constantly referring to Super as his friend and doing things to bring him back. Like I get it but also is this going to be her only trait now? Girl…

And porker is going on adventures again. Actually I don’t think they ever explained why Porker went back to being more adventurous in the og comic, participating in Chaos defeat and all. Not against it, and I like to see he still has a bit of bite and wasn't reduced to only a coward, tho it would’ve been cool to see at least a comment on how hes back on “adventuring”.

It’s cool to see Amy dealing with grief over Jhonny (I’ve given up trying to write his name correctly, too weird for me), but IDK. Amy probably was the best grounded character in that situation, so it feels weird to see her distressed over it? I don’t know how to explain it but in my eyes, Amy’s grief for Jhonny would definitively be more melancholic than scary/guilty. I’m glad they are trying to flesh out Amy more, but it doesn’t feel very cohesive with the comic to me. And Jhonny-zombie the killer… a bit tacky but in a funny way.

WHO…. Designed Vichama. I just want to talk. Tell me why you made him look that way. What is that. What went through your head. Dude. I get that Ebony has considerably more anthro body features than the other animal characters, but I feel like Vichama crosses the line into the “gross valley”. If he were drawn closer to how Zachary is I probably wouldn’t care, he probs would’ve looked like an Archie character. But the bulging muscles are kinda upsetting to look at. Cover up man.

So Shadow was created by some enemies of the echidnas. Noted.

Big and the Drakon prosecutor are actually really cute. I like them. Knuckles trying to break Ebony’s spell on Tikal is making me fume. HE WOULDN'T TRY TO DO THAT!!!!! He maybe would be a little desperate trying to trigger some memories but he wouldn't knowingly hurt someone to get information!!!! There is a pannel tho in this part of the comic that makes Knux ask “Where is Porker” and then “Where is the emeralds”. THAT is Knuckles to me, checking in on people before anything else.

Knuckles not being able to carry Big is bullshit. KNUCKLES PUNCHES ROCKS IN HALF LMAO. It’s fine I assume they need to be separated for a reason.

ROUGE STICK LEGS. Somebody please give my girl a double cheeseburger with extra fries and a big gulp of soda.

Actually I love that Rouge is a cunt here. Girlboss!!!! Stole this dudes emeralds AND left them to die, queen shit. Didn’t work but she did have the intent to kill them.

Big wouldn’t eat his friends….. He’d never eat Froggy, and DP (Drakon Prosecutor) even tho looks like a fish, Big considers a friend. BIG WOULDNT THINK ABOUT EATING HIS FRIENDS!!! HE IS A KIND BIG GUY!!!!!!!!!!!! ← most egregious mistake until now. Fucking funny tho can you imagine dying by vore They kept Mighty funny, that’s good.

MMMMN. I like that Sonic is consistently arachnophobic. Really nice continuity. How he first met Shadow tho… It felt underwhelming? Like yeah we know they were going to meet some time but IDK. The framing/pacing is weird to me. Either have them meet quickly at the start of the issue and Sonic is like “IDK WHO that guy is but I don’t like him!!!” or have them meet at the end of the issue, but only show Shadow in shadow (lol) to hook to the next issue. Shadow’s bland ass “I am Shadow” has the same energy as two kindergartners introducing themselves first day of school.

Shadow’s personality is interesting tho. I like him being a bit cocky but not too much, it’s a good take on him, plus he bounces off Sonic pretty well. I do wonder what the hell they’re going to do with him tho.

Awn… acknowledgment of some of the chaotix families… Blockhead Bill my dude

Tikal being given more of a spotlight is neat. It doesn’t give her much, but it’s refreshing to see her thoughts and intentions. However, I can’t help but think that she was mainly inserted to aid Knuckles and be a well of angst. Like IDK, Knuckles has moments mourning his past, or wondering if he will ever understand his ancestors, and Tikal well… She sees things rather than feel? If that makes sense? Like in this comic she is able to see a bit of the past and think “wow this is horrible! Must be a nightmare!” but she doesn’t feel despair? Or anything much? The only moment so far she felt despair was to make Knux Angst, like “ooooh shes suffering so we need to wipe her memories, that means Knuckles wont have his backstories :(“. Smells fishy.

Oh wow, Shadow has an actually interesting backstory here. It gives a reason to follow Robotnik, hate Sonic, not give a shit, aaaand its ambiguous enough you can probably pull off whatever. Fucking congrats STCO writers.

Fave image. What the fuck are they even doing here. Freaks.

Hm. No thoughts on Shadows maybe death. Thematically it’s interesting and all, but we don’t get enough time with him to give a shit. Unless I’m reading it wrong it seems like Shadow is sacrificing himself to save Robotnik, but IDK.

Grimer develops a situatioship depression.

2007 ANTI-ASIAN RACISM. BAD.

Bro what’s with this Knuckles characterization. He would NOT be mean to Tikal. If anything he’d probably be a bit overbearing, trying to give attention to her even if she didn’t want it. I get trying to tie him living his whole life alone being overwhelmed and feeling frustrated that Tikal can’t give him answers, but he wouldn't treat her like crap what is this. I like Porker’s and Knux bro moment, but that doesn’t make up for treating Tikal badly for no reason. Where’s her catharsis? She’s probably just as confused and desperate as Knuckles but she doesn't get any of these moments. Sigh. This idea could’ve definitely worked if Tikal was pushier or more imposing, but like she doesn’t do much, so Knuckles just snaps and it feels off. Knuckles’s stories are probably the issues with the biggest potential, but the writers for sure squander him the most, whomp whomp.

“One of Sonic’s fears is seeing Amy settle down with someone else” no it isn’t shut the fuck up. And the fact they put this on the same level of fear as Jhonny death is deranged.

The tonal whiplash between character comics is p funny honestly. You’ll have one really serious comic followed by a comedic one, lil bit of a mood killer. I guess STC also did this, but to me it at least wasn't jarring like this. Like how am I supposed to process Big getting shot, after Knux and Tikal experiencing the worst nightmare of their lives, living the trauma of seeing million of dead echidnas, after Vector put angel island as a security fund for his ship LMAO.

SONIC CHARACTERS HELPINH OUT THE POLICE SFAJHBJHBWRKJBJB??????!!!!!!!!????????????????????!!!!!!!!!????????11111111!!!!!!!111!!!!111!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I hate this actually.

These Shorty and Tekno comics…… I don’t know what it is about them but god. I just don’t like them! Firstly that now it seems they are a completely separated duo from the rest of the team. Like They don’t interact with Sonic or Amy or whatever. Secondly.. Shortfuse is TOO nice. It doesn’t feel like him where is his tantrums??? And this isn’t a diss on the artstyle itself, cause I think it looks pretty nice and cute, but I don’t think it’s really fitting for the characters? Tekno and Shorty look like they’re in a shoujo manga.

I really like how Sonic is now a loser LOL. He got canceled to hell and back.

Finally Rouge makes and appearance. Kinda only realized how little she showed up during the SA2 adaptation.

Grimer destroying Sonic’s reputation is actually kinda nice. I like that they acknowledge his Robotnik situationship depression, tho I think it’s a bit over the top have him be behind EVERYTHING. Still like it tho. Go gross boy go! (Also the art in this issue is REALLY solid, wow, Zak Simond-Hurn really is my favorite artist from the STCO group).

At some point I think I need to stop complaining about Knux’s characterization. But I Do Not Like How They Write My Boy. Doc Zach is still serving cunt so that’s great. Go grandpa go!

It’s kinda awesome to see how the issues expanded through STCO’s run, but I think having so many stories at the same time kinda makes stuff bloated. Like I’m sure I’ll forget some parts of this, even if they are short bits. Like do we really need to follow 2 sonic stories and 2 amy stories at the same time? I think it would’ve been better to pace this with a limit of 3-4 stories MAX per issue. And then once a character story is done, release the next story with the same character. Sonic and Knuckles are kinda always going to be there, having the biggest pull on the comic’s lore and story, so the other ones could cycle out between amy, tekno, shorty, tails, sonic’s world, chaotix, and so on. I haven’t read some of the other non-sonic stories like decap n attack, but those could be thrown in the cycle too!

Actually I love that DP is just hanging out in Big’s restaurant. It’s goofy I really love it.

I wonder how old Sonic’s gang is supposed to be here. Like in theory some years have passed in the comic, but how many. It’s not important at all but Amy is seen drinking wine with Chrysalis and it’s like?? Is she a kid?? Is she an adult?? Is she underage drinking? Again it’s not a big deal, and I don’t even think these characters need a specific age but IDK this was odd to me.

Oof the multiple stories at the same type problem came instantly. I like how Amy acknowledges the losses of the group, Sonic is “evil”, Jhonny is dead, Tekno is missing and stuff, Porker has PTSD and cant fight… But like. That feels so weird when you have a story right next to it with Amy and Tekno together!!! This is why the pacing and bloating feels whack, the comic has continuity with SOME of the stories but not all so its confusing. I know the OG comic had moments like these but because it had less stories per issue, it was way less noticeable, and usually were one-off stories I think.

And on the topic of Porker, I did mention before how he just kinda.. went back to being more adventurous? But know the comic insists that he can’t do it? Man this is kinda messy. I don’t mind Porker starting to become more adventurous again and then maybe regressing a bit in recovery, being too much for him, but it doesn’t feel like that is what it’s being intended here. It feels like someone read STC and maybe skimmed on STCO and then wrote this, so it feels out of place? Like you have porker in the first issue of STCO going on a mission no problems at all, but then on another issue he goes on a mission to blow up an eggman database or smth and hes freaking the fuck out being nervous all the time. Like which is it!!!!! I don’t mind him progressing and regressing on his trauma but at least acknowledge or be consistent with it! Is it because the underwater mission didn’t involve Robotnik? Is that it? Who knows.

I get that Knux and the crew planned to bait Zachary and shit, but like, then why did they act like that in the previous issue? Like the plan was to break the shield so why did Porker said to Knux be careful about it? Girl. This information is only given to bait and switch the audience and it doesn’t work. Porker and Knux have no reason to pretend to not have a plan when they are alone what.

Tails working with cops I’m going to kill myself.

Oh so like. The special zone is dead for real. Like for real FR. Jesus. Could’ve let the characters grieve a bit huh.

Really liked the #250 issue (Tho its funny that I complained about the number of stories per issue, and then #250 has ONE story LOL)! It’s awesome to see the different arts from the varied artists on the STCO team. And even with my complains and whining, it’s an impressive project full of love, good to see stuff like this!

TURBO TURBO TURBO MY BOY TURBO!!!!

The art on this issue is great but some of the flow of the dialogue is off, as in, sometimes I don’t know which speech bubble I’m supposed to read next, cause usually you go left to right, but it seems this story follows top to bottom for speech bubbles and left to right to panel. Not awful but it did throw me off, and it does fuck up the pacing.

um. hi shadow? ok.

(Only read until issue #250)

[questionableratatouille00]

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʜᴜʀʀʏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ (ɪ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜᴇ)

Pairing: Stucky

Summary: Steve remembers all the times he couldn’t breathe.

Warnings: Major Character Death, angst, illness, PTSD, let me know if anything else needs to be tagged.

Note: this is for my ‘Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes’ square on my @marvel-smash-bingo card!

It felt like he couldn’t breathe. When Bucky had been captured. Taken.

And as he stormed the Nazi base, when Bucky wasn’t with the other soldiers, that feeling only intensified.

Part of him wished Bucky was dead. It was wrong, and he knew it. But he still hoped. He hoped that they’d just shot him, and he fell, and he died. Just like that. Gone. No pain, maybe didn’t even know it.

He hoped that Bucky had left him. Quickly.

Steve had no family left. Well, that’s not exactly true. He had Bucky, and Bucky’s family. But did that really count?

He had Bucky, Bucky’s little sister Rebecca, Bucky’s mother Winifred, and even Bucky’s asshole of a father, George. Well, George was only an ass sometimes. Sometimes he was a wonderful person and a true role model, but he wasn’t exactly the greatest. He could be violent, on occasion.

Not violent like Steve’s on father was before he left, but George Barnes wasn’t shy about beating his children as a punishment.

But it was hard. It was hard, when he got back from that awful HYDRA base. HYDRA, they called themselves. Nazis.

It was hard, when he and Bucky shared a cabin. It wasn’t even really a cabin, but it wasn’t a tent either. It had just enough room for two cots. It was by no means large, and Steve was by no means small. Not anymore.

He could see the look in Bucky’s eyes, the longing, the fear. He was safe now, he was rescued. But the battle wasn’t over. And Steve could tell by that very look in his eyes meant that the battle would never really be over. Not for Bucky.

He’d known about shell-shocked soldiers returning from war. He knew one, even. Mr. Raynor.

The man was older, and lived not too far from Steve. Steve and Bucky, really, considering how much time Bucky spent there and how he even paid most of the rent.

Mr. Raynor lived alone. No family, no wife, no children. Neighbors would bring him food, sometimes, when they could spare it. He became a social outcast, not unlike Steve.

Steve never really interacted with the man, but he knew that the man wasn’t some kind of freak like some of his neighbors seemed to think. Steve didn’t have any real conversations with him, but he’d seen him in passing. He’d seen the look in his eyes.

And he saw that same look in Bucky’s beautiful blue eyes as they stared at him.

“You don’t look like you,” Bucky told him.

“..I am, though. I am me.” Steve said awkwardly. He didn’t know what to say to that.

“I guess.” Bucky answered back.

That had left Steve feeling worse than he already had been.

He met with Colonel Phillips, got thanked and yelled at at the same time, and then walked right back to his cabin. To Bucky.

He was lying down. He laid on his side, facing the entrance as best he could from the placement of his cot. The two cots were on other side of the entrance, and there was about a foot of room between the ends of the cots and the back wall.

“I can’t lay on my back anymore,” Bucky confessed.

“No?” Steve sat on his cot, pulling off his boots.

“Makes me see things. Things that aren’t there. But they used to be. I remember them.” Bucky wasn’t looking at Steve. He was looking down, so his eyelids looked almost closed. Closed, like his eyes would’ve been in a casket if Steve hadn’t been there when he was.

Steve had no idea what Bucky meant. But he had a feeling the way his brain seemed to be scrambled had something to do with the Nazis that had tortured him.

“I want to go home.” Bucky said suddenly, looking up at Steve.

“I know.” Steve frowned.

“I didn’t wanna come in the first place. But they don’t want me to go, and I can’t leave you. I can’t.” Bucky seemed to be getting distressed.

“You don’t have to. I’m right here. We’re together. And we’re—we’ll make it home. Together.” Steve vowed. Bucky’s eyes watered.

“I just wanna see my ma.” Steve’s heart shattered at the words.

“I know you do. And you will. I’m going to get you home.” Steve promised. You. Not us, his mind reminded him bitterly. Steve couldn’t just leave. Not now. Not when he was basically property of the government and still had a few shows to do. Not when he’s stuck in the army, in the war, in the middle of the one thing that could tear him and Bucky apart any day.

It was clear Bucky was trying to hold in his sobs.

Steve stood, in his undershirt and more comfortable pants, and walked towards his closest friend.

Changing in front of Bucky wasn’t weird. They knew each other well, they were both grown adult men and were in the army. Stuff like that didn’t matter anymore.

Bucky reached for him, and Steve crawled into his cot with him. They barely fit, and Steve was worried that if he moved a bit too much the whole thing would collapse under them.

He took Bucky in his arms.

“You’re warm.” Bucky murmured.

Sharing a bed wasn’t weird for them either. For other men, sharing a bed was a strange thing when it wasn’t necessary. But Bucky and Steve weren’t like most of the other soldiers.

When Steve was smaller, Bucky would share his bed to keep him warm on cold winter nights. It worked for them.

“Yeah.” Steve whispered back.

“I’m scared. M’not..not like I used to be. Nothing is. You aren’t. I’m not. The world isn’t.” Bucky’s brows were furrowed.

“I am too,” Steve breathed. Bucky was right. He would forever be different. And Steve would be, too. He wasn’t smaller. He wasn’t sick, he wasn’t even sure if he smelled the same for Christ’s sake.

The world, obviously, had changed. The war, the fact that they went from Brooklyn to Europe, how instead of candy shops and apartments, life had changed to trenches and gunfire.

Nothing was the same. Not like it had been.

“Remember our first day of school? Back when we were younger?” Steve asked suddenly.

“Kind of?” Bucky replied.

Steve remembered. He had been terrified. He couldn’t do a whole lot due to his various ailments, but being the smallest kid in his class didn’t exactly make it better. Making friends was hard. He couldn’t play the sports with the other boys. He obviously didn’t fit in with the girls.

But he did fit in with Bucky. And that was enough.

“C’mon, Stevie. It won’t be scary. I promise.” A very young Bucky had assured him. His mother had given him a similar reassurance that morning, but his nerves weren’t that easy to be convinced.

Bucky was a year older. They wouldn’t be in the same class, and that scared Steve to death.

“You promised me you’d get me through the day and back home, safe and sound.” Steve murmured against Bucky’s hair. “I’m gonna do the same.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” Steve swore.

“Fuck!” Steve gasped as he climbed on the outside of the train. Bucky was fine. He was going to go home.

“I just wanna see my ma.”

“Grab my hand!” He shouted, clutching the bar on the side of the train.

Bucky was holding on to an identical one, and he reached for Steve. Their fingers brushed.

And then Bucky jolted. He was falling. He was right there, and Steve had almost had him, and then he was falling, falling, falling.

It felt like time was moving slowly, as cliche as it sounds. He heard Bucky scream. Bucky was leaving him. Steve had lived through so many winters, had survived so many illnesses, just to stay with Bucky. To not leave him. He’d risked his life getting that serum just so he could be with Bucky. He’d lived through war just to be with Bucky. To not leave him.

But here they both were. And Bucky was leaving him.

Please, God, he begged. Let him die. Let him die quickly. Steve couldn’t breathe.

He hoped Bucky would fall and hit his head and that would be it.

He could only imagine Bucky, lying cold and half-dead in the snow for several agonizing hours.

But the train kept moving. Breathless sobs wracked his body. He couldn’t breathe. Fuck, he couldn’t breathe. Not without Bucky.

“Steve?” He knew that voice. He spun around, watching the one person he could never lose begin to fall to the ground.

Bucky’s legs, the legs that had carried him all his life, began to turn to ash. The ash went up his torso, up his chest, up his face. Until he was nothing.

Steve raced towards the pile of dust that was once his beloved.

He grazed his hand over it. He would scream, cry, punch the ground if he could. But he couldn’t breathe. That same breathless feeling that had been with him throughout his entire life—whether he was sick in bed or on a train in the Alps—filled his body again. He clutched at his heart, wondering when it would stop working due to his lack of oxygen. But it never did.

And that made the whole ordeal even worse. He couldn’t breathe.

A/n: thank you for reading! Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

[fraddit]

For the choose violence ask game:

8. For 9-1-1, if you please.

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

This one got away from me…

It’s not everyone, but I see it often enough to really be annoying. The premise that certain interactions with women that Eddie’s had over the seasons are proof that he’s not interested in women. Specifically, scenes like him rejecting the women hitting on him at the Saddle Ranch in s2, him being uncomfortable and trying to avert his gaze with the sleep driving woman in s6, and his reaction to Pepa’s ambush setup in s6, etc.

I know people are often joking, but I’ve also seen these moments touted as objective proof of him being not into women. And, to be clear, the offense I take over this isn’t about debating his sexuality. It’s about how such claims are based on a premise that I find very skeevy.

If Eddie’s canon behavior in these scenes is evidence that he’s not into women then logic dictates that the way to show that he is into women in these scenarios would be if he did the opposite behavior. So let’s explore that thought experiment.

Eddie is at work, trying to do his job, which in this case includes the serious business of trying to get a woman’s head safely out of a truck tailpipe. Drunk women are aggressively hitting on him. He’s not enjoying it. This is apparently proof of him not liking all women, instead of him not liking these particular women. The implication is that if he was interested in women, he’d be having the time of his life and getting all their numbers. However, if the genders were swapped in this scenario, nobody would ever claim that a woman not enjoying several drunk men hitting on her while she’s just trying to do her job is indication of anything other than that those men need to back off and leave her alone.

A woman unexpectedly crashes her car into Eddie’s place of work and when she gets out, she’s completely naked. Also this happened while she was sleeping. She’s now awake and understandably distressed. Eddie is reacting with shock and trying very hard not to look at her. This is apparently proof that he’s just so gay, he can’t stand to see the nude female form for even a moment. Even jokingly, this is gross. The implication here is that if he were into women, he’d be what? Excited that a naked women drove into his place of work with no warning? Ogling a women in a very distressing and vulnerable situation? Salivating at her like a cartoon wolf from a Tex Avery cartoon? If I were that woman, I would absolutely be wanting every single person in that room to be averting their gaze as much as possible. And I don’t know about other people, but personally, I’d be pretty uncomfortable encountering any naked person in a location and scenario where I wasn’t already expecting it. Just saying.

Eddie stressing about Pepa’s ambush date setup? I literally don’t know a single person in my life who would enjoy being invited somewhere under one pretense and then being unexpectedly introduced to a complete stranger for a date. Maybe every person I’ve ever met is a complete weirdo, but I doubt it. I think people generally don’t like high pressure surprises about their personal life. Like, I’m really trying to picture how any of the other characters would react to such a thing, and even Buck, who I think would likely be the best sport about it, would probably be pretty taken aback about the whole thing. But maybe I’m just too much of an introvert to see the vision.

Tl:dr the essential implication behind all of these, is that in any scenario, a man who is into women is expected to respond to all women in all situations with clear enthusiasm at minimum and desperate horniness at most and that’s, frankly, a gross, all men are pigs sort of outlook that I really do not vibe with at all. Like, it literally sounds like homophobic frat boy talk. “Bro, you didn’t want to hit that? What are you gay?”

[ladyhoneydee]

this peppermint winter, this marshmallow world

Zelink | College AU | 5.8k

At the end of the second swallow, she finally opened her eyes—and caught Link in the midst of a sip of his own. Watching her. Why did the warmth in his eyes look so…different? Had he ever looked at her that way before, in all their years of friendship? Maybe it was just the glow of the streetlamp they stood beneath, transforming the snow into glittering fairy dust and the ambiance into spun gold. If they left this place, if they took their walk as planned, perhaps the clear blue moon would return them to the same light they’d always been cast in. Why did the thought of that make her chest so tight?

Written for @pastelsandpining as part of the Hateno Hideout Secret Santa! If you like the best-friends-to-lovers trope, nonverbal trans guy Link who is acting veeeery oddly all of a sudden, and confused, investigative Zelda, this one is for you.

Read it on AO3, FFN, or under the cut!

Zelda knew something was wrong with Link from a mile off. 

It didn’t matter that she was stuck behind the front desk, explaining to a frazzled-looking first year that no, they did not have any private study rooms available at this very minute, and they would have to wait twenty minutes or so until something opened up. From the moment her best friend strode into Castleton University’s Gaebora Library, his snow-dusted green beanie pulled down tight and chin tucked in low, she could tell that his mind was running a mile a minute on some topic or another. He always tended to crunch in physically when he was mentally distressed, after all. 

As the student surrendered with a grimace and set off towards the staircase—no doubt heading for one of the public sitting areas on the quiet upper floors—Link lifted his chin, and Zelda met his eyes. The whites widened, the pupils expanded. Then his gaze promptly dropped back to the laminate tiles underfoot.

Zelda’s suspicion rocketed through the ceiling, the five floors of the library over her head, and the snow-laden roof shingles high above. With the exception of particularly awkward or emotional conversations, Link had never struggled to hold eye contact with her before. Heck, they had practically lived off of staring contests back in high school. Even now, five semesters into university, new friends invariably asked if she and Link were dating based solely on how annoying about eye contact and making goofy faces at each other they were.

Still, there was no way he could actually avoid her, even if he wanted to. Not when she was on front desk duty, and the only student worker on shift who knew Hyrulean Standard Sign Language. After all, Link never came to the library to study, only to pick up books. Nonverbal as he was, it was easier to focus in a private place than somewhere people who couldn’t understand HSSL might try to talk to him. 

His fingers stuttered through her name-sign for a moment before smoothing through the rest of his words. “I have an interlibrary loan to pick up? A Walk in the Lost Woods by K.-I.-A. H-E-R-M-O-S?” His finger-spelling of the name was quick, but she’d been signing since elementary school and reading Link’s words and letters off his hands for nearly as long; it was nearly impossible to trip her up at this point. 

“Sure, I’ll just need to grab it!” Zelda’s voice brimmed with enthusiasm to cover up her suspicion. “For your Environmental Philosophy course, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah. Got an essay due next week.” 

Well, at least he was making conversation.

“Tonight is such a mess,” she complained. “I swear I’ve had five different students try to get me to find their books for them instead of just following my directions. It’s like everyone’s brain cells died over winter break.” 

A smile cracked through Link’s slight frown and downturned brows. “So now they’re killing yours in retribution, huh?”

“Mm-hm! Which is exactly why you should get us coffees from Piper’s and meet me on the quad for a walk when you’re finished studying and I’m done with my shift!” She beamed at him.

Just like that, alarm swept his face clean of the soft warmth it had held only a moment prior, and his gaze darted away from her once again. He rubbed his hands on his pants before replying, as if wiping off sweat—which was weird, given that he’d just come in from the cold, and hadn’t been wearing gloves. 

“Oh, I don’t know…”

“Come on, please?” she wheedled. “I’ll need something to resuscitate my poor, dying brain cells. And you’re my chosen hero of the hour.” She smiled in the winning, bossy way she’d learned from a childhood cultivated by a single dad who was not only a hardass entrepreneur, but also had moonlit as the president of the PTA at every public school she had attended. 

She’d learned other things from Daphnes, too. Like how to pursue a lead when something seems fishy—and how to throw someone off the scent of your true intentions until the opportune moment. 

The trick was to pick a reason that was still genuine, just not the whole truth. 

Link sighed, his gestures slowing and taking on weight to emphasize his put-upon tone. “If you insist. But— I’m bringing hot chocolate, not coffee.” Her pout was met with a stern, wolf-eyed stare. “I don’t care if you live off of caffeine. It’ll be after ten before we’re both done for the night, and I’m not dropping money on your addiction when I’ve got perfectly good cocoa mix in my dorm.”

Zelda let out a ponderous sigh of her own. “Fiiiine.” She placed her hands on her hips. “You’re no fun, you know that?”

“They say that the chosen heroes rarely were,” Link shot back, his gestures short and snippy, but punctuated with enough flair that she knew it was from sass rather than actual upset. “I’m just living up to your expectations.”

“Sure, hero.” She smirked. “Let me grab that book.”

As she swiveled her rolly chair around to scan the loan shelf for his book—Nayru’s love, did none of the other student workers this semester realize they were supposed to label the books with the requester’s name to make things easier?—Zelda mused over Link’s odd behavior. He’d brightened up, sure, but for him to hesitate over spending time together…

Well, the last time that had happened, it was right before he came out to her as trans the year they turned thirteen, and he was terrified she was going to hate him forever. 

When she spun back around, Link was fervently tapping his fingers against the wood of the front desk, expressions dancing over his features so quickly that she couldn’t make them out. He remained wordless and reticent while she checked out the green-bound hardback and passed it over, before throwing her a tight smile, waving awkwardly with his free hand, and walking out the door at an even brisker pace than usual. 

He hadn’t even paused to tuck the book away in his backpack.

…It was fine. It was. He’d been wrong back then—she could never hate him, but especially not for that —and no matter what secret feelings he was keeping close to his chest right now, he’d be wrong this time, too. She loved him too much for any other option to stick. Like snow falling on a manhole cover, any trouble between them would melt away before it had the chance to build up. 

She would make sure of it.

--

One of the downsides of working at Gaepora Library was that even at the end of the long, grueling evening shift, Zelda couldn’t leave until she’d scrubbed the floor. 

The reasoning was understandable enough, she supposed—given the building’s late hours, the CasU custodial staff were all done for the day by the time the library closed, and the slush and salt dragged into the lobby would damage the library’s century-old hardwood floor if it sat on them overnight—but that didn’t make her job any more enjoyable. The snow outside was pretty and all, and she couldn’t wait to go out in it with Link later, but did every student need to track slush in on their boots? They had a mat in front of the door for a reason!

Dimly, she noticed the clomping of winter boots approaching the front doors. Zelda glared down at the dirty rag in her hand and scrubbed even more vigorously. Surely the late visitor would notice the “CLOSED” sign she’d propped up in the front window, or the fact that nearly all the lobby lights were off, or her scrubbing the floor, and correctly assume that they should come back in the morning.

The door before her swung open. 

Zelda reared back from the sudden blast of cold. Wrath simmered in her veins, and she snapped her head up, ready to give this person a piece of her mind. 

“Excuse me, but the library is actually closed for the eve—”

Link. 

His nose was red from the chill, and his shoulders shook with mirth. Immediately, all of the frustration that had been coiling like smoke in Zelda’s lungs throughout her shift whooshed out of her with a deep sigh.

“Nice floor,” he signed. “Very clean.”

“If you step on it, I might have to kill you.” 

He laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He’d obviously stopped by his dorm since the last time she’d seen him. His rugged leather-and-canvas backpack was nowhere to be seen, and he’d swapped out his slate-blue quilted jacket for a snowquill-stuffed puffy coat. This time, he was actually wearing gloves, and his omnipresent green beanie was pulled as far over his ears as it could manage.

She smiled fondly. Some things never changed. They might be twenty and sleep-deprived from annotated bibliographies and slideshow presentations instead of ten and sleep-deprived from playing video games under the covers all night, but Link would always get cold faster than she did.

Link, unaware of the nostalgic origins of her affectionate stare, gave her a hesitant smile in return. “I left the hot chocolates outside. No food and drinks in the library, and all.” 

“Aw, you’re such a good boy,” she cooed. “You rule follower, you.”

To her surprise, he flushed redder than the ruby studs in his ears. Gloved fingers twitched wildly in the air for a moment in a clear nonvocal stutter before he pressed the tips together so hard that she almost thought she could see them quiver from the strain. 

The pause in the conversation was disjointed, alien. Like they were metronomes running on two different beats per minute, instead of the unison they’d always shared. 

“Are–are you ready to go?” he asked eventually, and Zelda’s brows shot up. Was he just not going to address his reaction? What was going on? 

At her lack of reply, his eyes darted around the lobby, and he filled the void himself. “They’re gonna get cold if you take much longer. Slowpoke.” Even the teasing insult was added on belatedly, as though he was reading off a script of their usual interactions and had nearly forgotten the last part of his line. 

Well, if he wasn’t going to be normal, she would just have to pick up his slack. 

“Oh, I’ve been ready! In all ways except the physical.” She waved the damp rag in her hand pointedly. “Give me just a minute.”

The nod Link gave her was heavy with relief, and she realized he was grateful she hadn’t called him out on his weird behavior. Well, he was going to be in for a rude awakening once they started their walk and the interrogation began. 

One rag rinsed and squeezed out, one desktop computer logged out and turned off, and one book-stuffed messenger back hauled onto her shoulder later, they were out the door. 

--

Zelda was grateful for the hot chocolate before she even took a sip. The lightweight knit gloves she kept in the pocket of her winter coat were not cutting it against the chilly wind and swirling snow. Central Hyrule wasn’t particularly known for being a cold region of Hyrule—not with places like the Mt. Nayru region of Lanayru and the entirety of Hebra as competition—but when winter settled in over the wide grasslands, it truly did settle. So when she plucked one of Link’s ceramic travel mugs off the bench, the heat that sunk into her fingers was entirely welcome. 

“They’re dark chocolate with peppermint and marshmallows,” Link signed. His gestures were harder to decipher when made one-handed, as the other was occupied with his own mug; still, after a lifetime of communicating with Link in all kinds of one- and two- and even no-handed situations, she could parse them rather well. “I made them both the same so that you wouldn’t have to make any decisions. Or complain if I made the decision.”

“Aw, you’re so kind. The great hero, saving me from my own agency.” She sent him a sly look.

“Hey, how many times have you texted me just to ask me to pick something for you out of decision fatigue at the end of a long day?”

“Too many to count.” She nudged him in the side gently. “I am grateful for that, truly.”

“Oh, I know.” His elbow bumped her in return. “Now drink your hot chocolate, you mooch.”

“ Yeah, your mooch,” she shot back, and took a sip. 

If she’d been looking at Link at that instant, she might have seen how his lips parted and trembled at her words. But Zelda’s eyelashes had fluttered closed from pleasure the moment the sweet, minty richness hit her tastebuds, and the moment passed, unseen.

“Mmmmm, that’s the stuff.” Unconsciously, she poked her tongue out to collect the scant remaining droplets of chocolate from her lips, before going back in for another greedy gulp. The warmth, the velvety texture of half-melted marshmallows slipping into her mouth, the cool echo of mint that lingered even after the sip was gone—it was like a green firework going off in her mouth, cascading sparks of comfort all the way down to her stomach.

At the end of the second swallow, she finally opened her eyes—and caught Link in the midst of a sip of his own. Watching her. 

Why did the warmth in his eyes look so…different? Had he ever looked at her that way before, in all their years of friendship? 

Maybe it was just the glow of the streetlamp they stood beneath, transforming the snow into glittering fairy dust and the ambiance into spun gold. If they left this place, if they took their walk as planned, perhaps the clear blue moon would return them to the same light they’d always been cast in.

Why did the thought of that make her chest so tight?

“How are the brain cells?” Link signed.

“Huh?” She blinked, owl-eyed. 

He laughed. “Okay, so they’re obviously not—” His hands fluttered in the air for a moment. “Oh, what was the word you used before…”

“Resuscitated.” She narrowed her eyes.

He ignored it. “That’s it! Resuscitated. Obviously your brain cells haven’t been resuscitated yet.”

“I think your presence might be killing them off, actually.”

“Well, I can always leave if that’s what you’d prefer…” His words were lighthearted, but something glittered in his eyes. Something that turned her stomach and reminded her what, exactly, they were there for.

“No!” She flinched back at her own outburst and thought fast. “I mean, no, obviously I don’t want you to leave. What I want is to go on a walk with you through the Green.”

“The Green?” If she hadn’t been watching him so closely, she might have missed him nervously biting his lower lip. “I thought you said the quad. And I don’t know if it’s a good idea to go all the way out there. I mean, it’s going to get pretty cold tonight.”

“The cold front isn’t supposed to blow in until midnight, actually. I checked the weather earlier. It’ll be totally fine—no more snow or cold than we’re already getting.”

Link looked up, but the sky was inscrutable. It was impossible to tell if the clouds above were thick and heavy with snow or light and mobile; if they were on their way out or if more lurked on the horizon. His brow furrowed.

“Besides, I can always keep you warm myself,” Zelda joked. It was a quip long-familiar for them—their friendship had always been one of touchy-feely affection—but instead of the habitual glomping hug or taking of her hand, Link only gave her that same frightened rabbit stare.

“Or not.” She laughed awkwardly. “Again, the weather shouldn’t be a problem anyhow. Even for you.”

“Ha, ha,” he signed sarcastically, and she could have collapsed with relief. “Make fun of me for having a normal response to abnormal temperatures.”

“It’s my solemn duty as your best friend to make fun of you,” she said through a cheeky grin.  “So? Are you in?”

Link sighed, and it was like she was seeing the action in double: the put-upon, overdramatic performance, and the actual release of trepidation it concealed. “...Yeah. Yeah, of course I’m in. Always.”

Always, even if the whole evening had been strange and discombobulated so far. Zelda took a deep breath and let it out. They would get through this, no matter what was churning inside his head and spilling out like steam over a hot spring. It was him and her. Zelda and Link. Always.

“Perfect.” She smiled at him, softer than the gently falling snowflakes. “Shall we?”

“Yeah,” he said, and the smallness and lightness of his motions let Zelda know her feelings were reciprocated. “Let’s take a walk.”

--

The Green was the closest thing CasU had to a nature reserve. It must have had some sort of official name, but Zelda hadn’t looked at a map of campus in years, and every student she’d ever heard talking about the place just called it the Green. Even the professors and administration did, as if they realized that no one would know what they were referring to unless they adopted the students’ language. 

But regardless of what one called the hundreds of acres of green space that hugged the entire western border of campus, a walk on one of the well-trodden footpaths along the river, through the woods, or across the meadows was always an enjoyable way to spend a few hours. Between Link’s Outdoor Education major, Zelda’s multitude of Biology internships, and the hours the pair had spent avidly mapping every trail themselves during their first semester, they both practically had the land memorized. 

Still, it was only practically, never wholly, because there was always something new to see. 

Even with three years at CasU under her belt, the Green’s beauty in winter never failed to strike her. Although it might have benefitted from a temporary renaming, given how everything besides the tall, old conifers sprinkled amongst the leafless oaks, maples, and aspens was blanketed in pure white snow. The branches criss-crossing over their heads were completely coated, as if the goddesses had dipped them in marshmallow fluff for a wintry treat. 

“It looks completely different,” Link signed. He took a sip of his hot chocolate. 

Zelda had to agree. The last time they’d hiked through the Green—nearly a month ago now, between finals, winter break, and the hectic first week back—a chaotic mess of decaying leaves had carpeted the forest floor, and they’d had to watch their step or risk tripping over a well-camouflaged root. The soil had been wet and slick beneath their feet from rain, and sprinkled through the tussocks of browning grass crumbled huge, frost-blackened mushrooms. Now, the whole world glittered beneath the silver rays of the half-moon, illuminating dozens of squirrel, rabbit, bird, and deer tracks that ran beneath the tree trunks—tracks that could only have been laid since the snow began falling, less than an hour ago. 

How strange, that the season of death felt more lively than the long, damp months that preceded it. 

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure why. The hush just felt right. 

When Link looked over at her, eyes soft and wide with wonder, and nodded, she knew he felt it too. 

They reached a split in the path, a familiar crossroad. Left would take them further into the woods; right would take them to the meadows on the northeastern edge of the Green, before curving back in the direction of campus proper. 

She turned to Link once again. “What do you think? Right?”

“Wrong,” Link joked. “Nah, totally, let’s go to the meadows. It’ll be easier to get back to our dorms from there anyway.”

“It’ll be nice to see how they look, too, with the snow. By morning all the skiers will be out, and it won’t be nearly as pretty.” Zelda grinned good-naturedly. ‘All the skiers’ often included Link and Zelda in their numbers, after all. 

They swung off to the right, pointing out how the makeup of the forest changed as they got closer and closer to the meadows. When they both finished their final swigs of cocoa, marshmallows glazing pillowy sweetness down their throats, Zelda offered to stow their travel mugs away in her backpack. After all, Link had made them himself in his ceramics studio last year; it wouldn’t do for them to break! 

Still, even when the heat from the mug in her hands was gone, Zelda felt warm down to her core.

Books always said that winter was quiet, but Zelda couldn’t help but feel that was exactly wrong. It always felt, to her, like more. Brighter, with the snow reflecting the moonlight back up to dazzle their retinas and aid their journey. Freer, with the song of the wind more obvious as the fresh powder muffled any of the typical forest sounds. Sweeter, with the clean crispness of snowfall settling on the tongue. The beautiful more ness of it all filled her up, until she felt just shy of bursting with contentment.  

And then they crossed into the open air with its swirling snow and stars, and something in her chest, something brilliant and winged and joyful, rose and broke free of its tether.

Her head tipped back and her mouth opened wide and she drank in the moonlight, the starlight, the north wind. Arms flung wide to embrace the night. She twirled, twirled, twirled, basking in the coldbright good until it blurred into streaks and her dancing feet stumbled their way into a deep, clinging snowbank and she tripped—

Arms around her. Warm but not warm; body heat covered up by a wind-chilled shield. Soft but not soft; sturdy compactness muffled by puffy down. Her body was motionless, but her vision spun like the orbit of some wild planet. Its sun: the green beanie. 

“Nice catch,” she said breathlessly. “Have you considered sports?”

One hand lingered on her still-swaying waist, holding her steady. The other lifted to her cheek, its touch tender. His woolen glove itched as it traced letter-signs against her cold skin.

“D-U-M-M-Y.”

“Rude.”

With a deliberately hard blink, her vision finally stopped spinning. Link’s face was before her: nose and cheeks ruddy from the cold, bemused smirk on his lips. It was strange to be staring up at him for once. She hadn’t done that since they were eleven, when she shot up like a beanpole and didn’t stop growing until halfway through high school. 

Noticing the change in her gaze, Link retracted his hand from her cheek, instead hovering it between them where she could make out his signs. “You know, spinning around like you did when we were little is a lot more dangerous now than it was then. Kids have way stronger bones.”

“I drink my milk, thanks. Lon Lon Ranch is coming in clutch for my bones.”

He gave her a deadpan look. “Sure you do. Because I’ve definitely seen you get milk at the cafeteria even once in the last two and a half years.”

“Well…there was milk in the hot chocolate, right?” She raised a brow at him.

“Nope. Box mix and water.” His stare was positively gloating.

“You’re awful.”

“ Yeah, your awful,” he said, and then, as if the terrible, adorable pun had flipped a switch in his brain, his jaw went slack and his eyes bugged. Zelda had about one second to get her feet beneath her before he dropped his arms and stepped back so abruptly that she would’ve fallen again, had she not felt the tension seize his every muscle. 

As it was, she still stumbled. Her jaw clenched, but she forcibly relaxed it before meeting Link’s gaze again. 

In the time it took her to recover, he’d taken two steps back, a distance that yawned between them like an abyss between their feet. His arms were wrapped tightly around his stomach, as if he was about to be sick—or protecting his soft, squishy bits from a nearby threat.

“I think it’s time to tell me what’s going on,” Zelda said, voice soft but clear.

Link was already shaking his head. She waited for his hands to rise into place, for him to uncurl his hedgehog self and speak, even if it was a no, but they didn’t.

“Link, it’s obvious that something is wrong. You’ve been acting wei—” She cut herself off; reconsidered. “... different all night. I’m not judging you, I’m worried. You’re my best friend. I want to help you, if it’s something I can help with.”

The head-shaking slowed, then gradually ceased. He peeled his arms free from his torso. When his gaze met hers, her heart twinged at how ashamed he looked, with his shiny eyes and the redness of his face that she knew surpassed what the cold alone could do to his skin. 

“Do you promise you won’t judge me? Or get mad?”

“I promise,” she vowed. “And Link,” she smiled at him gently, “if you think I would judge you for anything, you’re ignoring thirteen years of experience.”

He let out a juddering sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. Okay. Okay. So the thing is…” His gestures trailed off. He tried again. “The thing is…it’s…I…”

“You can plan what you want to say first,” Zelda murmured. “No hurry, as long as I do get to know it eventually.”

He nodded jerkily, gaze settling on the churned-up snow between them. When his hands began twitching in loose, tiny gestures, Zelda turned her own gaze to the sky to give him privacy. 

The snow had begun falling faster since they’d begun their walk through the Green. She could hardly see the constellations between the shadows of the clouds above. The Ocarina, the Hero of Winds, the Chosen Lovers—all her favorites were out of sight. She could barely make out the three stars that formed the belt of the Princess of Light. 

A tap on her shoulder. She looked over at Link, whose face looked a little more settled, a little less panicked. 

“I’m ready now,” he signed. The motions were steadier, and she felt the tension in her unknot the tiniest bit. They were Link and Zelda. They’d be okay. 

She nodded encouragingly. 

“You’re right that there’s something wrong,” he started. “Wrong with—with me. At least I think it’s with me, because there’s nothing you’ve done wrong that would have done this, at least I don’t think so, I can’t think of anything, but—” 

He cut himself off, dropping his hands fully back to his sides before raising them again. 

“There is something wrong with me. When I’m with you. It started…” His gaze left hers and focused on the stars above, remembering. “I think it started during finals week. That night we pulled the all-nighter. I thought it was just because of how tired I was…but then it happened over winter break, at the solstice bonfire. And it’s only gotten worse since then.”

Zelda’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Nothing wrong with her, yet it only happened when he was in her company? A gust of wind rocked them both, and for a split second, she wished it would carry her away.

“I just feel so…so weird,” he burst out, hands flying into bigger shapes than they had all night. “Whenever we’re together. My heart beats so hard, and I feel it everywhere. And my knees get all shaky, and my hands get all shaky—which really sucks when you need your hands to communicate, by the way—and my brain gets all fuzzy, and my stomach churns.”

Oh. Oh, he was…

“And it makes me feel awful, because you don’t deserve me acting so weird with you, but sometimes you get close, or you say things that just make–make it stronger, and I just can’t help it!” He shook his head wildly. “I think I must be sick or something!”

Her heart thrummed in her chest at the same time as she had to bite back a laugh. She’d been worried all this time, and all along, he’d—

“Link,” Zelda said carefully. “I don’t think you’re sick.”

“Yeah?” He looked hopeful. “What do you think it is?”

“Well…” How to phrase this delicately? “Do you remember Malon? From high school?”

“Of course! I mean, she was my first girlfriend, how could I forget her?”

“And do you remember how you felt when you two first got together?”

“Yeah, being with her always made my heart…flutter…” He broke off, and Zelda could see the gears start turning in his head, spinning faster than even the snowflakes falling thickly around them.

No turning back now.

“Link…have you ever considered that you might…love me romantically?”

The denial was immediate, words flying from his fingers. “I can’t like you! We said we’d never date back in, like, middle school!”

Her chest swelled with fond amusement at the silliness of the rebuke.

“Link, that was almost a decade ago. We’re completely different people now. Way smarter, emotionally competent, physically attractive people. ” She grinned teasingly. “You had that terrible haircut that made you look like a coconut back then, of course I wouldn’t date you.”

“A coconut,” he repeated, gestures spiky with his derision. “Like yours was much better! You had that little pageboy cut for years.”

“Yeah, and as my best friend, it’s really your fault that I looked so bad for so long. You really should’ve warned me.” 

“My fault! You—” He broke off. After a couple of moments, he continued, gestures smaller. “You mentioned my hair, but…isn’t it also, you know, because of your sexuality?”

Zelda laughed. “I wasn’t even fourteen yet when we made that pact. I don’t think I even knew what a sexuality was.”

“No, I mean…” He scuffed his foot into the snow. “Now. You wouldn’t be into me now, because, you know.”

Zelda’s brows furrowed. “No, I really don’t. Can you be a little more clear?”

“Because…you’re straight?”

She blinked. That was not what she had expected him to say. “Link, that means I like men. You are a man. Of course I could be into you.” 

Link blinked at her as if she had just delivered an entire lecture on the precise chemical makeup of the secretions of tireless frogs and their utilization in the pharmaceutical industry. “I…yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” A smile spread over his face, slow and steady, until he was positively beaming. “You’re right! You could be into me!” He froze. “Wait, but are you into me? You already know how I feel, so…”

“‘Know?’ I practically figured it out for you,” she teased, then took a deep breath. “To be honest, I haven’t thought about it before, because I’ve been so happy to be your best friend. I’d have been happy to be that for you forever, as long as I was by your side. But you…seriously, Link, if you’d want to give us a shot romantically, I’d be so down for that.”

“Really?” he asked, starry-eyed.

“Yes,” she answered simply. “It’s another way to get to know you, to be close to you. To be happy with you.” She shuffled her feet. “I love you, Link, and I’d love to love you even more. Why wouldn’t I want to take that chance?”

The smile he gave her warmed her right down to her frosty toes. The two paces that had separated them for the entirety of their conversation disappeared in a flash, as he clumsily crossed the snow between them. 

“I could be your best friend forever, too,” he told her, “but I’d also like to be able to make out with you.” 

One hand reached up to cup her face, and Zelda tilted her chin down until their cold-reddened noses brushed. 

Nayru’s love, if Link’s heart had been hammering like this every time they’d touched for the last month, he was even more of an oblivious dummy than she thought.

But he was her oblivious dummy. Platonically, romantically. Eternally.

“We should get a start on that, then,” she murmured, watching his eyelashes flutter at the feeling of her breath on his face. “Time’s a-ticking. Snow’s a-blowing.”

Link let out a wordless groan, shifting the hand that cupped her cheek to instead twine demandingly through the hair at her nape, and signed rapidly with his free hand. “Gods, I love that smart mouth of yours.”

She wasn’t sure which one of them moved first, if it was Link’s hungry mouth or her own that bridged the gap. Whoever it was, it led to an intoxicating, insistent push-and-pull; the sharp press of Link’s teeth against her bottom lip; the sensation of the smooth muscle of his mouth as she traced her tongue along his own. 

He tasted of chocolate, peppermint, and marshmallow. Sweet and warm and familiar, just like him. 

Her best friend.

Link.

When they pulled apart, gasping for breaths that stung their lungs with the chill, she could feel that same fluttery something from earlier whirling in her chest, ablaze with joy. 

“That was…” she breathed. 

“Yeah,” Link agreed. His eyes were half-lidded, heavy with desire, as they traced over her face. “It was.”

“We should do it again, as soon as possible.” Zelda pressed a kiss to the lobe of his ear, tugging the ruby stud there softly with her teeth and luxuriating in his ragged gasp. How glad she was that Link had never chosen to let the holes close over; that he could look in the mirror and see how they suited the him he was now, rather than who he’d been when they were first done. 

“I think I’d rather—” he signed, and the shapes were fuzzy with the shaking of his hands, “—do it again somewhere warm.”

It was so unexpected, Zelda couldn’t help but release his ear in a full-body laugh. There was her Link, her precious, lovely, cold-hating Link. 

He’d continued despite her fit of giggles, although a smile had curved the corners of his mouth as well. “Seriously, you said the cold front wasn’t coming in yet, so what’s this?” He gestured at the snow whirling around them, which admittedly was coming down rather hard. And maybe the wind blowing in from the north was a little strong. 

“I never claimed to be a meteorologist,” Zelda sniffed. “And…didn’t I say I’d keep you warm?”

“Not warm enough!” Link dodged as she attempted to brush her icy nose into his warm neck. “Hey! Keep that thing to yourself!” 

As she chased him down the path that would take them back to campus, laughing wildly and stumbling where the drifts were too deep, Zelda couldn’t help but grin. The magic spell hadn’t broken when they left the streetlamp after all: they had kindled it all by themselves. It didn’t matter where they were. At his side, every flurry could be fairy dust.

It was him and her. Zelda and Link. 

Always.

[anteroom-of-death]

Clever Girl

Synopsis: What would happen if 13 met Clara?

A/n: listen I know I've been shit for fic publishing lately. I've overloaded my shit. Sorry. Anywho. Here's a bittersweet reunion fic. Thank you to all who reads this. It's a bit different than my usual offerings! Enjoy! Whouffaldi forever bitches.

A distress signal rang through the TARDIS. The Doctor was of half a mind to ignore it. Lately, the whole universe was screaming out for help. Only so much she could feasibly do. She was only one entity, already stretched so thin, and a part of her Fam was worried about the radiation from repeated exposure to the Vortex. She was intent on making his adventures with his grandson in space relatively fun and low-intensity.

She went to go dismiss it…

A TARDIS. Type 60. Automatically generated by the ship when the crew was in danger and needed another Time Lord's intervention.

Her hearts raced and she turned to this little ramshackle crew she had.

Who was it?

“Say, who wants one more quick trip? Huh? I’ll get you all back safe and sound. Nothing but a little bit of distress.”

There was a generally positive assent.

She entered in the coordinates and pulled the lever down. The familiar groans of the TARDIS rang through the halls and reverberated through her head.

When she got out, it was a battlefield. Some far off planet…the universe’s second oldest tale. War, war and more war.

Children, women and not much in the way of soldiers were dying everywhere. Hell rained down from an unseen high and she looked everywhere for the TARDIS that called. So much death.

Yaz was first to emerge. Eager to help, eager to save lives.

“I’m going to scan for…something.” She told them all, she announced as she produced her sonic out from her coat.

It was close by. She chased the signal about twenty paces. Cleverly disguised as a lamp-post. Her little flock followed close by.

“They must be close by.” She tapped it and went into the deeper parts of the war-ravished area.

“Who, Doctor? Who are you looking ‘round for?” Graham reasonably questioned. The Doctor was erratic. Searching, her eyes seemed to bug from their sockets. They were filled with questions, tears, and a perhaps, a bit of hope.

“I don’t know.” She breathed, a bit of honesty leaking out of the corners of the simple expression.

A small, traumatized child scraped into view.

“Are you friends with Miss Teacher and her Lady Me?” One of their tentacles cleaved onto the Doctor. “Their spaceship came in the same manner!”

“Miss Teacher? Lady Me?” The Doctor perked up. She recognized one of those names…

Who was this Miss Teacher? It couldn’t be…no. Not at all, she shoved that bit of hope deep down. Banished it forever. This body was good at banishing emotions. Mostly.

“Can you point us to them?” She crouched down and got on the child’s level.

“Come, I’ll bring you to them!”

Yaz, Ryan and Graham followed in pursuit. Equally as confused as well as skeptical about the child’s intentions.

The utterly destroyed city turned base camp-slash-survival shelter had a small enclave leading down from a basement. It was cramped, survivors wall to wall.

The Doctor sucked through her teeth, unsure how to help. Her Fam probed and set up shop. Figuring the best way to help.

And there she was, the most beautiful woman her last body would ever see. She was dressed simply. All black. The same jewelry she wore as the day she died.

It made the Doctor’s hearts sink.

It was all wrong. Clara was supposed to fly to Gallifrey and reset the time-lines. To go back and die on Trap Street…

Her initial reviled take and sights at the Lady Me and the instinct of a Time Lord to balk at immortals and…for a lack of a better term, the undead, toned down. She remembered how joyous it was to have the memories back of Clara.

Maybe this was why the universe was screaming for help from all angles. Clara didn’t go back…

The fracture maybe was too great now to fix.

But here she was, in all of her short, bossy control-freak glory. Giving orders, telling people rationing schemes, an air of authority radiating off her in such a way that made the Doctor think the hybrid was still very much alive.

Although, she felt a stab of lucidity at herself, she was being marked as bossy and a control-freak all the time now. Maybe she was quick to judge Clara?

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” She said as she shoved herself to the front.

It took a moment, but Clara smiled one of those large, three-mirror smiles. “And you’re supposed to not remember me. I heard you went with the Missy-special with your latest body. Long way ‘round.” She stabbed with her finger into the Doctor’s chest.

“Oh, glass lady put you back in my head.”

Clara nodded, not at all shocked.

“At least Koschei dealt with the Time Lords for me. I hated being hunted…”

“Koschei?” The Doctor yet again, found her mind boggling.

“Doctor?” The ask seemed to come from the Lady Me and Yaz.

“Oh, yeah, it’s me…Me. Oh, Yaz. This is my friend Clara.” The weight of the word ‘friend’ was not as all encompassing as it needed to be. How could she be able to define the insanity and passion and a love that infected all around it, including it’s hosts? A passion so bright it caused them to merge into another? “This is my new friend, Yaz.” The word yet again didn’t ring right. But it still had a crushing effect on it’s bearer.

Truth was, she fancied Yaz, but after the betrayal of Missy, the inevitable loss of Clara, and the final chapter of her time with River…she wasn’t allowing herself to feel romantic feelings again. Repression and regret.

“How do you know…them by that name?”

“Oh, she told me. We found each other accidentally and she was truly apologetic about how we ended up. She just thought our dynamic would be funny. Didn’t mean for you to single-handedly coup Gallifrey. We had tea regularly. She was trying to find a way to fix me until she vanished. This new body he’s in…lightweight, but enjoys ginger beer.” She smirked. “He told me he gave up on fixing me and went straight to arson.”

“I don’t approve of their friendship. I must tend to the wounded, it’s nice to see you again, Doctor.” The Lady Me said as she ushered Yaz away to help.

“I thought he destroyed Gallifrey in some…reaction to me?”

Clara laughed. “God no, and do you think he’d ever tell you the truth? Especially if he thinks you’ve forgotten me? Nope!”

“Were you…ever interested in going back?”

“Kind of, I was getting around to it eventually, but I love me a planet and I have to go save the universe. I had cute boy and a really annoying Scot once show me the wonders of life. I’m not going to waste my un-life. And now the big bad Time Lords aren’t hunting me…I’ll go on forever.”

“Do you…want to come with me? Again. We can anywhere. There was so much I wanted to do with you.” The Doctor pleaded. The waves of her past body’s desperation for this woman unlocking and flooding her current body. She felt a thin grey-haired Scot banging around in the corner of her mind punching through, begging to feel Clara’s hand in his and to press his lips to it once more.

“Nah, I think Yaz wouldn’t enjoy that. Nor Ashildr. Companions, right?” She nudged the Doctor in a joking manner.

“I loved you. I loved you more than you could –“ And the Doctor was cut off.

“I knew. I know.” Clara’s eyebrows knit together and if she still could cry, her eyes would have started to well up. The reflex was still there, the burn, the hollow ache. The relief from water didn’t not come, though.

“I still don’t understand your face.” The Doctor said. “Your eyes are huge.”

“I think Koschei stole them.” Clara remarked.

“He does look…a little bit like you these days.” The Doctor admitted. Wondering if it was intentional and a subtle reminder when they faced off, or just flattery and fondness for a friend.

“Come, help us save these people. Off chance, we cross paths again, I’ll buy you a drink. You still like coffee? I’ll get you some. I can’t enjoy anything anymore, but it’s nice to share.”

“No, I can’t drink it anymore. Buzzes my brains out. I accidentally drank one of Yaz’s Monster drinks and she had to pry me off the ceiling, literally. Can really only eat dirt and crème custards now. I can make tea, no one drinks it.” The Doctor admitted.

“I can’t taste, so I’ll take a cuppa.” Clara coalesced into a fit of laughter. She was glad that the mood shifted to silly rather than heart-aching.

“Can’t believe you and the Master are on speaking terms. Let alone you know his real name…”

“Well, I know yours. So she felt it only fair.”

Clara started calling for a queue for dinner rations and went to dishing out some sort of mash on plates.

“Grab a ladle and work on how to end this war!” She ordered the Doctor.

The Doctor picked one up and began working.

The rush to her brains from yet again getting bossed around from her impossible Clara sent her into overdrive. The war was over by daybreak. Peace was chartered, reparations set up, and the attackers were forced to rebuild the planet from the ground up using their own resources from their home planet.

The two TARDIS’s seemed to be communicating when the entire lot of both parties went back.

The Doctor reached out for Clara’s hand as good-byes were being issued and thanks.

The companions of both these travelers went into their respective TARDIS. Yaz was last. Giving a quick, worried, jealous glance.

She pressed her lips to it, a single large, hot tear splashing down onto it.

“Just one adventure, please.” Her throat began tightening.

Clara let her hand linger near the Doctor’s mouth for a moment longer. If her heart could still beat, it would be beating her to crumble in her resolve.

“No.” She smiled and tucked a strand of the Doctor’s blonde locks behind her ear, careful to not tangle it in the mess of earrings that peppered her ear. She let her hand linger for more than was sane. She wished it was still the face of that old, grey, handsome stick-bug she used to be. Her favorite of the two she knew most intimately.

The Doctor instinctively closed her eyes and as a breath raked out of her throat, hitched and shattered. She leaned into Clara’s cold, dead hand and remembered it’s former warmth.

They sat there in silence for a moment that seemed both too short and too long.

Clara finally pulled away. Making her way quickly into her TARDIS’s door frame.

“Run, my clever girl. Run and be a Doctor.” She called out, slamming the door shut.

The Doctor fell to the ground and wept at length.

If Clara told her so, then she really had to do it.

She entered her own TARDIS, it was feeling excited that their Clara was near the both of them once again. She noticed that about a half-hour had passed.

She stalked past her new Fam, entering in the coordinates to where they were probably needed most next….

They seemed at attention for her to give an order of her own.

And she ran, just as she had been ordered.

Perhaps even cleverly!

[cinnamon-bunni]

me? posting something for once of my oc?? impossible, i know. but since i submitted my boy to the tf2octournament hosted by @tf2shipswag, I figured it be best to actually have something for him out there. So! here's just a little ficlet to introduce The Reaper :) will i write more propaganda for him? maybe!! i really like writing him so maybe depending how far he gets in the rounds i'll write more about him <33 word count: 1358 (thanks in advanced for reading and i hope you enjoy it! <3)

The plane he had boarded was set to leave in just a few minutes. As he let himself get comfortable in his seat, he scanned the cabin; an elderly couple boarded, dressed in their Sunday best, polite smiles on their faces with the lady's hand resting on her husband's as they walk to their seats; a young man who entered in a rush, flashing a smile to the stewardess who greeting him with a good morning. Based on the man's eyes that were filled with misery and his crumpled and ugly suit that was fit for a wedding, he would guess that he had been stood up and was heading home; a young stewardess at the entrance gave her best greetings to the passengers despite her shaky voice, with her back arched and shoulders stiff with tension—very obviously a new hire, one who was poor at her job of keeping up the air of hospitality; an older stewardess next the the younger, eyes sharp as she watched the newcomer, judging her every move.

The older employee darted her eyes over to him, and immediately straightened her impossibly straight back when she met his gaze. A smile graced her face as she nodded her head in acknowledgement.

He ought to smile. Most people would smile back in situations like that. So, he did—he gave his best "polite towards strangers" smile and raised his hand up for a short and brief wave. He practiced that one often. He was proud of that smile.

She moved her attention back to her coworker, cupping her hand and whispering in her ear once everyone had boarded, giving him the cue to move on. She didn't even appreciate his smile, though it did play in his favor, leaving him to be seen as just another traveler. It was better that way.

The pilot entered the cabin to introduce himself and talk about the flight. A charming silver fox who happily explained the planned trip ahead of them, the duration, and how he hoped they all enjoyed themselves.

He inwardly scoffed at the idea of a seventeen-hour trip. He figured it'd be an eighteen, perhaps even nineteen-hour flight, depending on how poor the weather was over the Atlantic. Either way, it left him with plenty of time on his hands.

Next to his seat was a briefcase that he had brought on with him. The plane started to shake as it took off, but he paid no mind to it—unlike the passengers around him, all murmuring to themselves in hushed and distressed voices—as he brought it into his lap and popped it open.

The main item of importance, in his opinion, was the map that could be found inside. The second item of importance was the vile of poison that could be found in a secret compartment of the briefcase, tucked away right next to a small set of knives, but considering how he was in a public space with law-abiding citizens, he decided that the map would be the thing he would bring out. He unfolded it, mouth twitching in irritation of the loud crackling and the sheer size of the old map of New York City.

He already studied the map hours prior before he boarded. He studied the second he had received his next mission. But looking over his plan thrice never hurt anyone. Except for the person he was meant to kill, perhaps.

He fished out a marker from the briefcase, then dropped it back near his feet. He read and reread street names, restaurants, hotels, anything and everything that he would need. The mayor of the city, he recalled, enjoyed Italian food. He already knew the politician's favorite places like the back of his hand. He found the names and circled them.

Food would be the easiest to kill the man, despite it not being his favorite way to kill a man. But the poison that was supplied would work well with the food. The mayor was far from being the definition from being healthy, and with the stresses of running a city, along with reelection coming up? Why, no one would bat an eye if he had a heart attack, would they? Even if officials suspected foul play, he would be back on a plane to England before they could even pinpoint a lead suspect.

The mayor was a good man, at least from what he could tell. Opinions were rarely formed on the job, as it was never his business who his next hit was. It never mattered in his eyes. But as a politician, he was sure the mayor had to be guilty of something, and that was enough to calm the tiniest part in his brain that still had the title of his conscience.

He laughed aloud to himself. The idea of him still having a conscience amused him. He kept his head down and continued his work. Albeit boring, having to memorize every inch of the map, going over his plan again and again and again until it was burned into his brain, he knew it was necessary. But oh, how did he hate monotonous work.

"First time going to New York?" A different stewardess stood in the aisle, a cart covered in a nice tablecloth in front of her. On the cart were an array of drinks, different fancy bottles for each fancy drink.

He smiled up at her as he answered, "first time traveling to America, actually." It was true, actually—the rare truth he found himself admitting to another person. He never left Europe before.

She nodded. "I've been there a few times for vacation, it's quite nice there. Especially New York." She then gestures to her cart, asking in a peppy tone, "refreshments?" ultimately ended their conversation.

He took a water and went right back to work. He spent a good portion of the flight hunched over his map, and an even bigger part staring at nothing. Planning on a map could only take up so much time, and he didn't have any hobbies; he didn't even really bring anything to entertain himself.

He reminded himself that that didn't matter. He was a man on a mission, a hunt. Entertainment didn't matter.

Besides, between his mind, the map, and the conversationalists on the plane, he was able to keep busy. The stewardesses aboard all met him with kindness that was required of them, and he returned with the same. The other passengers made small talk, asking about his reason for traveling, the type of work he does. He forced a smile on his face as lies slipped out of his mouth with ease. He forced a laugh at the dull jokes, a quip of his own to appear friendly, and small hums and noises when he couldn't think of anything quick enough to respond with.

Honestly, dealing with people was more exhausting than anything in his line of work. Smiling, while hard to get down, made things better, he found. It was quite easy to lose as well, he knew that well enough, but thankfully he was able to keep that smile until the chattering numskulls moved on. Now, if they just kept him out of everything else, he would be grateful.

Fortunately, the last few hours of the trip went just like that. He was in his alone and quiet area, thinking about New York. He wouldn't lie to himself and say he wasn't excited. Although there for a job, the idea of being somewhere new was exhilarating for him. So many new sights, new people, new sensations and wonders and emotions...

But maybe he could enjoy that afterward. He was The Reaper afterall, and he'd be damned if he didn't finish the job. Maybe he could celebrate after he finished with everything. A single glass of champagne by himself in his hotel room after a good day of assassinating the mayor sounded like a great plan to him.

Reaper grinned to himself, letting himself revel in the rare feeling of joy that he felt before the plane landed. How titillating the experience would be. He couldn't wait.

[anulithots]

The Rose. Episode 4 - "Wild"

Monkia has infected my computer and now my mouse won't work, sooooo.... there's that.

I handwrite these and have my paper tablet translate it to text, and it thinks the fairies fae/faer pronouns are wrong and I hate it. For clarification, fae is pronounced like "fay" and faer is pronounced like "fair".

There should be one more episode for Rose, I couldn't fit the *reveals* I wanted to in this episode, but the last one should be out soon <3

And if this series has taught me anything, it's that aha moments are HARD,.

A tumblr houseplant story from @briarborealisart

The info post is here

Episode one - "Thorns"

Episode two - "Maidoe"

Episode three- "Petals"

Note - this is still a first draft, any feedback would be much appreciated. Especially for this one, this is a super interesting concept to explore, but my brain found it so difficult, and comments on if I got to the core of this would be appreciated. <3

-----

Puddles had been the one to tell Rose to hug others. Fae said everyone liked surprise hugs, the 'quintessential show of affection.

Maidoe didn't like hugs.

That, or Rose never realized how sharp fur thorns actually were.

Rose could've blamed Puddles. Maybe fae did. Fae didn't know. Rose just enjoyed Puddle's company more than faer anger. 

Rose flicked faer tail & trotted to faer plant, carefully checking to make sure their needs were met. It seemed okay. Large trailing vines, full of wild glory, with the bloom - a showcase of wild ingenuity.

So why didn't the others work that way?

Money tree glared in faer direction whenever Rose passed by - as if Rose's advice was a personal offence- before sitting with Venus.

Puddles was more absent than usual, not at all willing to have their usual debates. and fae completely shut down Rose's help.

And Maidoe?

Maidoe left. Never to be seen again. Because Rose had tried to forget faer thorns.

Rose climbed the trailing vines, inspecting each leaf for infestation (never could be too careful after the recent scare).

Rose was wild. Rose had thorns. Rose was Rose. Fae didn't know how to be any other way. Fae didn't WANT to be any other way.

So why couldn't these houseplants look at Rose's own success with faer plant & see...

....how well fae took care of it.

What did Rose do so differently with faer blooms? Fae settled upon faer high-knot -sanctuary, kneading the vines as fae thought.

Well, Rose watched & listened. Fae waited for any signs of distress. then gently eased it to how it would grow best.

And with the others?

Rose tried to give them thorn-y hugs they didn't want. But that didn't mean four thorns were bad... it just meant that Rose needed to... "cultivate" faer friendships.

Fae needed to listen and watch and only give advice when they needed it... or when they showed signs of distress..?

Rose climbed from faer perch to the base of faer plant.

Perhaps fae could ask questions. That would be helpful.

Like to Puddles. Rose found faer sitting beside Maidoe's tree, stroking the leaves.

Rose sat next to faer. "What can I help with?"

"Just... sit here, with me? For a little while."

Rose flicked faer tail "Of course"

There were ways to not poke the others.

Without covering faer thorns.

------

[Next episode - "Gone"]

if you don't mind the little self-promo: reblog this with one kind statement to "water" rose, let's spread some wonder to this convoluted place <3

And spread the word to anyone else who would like to add their houseplant to the garden, perhaps we can fill tumblr with houseplants.