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[fivewholeminutes]

A Series of Small Offerings

PART ONE -2- Fields of Elation

And nobody else can pull me out / And the fields of elation, quiet and loamy

So when with Thread the Needle my thought process was something along the lines of "you know, put the invisible space between Vessel and his mask, make it dark, gloomy-" etc., etc., this time my brain went "bog". Just "bog". There was no discussion. I think the word "loamy" inspired this. So bog it is. Do you guys know that one sheep in a bog photo? That was my inspiration.

Vessel's corpse close-up:

[snowthornes]

Greetings, @greatprotector-if . I saw your tag about writing the mc. Do you remember that random galen.txt file screenshot Someone (alas, 'tis me) sent to your asks? Yes. I have kept its contents locked away for all this time but now it is clamoring to be set free. I cannot keep it at bay any longer.

I was about to send it to your ask box, but then I took a step back and Actually Looked at its length and I was like. Madness. To terrorize anyone's inbox with this would be a most heinous crime.

So, it's a post now!

(Warning!!! Short snippet where you talk to a loser who's utterly in love and is very annoying about it. You may feel the urge to launch them out a window. I would support you <;3)

I am going to babygirl galen so hard actually, themk youf or creating them. I've mostly been lurking around in your blog till recently, but I just want to say that the moment I laid eyes on Galen I have been head over heels besotted with them. Thank you for giving them to us, they are the light of my life, the love of my dreams, I promise I will take care of them I will make them so so happy.

I am keeping an MC who's ready to fall head over heels besotted in love at first sight with Galen. They are raring to go. They are going to be so in love and they are going to be so persistently annoying about it.

"I don't think love at first sight is really a thing," a lovely well meaning individual might say, "Wouldn't that just mean you liked their face?"

(Another MC I keep stuffed in the freezer, voice coming muffledly from its depths: AND WHAT ABOUT IT,)

"No, friend," My MC would say, with a solemnity akin to a war general giving an impassioned speech in the name of their cause before they march off to war, "I mean, yes, Galen is lovely. The prettiest. They have the prettiest golden eyes, like the glimmering gold of sunlight coating tree bark and grass blades in sunset, though they often use them to give me the look—"

They pause in their enthusiastic ramblings to stare at you, eyes bright. Your expression has long collapsed, settling into a flat, dead-eyed stare. Why are you here. Why are you still listening to this. They gesture excitedly at you, triumphant.

"—Yes, like that! And they have the broadest shoulders and the thickest arms and the loveliest eyelashes, and sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to hold them—"

"You know, you're really not helping your case," you interject, your dead-eyed gaze strengthening into indignant accusation. You have to cut this wannabe bard off before he decides to wax poetic about this poor Galen for another three paragraphs.

Gods know that you would launch either them or yourself out a window before they finished.

"It— it's not like I'd do that without their permission," they cough meekly, their eyes wandering away from your accusing gaze. They have the audacity to look shy. "Of course I'd court them first."

"Court," you echo flatly. "Did you really just say court—?"

"Yes!" They draw themselves up, gaining steam once again. Their eyes sparkle with determined fire as they outline their wooing plans to you, the resigned listener. "I'll give them gifts, like cool looking rocks and flowers — nothing too expensive at first, since that would probably make them uncomfortable—"

You squint at them. "... Are you a crow?" they steamroll on, undettered.

"And I'll do some wood carving! Maybe some pocket-sized figurines first — wait, what do you think Galen's favorite animal is? Do they even have one? Ah, what about a chicken? Do you think they'd appreciate a chicken—?

"Not a clue, but you never answered the earlier question," you point out. "Why do you like them so much?"

At this, they pause. "I just..." unlike in their earlier spiels, their voice sounds much softer. Stumbling over their words, as if they were about to voice something extremely precious. "They're... them" they clear their throat, and fiddle with the woven bracelets around their wrist. "Galen. They can be grumpy and intimidating and they're kind and they care and everyone knows that. And I just... I like them a lot. Just because."

"Just because," you repeat.

"Yeah." they seem to struggle with themselves for a moment before they draw themselves up, looking at you with earnest eyes. "I want... I want to make them happy."

— And that was my Galen-mancer MC. It was an ungodly hour in the morning, I was possessed by the Galen Brainrot, and I proceeded to write this abomination, immediately passing out at 5am once I finished it. I woke up groggy and dazed with only one .txt file possessing a damning title as a testament to what I'd done. I'm so sorry 💀

[the-consortium]

Excuse Me? Mr. Saqqura? I have a question. Do you feed Tnzettchian daemons your summon that are more bird like soul birdseed?

The light in Saqqara's part of the old Eldar palace seems even slower and lazier than in the other towers and halls. He has made himself at home in a spire a little way off, towering high above the arboretum. A thin, bone-bleached pinnacle, it sways gently in the non-wind of the old world like a blade of stone grass. Far on the horizon, one of the frequent dust storms clenches its fist and slowly strives up the edge of the sky. Over the ground-level landing bays, the heavy plasteel gates grind shut.

With sparing movements, the Word Bearer arranges a tea set. Pours some mint syrup into two small cups that would not be large even in human hands, but are no more than a thimble for an Astartes.

He pushes aside a couple of pages with notes that are obviously not written by him, but are concept drawings for an improved Narthecium that Arrian is working on with Tzimiskes.

The leaves he puts into the cups give off a spicy, slightly disconcerting smell. Whatever the plants are, this is no ordinary tea. He pours the mixture from a pot decorated with intricate silver ornaments that are very disturbing at second glance. Turns over a small hourglass and then sits down again cross-legged.

He makes a welcoming gesture with his hand and then pats a particularly large bottle that is standing on a little bench next to him.

"Splinters of Tzeentch live very well here with the Consortium. In, well, nature, if you want to put it that way … in the wild? … they feed on confusion, convoluted plots and madness, of course. But here on Urum, dozens of the galaxy's greatest medical geniuses have come together and are constantly busy trying to be better than their brothers and cousins. They team up, fall out, try to set traps for each other, write treatises so complex that most people go insane trying to read them. The Chief Apothecary is very insistent that his students regularly publish their work, even if it's next to impossible to get any medical journals in the Eye. He calls it an old Terran academic tradition. So I'm more concerned with making sure my slivers of Tzeentch don't get too fat than getting them food. So, to get back to the question - no, I don't need bird food. Feeding them is not a problem at all. There are other difficulties, though. I just had to stop Herik the other day from taking one of the more bird-like demons and doing gods knows what with it. Emperor's Children are weird sometimes and Herik's obsession with birds is disturbing."

The last of the sand has run through the hourglass and Saqqara reaches for the two small mugs. "Tea?"

[tommyspeakycap]

Can we get baby little Shelby find a bunny and ask Tommy and John to take it home. And get scolded by Polly when they at home? 💕💕

more pre war Tommy fluff ;) 

Bunny

“Tommy!”

The dark haired man’s heart flies into his throat, his mind immediately kicking into gear as he drops the coin he was about to flip. He was deciding whether or not to buy a horse with a new inflow of cash they had recently gotten. That horse is lost the second he hears the shriek that came from somewhere behind him. The heavy boots on his feet make easy work of crushing through powdery snow, but give a very little to prevent him from tripping and slipping; although the fear coursing through him and his extreme haste may well have contributed to his somewhat uncoordinated limbs.

In the maybe a minute that it takes form Tommy to get from where he was to where he had traced his little sister to, a million and one thoughts race through his mind. He fears every worst case scenario his mind can conjure up and immediately blames himself for bringing you out to the country to play in some fresh snow with John and Finn. The air was much clearer out here and so too was Tommy’s mind. He could think, be free of the city smoke and the harsh environment that appears to be tacked to his work in the family business. There was so much pressure on the raven haired bookmaker to uphold his own personal morals while also living a notoriously immoral life. He tried to keep his hands clean, prevent himself from muddying the line between pointless violence and the necessary survival and protection of his family.

So going with his 5 year old little sister out to the county was something not uncommon for him. And the snow had only given him more reason to. He regretted that now.

“What-” Tommy wheezed out, unable to speak for lack of his breath after attempting to run through the deep, deep snow. “What’s happened,” he coughs, “Are you alri-“

“Tommy!” The little girl whispers harshly, waving her hands at him disapprovingly, “Shhhhh, you’ll scare it away!” Tommy snaps his mouth shut, instead opting to take the five year olds outstretched hand and crouch down as she instructs him. On her other side is John; crouched down with one arm around Finn to keep him still. “What are we looking at?” Tommy asks quietly, his neck craned to try and spot whatever his other siblings had noticed. 

“It’s a bunny, Tom. Look.” (y/n) points with her little hand and Tommy follows the general direction in which her hand is showing him. In doing so, he squints and finds his gaze falling upon a small white rabbit sitting picking a blade of grass that it had pulled through the snow. “They want to take it home.” John states, grinning at Tommy something like a Cheshire Cat because he knows for a fact that man isn't able to say no to the puppy dogs eyes of (y/n) and Finn Shelby when they truly wanted something.

“Hm, I don't think so.” He mumbles, trying to keep his eyes off of the disappointed face of his younger siblings. “You know Aunt Polly’ll go mad.” The second he does turn his head to see his youngest siblings gazing up at him in the desperate way he knows always works, he regrets it. “Please Tommy, pleeeease?” (y/n) begs, clasping her cold little hands together and pulling her most convincing puppy eyes Tommy might've ever seen. “Yeah Tommy, please? Pretty pretty please?” Finn joins in, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement and anticipation at the idea of having the little bunny as a pet. 

“Yeah Tom,” John sniggers, stubbing out his cigarette on the snowy ground. The elder brother puts on a pout to mimic (y/n) and Finn, not serving to make things any easier for Tommy as the youngest two weren't able to pick up on John’s teasing nature and sarcastic reiteration of their words. They took it as encouragement while Tommy knew John would be going home to Martha and his own kids, thus wouldn't have to be on the reviewing end of Polly’s temper. Tommy rolls his eyes and inhales deeply, thinking briefly about how angry Polly would be compared to how much it would make you and Finn giggle to have a pet even if only for a while before Tommy would free it back into the wild and tell some lie about a magic bunny farm. The kids chanting brought his mind back. “Please, please, please!” 

“Alright,” Tommy cuts them off, “Alright. But we’re not chasing it around all afternoon.”

--

How on earth Tommy ended up holding his little sister as he stood in the doorway of the Shelby family home kicking the snow off his boots while said little sister had his big trench coat wrapped around her and her smaller jacket used as a blanket for their new bunny rabbit friend, he will never know. He genuinely felt like if he had been outside for one more minute he would have actually frozen stiff, however it was always his top priority that his littlest sibling was as safe as she could be; so it was suffice to say the idea of her getting frostbite and slash or hypothermia after she insisted on wrapping the little rabbit in her own coat was less than appealing to Tommy, so she could keep his warm winter jacket as long as she desired.

“Right Finn, straight into the living room and not a peep to Pol alright?” Finn nods vigorously in a show of his determination to follow his brothers order as he places the wrapped up bunny into the young boys arms. Finn tries to run as unsuspiciously as he can past Polly in the kitchen to go through to the living room where only Ada sat, reading a book by the fire underneath a blanket. 

“Tommy?” The little girls voice draws an “Mhm?” from him as he battles to get her stiff winter boots off of her tiny cold feet. “What're we going to name him?” She enquires, her voice as inquisitive as any other curious 5 year old is. Tommy hums in thought, tapping (y/n)’s other foot in the way that he does that tells her to put her foot down and lift the other one for Tommy to pull that boot off too. There was a distinct routine between the two that had been established in the last five years of her life with Tommy acting as her primary caregiver.

“I don't know, love. Whatever you want to call him. Just remember to stay quiet about it yeah?” He looks up to see his little sister nodding firmly, placing her finger over her lips just as Tommy had done so many times when secrecy or silence was needed. 

“Alrighty then.” Tommy says, lifting both the pairs of boots easily in one hand and putting them by the other shoes. He moves his hands to under the small girls armpits and hoists her gently back up onto his hip as to avoid her stepping small puddles of water that had collected from the snow on her boots and his by the door. “Shall we go see what your brothers gotten up to with that-” 

“Jesus fucking Christ Tommy.” 

Both siblings turn their heads quickly to face Polly when they hear her speaking with her stern scolding tone turned on. Polly immediately notes how Tommy looks slightly secretive, like he was ready to start either lying or making some form excuse for something for which her niece looked rather guilty. Deer in the headlights kind of expression. “Look, Pol...” Tommy begins, but is interrupted by his aunt firmly shaking her head and marching towards him. 

“I’ve told you a million times Thomas. She’s five. That means you do still need to put her bloody hat on when you take her out in the cold but you don’t need to fucking carry her everywhere.” She huffs, pressing both her palms against (y/n)’s cold rosy cheeks, “Shes bloody freezing.” Her scolding tone never fails to make Tommy feels as though he’s still a young boy who’s been caught misbehaving by his aunt. However now he’s an adult with responsibility for his little sister and somehow, he ends up on the receiving end of that tone far more than the littlest member of the family ever will. Polly peels Tommy’s coat away off the little girl in his arms so she could hang it up to hopefully dry some before he next needs it and (y/n) doesn't mind not wearing her brothers jacket anymore, however the words that Polly speaks about putting her back down only serves to make her cling a little tighter subconsciously. 

“She's only little, Pol.” Tommy defends, “And we had long day, haven’t we sweetheart?” Polly wants to scoff when (y/n) nods her head and offers up that angel smile that wins the hearts of her entire family, but the woman can’t help but smile back and shake her head. “Well,” she huffs slightly, her hand reaching back up to the little girl to to brush the snow off (y/n)’s hair, “I think the very least your brother could do if he was going to have you out in the freezing cold all day would be to put a bloody hat on you.” 

The little girl giggles, flicking her eyes to Tommy to inspect his reaction to their aunts words. 

“Remembered.” He notes flippantly with a grin and Polly knows fully well that it was not remembered because putting a hat on top of that little girls soft locks of hair was something he had never once remembered to do without a reminder since she was merely a little bald baby. 

“Course.” She responds teasingly, “Dinner’s out soon.”

Tommy nods his head before Polly walks away in the direction of the kitchen again, where Tommy had no doubt Arthur is now lingering to pick off the scraps of dinner before its put out on the table for everyone else. 

“That was a close one, Tom.” The little girl on his hip whispers quietly, her wide eyes causing Tommy to chuckle heartily as he takes them both through to the living room to see what Finn and now likely Ada were doing with this rabbit. “Yes,” Tommy agrees, walking into the living room “It very much was. Hello Ada.” Ada immediately rolls her eyes at the sound of Tommy’s voice. 

“Pol’s going to kill you, you know.” She states, standing and crossing her arms firmly over her chest as Tommy sets his youngest sister down on the floor to run over to where Finn sat with the bunny close to the heat the fire was giving off. “Probably.” Tommy nods.

Ada turns away to wrap her blanket around her only sister, the one she had wished and prayed for since she had been merely a little girl herself. Tommy vividly remembers the many occasions when Ada was not only his youngest sibling, but also his only sister and recalls how unhappy she had been about those facts. Finn being born eased only one of those issues, but Ada rested a while for the time that Finn was a baby before again pestering their mother about wanting a little sister again. 

She had been ecstatic when (y/n) was born, and she had been besotted with that sweet little girl ever since. 

“You always forget to put her hat on, Thomas.” Ada chastises, the reprimand drawing a chuckle from her brother who takes a seat down on the couch and crosses one leg on top of the other. “So I’ve heard.” Tommy mumbles under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear and stretch out her leg to kick his when she too sat back down on the couch.

“Twat.” She hisses. 

It was Tommy’s turn to role his eyes at his sisters flippant comment, paying no mind to her words thrown in a light tease that he knew she only ever half meant.

“That’s not very nice, Ada.” 

(y/n) doesn't do so much as turn around when she chides those words in dismay to Ada’s insult aimed at her Tom. There was no hiding how the little girl adored Tommy. “Exactly Ada,” Tommy grins widely, giving Ada the biggest shit eating look he can muster as he tried not to laugh, “And that’s why you're my favourite, aren't you my love?” The 5 year old simply nods her head in response to her brothers words before turning straight back to play with her new pet. 

“Well, she might be your favourite but you certainly won’t be Polly’s once she sees you’ve brought that home. She’ll go mad.” Ada nods her head in the direction of the fluffy white animal in their living room. Tommy shrugs his shoulders indifferently, “They're happy though, aren't they? and quiet. Worth it really.” 

Ada knew very well that Tommy was right, although it was likely that she wouldn't even think to much on that in his vicinity, just incase he even got the sensation that she was thinking he was in the right. They’ve got a big family and a lot of hard work had to go into making business run smoothly to provide for everyone. The younger kids can sometimes go amiss to the elder siblings on particularly busy days. Sometimes playing and talking to them gets overlooked or their clothes go on back to front because everyone forgot they sometimes still needed help with things like that. 

So giving them the simple pleasure of almost a normal childhood - not one living with the Shelby name and subsequently the future of the Peaky Blinders tacked to them - by letting them a pet that they can look after and love on for a few days at least was something Tommy was willing to grin and bare the wrath of Polly Gray for. 

He was a sucker for that little girl, so when she’s happy there are few things in the world Thomas Shelby wouldn't endure to keep it that way. 

[plainlo-inthemorning]

A little written-in-the-middle-of-the-night Loki fic snippet that just grew another leg. TVA Loki + Lokane. Rating T.

(First part is here)

Shine a Light, part II

The tempad feels hot and slippery in his palm as he stalks down the hallway, quickly putting distance between himself and the hunter he left unconscious amidst overturned chairs and tables in the canteen.

The mess had already been there, leftovers from workers rushing panicked to man their stations. He had simply added one more touch.

Tiny droplets of sweat bead his brow and blood has started seeping though the tear in his crumbled shirt.

The fabric is clinging wetly to his bicep, but in the mayhem unfolding around him, nobody gives him a second glance.

For the first time, he is thankful at least to be wearing the anonymous uniform dictated by the oppressors.

He reaches the kill me kind of room again and shuts the door behind him.

You were meant to cause suffering and death.

You’re a cosmic mistake.

You were meant to die at the hands of the mad titan.

Lies.

All lies.

Still projected on the wall is the paused image of a lost memory of his unfulfilled fate.

He sees himself, Thor and her on the barren planet with the black soil. The man he never became is lying on the ground, Thor cradling him.

She watches them both in shock.

It resonates in his bones. He has to go there.

He has to reach his brother at this precise, excruciatingly rare moment of heroism. His act of heroism.

Before the scheming and deceit poison their bond once more in an endless loop of disappointment.

In this moment, all is forgiven. Thor will listen and help. A different path will branch.

And he has to go to her.

It is ludicrous, this riddle, yet the truth of it presses hard on his chest.

On the grainy roll of film, he saved her life and her eyes bore into his with such intensity, his acute need still reverberates like an echo between the walls of the kill me kind of room.

The smell of lilacs lingers.

What will happen when he faces his own self on the timeline, he can’t imagine. Also, he gives it little thought at this late stage with universal logic already suspended as it is. Hopefully he can reason with the man he was meant to be.

He has had quite enough of being his own past, present and future selves’ worst enemy.

And so he pushes the buttons on the tempad.

//

Something is very wrong.

The sky is too blue, the distant sound of waves lapping calmly at a shore is misplaced.

He has emerged from the door onto a quiet gravel road lined with tall grass and low pines. A single, white wooden house stands to his left, surrounded by a lawn dotted with wildflowers. The sun is warm on his back.

This is Midgard, he is sure of it.

How could he shoot past his destination so spectacularly?

He is about to scroll down the list of numbers and names on the tiny screen of the tempad when he notices a man approaching. Old, walking leisurely with a round, short-legged dog much the same white color as the mortal’s own wispy hair.

The latter starts a little when he spots Loki.

And then he does the most unexpected thing and speaks his name.

Loki’s name.

He almost drops the tempad (no! Not again) and the old one grins good-naturedly. “Hold on to your fancy phone there. Far away, were we?”

Loki only just about stops himself from shaking the man by his shoulders. His fists clench uncontrollably.

“What year is this?! How do you know my name?”

His voice sounds shrill, feverish, and unsurprisingly the eyes in the lined face before him go wide with puzzlement and … something else.

“Loki, what on Earth? Are you quite alright?”

Shock washing over him, Loki staggers back. H-how?

But the man is closing the gap between them, oozing concern. “Have you - are you drunk?” he asks incredulously.

He reaches out.

What is happening?

Loki shies away from the touch, his mind spinning.

Forcibly gathering his composure, he straightens and wills his words to come out steady. “No, I’m okay. Apologies. A bad joke”.

He smiles reassuringly. It takes more effort than parting an ocean.

The dog is sniffing insistently at his ankles.

The man looks him over with suspicion but the worry is subsiding. “Okay, then… no harm, no foul. You know, sometimes these peculiar ‘jokes’ of yours can make a neighbor all kinds of slightly worried”.

Neighbor?

“Most understandably, won’t happen again. Sorry to have bothered you”. Loki cuts him off smoothly. “Have a nice day”. He nods and turns before hysteria can creep into his voice.

“In case you need it for your punchline, the year is 2016”, the man calls over his shoulder as he shuffles away, pulling the reluctant dog after him.

Loki’s blood runs cold. 2016. Oh, this is so wrong. Three years wrong.

Did he hit another button at the last minute? He had been clutching the tempad so hard the edges cut into his fingers.

He curses his own impatience. Tech savvy indeed.

Holding up the blasted piece of TVA wizardry, he tries to enter a new series of numbers when his name rings out again.

And again, he almost jumps. But this time, his heart stays in his throat.

//

“Loki? What are you doing out here? I’ve been looking all over for you”.

Her voice reaches him from the porch of the white house. She is skipping lightly down the steps, the screen doors left open behind her. Music drifts into the garden from somewhere inside.

She is crossing the lawn. He is no longer breathing.

Her long auburn hair is tied back in a ponytail, and she is wearing a light blue summer dress. Her feet are bare.

Absurdly, he notes that she looks more tanned than the last time he saw her through the visor of the destroyer in the desert. A year and a lifetime ago. To him.

His grip on whatever reality he’s been clinging to since New York is seriously faltering.

She is beaming. He cannot move a muscle.

She comes all the way up to him and without pause wraps her slender arms around his neck. He can feel the warmth of her body through his shirt, smell the perfume of her skin. She smells of … -

“Where did you go, handsome?” She smiles playfully.

“Pepper called earlier to say that she actually got Tony out of the door on time, if you can believe it, so they’ll be here any minute. And her and I agreed that you two hotheads are going to play nice tonight, okay?”

She is teasing him but he hardly understands the words she’s saying. It makes no sense.

And then, before he can begin to form a response, she stands on tiptoes and kisses him and the world falls away.

Reflexively, he puts his arms around her, drawing her close to him. She moans happily. He leans into the kiss, not knowing what he’s doing other than that he never wants to stop.

Her mouth is soft and warm and new and familiar all at the same time, and the way her fingers curl in his hair sends electricity shooting down his spine.

It should be all anguish and tragic confusion, like before in the castle beyond time, but it is not.

It feels more right that anything he can remember since before his fall from the Bifrost, more real and yet more magical than his recent journeys into mystery.

Then it’s over all too soon and she draws away.

His arms are suddenly much too empty and he almost reaches for her again, craving her touch.

For a fleeting heartbeat, his soul had no longer felt torn apart to the point of forgetting he’d ever been whole.

The chaos had crumbled in on itself like a bad dream.

He is surprised he still knows what peace of mind feels like after what has happened to him since arriving at the TVA.

But now she looks at him with alarm in those beautiful brown eyes and he is crudely reminded that he is an intruder in her reality.

What she thought she saw, she clearly no longer recognizes.

It takes him all of three stupidly long seconds to remember that she said his name. That he’s wearing his own face and not a disguise.

That she knew him immediately, just like the old man.

She kissed him.

Too many impossible possibilities and the thunderous sound of his own heartbeat (surely she can hear it too) blur his vision.

He’s only vaguely aware that he is stepping towards her, trying to say something without the faintest idea of what’s going to come out of his mouth.

If it’ll even be words.

Her eyes dart over his clothes, his face.

“Loki, what - Why are you dressed like that? Have you been gone? Is that … blood?”

She retreats further, fear building.

“Jane, I-“

Her name rolls of his tongue with a sweet-tasting intimacy like he has said it a thousand times before.

But he doesn’t get to dwell on this, nor gather his thoughts to say anything else before something abruptly lifts him off the ground and hurls his body across the road.

“How dare you touch her, beast?!”

Immediately as his back connects with the rough gravel, someone is there, a knee pushing him down, fingers closing around his throat. A sharp object presses against his chin.

There is a dangerous, unhinged growl as his attacker breathes hotly in his ear. “You will die for this!”

The man is strong and somehow blocking Loki’s own magic, but he still manages to twist his head -

And looks right up into his own eyes, nearly black with rage.

//

“Speak! What are you??”

The man with a face exactly like his presses the tip of his blade closer to Loki’s left eye. “You will show yourself right now or -“

Gathering his magic tightly around him (focus!), Loki pushes back, hard.

With a surge of energy, their bodies are separated, and the other version of him lands heavily in the middle of the road some meters away.

Both of them are on their feet with the fluid movements of two panthers ready to pounce, the other now in full armor.

He has to leave, right now, even if means leaving her which is a catastrophe that might either kill him or make him try to kill his other self if he stays here another minute.

This timeline is clearly not his own.

It cannot be.

Arm outstretched to ward off his furious twin with a shield of magic, he tries to work the tempad with one hand.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

A booming voice above their heads.

“You know, when Jane pressed the panic button just now, I thought we had an actual emergency. Not that you were preparing a little dinner show for us, Reindeer Games. Gotta be honest though, this doppelgänger stunt was never my favorite -“

“Stark!”

The variant - for he must be a variant - angrily interrupts the man in the metal suit hovering in the air.

Of course, Loki remembers him all too clearly.

What has it been, less than a week since he threw him, or a version of him, out the window of the glass tower?

“This is not my creation”, the variant hisses with venom dripping from every word. “I caught him assaulting Jane. Kissing her”.

“What?!”

Stark focuses all his attention (and one of his iron fists) on Loki. A metallic humming rises steadily from inside the suit.

“A man on a suicide mission then. Boy, did you smooch the wrong wizard’s baby-mama. He may look all domesticated and cute now, but I assure you he’s still all kinds of crazy. In fact-”.

“Hey!”

“What?”

“I know it’s asking a lot, of you in particular, Stark, but could we possibly save the personal insults till we have dealt with this right here?”

Wait, just wait.

Damn it, he can’t tap in the destination on the tempad without looking at it.

Green smoke is swirling around the hands of his other self. He knows what’s coming.

“This is your last warning, devil! I will not have you hiding behind my face as I -“

“This is my face! I’m you, you fool! Bigger things are at large here and-“ Loki falters, his silver tongue failing once more with rising predictability within what seems a disconcertingly short period of time.

Although he honestly can’t tell anymore.

“Please, take a minute -“

He can’t help but shout, sounding hopelessly desperate.

In another life, he might have felt humiliated, but letting pride dictate his emotions is no longer a luxury he can afford to indulge.

Still, the silence that follows his outburst is not nearly as long as he needs it to be.

The variant stares blankly at him, mouth slightly ajar, but Stark recovers easily, his voice now icy.

“Yeah, dude, that one might have worked better if you’d put on a clean shirt. Time to fess up real quick or we’ll have to-“

Drawing what might become his last breath, Loki looks away and down at the tempad. He presses the button. No more time to double check.

“What the?!”

Both Stark and the variant visibly flinch as the door appears.

He quickly makes for it. “I - I’m sorry. Truly, I am”. He looks to their stunned faces before turning to his exit.

Out of the corner of his eye, he registers the variant move (he has to be a variant). His mouth twists in an ugly snarl and two familiar daggers are appearing by his sides.

Before the door snaps completely shut, Loki sees Jane run up to the man and grab his arm.

“Love, no, don’t!”

He sees the slight bump under her dress that he didn’t notice before.

And then the scene disappears and he’s gone.

Part III

[systlinsideblog]

Part 2

The Lady walked, unseen and unheard, through the grass. 

She looked out from the eyes of animals, felt through the grass, through the soil. She was, after all, a goddess of soil and fertility and life, and all life was her domain. 

She followed her child, as Systlin walked. 

It was cruel, sometimes, the uses to which she must put her chosen champion. The Lady regretted it, on occasion. But it was necessary, and her champion had the fortitude and skill to accept such hard tasks, to stand her ground though the whole world be against her. Her champion had the power to change worlds.

There was much on this world that needed changing. The cries of pain had reached the Lady, though she was not the native goddess of these people. 

But the gods here were silent. The Lady was, among other things, a goddess of mercy, and she’d not been able to bear it.

Justice was what was needed, but there was none of it to be found in this place. Justice was not one of the Lady’s domains. But there was one for whom it was, even if that one still railed against what she’d become when she’d taken the soul of a slain mad god into herself.

She watched, as her champion killed, and though it was not her domain she could taste the justice of it. She’d brought justice and protection to a world with none, and granted mercy to the millions who cried for it. It was honey in her mouth.

A breaker, to break a whole world. The Lady thought, and smiled.

 The leader of these...people...would not been pleased with her. She knew this, because she would not be pleased with anyone who came before her in her court and challenged her as she planned to challenge him. She would probably have had them seized, had they tried such a thing, and likely killed. 

But then, Systlin was fully ready to burn this entire camp down, and quite honestly the only reason she hadn't yet was because there were helpless innocents in among the monsters who called themselves men. 

Every step she took led her past women collared like dogs. Some wore nothing but bells, and Systlin was no fool; she guessed the purpose of such things. Some were chained to wagons. The ones allowed clothing wore little of it. To a one, the women gave way to men. On some of them, Systlin could see whip wheals and healed scars from beatings. 

Her power curled within her, and oh but the lure of it was a powerful thing, as her blood ran hot and the red rage misted her vision. 

But that was a dangerous path, and for now she kept her power under tight rein. 

The women she passed looked at her with something like wonder; they had never seen, she supposed, a woman armed like she. 

One woman, a chained girl wearing little but scraps of leather, had in fascination reached out to touch the hilt of Ice. Systlin paused to let her, and smiled. 

"Warrior caste?" The girl's voice was wondering. "But..."

"Women," Systlin said, her voice gentle. "Make excellent fighters. It was a woman who trained me." 

The girl smiled, and then all at once a man angrily grabbed for the back of the collar around the girl's neck, and moved to cuff her. The girl yelped and cowered, apologizing, begging forgiveness, and it was enough. 

Ice was in her hand without conscious thought as she moved, and then she was standing over the cowering woman, legs planted, the point of her sword at the man's throat. The Power-bound blade, sharp as a razor, drew a drop of blood where it dug into skin. 

"If you touch her." Systlin's voice was a snarl. "I will kill you." 

She let, at last, the tiniest curl of her curse rise. It came cold and eager, and she reached out, feeling, feeling the million tiny flaws  in everything around her, in her bones, in the bones of those around her, in the girl's collar...

"How dare you!" The man was furious. "She is mine! I will do with her as I like, I am her master!" 

Systlin pushed, a thin little thread of Power, delicate as a needle. 

The girl's collar cracked with a sound of over-stressed metal, and fell from her neck in two halves. 

"She," Systlin hissed, "Is a woman, and a person, and not to be owned. What the bloody fuck is wrong with you people?"

"She is a woman!" The man hissed right back at her, heedless of the sword at his throat. "Her place is as a sla..."

It was the last thing he said. Systlin ran Ice through his throat, out the back of his neck. The sudden gurgle as his windpipe was severed was as sweet as music. 

There was a roar of outrage, and she felt rather than saw the lance shoved for her back. She bent away, and it went past. She whipped her sword around, getting her back to the wagon, and looked down the length of ice-blue steel at the snarling faces of hundreds of furious warriors.

“Eighteen.” She said, coldly. “Whoever wants to be nineteen, step forward first.”

“Give me one reason, woman.” Kamchak was deadly serious. “Why I should not order you slain where you stand.”

“Because you said that you would take me to this Kutaituchik.” Systlin shrugged one shoulder. “And go on and do it. I would be delighted to kill some more of you.”

“You’re mad.”

“I fear that I am the only sane one present.”

“I should kill you.”

Systlin’s patience snapped. She called again on her curse, and with a terrible cracking of wood fifty lances snapped in a moment, dissolving into splinters in their owner’s hands. There was a cry of astonishment and…ah, yes, there it was…fear.

Several warriors…didn’t quite step back, but leaned back a bit, and looked uneasy.

“Try.” She said, very softly. “Please try. I’ll make a soup bowl of your skull.”

Kamchak regarded her for a long moment. “So you are a sorceress.”

“The next thing I break will be you, and the twenty men closest to you, unless you take me to this man as you promised.”

There was a long, tense moment, and finally Kamchak turned and jerked his chin at her to follow. Systlin did, warily. She did not tamp her power down and lock it away; she kept it to hand, a constant itch under her skin, a temptation to crack the femur of the man ahead of her just to hear him scream.

She did not. She’d long ago mastered her power, as perhaps no other Breaker had. She ruled it, not the other way around. She felt the temptation, but discarded it, and kept the terrible boon of her power close at hand.

She would need it. She knew it in her bones already. The sun was dipping towards evening. She’d been a warrior for decades. She was a warrior, a conqueror, a queen who’d fought two wars against people and one against a god. She’d won all three.

She knew, in her bones, that tonight she’d be spilling blood. A lot of it.

The girl rushed to stay near her, trembling. Systlin let her; the poor thing was terrified, traumatized, and clinging to perhaps the one thing that had ever offered her a helping hand. She had never been particularly good at comfort, but she tried; she patted the woman on the shoulder, somewhat awkwardly. The girl flinched, but then looked at her with wide frightened eyes.

“It’s all right.” Systlin tried to keep her voice gentle, for all murder was singing under her skin and gleefully anticipating a slaughter. “It’s all right. To touch you again, they’d have to go over my dead body.”

This seemed small comfort to the woman. “They’ll like that.” She said, in a very small voice.

“They won’t. I can and will kill every man in this camp if I must.”

A wide-eyed look. “No one can do that. No one but a god.”

“And I killed a god once.” Systlin shrugged. “Men die easier.”

The look she got was skeptical, but the girl clearly remembered the shattered lances. The trembling faded perhaps a little.

She was led to an open area before a wagon of exceptional size and make. Jewels and gold glinted and glittered everywhere. Systlin waited as men ducked into the wagon and hurried conversation were had. She waited as rugs and cushions were brought out, and finally with ceremony an old gray robe was spread over them. She waited as an older man was escorted with great deference from the wagon. He assumed the seat, still chewing a string of some substance. Systlin noted the somewhat sleepy detatchment in his eyes.

The lines of his face were familiar. She looked from him to Kamchak, and back. Kamchak was just turning, and took up a position very close to the older man.

Ahhh. She remembered the deference shown Kamchak by the other warriors, and noted how they looked to him even now. Ahhh. I see.

The old man… Kutaituchik …looked her up and down. She looked back, with all the self-assurance she had, which was enough to break an army against.

“I am told,” The old man said at last. “That you killed eighteen of my warriors.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because they offered me insult and implied that they would put me in chains and enslave me.”

“You are a woman, are you not?” The old man said mildly.

The rage boiled again, and Systlin forced it from red hot into ice. “Slavery is abomination.” She said sharply. “It is among the greatest crimes, to hold another person in bondage. Those who would break another person to their will are monsters, and killing them cleanly is too good for them. Enslaving another for the purpose of sex is beyond abomination, for rape is another of the greatest of crimes. To even suggest such a thing is vile, and I sincerely wonder what in the name of all the gods and spirits is wrong with the men of this camp.”

A short laugh. “Ahhh. Another sent by the Priest-Kings then, new to Gor?”

Gor. The name of this world, then? And Priest-Kings; gods of some sort? “I am not from this place, no, and thank the Lady’s mercy for that.”

“You’ll find,” said Kutaituchik, “That the ways of Gor are different. You may as well get used to them, woman; you’ll find that the Tuchuk are quite fair masters, all in all. As you are new, I shall not have you killed. The male kin of those you have slain will draw lots, and the winner may put his collar on you and claim your sword as recompense. If he is charitable, he will loan you to the other men seeking recompense.”

There was a general murmur of approval from the surrounding men. Systlin felt the itch under her skin grow more insistent. The girl clinging to her side sobbed. “I told you,” she said. “I told you!”

“I have a counter offer.” Systlin said. She was drawing up power now, and readying it, because she knew with absolute certainty that she was nearing the point where it would turn to blood. She looked Kutaituchik dead in the eyes. “You acknowledge me as your new chieftain and acknowledge my word as the new law. You remove the collars from every slave in this camp. You renounce your crimes, and abase yourself for forgiveness before those you have wronged. You pay recompense and escort every newly freed woman wherever she wishes to be taken, and leave her there with funds and supplies enough to piece a life back together.”

She smiled horribly, a smile that held no mirth. “Since you are new to this new law, I will not kill you for your crimes.”

There was utter silence. And then a great roar of laughter all about.

“Kamchak.” Kutaituchik said. “Kill her.”

Kamchak nodded, and the men who’d been creeping up behind her moved. Systlin had been tracking them for some time; she’d felt the disturbances in the air and the patches of too-silent space behind her. They intended, she guessed, to strike her without warning. It was wise. It was what she would have done to kill a sorceress, were she without power.

Systlin reached into that yawning pit of coldly eager power within her, and she broke the men trying to kill her. Bones shattered into splinters. It was utterly soundless, save for the sudden screams of agony as men collapsed into piles of bloody meat.

It was easy. It was terribly easy. Her blood sang with the last agonized gurgling screams.

“Good effort.” She said, and she could not keep the smile from her face. “You should have taken my offer. Now I extend you my second; you submit to me, here and now, and I make your death painless.”

“Kill her!” The words were roared in utter furious rage. “Tuchuks! KILL HER!” A thousand voices roared, and a forest of lances rose.

Systlin drew her sword, and her dagger, and smiled, and in that smile was ruin. And as the first warriors rushed forward, she began to kill.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

I don't think people are giving lavinia enough love so allow me to start: could someone write a fic where mc gets hurt by someone and lavinia just sort of...snaps? Afterwards she comforts mc making sure she's alright? Thank you in advance!

You had never seen so much rage in Lavinia’s face, not even when she had discovered someone had trampled with the spell on her heart. You squint, dazed, mind too numb to remember what was wrong but still alert enough to recognize her expression.

There was something unhinged about it now, nothing but a murderous avalanche, and for a second you feel something spark within you at the sight. Your body is already moving, automatically seeking to match Lavinia’s rage with pure stubbornness, before your mind finally registers the fact that her ire isn’t directed at you at all.

“Oh,” you mumble, logic trying to pierce through the fog ruling your mind. “Why—”

Lavinia’s saying something. No, she’s screaming it, body heaving with the force of it, and you wonder why you can’t hear her until the raging wind that you had been somehow ignoring until now hits you with its full, frigid force, and what the hell is happening why is Lavinia so mad why is your side hurting so damn much—

“Rebecca!”

You fall into someone’s arms. It takes a second for you to recognize Nora, her expression marred by sheer terror, eyes wide and trembling like a crumbling autumn leaf under the first snow of winter.

She holds you absentmindedly, focused on something behind you before your yelp of pain draws her attention, magic already swirling at her fingertips as she murmurs something under her breath.

“You’re going to be okay, I swear,” she says — her hands are quivering. Maybe it’s from the cold. You hope it’s from the cold, and not something else, someone else.

“Lavinia, why is — what happened?”

“You got attacked by someone and—” she freezes for a split second when she sees the yellow glow on her hands before frowning, her earlier fear melting away by her usual laser-sharp focus. “No wonder you’re so out of it! The blade she used was cursed!”

“Oh, yey, another curse.”

“This is going to sting.”

“What? Wait, what are you going—?”

Nora is always prepared, it seems. Your gaze locks on the potion she’s suddenly holding, worried by its grey color, but Nora has already turned it over before you can express your concerns. For a second it feels as if someone has injected atmosphere-cold into your veins, and your mouth opens in a soundless scream before everything suddenly becomes clearer.

Right, right, you had been in the forest with Lavinia, trying to get through her — for the third time this week, by the way, because the Ice Queen was determined to avoid you and was being frustratingly successful in doing so — when there had been this flash of red and blinding pain. Nora must have been close by… collecting herbs, maybe?

You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to ignore the pain coating your side, and turn your head at the right time to see Lavinia slamming another woman onto the floor as if she were nothing but a broken doll, specks of snow thrown into the wind by the impact. At some point during the fight, Lavinia had turned the forest clearing into an ice ring, adding a whole blizzard on top. The snow swirled around her like angry, tiny knives, and you had no doubt the other woman hadn’t stood a chance.

A small shiver ran down your spine, not of fear, but of the pure awe, rushing into your soul like spring water.

“This is all I can manage. My magic is limited here,” Lavinia had explained not too long ago, blue eyes twinkling soft and distant like moonlight, and you wonder how much she is really capable of if this is all she can work with right now. What would she be able to do in her world? What could she do with the sheer force of winter at her beck and call?

You can’t help but marvel over the thought, at how your body feels light and small when you contemplate it.

But then her eyes snap in your direction, two tiny pinpricks of pure rage, her gaze carrying the power and danger of a natural disaster. There’s a small flicker of a season change — of a thaw — when she sees you’re okay, but it disappears when she focuses on the person beside you. Time seems to slow down.

For a second you think the situation is going to escalate horribly. For a second you think the blonde might have mistaken Nora’s help for another attack, and by the way Lavinia’s hand twitches that’s her first impression, but she remains frozen on her spot like a faraway, pale star. She’s still half-crunched over her opponent’s unconscious body.

Slowly — very, very slowly, as if fate threatened to cut her string as soon as she made a sudden movement — Nora edges away from you. “I— I’ll just… go.”

Lavinia’s shoulders lose their tension as if hit by summer’s heat. She nods, stiffly. “Thank you.”

Nora spares a look at you, laying on frost-coated grass and propelled by your elbows like a bad model from some cheap magazine, and seems relieved you’re no longer in danger, disappearing a second later.

Lavinia is next to you immediately, frowning at the gash there. It isn’t bleeding, even though you both know it should. The Ice Queen leans forward ever so slightly, her touch feather-soft, and you’re struck by how different she is now. A moment ago, she had been a merciless avalanche, a Wendigo wreaking havoc, but now the genuine softness and worry in her eyes make you want to melt. You can’t help but lean into her, letting her act as your anchor.

She pauses when you flinch at her gentle touch near your wound. She frowns.

“She used a Velbetro infusion? But that would mean you were—”

You catch the way her eyes flicker towards the discarded weapon that had injured you, a dark shadow falling over expression. You guess what she’s going to say. Your hand cups her cheek, applying just enough pressure to make her look at you again, and the sweet surprise that thaws any dark thoughts she was about to have makes your skin buzz with energy.

“Slowly amassing an impressive collection of curses? You bet I am.”

She blinks, taken aback, the twitch at the corner of her lips indicating she found your snark reassuring. “Might want to dial it back a little, then, chaos girl. Good thing the Velbetro neutralized this one.” She focuses on your side, again. “How’s the sting?”

Truth be told, with her so close — too close — the pain had taken a secondary priority. Now that she reminded you of it, the pain crawled back with a vengeance. Once again, Lavinia remains an anchor as your hand tightens on her arm, nails digging into her skin. To her credit, the blonde doesn’t even blink.

“That bad?” She asks, tone surprisingly kind. “Let’s wait a moment, then. We need to go back to your house and dress the wound before the effect disappears though. You’ll start bleeding then — and badly.”

“Yey, yet another thing to look forward to.”

“…I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner. I would have been able to prevent—”

“It’s fine.”

“It should have been obvious, though. Of course she’d take the chance to hunt me down when my magic is weak, and of course she’d target you—”

“Your magic isn’t weak at all, you totally schooled her!”

“Only because she was too distracted gloating. I—”

“I’m fine, Lavinia. C’mon, help me get to my house.”

Her eyes are faraway portals of grief, but she nods anyway, falling quiet as she helps you up with extreme care. The way back is silent, fast. You hadn’t been too far from your house to begin with. Lavinia loops an arm around your waist and presses you to her, expression stony and neutral, but you’re still eternally grateful to her.

[marsbutterfly]

Unhealed Wounds

Summary: Hallucinations are sensory experiences that appear real but are created by your mind. They can affect all five of your senses. For example, you might hear a voice that no one else in the room can hear or see an image that isn't real.

TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF PTSD!

Wattpad Version! | AO3 Version!

"Hanji, that's not going to work. You've already tried mixing those two chemicals together." You say, hoping the mad scientist will listen to your advice this time.

"Yes, it will. Can you trust me for once?" she rolls her eyes as you put your hands up, a sign of defeat. You take a few steps back, allowing Moblit to stand behind her.

"Section Commander, who... are you talking to?"

She turns around to face him, a confused expression taking over her features, "What do you mean?" She proceeds to change her focus to you. Your face matching hers, you both turn back to stare at the worried, brown-haired man.

"Hanji, there's no one there."

.

"Commander Erwin, it's happening again." You hear Moblit's voice coming from the office, the concern in his words is undeniable. You take a few steps forward and sit next to Hanji she doesn't take her eyes off her book, but she slides you her right hand while gently blushing, you flash her a smile and lace your fingers together.

"Do you have any idea why we are here?" You face the massive brown doors, a hint of uneasiness hiding in your voice. She shrugs her shoulders before letting out a clearly annoyed sight.

"Beats me, Moblit is always dragging me here, once he asked for a meeting with the Commander because Bean almost ate my leg and he thought it was a little too dangerous, but I know my poor Beannie was just trying to play."

You roll your eyes at her while letting out a quiet laugh, "Doesn't surprise me."

Staring at the clock, you can no longer hear the voices coming inside the room, Are they making a point to be quiet? you think to yourself but before you could share your thoughts with Hanji, Erwin's figure walks out of the room, followed by a very concerned Moblit.

"Hanji, come on in." His gentle but firm voice filling the air around you as he gestures towards the room. She closes her book before handing it to her assistant, as she walks past the two men you can see her eyes rolling.

"You too, Y/N."

"Oh shit." .

You can't read quite read his expression. An uneasiness settling in your stomach as you stand before the Commander, waiting for him to find the rights words.

"Do you know why you're here?" His voice echoes through the silent room, he doesn't sound mad, in reality, the tone of his voice gives away a fair amount of concern. Hanji looks down at her hands the entire time.

"Moblit seems to be concerned about something, but all I was trying to do is figure out how to..." The Commander raises his hand as a signal for her to stop talking. Hanji quickly closes her mouth and crosses her arms, her annoyance visible to anyone who looks at her. You take a deep breath.

"Sir, with all due respect, Hanji hasn't done anything dangerous." Your words seem to get lost in the air, almost as if he couldn't hear you. As you're about to resume your point, his voice echoes through the room one more time, cutting you off.

"You don't remember, do you?" You can make out the pity in his voice. You share a confused look with your girlfriend, neither of you has any idea what he's talking about. The sadness in his expression is as clear as his blue eyes.

"What are you... talking about, Sir?" He ignores you. Not out of malice, but he simply can not hear you. A red light flashes in your brain, clouding your vision slightly. You shake the sight off and look at Hanji, waiting for her reaction.

"Erwin, did you not hear Y/N?" She asks while making her way towards you, your cold fingers touching her warm skin. The man standing in front of you takes a deep breath, it's almost unnoticeable but one small, gentle tear runs down his face.

"Please, come with me."

.

As you follow the Commander, a million thoughts go through your head, your main questions are where are you going and why is he acting like he can't hear you? You turn over to face Hanji, who has an angry expression taking over her features, clearly angry Erwin didn't address your question earlier that evening.

You can hear your footsteps against the grass as you follow him up a hill. Underneath a big tree, you see a small stone. As you take a closer look at it, you feel a pit opening in your stomach before nausea hits you. You look over at Hanji but her focus lays on the words ahead of you:

"Captain Y/N. Birth: 820.

Death: 850."

It was a simple gravestone. The dark grey contrasts with the bright green grass. The words now floating in front of you as your body suddenly becomes heavier than iron. You fall flat on the ground, tears burning in your eyes.

"But.. Y/N is right here, how can that be?" Hanji's voice is barely audible, her body shaking as she tries to fight back tears of her own. As you look at her, the memories you tried so hard to bury hit you all at once.

.

The rain makes it hard for you to see anything, you can't use flares and the mud beneath your feet comes dangerously close to being quicksand. In the distance, you can see three titans. Two of them sprint in your direction as the last one walks relatively slowly.

"SQUADS 2 AND 3, TAKE DOWN BOTH 5 METER TITANS. ME AND SECTION COMMANDER HANJI WILL HANDLE THE 10 METER ONE!"

You pray they were able to hear you over the deafening sound of the thunder. As their horses shift to the right, you share a look with the brunette beside you, the excitement in her eyes is undeniable as you approach the massive creature.

Once you're closer to the trees, you switch to your 3D Gear, the wind hits your body, undoing the suttle styling you did to your hair before leaving the walls. The titan closes the distance between you as you prepare to strike it. Hanji looks at you before nodding, "It's time!"

In a split of a second, your hook is caught on its arm and as you draw out your blades, ready to carve out its eyes, the titan pulls you down. You can feel the raindrops hit your face while your body falls. You can almost hear Hanji screaming your name through the thunder. A gentle but sad smile taking over your features as the titan grabs you before your body hits the ground.

You look at Hanji and realize she's running towards you without her gear. As you get closer and closer to the titan's mouth, your body goes numb. The foul smell from its mouth creating enormous nausea in your stomach. Your eyes wander down to the shine of her glasses as she's now being carried away by the Commander himself.

"It's ok, Hanji. I'll be ok."

Before you could even finish your track of thought, the excruciating pain of the titan's teeth ripping your flesh hits you. You're conscious long enough to let out one final scream as you feel the lower half of your body being torn apart.

After a few seconds of such horrible pain, everything goes dark.

As you open your eyes, you find yourself sitting underneath an enormous tree. Not remembering where you are, what happened to you, or why you are here, you stand up and start walking forward, looking for a familiar face.

You walk for what it feels like hours but eventually make it back to the Scouts. A bright smile on your face as you run past the gates. All of your friends are crying but before you could ask what's wrong, you see Hanji's hair through a small window.

You find her crying on the floor, ripped papers all over her, and her glasses behind the door. You sit by her side before wrapping your left arm around her waist. She looks up at you and allows herself to melt away in your arms.

"What happened, my love?" The gentle tone of your voice makes her forget what even happened in the first place. Her tears dry on their own as you start to play with her hair. Neither of you has talked about it ever since.

.

"So this is what happened. Why you were crying so hard that day." Your hands shift onto fists before punching the tree by your side. The unbearable sadness that takes over your body is indescribable.

"Hanji, hallucinations are fairly common symptoms of PTSD." Erwin says, touching her shoulder gently, "Let us help you get better."

"I don't want to let Y/N go." She says before covering her face with her hands, hiccups coming out of her body like you've never seen before. Your heart sinks as you watch her like that, but you realize one thing: for her to heal, you need to go.

And so you do. One final time, you lean towards her, gently moving her hair away from her cheeks as you place a simple kiss on it. Erwin shakes his head lightly for he could've sworn he saw her ponytail move, even without any wind. Reluctantly, you take a few steps forward and sit on the exact same spot you woke up a few months ago.

A single tear escapes your eye, "Take care of yourself, Hanji. You're living for the two of us now."

Your body becomes so heavy you can't support it anymore, so you quietly lay down under the shadows of the leaves, watching as the two figures walk away. Before you allow yourself to go back to sleep, you say it one more time, just for her to hear.

"I love you."

And soon enough, everything turns dark one more time, but this is different. Now you can finally allow yourself to relax and sleep because you know she'll be ok and so will you.

[hungarianbee]

sightless but steady

A/N: I wanted to try my hand on Warritt the All-Seeing for a while now. Writing a blind character who’s not *really* blind is both fun and a challenge. I have a lot of feelings about the Viper witchers, and so I snuck a lot of headcanons (about Ivar, Warritt, Letho, Auckes) into this piece. You can read about them in detail at the end of the fic. TW for: mention of non-descriptive torture

It is a relatively quiet night at the Blood Gate Keep. The young adepts went to sleep hours ago, safely tucked away in their quarters. To the average witcher, Gorthur Gvaed lays dormant, echoing the silence of its occupants.

But not to Warritt. In his room, the Viper bundles himself in furs, sitting in front of the lit hearth with his back to it. The fire’s heat seeps into his bones, touching his exposed neck, and he tilts his head back into the sensation. To him, the keep always feels just a tad cold. It’s nothing, compared to the Bear’s Haern Caduch or the Wolves’ Kaer Morhen in winter, but the Vipers’  mutations keep their temperatures lower than the other school’s.

As he flicks his fingers, his magic activates the Supirre Sign again, keeping it steady with years of practice. Just like that, the night comes alive around him.

Beneath the sound of the firewood cracking, he notices that there are rats in the walls again, scratching at the stones with their tiny claws. He makes a mental note to alert Evil-Eye to their presence later, then moves on. A floor beneath him, Gerring of Kharkiv is playing with his knives, just as usual. The fast tack-tack-tack reverberates in Warritt’s ears as the knives embed themselves in the wooden surface of the upturned table. A mouser’s yowls break it up, and he pushes the Sign further, taking note of the steady heartbeats of the snakelets. As he concentrates, he feels several that are too fast to be asleep. Auckes, he thinks. And Letho.

Warritt shucks his furs, taking one with him and folding the rest on his unused bed. With a reverse Igni, lowers the temperature of the hearth, leaving the wood smoldering. The smoke of it settles in his barely open mouth, sticking to his palate. Throwing the fur over his shoulder, he opens his door, just as Ivar Evil-Eye takes a corner in his direction, the scent of blood and iron trailing after him like an avenging wraith.

Up until this point, the Viper Grandmaster was pacing his office, as was his bad habit, then changed course, and took a detour around the Keep to the snakelets’ sleeping quarters. To air his head, most likely, and to make sure that everyone was safe. That Letho was safe. There is a lot of weight on the witcher’s shoulders that he refuses to share with them, he knows. Some days, when the pacing gets agitated and Warritt can hear his rapid breathing when he talks his way over an issue, he thinks that this will be Evil-Eye’s end. A fire can only burn bright for so long without kindling.

“Master Evil-Eye,” he greets quietly.

The thumping of Gerring’s weapons stop. A shift of skin on fabric as the man looks up, breathing carefully steadied. He’s listening. Warritt minimizes his Sign to the palm of his hand. He’s been told the yellow glow is quite noticeable. “Anything I can help you with?”

Evil-Eye shakes his head to himself, but breaks the motion midway. A heavy sigh. “I can’t deal with the brats tonight,” he admits. His tone is weary. Warritt tries to imagine what his expression must look like, but it’s been too long and the visuals appear murky in his mind. Something that might match the scents of frustration and fatigue. After all, Evil-Eye doesn’t have to hide from him; he can’t see. Then, the taste of ash ignites, becomes spicy with rekindled rage. “Did you know about Letho of Gulet?”

He can’t even finish the sentence as Warritt flashes his fangs at the leader. The hiss that leaves between his teeth rattles in his throat. “No! I would have stopped Daibesyck. Any of us would have. And you know that.”

In his rise of emotion, his Supirre sputters out. He casts it again with one hand, the other going up to rake through his curls.

Evil-Eye stands still, like a statue. Then a new tension enters his shoulders, and he turns away. “I’ve dealt with Daibesyck,” he states. Disdain colours his voice. “The worm wanted me to thank him. To acknowledge what a marvelous achievement he did, finding the perfect subject for his little successful experiment.” He breathes through his venom. “I paid him in kind. He stopped screaming a few hours ago.”

Warritt’s face tightens, even as dark satisfaction courses through him. He knows. He heard. But it wasn’t aimed at him; it’s a confirmation for their little eavesdropper. This time tomorrow everyone will know that they are one mage down.

“How’s he?”

Evil-Eye cracks his neck to the side. “He’s feverish, still. He asked for you.”

“Then I will be there.” And that’s that. Warritt lengthens his steps, taking the fur beneath one arm, the other still pulsing with Supirre. The Grandmaster matches him until they reach Letho’s quarters, where he lags behind, stopping just by the door.

The blind witcher makes his way to the bed. The scent of sickness leaves a sour note on his tongue, but that’s not his main concern. Because in this close proximity, he’s sure of it - Letho’s usual outline changed.

As he climbs into the bed he bundles the furs under Letho’s bald head, hoping that his own scent will ease the young witcher. A stone sits in Warritt’s stomach; last time he’s been in his presence, the kid had a crown of soft curls. His calloused hands slide on broad, impossibly muscled shoulders that emanate a heat that is uncharacteristic to witchers, then cup the back of Letho’s neck gently.

“Letho,” he calls, and the snakelet twitches under him, turning towards his chest. He can barely fit. A soft sound escapes him, almost a sob, and his hands come up to shield his still sensitive eyes. Warritt immediately releases his Sign to plunge the room in darkness, shushing him. “It’s Warritt, bud. I am here, just as you asked.”

“Warritt,” Letho parrots back, slurring. Without the Sign, Warritt is not prepared for the fingers prodding at the heavy scarring by his eyes, but he lets it happen anyway.

With impossible strength, Letho pulls Warritt down and curls his arms around him in a constricting hug. Warritt stifles his wheeze, breathing through it, and he presses closer still, wrapping himself around the kid as much as he can, tucking him under his chin and tangling their legs. One of his hands comes up to squeeze Letho’s nape. The pressure seems to calm the young witcher, and he mindlessly bites down on Warritt’s leathers on his shoulder, just to hold him still. Warritt notes absentmindedly that Evil-Eye slipped away when he wasn’t paying attention.

They stay like that for a long time. Eventually, Letho’s breathing evens out, slipping into an uneasy sleep. His muscles twitch and release, and Warritt rearranges them so he’s plastered to the snakelet’s back, hugging him tightly, not minding the cold sweat.

“Auckes,” he calls softly. He hears the creak of soft leathers in the rafters as the boy shifts warily. He drops down, landing without difficulty.

“Bloede,” the little snakelet curses in Elder, silently but with feeling. “How did you know I was here? You didn’t even use your Sign.”

“Language,” Warritt chides. “You were so loud I could hear you from a tower away. You were lucky Master Evil-Eye was in a cordial mood, he would have had you for breakfast.”

“Not true,” Auckes sulks.

The boy’s radiating disbelief warms him. He gestures with one hand, beckoning, and Auckes slips onto the bed, curling over Letho. The boy shakes a little and Warritt scents the residue of distress on him, so he presses a warm hand between his shoulder blades, drawing slow circles.

Auckes presses into his touch, then blurts out. “If I asked you, would you shave my head?”

Warritt doesn’t stop his motions, despite his surprise. “Why would you ask that?”

For a long moment, Auckes doesn’t say anything, just clenches his fist in Letho’s sleeping shirt. He smooths the soft material between his fingers anxiously. “Letho cried ,” he whispers it like a secret, and his tone belies his astonishment. Letho never cries. “He saw his reflection, you know.”

“I don’t know, Auckes,” prompts Warritt gently, lying through his teeth. “Why would he be upset because of that?”

“He’s big. And bald. He tried to hug Serrit and hurt him. Twas an axi-” he trips on the word in his haste, then tries again, slowly. “Ac-ci-dent. He didn’t mean it, I know. It scared him. And Serrit said that he wasn’t mad, so it’s okay.”

Warritt hides his sad smile, endeared by Auckes’ sharp perception and big heart. “Aye,” he breathes.

Another beat passes between them.

“I want you to cut my hair, so Letho knows it’s okay, too. That he’s not alone.” Auckes’ voice is so very small, like the breeze in Tir Tochair’s sheltered meadows.

Warritt’s throat constricts. His fingers follow the thin braid that hangs on each side of  Auckes’ face, then cards into his soft ponytail.

“Alright,” he rasps. “Alright.”

--------- * ---------

Note: Auckes canonically can speak really good Elder. The little curse word “Bloede” can be translated to “bloody hell”.

Headcanons:

Warritt is the big-brother of the keep - he’s both a blind badass and the resident kidwrangler (and everyone clearly knows it)

Warritt is a genius - this is kiiind of canon, but regardless: he has an unorthodox thought process; he likes thinking outside of the box, and that’s how he isn’t bothered by his blindness and modified an already existing Sign (Supirre in canon; and also Igni in this fic)

Vipers are not shy of physical touch, on the contrary! - a little bit of cutagen here; Vipers like to coil up together in almost constricting hugs. Even those who haven’t gone through the Trials adopt this habit; the physical touch (hugs) is something they can claim as their own good thing

Letho went through the Grasses twice, like Geralt (aka twicegrassed) - compared to the rest of the School, Letho is an outlier. I explained his proportions with him surviving the Trials twice

Ivar was unaware of the further experimentations, and he flipped - a hc i adopted from @lookoutrogue. Ivar himself went through multiple Trials, that’s how he ended up with his mutated eye. My throwaway mage OC, Daibesyck was tortured to death because he went over the invisible line Ivar carved, hurting one of his own and disrespecting his authority

Auckes shaved his head in solidarity for Letho - originally i thought he would have done it when he was older, but tiny Auckes said no, i wanna do it now

Gerring of Kharkiv wasn’t supposed to appear, but he didn’t budge. So I guess now he’s an insomniac old witcher who likes to waste time and furniture with knife-throwing *shrug*

[strangerays]

Nothing in Particular Update #2

It’s the Nothing and Particular and Everything update part two: the electric booglaloo. This one is long, so strap in.

It’s been a while since I wrote an update for this story. To be honest, this one gave me a lot of stress, but here I am! Writing this story feels like it is going very slow. I keep telling myself I’ve made a lot of progress (which is true, I have) but for some reason it doesn’t feel like I have? This is likely just my own insecurity. To be frank, I can’t believe I’m still writing this story. If you had told me in February that I’d still be writing this when the weather got warm, I would have laughed.

I am SO excited that I will finally be able to focus on writing now that I’m out of school. I’m afraid to speak the rough deadline that I’ve given myself for this story (the end of August-early September) but now that I’ve spoken it into existence, I hope I can finish! (I hope I can stop watching dumb videogame playthroughs and listening to The Magnus Archives and get something done)

Here is a link to the story introduction and previous update!

TAGLIST (ask to be +/-); @wannabeauthorzofija @a-completely-normal-writer @baguettethebooklover​ @corkytheguar @writeherewaiting

STORY CHANGES/THOUGHTS/IDEAS: 

Here is a big one: I’ve been trying to write this story for myself. I started writing Ray’s story from a place that was personal to me, but I feel like, as that part of myself has begun to heal, I’ve started to think about what a reader would want out of the story. I’m realizing that this is my story so it has to be what I want. Drafts are drafts for a reason, so I’m going to try to get better at letting myself explore what is fun to me.

I always thought I was a discovery writer (I still sort of think I am) but as I’ve finished small sections of the story, I am finding that it’s very helpful to do a rough outline of scenes in upcoming chapters. (I also recommend turning to this if something doesn’t work and you need to retrace your steps!) Just helps me feel more organized!

Jude’s character has got to be one of the most difficult personalities I’ve ever written. Putting her beside Ray just makes it harder. Where Ray is secretive and keeps to herself, Jude is ready to unpack her entire life’s story to anyone. I find that I really have to slow down when writing their interactions. I know this is going to be nowhere near perfect in the first draft, but I think it is a main contributor to my slow writing.

I really like this little narrative I’ve created in the background of the main plot with Ray and Lonan. I love writing these scenes because it’s a way for me to use Lonan when he’s not actively with Ray and to show why Ray is predetermined about things at certain points. Also I love their friendship so much <3

CONGRATULATIONS TO ME on starting to read again because I forgot how much of a help reading other people’s stories can be when you’re struggling with your own oml

I now have a set timeline for the story! Takes place ~4-5 months.

I did that thing where you write a letter from the characters’ perspectives and that was kind of fun

Also just for fun I thought I’d add in that I spent an hour and a half last week filling up a page in my sketchbook with diagrams of the plot. It feels good to be a mad scientist

EXCERPTS UNDER THE CUT!

*At this point, I’m only sharing writing that I am really proud of in order not to spoil the story! This is because I am unsure whether I want to publish this story someday. With that said, that does NOT give you permission to steal my ideas!

CHAPTER: NIGHT CRIES

#1

In the last week of summer, I did everything I could to avoid post-vacation blues. I rode my bike along the gravel roads with no destination, wore my dark sunglasses to people-watch, and fed salami to the minnows that floated on the cusps of boulders. Usually, I sat still for so long that my elbows turned a deep shade of red and the blood in my toes buzzed.

New pockets seemed to open up in Point Blink every day. And with them, came new people. Most of them were older – a middle aged woman who caked her lipstick on, an uncle estranged from his brother, a couple who had miscarried. I hadn’t forgotten about the kids at Mothouse. It was impossible not to think about them. It wasn’t just that I’d never seen them before.

#2

The girl’s limp cigarette bled a trail of smoke that seeped into my Vans. My shirt folded like skin over my bed post. Haunted the room – foiled my mauve sheets and teased my locks. Swept the curtains apart and heated the oak floor. Beams of moonlight leapt to my bookcases; highlighted the posters from various podcasts and bands that I listened to. Wind whistled when I was too still. She forced me to look outside, onto the dark cul-de-sac lit by the reflections of forming rain puddles. No matter whether I sat at my desk or burrowed under my sheets, I felt out of place. She made my bedroom louder. She made my bedroom quieter.

I decided it would probably be best if I never saw her again.

To be honest, I don’t remember much about writing this chapter because it was over a month ago (sorry) but I’m still quite happy with the prose! This comes in after Ray sees Jude for the first time at Mothouse. Based on a first impression, decides that she might want be friends with Jude.

CHAPTER: SORRY

#1 

If you spend any long amount of time with someone, you’ll become a thief to their behaviors. If I stared long enough, trees began to replace all of the people we’d ever seen. Oaks had roots that serpentined the ground like children splashing in the bay, pines with needles like spindly old hands, maples with hollows like watchful eyes – all things Lonan had taught me to observe.

CHAPTER: GHOSTS

Then there was the sea – violent and knowing as it romped within bays and alcoves. She had eaten me many times before, both my father and Lonan too. Gulped them as if they were shining plastic wrappings left behind after a meal. I spited her for inviting me once again. I reached up again to grapple with the next rung. It twisted and offered a low whistle.

In these two chapters, Ray is on a photography trip with her class. This is the first time she’s been on this annual trip without Lonan. She left that morning with a goal of being independent and learning to get on with one of the only people she has felt close to. I realize now that the Ghost excerpt sort of sounds like her dad and Lonan have drowned?? Which was not my intention??

CHAPTER: A DIVINE INTERVENTION

#1

“Do you believe in ghosts?” A raspy voice teased from behind me. Cigarette smoke tickled the words, like they were stuck together with jelly inside of her. The question wasn’t particularly calming, but it strengthened my grip on reality. As if the foiled leaves, bark, and dandelions had sprung from the ground and begun to float, they came crashing back down.

I was made of stone.

“I’m not a ghost,” Jude said. “If I was, a ladder would be a pretty counteractive way to outrun me. I could just float up there and haunt you.”

“Maybe you’re a ghost,” she asked, her voice distant.

I shifted my grasp up and down the sides of the ladder. “What?”

“Don’t you believe in ghosts?”

I was reading back some of Ray and Jude’s conversation and there are so many snippets of dialogue that make me laugh because I totally forgot I wrote them... but UGhhH I don’t know if I want to share them because I don’t know whether or not I want to try and publish the story someday. Speaking of that, it’s sort of because it’s so personal to me? I don’t know (this is for future me to pursue) Honestly though, reading these back has made me really happy :)

#2

I wanted to shake her by the shoulders. She acted as though Point Blink could breathe – as though corpses in the cemetery might pull the grass away like dead skin, neighbors would draw blades, and blood-salt would stain her clothes rather than that from the sea. “Trust me, they’ll forgive you. But, I’m just saying, most people around here don’t care nearly as much as you think so. Most of them are way older anyways, so they’re tired of us.”

“Is that you complimenting yourself?” Jude asked.

“Not intentionally,” I said, “but I will take it.”

She laughed. “You shouldn’t be so nice to strangers.”

I wasn’t trying to be. I just didn’t think I wanted her to dislike me.

#3

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing or a good thing,” Jude said. “Being good gets you tucked into a thousand different memories. Being good makes you live a lifetime.”

I almost laughed, but then I wondered what I was to her now. “I don’t talk to lots of people.”

“Sometimes there aren’t many people to talk to. But I thought you would have loads of friends.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I thought you would too.”

Alarm like grief lit her eyes, but she laughed. I did too.

“You hardly know me,” she said quietly.

Then the girls explore some old newspapers and letters in a fire tower! Spooky fun!

CHAPTER: YOU LET THIS HAPPEN

This isn’t a major spoiler as it’s literally in the blurb I wrote, but Ray and Jude are caught (targeted..??)  in a fire. Ray is brought back to a field where she is questioned.

CHAPTER: NOTHING HAPPENS

He was quiet for several moments while he painted a picture with what little details I had given him, then said, “It’s unfair. I think that’s why it hurts.”

“Because we almost got hurt?”

“No. Because it came true.”

His gentle, ragged voice made me think I could tell him anything. Sometimes, I think that, even then, he knew I left something out.

Ray talks to Lonan after the fire... She’s being a bit dishonest about what actually happened.

CHAPTER: WHY NOT

I remember how the barest amount of red light glared across Lonan’s entire scalp and washed his boyish curls magenta from the roots out. When Jude leaned back on the counter, she melded into the darkness.

This chapter is just part of the narrative that I created with Ray and Lonan’s friendship. There isn’t much I want to spoil from it, but I liked this paragraph!

CHAPTER: INEVITABLE

“We didn’t do anything,” I said.        

“Someone did. Why won’t you believe me?”

 “I think I would remember whether or not someone was there with us,” I said, “even if we didn’t have the picture.”

This was untrue. I hung lots of photos in my room. A long time would pass before I went to a restaurant again, or a specific coven on one of the beaches, or an outfit that I wore, and I would look into one of my pictures and remember it, and then I would be quite angry with myself that I had almost forgotten that thing forever.

“I don’t think you understand what I mean,” Jude said. I didn’t like the way she’d lowered her voice. She sounded different every time I saw her. She reached out her arm so our photos were side by side and our fingers were almost touching. “I don’t think you want to.”

Ray finds herself alone in the school’s dark room with Jude. Based on the contents of one of her photos, she tries to convince Ray that there is more to the fire than what meets the eye.

CHAPTER: (this one is untitled)

I didn’t mind that he followed me everywhere. Even when he was quiet, I didn’t find it strange to be around him. We sat silently through films and went on walks. Once, he had fallen asleep while watching The Iron Giant in my bed. I didn’t know if I should wake him up once it ended. I tried not to stare at him. He’d rolled onto his side and bundled himself in one of my blankets covered in stars up to his shoulders so only his small face poked out like a baby owl’s. His soft breath messed his dirty gold coils. They were at their longest. Except for the ebbing light from a candle on my desk, my house was asleep – Lonan needed to go home.

For the first time, I wondered if anyone cared where he was.

Another small part of the little friendship narrative! (This really is the part of the story where I get nostalgic for my childhood, isn’t it) Ray starts to discover more about Lonan’s home life in this part of the story, but there’s not much that I think I want to reveal about that for now.

CHAPTER: THE CRUX OF IT

Why did I feel so paranoid? I found myself staring out the window, into the film of blue that the late sun shown onto the grass and trying to remember what summer felt like.

My main problem was that I didn’t know how to talk to Jude unless it was about Sugarfell. I ran from the hush of cigarette smoke behind closing doors and heard her loud voice in conversations. Even though there might have still been a part of me that wanted to be friends with her, I didn’t have much to base that feeling off of. I could have spent hours clicking the little pieces of her that I had together, but the crux of it was that I would never know Jude unless I forced myself to.

For some reason, that really scared me.

I spent all week trying to think of what to say to her. By Friday afternoon, I still had nothing.

I left off writing with Ray actively avoiding Jude’s little investigation into the arsonist. Ray doesn’t want to be involved in this because she feels that it will throw her sense of normalcy off course. She really just wants to learn how to adapt to a life without her best friend. (It doesn’t help that she’s got fresh trauma)

What will Ray decide? I don’t know. We shall see. (just kidding I know)

Sorry this update was longer! I think I would like to start updating more often than once a month just because they would be shorter and those of you reading this won’t forget what happened in the last update. There are thousands and thousands of words that didn’t show up in this update because - like I said - I don’t know whether I want to publish this story ever?? I’ll probably talk more about this in a separate update.

Thank you so much to those of you who read about my story! I hope you enjoy it!

:)

p.s. btw I now have a myWriteClub account! You can check it out here and stalk me as I tragically fail my writing goals!

[black-quartz-sphinx-judge-my-vow]

Exalted 3e Villain Analysis

When I was first going through the various Adversaries of the Righteous, I skipped right past Adeimantus, because I’m shallow. His art just isn’t evocative. But ho boy! Beneath that pale, bland exterior lurks a villain worthy of an entire campaign. So let’s talk about that.

Adeimantus is the ruler of a utopian City from the Shogunate named Beimeni-Ta. A city which was consumed by the Wyld ages ago. It now creeps into Creation like an infection transforming cities and slums into itself.

What a great freaking idea, wow. The sidewalks the towers, the people all transform into echoes of a golden age lost to time. Can’t you just see the brick back alley suddenly becoming a marvelous marble tunnel? The building torn halfway between one style and material and the next? The crowds of excited peasants waiting for their shacks to complete their transformation into mansions? Now that’s a threat! How do you even deal with something like that? Do you burn down the infected part of your city to keep it from spreading? Do you jail the new citizens to stop the from singing the praises of utopia, and converting more people to their cause? Or do you go after the Raksha that’s behind it all?

What I like most about Adeimantus is that he’s totally on the up and up, at least in my interpretation. He’s not doing this because he wants to eat every baby in Creation. He genuinely wants everyone in the world to live in his perfect city. So much in fact that he has a charm that not only changes the city to match the desires of an individual, but he himself changes to match that desire.

After the players have defeated Adeimantus and sent his city back to the mists: “That’s alright, we’ll start over as many times as you need. This is all for you.”

Which brings another terrifying aspect of Adeimantus into view. When he vanishes, so too does the city, and all of it’s people. Any buildings and individuals changed by Beimeni-Ta get whisked away to the Wyld, even victory can mean that a entire slice of a city is amputated. Spooky.

As far as a combatant, meh. If you’re using Adeimantus to beat people down, you’re doing it wrong. Although he does have a knife that can make you ugly to anyone who can read, which is fun. His main power in combat comes from his ability to summon battle groups of his followers to attack the pcs. Plus ya gotta involve the city itself in any combat you do. Potholes open up beneath your feet, shingles slide off the roofs onto your head, and other such irritants. Maybe give the city it’s own initiative, and stat block, why not?

His real strength comes from his ability to manipulate intimacies. Not only can he instill them in people through their dreams, but he can also make you disregard any that make you oppose him. Very fun, and could be interesting if you have players who are very dedicated to rp. Otherwise think of all the NPCs you can target, and turn against the players. Now that’s high drama. Solars want to live in Utopia too right?

Especially since as I said before Adeimantus is a chill dude. He doesn’t want to resort to violence, he rules a utopia, and wants to share it’s bounty with the world. Of course his Utopia ends up being pure madness when it returns to the Wyld, but no one seems to be dissatisfied.

So I’ve gushed on about this beautiful bald man long enough. What are some ways you can use him in a game?

1. A world saving device was once held in Beimeni-Ta, and it’s needed once more. Do you: look for a city infected by Beimeni-Ta. Crusade into the wild to reclaim the lost city. Or maybe infect a nearby city, long enough for the vaults of Beimeni-Ta to manifest.

2. Beimeni-Ta begins to arise within Great Forks. How does the city of a thousand gods react to such an intrusion? Is the draw of Utopia enough to tempt even a deity? Or do they hold firm as more and more of their followers join the cult of Adeimantus?

3. Every Winter Adeimantus visits a struggling village in the north, and provides them with supplies needed to survive the harsh winter. What scheme is he up to? It’s been generations since he started doing this, and no apparent harm has been done. The villages are convinced he’s a benevolent god of winter, how will they react when the players try to destroy him before he can corrupt their village?

4. Beimeni-Ta is ruled not only by Adeimantus, but also a Senate of Demons. So this Fair Folk, has an alliance with demons, as well as a permanent city in the Wyld. There’s something deeply interesting going on with Adeimantus. In his Stat block it does say the Senators are Raksha too, but I much prefer him being a complete weirdo. But as for plot hooks. A city has already fully fallen to Beineni-Ta. Now there is only one thing left to do. Characters must introduce a bill to the demon senate which will revoke the city’s hold on creation, at least this part of it. Can the pcs, get it through sub-committees, and over come a filibuster lead by a second circle demon?

5. Burns 100 Poets is a monk of the Immaculate order who has thrice vanquished Adeimantus from creation. He carries the weight of the many poets he’s killed to keep Adeimantus from spreading his corruption. He is retired now nearly 200, and works day and night to craft the poems which could have been were it not for his diligence. He may hold valuable information in how to stop Beimeni-Ta from spreading. However this gentle poet of an old man may suggest methods the pcs would consider frightful.

Finally let’s talk about a campaign that has Adeimantus as it’s big bad.

I call this one: Lookshy, Rise of The Shogun.

The basic premise of it being Beimeni-Ta was a city during the Shogunate Era, a pretty important one. Reclaiming it would finally give The 7th Legion reason to accept a new individual as Shogun.

Act 1

The Players, Dragon-Blooded protectors of Lookshy are tasked with looking into strange happenings around the city. The marching band plays a song hundreds of years out of date, a new building appears seemingly out of nowhere. Things escalate when a section of the city’s rampart’s becomes infected with shiny new lightning ballista. Suddenly the General Staff is torn on how to deal with the situation. with some opting to let the infection spread to access Beimeni-Ta’s ancient resources, to others wanting to combat the plague before it’s too late. The group is forced to navigate this tenuous situation, while beating back Adeimantus’ growing cult, and corrupted gentes. Culminating in the final confrontation with Adeimantus, and a member of the general staff he’s corrupted. Adeimantus vanishes with his pawn defeated, and takes however much of Lookshy he’s corrupted away with him, back to the wild. The walls are breached, the city is in ruins, the army is divided, and things are looking dire. Were The Realm not crippled by The Scarlet Empresses’ disappearance, this would be the end.

Act 2

After a brief recovery clarity comes to the surviving populace of Lookshy. The Shogunate Bureaucracy has records detailing this Beimeni-Ta many of the afflicted citizens were rambling about. It was once a seat of power for the Shogunate a place of immense importance, that fell into the Wyld never to be seen again, until now. Most importantly it was the final resting place of The Imperial Seal. The stamp with which The Shogun made words on paper law. With it, a simple document can be stamped and a new Shogun can be appointed, the shogunate will live once more. If only Beimeni-Ta can be dragged back out of The Wyld. If only... we could find it.

No maps of Beimeni-Ti’s location survive, only records of military assignments. Letters for a general to withdraw from the defense of the city, a general by the name of Tepet...

With the only lead they have the players are sent under cover to The Realm to find what they can about Beimeni-Ta from it’s ancient defenders. There’s investigation, spy work, a heist. All of which ends in a social confrontation with Tepet’s ruling Council which presents them with an offer: fulfill their oath to the Shogunate, regain their honor by retaking Beimeni-Ta.

Act 3

The impossible has happened. The players have convinced Lookshy to break with tradition, and march on the Wyld. House Tepet has given their only legion to the cause. The two armies of the Shogunate unite like something unseen in anyone’s time, and march through the river lands towards the end of the world. It’s a long grueling march, through an untold number of kingdoms. The centuries of Lookshy’s political favors, and military threats fray with each border they cross. Threats seeks to divide them with armies and from within. The Lookshy soldiers see their Tepet allies as traitors, and the Tepet aren’t too fond of the scavengerland barbarians either. The players must use their genius to get their army through in one piece. Until they reach, the border marches.

Act 4

From here on it’s all out warfare. The players and their small army must reclaim creation step by step enduring every machination the Wyld can through at them, from raining lava, to forests of grass as tall as a warstrider, and as sharp as a blade. All until they lay siege to Beimeni-Ta. At last the jewel is within their sight. They just have to overcome Beimeni-Ta’s endless militia of maddened citizens, their 100 Demon Senate, and of course Adeimantus fully empowered by the wyld and Beimeni-Ta itself. Who can with but a look, a touch, who’s very presence beckons you to join him in Utopia, in oblivion.

And what are the rewards for such an epic journey? A brand new city to rule over? The title of Shogun, and resurrections of the shogunate? An arsenal of first age weapons from the shogunate’s richest city? Who’s to say what dreams await you in Beimeni-Ta? 

Only Adeimantus knows.

Only Adeimantus can show you the way.

[ahsoka-lives]

Apprentice pt. 4

Inquisitor!Cal Soulmate AU

A/N: Umm, I’m sorry!!! My life is very hectic and will probably stay that way for a long time :/ I still want to update my fics and talk to you guys when I can. Thank you for almost 200 followers already!! I hope this part will have been worth the wait, I rewrote it like three times!!! Please feel free to leave a comment or an ask in my box and I hope to update again soon!! 

P.S. I will either write a part 6 and continue Iris or write an epilogue, feel free to let me know what you guys prefer! It will take quite a while but it will come! As will updates to my other fics! <3

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Word Count: 1671

Songs I listened to: A Guide to Live By by Remo Drive, Delilah by Florence+the machine, Misfit Love by QOTSA

-

Cal Kestis

“How much longer is this going to take?”

“Just another moment, Master Kestis.” The medical droid replied as it finished taping up Cal’s broken ribs. 

Cal was in a hurry, you could hear it in his voice and see it on his stress-ridden face. He woke up on that table, he guessed it’d been about 12 hours since you’d left him in that field of grass. A lot could happen in 12 hours.

The second that droid finished, Cal was on his feet and briefing the squadron. They rarely saw him like this. For the most part, he was playfully arrogant, his missions were always successful and he didn’t need much help from the troopers. Today, he was stern and to the point, only a flicker of excitement could be seen by those looking for it. 

“As you all know, this is not our usual manhunt. The target is one of ours, they are armed and force sensitive. The symptoms of withdrawal will render them unstable which will only feed into the effects of their conditioning, I don’t need to explain how vital it is that they be put back under supervision. Unfortunately for all of you, I will not be- ”

“Sir, s-sorry to interrupt...” Panted a very worn out officer. The officer clutched a datapad tightly to his chest and blinked rapidly as he tried to collect himself in front of his superior. “...we’ve gotten word that the target is on a nearby moon in the mid-rim but they’re on the move, sir. Intel says they’re scouting out a ship.” 

“A ship? They can fly?” Cal grit his teeth, his eyebrows drawn together in clear frustration. 

You’d think that was something worth mentioning. Cal was relying on your helplessness to get this job done faster.

“I-ntel d-doesn’t suggest they were looking for a p-pilot.” The man winced as Cal towered over him.  

With a deep breath, Cal stepped away from the officer and turned to the troopers. They stood stock-still, afraid that the simplest movement would finally set him off. 

“I want them on this ship alive by the end of the rotation, don’t disappoint me.” 

-Reader

Your teeth ground together as you gave one last tug on the robe that lay beneath the unconscious man. Your first choice was to buy one but that just wasn’t an option. This patron was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The uniform of the inquisition was drawing too much attention in the outskirts of the city you’ve found yourself in. Your eyes stared back at you in the mirror while you gave yourself one last pep talk. 

Once you left the refresher of this cantina it would be a few miles to the heart of the city. You needed to find a shipyard, any shipyard. Living on Bracca taught you the inner workings of a variety of ships, it was just time to put the theory into practice.

Eyes seemed to follow you as you left the refresher but it felt like that ever since you’d gotten off of Trilla’s ship. She was gracious enough to drop you here after you held the point of your saber close enough to your throat. A symphony of pleas from ‘Let me help you’ to ‘You don’t know what you’re getting into’ fell from her lips. Every one of them made the itch to do something a bit more drastic to grow stronger. 

There was something about you that was different, you couldn’t quite grasp it but your thoughts seemed to get away from you. It felt primal like you were being controlled more by instincts than morals. As you walked down the rainy dirt path, the question of what changed had already left. Too focused on the task at hand, you decided it was a problem for another time. 

So focused, in fact, that you didn’t notice the surveillance droid that was following close behind you. 

- 

Your boots splashed into the puddles on the concrete. The populous streets were providing much-needed cover, the business filled the air with the sound of tapping shoes and mild chatter. The streets were lined with troopers, there wasn’t a corner left unguarded. It seemed excessive for a supposedly unsuspecting city.

Eyes remained fixed on the ground in front of you. As you reached the end of the street you caught a glimpse of a ship, then another and another. Jackpot. Within moments your feet had carried you just in front of the fence surrounding it. 

As your eyes flickered over the ships closest to the fence you caught onto how suspicious you must have looked. Immediately, you looked around and to your surprise the street was empty. Gone was the chatter that filled your ears, only the slight whistle of the wind moving through the skyscrapers.

Panic struck you, this isn’t right.

Your heartbeat quickened and you started away from the fence, a strong sense of urgency pulling you back. Somehow you knew something was waiting in that shipyard for you. Someone or many someones if Cal stuck to any kind of pattern.

You secured the hood over your head once more and tried to cross the street as casually as possible, not that it mattered if what you feared was true. The safety of a crowed street felt all too far away. As you neared a skyscraper on the corner of the street you froze in place. Was that...

Your head swung around, looking to confirm your suspicion. Troopers wore heavy armor that clacked together ever so slightly at the knee, it was a distinct sound if you knew what to listen for. But there wasn’t a soul in sight. 

The atmosphere was feeling oddly artificial without the others walking about. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand, your ears were buzzing all too loudly. It felt like the world was crashing into your chest without a single warning. Your hand reached for the saber on your belt and your feet took hesitant steps away from the corner of the building. 

Eyes fixed on the reflective glass that met the concrete floors, trying desperately to see beyond it. You were so certain that any moment a stormtrooper would emerge and blast you. 

In your moment of concentration you failed to notice the wall behind you. Your back hit the sturdy concrete sending a shock through your system. 

“Well, that was easy.” The deep, modulated voice spoke.

You frantically pushed away from the voice and tried to turn to face him. Cal moved too quickly for you, he threw you up and over his shoulder before you could even get a word out. 

“How did you even find me!” You grunted and fought against him. 

“Don’t tell me you’re not happy to see me, not that you can see much from up here.” He chuckled sarcastically.

You stopped your useless struggle and played along for a moment, there had to be something..

“You know, if anyone should be mad, it’s me. You broke my ribs, and let that irritatingly little padawan go. I will say, I am proud of how..” 

You were paying almost no attention to his rambling. Instead, you were fumbling with the only other weapon on your person. A switchblade securely strapped to your waist, a little too secure. Your heart jumped with excitement when you felt the button snap open. 

You quickly sank the small blade into his calf. Cal groaned and his grip faltered enough for you to push off of him and to drop to the floor. Without wasting a second, you took off running down the road. A quick glance over your shoulder showed Cal knelt on the ground speaking into his comlink. His wrist held just below his chin while the other hand crudely ripped the knife from his skin. 

He won’t be down for long. 

You were surprised to see he stopped at all.

You couldn’t stop for a second, you had to keep going, but where? The shipyard was behind him and the shipyard was your way out. You didn’t have much time to think as you heard footsteps picking up behind you. Just as you reached an intersection at the end of the street, troopers pulled out in front of you. They formed a blockade around you on their speeders and fixed their blasters on you. At least thirteen laser scopes pointed directly at your heart. 

You whipped hoping to go back down the street only to find an Inquisitor standing in your way. 

“Their weapons are set to stun but it’ll still hurt. Of course, they won’t have to shoot you if you come quietly.” His tone was completely different. In place of the somewhat welcoming voice he had moments ago, he presented as the negotiator, calm and emotionless.

You stayed silent, your eyes looked passed him to the shipyard that was barely in sight. 

“Really? That’s how this is gonna be?” He rolled his eyes and shook his head, clearly annoyed. “Watch the face, everyone, I quite like it the way it is.” 

The next few seconds seemed to move by painstakingly slow. Cal gave the signal for the men to open fire and stepped back with his hands crossed behind his back. Without conscious thought, your hands quickly found the crimson lightsaber at your waist. You wished you’d had more practice with this thing. The troopers fire relentlessly and you weren’t able to keep up.

A stun got past your defenses then another, and another. Your ears rang loudly and the world spun around you as your back hit the floor. The firing ceased and the world around you grew quiet. Black leather boots took quick strides over to you and you felt a gloved hand cup the side of your face. Gently, you were made to look at Cal who had at some point removed the helmet. His eyes examined your face, turning it from side to side with a smirk. Even in your dazed state you couldn’t help but think he still had the face of an angel. 

“Mm, not a scratch. Great work, everyone.” 

Some angel.

[hiitsbee]

The smoke from your mouth 2 | F.W.

Fred Weasley x Female Reader

Warning:bad language,anger,references to drugs,make out,fluff

Part one here

Masterlist

Author’s notes:I’ve never thought about posting a part two for TSFYM but since it blew up here I am.Please leave a feedback,I love reading your comments🖤

Summary:after the night you and Fred spent together he didn’t talk to you again,so you decide do confront him but something happens between you two.

<<I really need to talk to him>> you mumbled <<Then go on>> Cedric replied <<You don’t get it! He’s been avoiding me for two days and every time I have the chance to face him Angelina’s always around. She’s so sticky>> you rolled your eyes and sighed <<Then you’re right. I don’t get it. Fred Weasley is a whole enigma. He told you that he loves you but he’s always stuck with Johnson...he’s such a player. However he might have told you that because of weed. You know how it works,you’re not yourself when you smoke>> the Hufflepuff shrugged his shoulders <<Then why he didn’t fuck me? I mean if he was out of control like you’re assuming he would have fucked me instantly but he did not,as he promised>> you replied.

Cedric nervously sighed and massaged his temples <<Listen girl,just find it by yourself. He’s right there-the boy pointed at Fred who was on the opposite side of the garden,busy talking with Lee and Angelina-ask his friends to leave and talk to him once forever. I’ll be here if you need me,but now,for the love of Merlin,go! You’re exasperating me>>. You laughed and nodded,giving one more stare at the little group of friends. You got on your nervs when you saw how Angelina was hanging from Fred’s lips. She looked so sticky that you wanted to punch her right in the face. The way she was smiling to him,laughing at every single word he said and then,when she leaned onto Fred and just brought his arm around her shoulder you felt like you were exploring. But what made you mad the most was that Fred didn’t seem to despise her attitude,instead he gave in as he played with her hair. <<I’m fucking done,thank Merlin he said he loves me huh?>> you growled,finally walking towards the boy.

<<Fred can we talk for a moment?>> you asked the wizard who turned to you,seeming visibly embarrassed <<Right now? I’m- >> <<He’s busy>> Angelina said,cutting his sentence off <<He’s old enough to speak for himself,aren’t you Fred?>> you asked him calmly,a light of disappointment and sadness in your eyes. Fred looked at you and gulped <<I am. Let’s go for a walk>> he said with a nod of his head wich was telling you to follow him.

<<What do you want to talk about?>> the boy asked,you blinked twice in confusion:wasn’t it so obvious? <<About what happened two nights ago-you muttered-when I smoked in your room>>. Fred glanced at you for a second and then he looked at the ground <<I don’t remember what happened. Forgive me if I said something I didn’t mean,I was high>> he said,coldly. Those words teared you apart like only the sharp edge of a blade would. <<You don’t remember? You don’t remember what I told you and what you told me? Nothing?>> you demanded <<Not a single word>> he said again. You suddenly stopped walking,making Fred turn around. Your hand closed in fists inside the pockets of your robe and your eyes busy scanning the grass as you didn’t want to have an eye contact with Fred. <<You don’t remember that you said you love me? I opened my heart to you and you don’t remember a single word of mine? Weasley look at me and tell me you’re joking>> you growled,lifting your head up <<I’m sorry. I really don’t remember anything and also...I don’t love you,not in that way. You’re my best friend that’s- >> you cut his sentence off <<Enough,Weasley!-you raised your voice for a second and immediately recomposed yourself-it’s enough. Now,I’ll go. And,Fred,don’t you dare to talk to me again. Have fun with Johnson,she seems to be dumb enough for you>> you said coldly,leaving,while the boy didn’t even move.

You knew he remembered what he had said that night and most of all you knew he had done it on purpose when he said he loved you. He hadn’t been so high as he wanted you to believe...but why did he lie now? Was he so amused by playing with your feelings? Since when had he became such a bastard? That wasn’t your best friend. Fred would never. The Fred Weasley you knew wasn’t the one you had talked to a few seconds ago:he was sweet and caring,a player,yes,but not with you. He liked girls and hooking up with them sometimes,sometimes he had even broken their hearts but he would never do such a thing to you. You had always felt safe with him so why suddenly he changed so much? Was it your fault? Maybe you looked so pathetic that night that he just played along to not hurt a high girl but if so...why would he hurt a sober one?You shaked your head as you wanted to make the thoughts fly away and walked to your Defence Against The Dark Arts class,but for the whole lesson your mind was haunted by Fred’s image.

It was late evening when you finished to study and chose a book to read while relaxing at the open air. You wore a warm sweater and left your dorm,going straight to the Hogwarts garden. The sun was slow disappearing behind the mountains and the sky was painted in such a scarlet orange that your stomach got butterflies at the moment you saw it. You smiled and looked for a free bench where to sit.

While walking on the green grass you saw someone sitting under a three,some smoke was surrounding his silhouette:it was Fred,busy smoking as always while drawing something on a old ruined booknote. You sighed as he was the last person you wanted to see that day,but you sat on your bench anyway,thinking that reading your book would help you pretending he wasn’t there. What a failure.

At first Fred didn’t even look at you but soon the boy started staring. While reading you could feel his eyes on you,scanning your features,your moves. You felt your body boil knowing what he was doing,the sweater became too hot to fit in,the words on the pages of Pride and Prejudice became confused and lost every meaning. You closed the book and sighed,standing up to find Fred’s tall figure right in front of you.

<<Leave me alone,I’m busy>> you scoffed,walking inside the school <<Wait>> Fred stopped you by grabbing your wrist <<I told you to leave me alone!>> you yelled,glaring at the wizard with burning eyes <<I just want to talk>> <<I don’t want to. End of discussion!>> you exclaimed. You were about to leave when you felt Fred’s hand grabbing your hips and lifting you up,you blinked confused and then you found yourself sitting on the stone of the window-still of a huge window hidden in a corner of the Hogwarts main corridor. <<I’m not letting you go until you’ll listen to what I have to say>> <<I’m not going to listen to your fucking bullshit,I’ve already had enough. I refuse to be just a play and go girl. I’m not letting you hurt my feelings>> you said staring right in Fred’s deep eyes. <<You’re not one of them. You would never be,Y/n. I love you so much,you can’t even imagine>> he soft spoken,placing a strand of your hair behind your hear.

Your breath got shorter has his face was so close. Your heart twisted at the same need of having him close that you felt a few nights before,but this time you weren’t high. The only thing making you high was Fred’s scent of smoke and cinnamon. <<You’ve been saying you love me,but it’s a while since you showed me. What happened to you,Fred? What happened to my best friend?>> you asked almost in a whisper while playing with the sleeves of your sweater. Your stomach was filled by butterflies,the attraction was growing inside you,raising from the depth of your heart to delete every single bit of anger. You wanted to punch Fred in the face but,at the same time,you wanted to kiss him as hars as you could. <<Things are getting complicated,Y/n>> he muttered <<Is it because of what I said? I know you remember everything,Fred. You lied this morning>>. The boy sighed and his hand slipped from the stone of the window-still to your thighs <<I guess I need to be honest now>> he said biting his lips <<You must be>> you replied drawing little circles on the back of his hands with your fingers.

The boy looked down,then he immediately lifted his head up and looked at you. You could see a different light in his eyes,something that sent shives along your spine <<So?>> you asked;Fred kept looking at you and smirked <<I didn’t want to do that,I’m sorry>> he said,setting the space between you to zero. His lips were now smashing against yours,as his hands traced a straight line on your thighs and reached the skin of your hips under the sweater. A moan escaped your mouth as you finally felt his touch on your skin. Your hands ran all along his arms,feeling the cloth of his shirt crease under your fingers. Your scent of fresh flower mixed itself with the smoke one from Fred’s as the boy’s hands were moving all along your body. You let another moan escape while Fred’s lips moved down to the uncovered skin of your neck,sucking on it and leaving purple love bites that would make you crazy every time you looked at them. <<Fuck>> you mumbled,feeling weak under his touch. You were unable to fight the lust growing inside you,and you didn’t even want to. Everything you wanted was Fred:you wanted him to give you everything. <<Don’t stop please>> you moaned again,heavily breathing. Fred lifted his head and looked at you <<You deserve way better than me,you know? But I can’t hold on anymore>> he gasped,playing with the front of your lower lips,gently drawing little lines with his thumb on it <<You don’t have to,Fred>> you replied <<I told you that you don’t deserve me>> he muttered again,getting closer one more time. Your breaths mixed up,a mess of attraction and desire was going on in between you two <<Why you keep saying that? I don’t see the problem:I love you and you love me. Let’s try it>> you said,moving your hands to the neck of his shirt.

Fred rested his forehead against yours,weakly smiling,wrapping your body in a tight hug. <<You’re smart,pretty,charming...you’re everything a princess could be and I am just an idiot who smokes everyday,makes pranks and sometimes hooks up with girls. Y/n you deserve a man,not me>>. You sighed,caressing his cheeks <<You are what I want. I really love you,Freddie,it’s been a while since my feelings changed. I don’t want to be a friend anymore I want more. I want you Fred,so please stop being cold,stop telling me lies and stop calling yourself an idiot. You’re not,you’re what I treasure the most. Please Fred,I’m begging you to give us the chance we deserve>>.

The ginger smiled and left a kiss on the tip of your nose <<I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything I did. I promise I’ll be a better man,the man you deserve>> he said,hugging you again.You smiled as your face sinked in the cloth of his shirt. <<I love you>> you giggled <<I love you more,babygirl>> he replied.

[tag: @meph1stophelian ]

[nanagoswife]

For You? Always.

Chapter Two

Summary: Ben tells reader some bad news.

W/C: 1.8k

Warnings: Mention of cancer

<<Previous, Next>>

A few weeks went by. Most of it was the usual business that happens in the office. One thing that was not, but became a usual occurrence, was talking to Ben. 

Throughout these weeks, you talked quite often. Almost every day. 

Often, he had to come to your office to coordinate with a few things for a new book that was being published. You would talk while you did, helping the time pass. Most of what you told him was stories with Siara, which helped him gauge how her personality changed since high school. In the process, you also gave him tips on what to do if she was mad, cranky, and more.

In return, he talked about his friends. All of whom lived everywhere other than here. Ben said how he has a lot of people he gets along with, but he’s not too close with any of them. Well, except you and Siara. 

Listening to his stories, he also delighted you in some from law school.

By this time, you had figured out how you knew him. You remembered not only school, but the cafe as well. This all confirmed your theory of why he left, but that day was never brought up.

“Siara has been the first one I’ve talked to in a while that I get along with easily. Same with you. Everyone else, I find, is nice but not very talkative,” he said after a small pause.

“Trust me,” you put a hand on his shoulder that slightly stiffened but quickly relaxed, “with time, they’ll open up. At first, it was the same for me as well. But after a few weeks, when they get used to you being here, they’ll act as if they never only made small talk.” 

Your words helped him relax and you felt the tension in his shoulder release a little more. Grinning, he gave you a nod of thanks as you brought your hand back with the other on your keyboard.

Turning back to the paper in front of him, he asked a few more questions for the project before leaving. The day was over after that, and you had personal plans to relieve the stress of work. Otherwise you’d ask if he wanted to talk longer.

Grabbing what you needed, you headed out.

Walking home, it was calm for the usual rush hour. Though this was a quieter part of the city, the traffic still gets bad some days. Today, the quietness helped as you took in a deep breath of the fresh air. 

The office was only a fifteen minute walk away from your house, making the commute enjoyable in your mind. It helped you relax for a bit.

Arriving at your single floor home, you stayed and read on the comfort of your couch until the last of the sun had disappeared from the sky. Then, it was time for you to leave and do something you did quite often. Going to the park to lay on a patch of grass to watch the stars and, most of all, admire the moon. 

The park was only a few minutes away. Like usual, the park was empty at this time of night. This left the walk on the path quiet and letting you begin to calm yourself at the sound of the gentle breeze waltzing through the trees.

Finding the usual patch of grass that was on a slight incline, you sat down and took in your surroundings before laying down. A few long blades of grass brushed your face, making you giggle at the ticklish sensation. You brought your arms up and placed your hands under your head as a pillow. Closing your eyes, you let yourself slip into a state of meditation, sensing and taking in everything around you.

The crisp night air was a refreshing change to the long day of heat that had faded. It ran a cool trail through your lungs, only to be warmed again as you breathed out. 

You slowed your breathing, drawing in long breaths each time. Leaves being rustled in the trees as it danced along with the light gusts of wind deepened your meditation and calm. 

Opening your eyes, the large moon lit up the sky, being assisted by the many shining stars that surrounded it. Instead of taking away the moon's beauty, it only made it more evident. Everything was perfect.

“Excuse me,” a soft voice sounded from behind you. 

Startled, you instantly sat straight up, feeling a slight sense of embarrassment flow through you. Turning around, you saw a figure standing on the dirt path. He looked familiar.

“Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

It was Ben. You could tell it was his voice as he sounded frantic to make it known that he didn’t mean to startle you. He hung his head down as if he were mad at himself for scaring you in the moment. 

He continued, “I wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn’t know it was you otherwise I would’ve stayed silent.”

“Ben, it’s fine.” You saw him raise his head with a small, forced grin. “I just come here often and I’ve never come across another person here. Well, not at this time of day, anyway.”

“I’m sorry, I can leave i-if-” he started to turn away.

“No, don't worry about it. It’s fine,” you cut him off, seeing him stop mid turn. 

As you looked at him, his features were complimented in the moonlight. It was something that mesmerized you, like the moon. A light illuminating the darkness of night. 

Then, you noticed that you were staring at him and you worried about how long it was for.

“May I?” Ben took a small step forward as he gestured to the area beside you. Nodding your response, he slowly made his way down, but not without first hesitating. 

Quietly, you laughed to yourself. You’ve noticed in the last few weeks that he’s very courteous and gentlemanly. Always punctual as well, putting aside the first day. Yet you wouldn’t be surprised if he had gotten there on time but hesitated and waited for someone else to arrive before he entered.

Letting himself sit beside you, he leaned back, supporting himself with his elbows and put one leg over the other. For yourself, you brought your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. Oddly, you felt very comfortable with Ben here. You had always thought it was better alone, but this seemed more enjoyable.

The two of you sat in silence before Ben said, “Thank you.”

This confused you, “For what?”

“Helping me adjust to the new work environment, the tips, tricks and just letting me talk. It’s not something I’m used to,” he replied while looking at the stars. Then he turned to look at you, “Also, thank you for not turning me away.” 

You looked over at him to give him a smile, but was met with a down expression when he looked away for a moment. As he looked back up at you, he gave a forced grin.

“Are you okay?” You had to ask. It seemed like something was getting him down and something desperately wanted to help. 

From these few weeks of talking he became a good friend. You also knew that he was a pretty upbeat person. Everything he talked about had an energy, a passion that made him look kind and determined.

He took a deep, shaky breath but stayed silent for a few moments. You could see the glisten of tears slowly building up in his eyes.

“When I got to my apartment,” he started shakily, “I had a message on my answering machine from my mother telling me to call her. And, when I did sh-she told me-” 

His tears started to roll down his face, but he contained himself enough to say the rest. 

“She told me that she was waiting to receive results for if she ha-had can-” Ben broke down into tears, curling forward, holding his face in his hands. 

Even though he didn’t say it fully, he didn’t need to. You could easily piece the rest together.

Hearing him cry made your heart sink. You placed your hand on his back and gently rubbed it in comfort. Your own tears welled up in your eyes from the moment. 

Suddenly, he leaned over, resting his head on the side of your knee. You didn’t mind. Not only because of the situation, but because it felt natural. 

For a while, you continued to lightly rub his back. You did this until he calmed down enough.

Sitting back up, he sniffed and wiped his face dry. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-”

“Nonsense, you have no need to apologize. I’m just glad you aren't alone.” Saying this in a soft tone, you watched him gather himself up, taking a deep, wavering breath. 

Bringing his knees against his chest, you were both silent for a few moments.

“Do you know when she’s going to get the results?”

“She said in the next two to three days. All she told me is that she found a lump and they aren’t sure if it’s cancerous or a simple bacterial growth,” he replied. You rubbed his shoulder and then turned back to look up at the sky, dropping your hand from his shoulder.

You saw him slightly shiver. You would’ve dismissed it had you not missed having your hand resting against him. 

To shove this away, you cleared your throat and thought of an idea.

“Stay home until you find out. I’ll talk to Siara. I’m sure she’ll do fine by herself for a few days.”

You watched as he looked to you in surprise. It was like he thought he’d be forced to go to work through something like this.

You gave a small grin, “If you need more time after that, take it. We have more than enough people to cover so that you can use this time to be with your mom during this.” 

You met each other’s gazes, Ben gave a smile of thanks. Something about it warmed your heart.

For the next couple of hours, Ben stayed. It was spent mostly in silence, only a few words were exchanged. What you didn’t pay attention to was the time. 

When you looked at your watch, you cursed under your breath as you bolted up. 

Ben looked up, concerned, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes but I wasn’t paying attention to the time, leading me to stay longer than I meant to.” You started to stand. 

You took a few steps and then paused, turning back to Ben.

“And you better stay home otherwise I’ll be kicking you out of the building.” He laughed at that as you said bye, walking away quickly. 

Usually you’d stay longer, but tomorrow was an early start.

Next>>

@stardancerluv @jaydenwoo @madmax2003

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Eye of the Beholder

Warnings: non-consent (fingering, vaginal sex)

This is dark!Heimdall and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Heimdall has a secret.

Note: Well, another character I haven’t written before. Here ya go! I dunno what came over me but this is what happened.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Thor

Thor had caught him again. He wasn’t disappointed or irritated by any means, merely intrigued. He had rarely seen the Asgardian as anything but the stoic and diligent sentinel of the realm. Yet he could tell when the watchman was not at his duty. When it was not the bi-frost he watched but some other mystery. Thor only wondered what it was that so entranced the vigilant Asgardian.

The warden stood with his sword gripped between his hands, his head lowered as his eyes glowed. He was silent and still but for the subtle movement of his lips; as if he were speaking to someone. He was entirely enamoured by whatever vision swirled within.

“Heimdall,” The prince boomed and the horned-helmet slowly rose as the protector greeted him with his golden eyes. “Rapt at work, I see.”

“Unlike you,” Heimdall let forth the hint of a grin. Unshakeable as ever. “You see to use the bridge?”

“Not today,” Thor said. “Merely to visit a friend.”

“And your visits do grow frequent,” He countered. “I think your father might be wary of his realm going unwatched on account of his son’s whims.”

“You have ears. Strong ones, I’ve heard,” Thor strode along the window that overlooked the bi-frost. “Not even I could keep you from your duty.”

“Oh but you do challenge my competence.” Heimdall chuckled. “It is quiet this night. Asgard is but another star in the sky it seems.”

“Surely the brightest,” Thor stared down at the glowing bridge and hid his smirk from the other Asgardian.

Heimdall was ever clever and a skilled liar, only because he was known to be an honest man. For all his years alongside his brother, Thor could read a fib. Even one as subtle and inconsequential as that which floated unacknowledged between the immortals. Perhaps the watchman didn’t know he had been caught or perhaps he was content enough to let the prince wonder.

It didn’t matter for Thor would discover what distracted the watcher. What immaculate attraction had drawn his eye from his service after centuries of chaste devotion. The prince hadn’t an idea of how he would uncover the secret to light but he knew one who would. The very person who had honed him to the knack of dishonesty.

Loki had his bag of tricks and surely one of them could affect the unaffected sentinel.

⚔️

Loki

Loki twiddled his long fingers as Thor paced behind the curved chaise before the hearth. It wasn’t often the golden prince visited his brother within his own chambers. He had learned long ago that it was there he was most vulnerable to the trickster’s wiles. The younger prince grinned as he realised whatever had his brother so anxious also had him desperate. It must have been delicious indeed.

Loki draped one leg over the other as he reclined in the velvet chair. He wore a black robe over little more than his linen shorts. He had been readying for bed when the knock came. His brother was only fortunate he had been alone otherwise his raps would have gone unheard. Well, Thor did seem to be in his cups so he might have made himself known even then.

Metal clattered to the ground as Thor knocked one of the ornaments from the mantel and Loki sighed. It was easily repairable but if his brother opted to make a full tour of the chamber, he might be left with not but mangled silver and gold.

“Brother, do sit before you fall on your ass,” Loki slithered. “I should like to attend to whatever menial concern has brought you to my rooms so late. I was only about to retire.”

“Oh ho, but I think you might not be able to sleep once I’ve told you what---” Thor paused and let out a belch into his fist as he stumbled his way to the chaise. “Once you know what has brought me here.”

“And in such a state,” Loki taunted.

“Well, that had really nothing to do with it and more to do with the Asgardian ale I was forced to drink unto myself.” Thor laughed. “Heimdall, ever abstinent from pleasure, did move my hand to drain a whole cask.”

“I am certain you could not have put the cork back in and done so another day,” Loki huffed. “Truly brother, it is late and I have as little patience as I do interest in your indulgences.”

“My indulgences?” Thor wondered. “What about Heimdall’s?”

Loki perked up suddenly and straightened in his chair. “What do you mean by that, brother?”

“Well, I am not entirely certain what I mean but I know there is something that has caught his all-seeing eye,” Thor belched again and waved away the cloud. “Which is what brings me here.”

“You want me to trick Heimdall,” Loki blinked. “You are truly mad. He was likely off on some far planet watching the leaves blow.”

“Some mighty fine leaves they must have been,” Thor intoned. “I’ve found him twice as such. He does not look upon a blade of grass or the wing of a bird. Brother, that look is one reserved for a more rapturous beauty.”

Loki’s brows shot up and he tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. He considered the thought of the great watcher’s desire. He could not imagine the valiant protector coveting anything more than what he had. And Thor was drunk. Still he was intrigued.

“And I suppose you want me to figure out what it is that has baited him so fervently?” Loki asked.

“Yes!” Thor clapped. “Yes. That’s exactly what you need to do.”

“Besides the obvious question of how I would do that,” Loki said, “Why would I?”

“Because, brother,” Thor smirked, “You are just as bored with this tedium as I am.”

⚔️

Loki had figured it out. It had taken some time but he had found a way to follow the watchman’s eyes. The only issue at hand was keeping him distracted long enough that he could do so. Surely Thor could help with that.

What Thor couldn’t do was wrap his head around what Loki was about to do. All the better as the dunce was of better use ignorant. 

Heimdall had a natural gift for seeing but Loki had discovered that upon his duties, his ability was amplified to make him truly all-seeing. The bi-frost was not merely the only path into Asgard, it was the only path into that Asgardian’s mind. 

There was a single strand upon the bridge among the hues of pinks, purples, blues, and blinding yellows that would betray him. A strand which would hold the secret he held so dear. Loki could draw a map from that strand and retrace every single thing Heimdall had ever seen. From that, he could surely uncover the watcher’s favoured fixation.

They only needed to make their little ruse believable. To draw the eye of Heimdall was hard enough, to keep it looking where you wanted was more so. And Loki was to trust in the daftest man he knew to pull it off.

⚔️

Loki was mostly sure this wasn’t going to work. Not if Thor kept thumping around so carelessly above. Not only was the trickster focusing on finding this elusive thread among millions, he was fighting to hold the illusion of himself that danced overhead with his brother.

The fight had drawn in the watcher quite easily as they had caught him by surprise. Loki suspected they had distracted him from the very secret they sought to oust. The only issue was that Thor was making this all too believable and Loki was close to being knocked away from the underside of the bi-frost. If that happened, he wasn’t fond of finding out where he would end up.

Finally, with his hand buried in the tendrils of light, Loki had grasped the single thread. That one, miniscule golden thread which varied only by the glimmer from the yellow ones. It burned his palm and he struggled not to scream. He clasped the metal ring around it and struggled to keep it on as the power surged into his arm. 

He tore it away as he hissed and his hand shook as he clutched the tiny ring. Relief washed over him even as his entire being buzzed from the deluge of energy. He might just fall into the void anyway. He was dizzy and his eyes wouldn’t stay still. 

Slowly he crawled up the underside of the bridge and pushed himself off. He barely caught himself at the bottom of the watchtower. Once he was clear of view, he sent up the signal and fell against a golden-leafed oak tree as he struggled to keep his illusion in place. He’d let Thor end it, hopefully before he passed out.

⚔️

Much to Loki’s shame, Thor had to as good as carry him back to his chamber. He shoved himself away from his brother as they entered and he stumbled over to the crystal orb that sat central before his hearth. He fumbled with the metal ring that vibrated inside his pocket and clinked it atop the glass. He fell back and caught himself on the chair. Slowly his strength began to return to him.

The crystal ball projected the energy of the ring across the chamber, a map of the universe all around them. Loki caught his breath and shakily stood as he shook off the haze. Thor’s forehead wrinkled as he looked around at the galaxies and the constellations. 

Loki dragged his finger along the crystal ball as the stars moved and different parts glowed brighter. He pinched his fingertips together along the glass and a particular spark came into focus. He pulled back and neared the speck. He squinted, then chuckled.

“Midgard,” He purred under his breath. “Curious,” He turned back to Thor and smirked. “It does amuse me how those beings seem to have such a hold upon our kind.”

“Midgard!” Thor lit up as bright as the stars.

“No,” Loki pointed a finger at him. “Not her. We’re there for Heimdall.” He neared the crystal again. “Let us just figure out exactly where he’s been spending so much time.”

⚔️

She was no extraordinary being. In fact, he found her quite plain. Loki shook his head as he watched her. Thor had stayed upon Asgard to further divert the watcher. As long as the prince was around, he wouldn’t think to look in on his little toy.

It was late and she seemed to be the only in her building who was still awake. The drone of music filled her small apartment as she bent over a low table. Her fingers were dark with the charcoal she used to sketch upon the paper. 

She was clueless. She didn’t hear a step or see a shadow. He stood right behind her as her charcoal dusted across the thick sheet. 

She sat up and yawned and grabbed the cloth beside the sketchbook. She wiped her fingertips and reached for her phone. She checked the time and swore to herself. She piled the charcoal into a small box and pushed aside the half-finished drawing. He was on her before she could stand.

She was easy enough to subdue. She didn’t put up much of a fight before his magic took effect. These mortals always were so weak. Perhaps that was part of it. As he wrapped her in a sheet and tossed her over his shoulder, he could imagine the thoughts that kept Heimdall enraptured. The fantasies that dirtied his pious mind. Oh, how naughty.

Loki stepped out into the glare of streetlights and looked up into the night sky. He smirked and snickered. Heimdall would be surprised at his call to enter the bi-frost, having not even noticed his departure. Oh, but he would be so much more surprised at the creature slung over Loki’s shoulder.

⚔️

Reader

You awoke to voices. An argument. You grumbled and gripped your spinning head as you laid across the hard stone. Your eyes shot open and you sat up with a whimper. You felt as if you would fall back down as your vision sparkled. 

Where the fuck were you?

You looked around the golden chamber and struggled to keep yourself up on your shaky arm. Three figures stood feet from you as they continued to argue. Your chest felt heavy as your nerves swelled there. You were about to panic, astounded that you were not already.

“What are you two doing?” The man in shining armour spat. “How did you even--”

“So you admit, you want her,” A slender man with dark-hair interjected. “So, what’s the issue?”

“You took her from her home.” The first hissed.

“Where you’ve been watching her,” The second countered and the third man, a towering blond nodded. “And we know you were not doing so for not.”

“Where my eyes see is of none of your concern, Loki,” The man snarled. 

“You would spurn our gift?” The man called Loki replied. The name and the face were strangely familiar. “You’ve earned it. You work so hard.”

“You should take her back before she wakes.” The first man insisted.

“Too late for that,” Loki slowly glanced over at you. “Besides, you are an Asgardian, you know our ways. We prize those who serve us often with flesh. Many warriors partake in the tradition.”

“You weren’t supposed to--” The first man took a breath and dared to peek over at you. “I was waiting…” He lowered his voice. “The two of you have spoiled it all.”

“We have done what you were too cowardly to do yourself,” Loki insisted. “So, here she is, she’s yours.” He shrugged. “To do with as you will. Though I can only imagine what plans you’ve been devising behind those eyes.”

The man in the gold armor gulped and looked at you again. His eyes were just as bright as his garb and you were startled by them. You drew your knees to your chest and hugged them.

“What’s going on?” You asked.

“Oh, sweet girl,” The slender man neared you and knelt before you. “You’ve been chosen by the gods to serve them personally. Specifically the one we call Heimdall.” He nodded over his shoulder. “The one with the horns but be assured, they do come off and he would have another which I think you’d much prefer.”

“Loki,” The blond growled as he came close and wrenched him up to his feet. “Do not frighten her… that is not your pleasure.”

Loki scoffed and wriggled free of the other’s grasp. “Of course,” He sneered. “Heimdall, she is all yours. Let that Asgardian blood flow freely…” He neared the armoured man again and flicked his mailed shoulder. “I’m sure you do tire of just watching.”

With a final grin in your direction, Loki followed the blond from the round chamber and left you alone with this man known as Heimdall. He sighed and watched them go. When he turned to you, his eyes glowed and he snapped them shut. He tilted his head as he turned his back to you and lifted the large helmet off. He set it down as he rolled his shoulders.

“They should not have brought you here,” He shook his head. “I am sorry that they did.”

His fingers tapped on the stone table beside the helmet. 

“Please, tell me what’s happening.” You begged. “I don’t understand.”

He took another deep breath, shaky and uneven. He pressed his hand flat to the table and growled.

“As the watcher of this land, I have abstained from my desires for thousands of years. It has not been easy but it is what I had to do.” He began and you trembled at the timbre of his deep voice. You pushed yourself up to your feet and crossed your arms protectively over your chest. “But I am of Asgardian blood and we have hunger in our veins. Restraint is not bred within us and it is hard to muster.” 

He turned slowly and unbuckled the sleeves of his armour. They fell slack and he slipped them off. He laid them down beside his helmet. He did the same to his breastplate and worked at shedding his armour one piece at a time. His golden eyes clung to you as you swayed nervously.

“”I admit, I have been watching you, and just that minor diversion was a betrayal of my duty. Yet, I could not stop. My eye always fell back to the little Midgardian in her little nest. All alone.” 

He set the last piece of mail aside and stood in a pale tunic, matching beeches, and a pair of leather boots. He seemed both hesitant and impatient to near you. He hesitated and paced across the chamber before you.

“If I kept you far away, I’d only watch. I wouldn’t… I couldn’t succumb to my instincts.” He continued. “But they… they conspired against me and now… now…” His fingers curled into fists and he stormed towards you. You retreated until you were against the wall. “Now… you’re here and I feel it rising in me.”

He opened a hand and it hovered over your shoulder as he trembled. You cowered against the stone as you tried to press yourself flat. As you tried to wake up from whatever terrible dream this was. You didn’t.

“I have protected you as I’ve watch you but there is one thing I cannot protect you from,” His hand settled on your shoulder and slipped down your arm. “...Me.”

He grabbed your elbow and spun you past him. He released you so that you collided with the stone table and it knocked the wind out of you. His breaths were like growls as he closed in. You turned to him and his hand stretched over your throat.

“I tried… I tried,” He ranted. “I truly did but… I promised Odin… I tried.”

His other hand grasped the strap of your tank top and snapped it easily. You tried to slap him away and his grip tightened around your neck. His body was trembling almost as much as yours.

“I won’t hurt you… if you don’t make me,” He warned.

Your eyes rounded and you stared up into his glowing eyes. There was something sinister within them that wasn’t there before. You dropped your hands and braced the edge of the table.

A shuddered “Please…” was all you could manage.

His tongue slid over his bottom lip as he tore your other strap. He pulled the top down to your waist and hummed as his gaze fell to your bare chest. You wanted to hide from him but you could barely move. The hand at your throat sapped all your resistance. Your skin buzzed as he cupped your tit.

He flicked a thumb over your nipple and then the other. He watched his hand as it explored your flesh and began to crawl lower. He crept over the crumpled tank top and his fingers pushed beneath the waistband of your shorts; the old faded pajamas were a poor shield against his ardour.

He tugged them past your hips and let them fall down your legs. A rush of fear flowed through you and you grabbed onto his thick arms. His hand squeezed your throat just a little.

“Stop,” You rasped. “Please, I… I…”

“I can’t.” He snarled.

He released you but only to grasp your hips and lift you in a single motion. He was so strong, you felt little more than a feather on the wind. He sat you on the table, his cold armour against your back. He pushed between your legs and bent to cover your mouth with his. His hand stretched across the back of your head as he held you to him.

You grunted and struggled against him. It only seemed to rile him as he shoved his other hand between your legs. His thighs kept your knees apart as he pressed on your clit until you squirmed. You slapped your hands down on the table and moaned.

His tongue pushed past your lips as he slid his fingers inside of you. You squeaked into his mouth and your legs tingled as he curled his fingers. You clawed the stone beneath you as he played with you. He pressed the heel of his hand to your bud and squeezed as he began a steady pace.

His other hand fell from the back of your head and you gasped as you drew away. His hand moved faster and faster. You shuddered as your core thrummed and ripples tingled along your spine. You panted wildly as you tried to resist the steep and undeniable rise. Your hips bucked as you came and your back hit the tall horns of his helmet as you quivered helplessly.

He withdrew his hand as you groaned and struggled not to fall back entirely. He quickly fought with the laces of his breeches and ripped them open. For a moment, the terror returned to you and you thought of escape. He pulled his cock from beneath the leggings and you gulped. He grabbed your hip as he stepped closer and stifled your fears.

He dragged his tip along your folds and you pushed on his chest. The ecstasy drained as he pressed against your entrance. This was a stranger, a man you didn’t know, a being you were certain was inhuman. You didn’t want him. You didn’t want this, did you?

He impaled you sharply as if he could sense your doubt. You cried out and scratched at the fabric across his broad chest. You gripped it tightly as your walls quaked around him. He was big and thick and the delight of his girth was laced with pain. Tears pricked your eyes and your legs hugged his hips without thought. You didn’t know if you wanted him to stop or keep on.

All restraint slaked away from him as he rocked into you. His hands snaked around to grope your ass. He pulled you closer to the edge as he pounded deeper and deeper. Beastly snarls whisked from his lips and he lifted you entirely. You draped your arms over his shoulders as he moved your body against his.

You couldn’t help the pressure as it mounted once more. Couldn’t help that this man was stealing this pleasure from you so easily. You blamed it all on this man. It couldn’t possibly be you. You couldn’t like it. You couldn’t.

You came again and he turned and leaned against the table. He lifted your knees up to rest beside him and rocked your hips against his. He sank into you over and over until you were wrapped around him. Your heavy breaths nestled in the crook of your neck as you weakly clung to him.

He slammed you down harder than before and let out a strangled grunt. He slowed and rode out his climax until you were completely still. You were breathless and weak against him, your body covered in sweat. He wrapped his arms around you as your limbs fell and held you against him.

“I…” He breathed over the crown of your head. “I tried.”

[mycomfortblanket]

If I Lose Him Like This

Chapter 7

Sitting on the roof of the palace, Aang watches the sun rise. After speaking with Katara and they had decided to end things, he needed time to himself. The conversation between him and Katara plays over and over in his mind and whenever he gets a small break from that heartache, he remembers what Toph had said to him just before Zuko and Katara had walked into the room.

He drops his head into his hands and rubs them along his scalp until he is clutching the back of his neck. How did he manage to screw things up with the both of them? Thinking back on the past few days, he sees little opportunities to fix the whole situation by a simple act or choice of words, if only he had stopped and thought for a moment.

"Well, looks like someone found my hiding spot," a voice comes from behind him. Aang turns around and sees Azula walking carefully down the roof until she can sit next to him.

"Hey, 'Zula."

"So, Katara found out?" she asks.

Aang whips his head over to look at her, but she is carefully avoiding his gaze. "Who told you about that?"

She takes a deep breath and draws her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. She takes in a deep breath, "During the war, Father would have me interrogate prisoners. Get information out of them about secret bases, battle plans, whatever," she pauses and a shaky breath comes out, "The things I use to do to people..." her voice cracks. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply before exhaling long and slow.

Aang can't take his eyes off of her. The gold in her eyes are illuminated by the rising sun and her skin is so white and clear of any blemish, but he can see the aging the war did to her in the set of her shoulders.

"Anyways, I learned things about people, about how they hide certain aspects of themselves. How they can make the worst parts of themselves completely disappear or cover their worst pain. I learned how to search for these aspects of people without even trying to, to see their worst fear or worst judgement of themselves without even tearing them apart." She visibly swallows but turns to him and smiles, "So, no one told me. You and Toph are just very telling."

Aang draws his knees up to his chest as well and rests his forehead against them, "You're not going to tell Sokka, are you?"

Azula waves her hand in the air as if to disperse the tension, "Of course not, it's not any of my business. Although, I do think you should talk to him about it. He's not going to like it and he's going to be mad, but as his friend, I think it would be better that he hears it from you rather than some of the gossiping maids," her voice is back to the sharp edge he knows so well.

He rolls his head on his knees to look at her. It's still so surprising to see how different she is compared to how she was 6 years ago. He never would have thought they would be friends or have any kind of intimate moment, but he is glad she is here.

"I really messed up with them," he whispers. She doesn't say anything but waits for him to continue. "I love them both so much. But, Katara was right. We had been breaking apart for months, and neither of us had wanted to face that fact. We just stopped working. And Toph, I started messing that up several years ago and I didn't even know."

"You slept with her?"

Aang hesitates, "Yeah. Years ago. I didn't know how she felt about me at the time, I just thought it was..." he trails off, not wanting to say what he thought it was. "We kissed at my wedding and then she disappeared for 3 years. You think I would've put all of this together."

"Ha, yeah, you'd think," Azula laughs a little and wipes at her nose.

"I'm losing them both," he mumbles and hides his head in his knees again.

She looks over at him for a moment and considers his situation, "I think you're being too hard on yourself about it. You're only human. Yeah, you're the avatar, stopper of the Hundred Year War, Master of All Four Elements, but you're still just human." She looks at him for a moment longer. She places a hand on his shoulder before standing up and walking back to the window she came through.

--------------------

Toph feels him meditating in the garden and she mentally steels herself for this conversation. Katara had talked some sense into her and that she needed to talk with Aang about what all has happened between them and the futute. She had reminded Toph time and time again how she didn't blame her or Aang and that she shouldn't ever feel guilty about what happened.

So now, she just needed to talk to Aang. she takes a deep breath and walks over and sits beside him, keeping enough distance between them that they don't touch. Neither of them say anything for a moment, there's just too much to say to each other, that it's hard to find what to talk about first. His heart rate spiked the moment he realized it was her walking into the courtyard and it hasn't slowed at all in the few minutes she's been sitting here.

"I don't really know where to start," Toph mumbles.

"Yeah. I just really fucked up, T." his voice is low and sounds thoroughly exhausted.

She barely nods her head, "Yeah. I talked with Katara," she feels him wince slightly but she presses on, "She told me what happened between the two of you. She also told me that she doesn't blame you. That she doesn't blame either of us," she looks down at her hands and pulls a blade of grass out and twirls it in her fingers.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

Aang looks over at her and takes in the bangs covering most of her face and the dark circles under her eyes from staying up all night, "Do you blame me?"

Toph lifts her face towards the sun and moves the bangs from her face, "Well, you certainly didn't do this on you own."

"The monks taught us to live without regret, and I've done a really great job of doing that so far. I've done really well at now allowing a decision I had made to hang over my head like a knife. But now, the one thing I will forever regret is hurting you," he pauses, willing his voice to steady. "And, I know that I can't make it up to you, at least not right now, I'm just asking for one more chance to earn your forgiveness. Not even your forgiveness, I just want to make it to where you are able to look at me without your heart breaking all over. I want to try and make this better for you, because I'm- I'm so fucking sorry, Toph."

He sees a tear streak down her cheek and he so badly wants to lean over and wipe it from her face, to clear it of existence. "Sometimes, I wish you never taught me seismic sense, because I can feel it. I feel your heartbreak every fucking time you feel me near you."

Toph sniffs and laughs a little, and here she thought she was being slick in hiding her pain, but then, a thought comes to her, "How come you couldn't feel it before?"

"I don't know. I don't know if I didn't feel it or if I didn't want to feel it, but, now... it's just so fucking prominent." She expects her hear to ache at this confession, but it doesn't. Maybe she's reached the limit of her heartbreak for the year.

"Is this what it was like for you, all those years ago?"

She lowers her head and remembers the way his heart would almost skip a beat anytime Katara walked into a room, or the way they both soared their wedding day. It was hell and she wasn't ever able to not feel it. Most people, when they're in love with someone who is in love with someone else, they can look away- they can choose not to see it. But, she felt it every time.

"Yeah. Yeah, it kind of feels like that," Toph whispers.

Aang nods his head and inhales, " I can't even ask you to forgive me, it's not right. But, Spirits. I'm going to try and make this better, I swear to you." He turns to her and her face is as impassive as ever. His heart sinks lower and lower the longer she is silent.

But then, he sees a small smirk come onto her face, "This is going to be fun to watch."

--------------------

Zuko finds her in the library curled up on one of the plus couches with her head down. The slouch of her shoulders is very telling of how upset she is and makes him hesitate just a moment. He doesn't want to go over to her and bother her, not when her whole world just came crashing down.

Straightening himself, he swallows his hesitation and makes his way over to Katara. Just as he is rounding the couch, she looks up at him and smiles. She seems like she is perfectly fine. Her head wasn't hanging down in defeat or heartbreak, but she was reading a book. There's no tear marks on her cheeks and the slump of her shoulders doesn't seem as dramatic up close. The smile on her face even reaches up to her eyes.

"Hey, how'd you know I'd be here?"

"Oh, uh. Lucky guess, I guess," he moves to sit beside her.

They're both quiet for a bit, both of them just staring into the flames. "Please don't ask me if I'm alright," Katara's voice is quiet. Zuko glances over at her from the corner of his eye. She seems okay, and even now, her voice doesn't tremble, and she shows no sign of the heartbreak he thought she would be suffering from.

"Wasn't going to. But, uh. I did want to ask you something," he clears his throat a little, suddenly becoming nervous. She turns to him, an eyebrow raised. "Would you like to be my date to the ball tonight?"

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