#it spiraled needless 2 say

[serpentandlily]

Beneath the Ashes (I/II) - Azriel x Reader

Beneath the Ashes Part I - Azriel x Illyrian!Reader

Summary: Azriel finally finds the girl he’s been looking for all these years—his mate. But unfortunately for him, his mate happens to be an Illyrian who, upset over the fact that he’s turned his back on his own people, wants nothing to do with him. (Enemies to lovers vibes, angst)

a/n: based on this REQUEST. This is going to be a two part story because I kind of went a little too hard writing this haha. Thank you for your request and the inspiration! (Also I know a lot of you asked to be on a taglist for this story but since it’s only 2 parts I’m not gonna make one)

warnings: misogyny, sexism

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Part I of II

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Azriel was not happy, to say the least. Not as he landed on the cold, hard ground of one of the Illyrian war camps in the northern region of the mountains. He internally cursed at Cassian for still being on his mating honeymoon with Nesta because now he was being forced to do things Cass would normally be in charge of—primarily dealing with the Illyrians.

It wasn't a secret that Azriel hated Illyria and all its people. Hated that he came from such a barbaric, backwards culture.  He knew Cass was trying to do all he could to break the traditions Illyrians held, but Azriel had always told him they were a lost cause. If he could never see these damn mountains again, he'd consider it a blessing.

But, evidently, that was not a blessing he'd be allowed—at least, not until Cassian returned. For now, he was the one who was being sent out on these missions by his High Lord. 

Rhys had gotten word that some commotion was happening in the camp that had its people up in arms about something. He had asked Azriel to go check it out and who was he to turn down a request from his brother? So here he was. He was just hoping to get this over with soon. 

He had tried sending his shadows ahead of time to collect intel, but they had been acting weird ever since they returned to him. They had swarmed him with their cryptic messages.

Beautiful.

Our master must see. 

Permission to kill, master?

Needless to say, Azriel had no fucking idea what any of that meant. He had given them no such permission to kill, at least, not until he could see for himself what was transpiring here. 

He was passing by the training rings, ignoring the stares of the brutes who were working out and sparring within them, when he heard several sets of loud voices. He quickened his pace, following the voices into the residential section of the camp until he finally beheld what was causing the commotion. 

Three males were on the porch of one of the cabins, restraining a female Illyrian, who was thrashing around like a wildcat, screaming, "Let me go, you assholes!"

Another male Azriel recognized as the War Lord of the camp was standing on the steps leading up to the small cabin, arms crossed and a sneer on his face. A male next to him was holding a blubbering Illyrian toddler, whose arms were outstretched towards the female with tears pouring down her chubby cheeks. 

None of them had noticed him yet which Azriel used to his advantage. His shadows were already wailing when he let them loose. They spiraled towards the group, swirling around the males holding the female and yanking them away from her. All of their heads snapped in Azriel's direction except for the female. She tumbled to the ground but quickly scrambled to get up and rushed towards the male next to the War Lord, not even sparing a glance at what had caused the males to unleash her. 

She went to grab the little girl from the male holding her but was quickly held back by the War Lord with a growl. The War Lord twisted her arms behind her back, holding her in place, but his glare was firmly set on Azriel.

Azriel's face displayed no emotions as he stalked forward, his hand ghosting over Truth-Teller. 

"Shadowsinger," the War Lord bit out in greeting. The other males quickly got to their feet and stood at attention. 

"Silas," Azriel said, not bothering to address him properly which made the male bristle, "Care to explain what is happening here?" 

"None of your business, Shadowsinger," Silas hissed. "I have it under control."

"Doesn't seem like it," Azriel replied, coolly. 

The female was still trying to break out of Silas's grip, cursing under her breath. He tightened his hold on her, causing her to hiss in pain as he twisted her wrists in his hands. Azriel's shadows seemed to hiss in response, poised to attack as soon as Azriel gave them permission. 

Azriel's gaze fell on the female, noting the frustrated tears in her eyes. It seemed like there had been a scuffle. Her hair was half falling out of her braid, she had scrape marks on one of her cheeks, and a bruise was beginning to form on her jaw. One of her wings was flared out proudly while the other drooped to the floor at a weird angle. His fists clenched at the sight and when she finally looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, the breath was completely knocked out of his lungs. 

Despite her tattered appearance, she was single-handedly the most beautiful female he had ever laid eyes on. He stood frozen for a moment, taken aback before he shook himself out of the spell she seemed to cast on him, realizing how inappropriate of a time it was to be ogling her. 

"Let her go, Silas," Azriel commanded in a dark voice.

"I don't take orders from you," Silas spat out. "Besides, this female has been breaking the law for months now. We're taking her into custody." 

"Fuck you," the female barked out, stomping on Silas's foot. The male cursed and went to strike her on the back of her head but Azriel's shadow caught his wrist in their grasp before he could. 

"I said," Azriel growled, lowly, causing the males to shift in place, "Let her go." 

"Fine," Silas sneered, though a tiny bit of fear flashed in his dark eyes. He pushed her to the ground in front of him. She was quick to spring back to her feet and rush towards the toddler who was still screeching. The male could hardly keep hold of the little girl.

"Let the babe go, too," Azriel snapped. The male scoffed but set the little girl down. She immediately ran to the female who bent down with her arms wide open, catching the little girl and standing with her firmly on her hip. The little girl's cries quieted down and she buried her small face in the female's neck. 

"Would anyone like to tell me what the hell is going on here?" Azriel snarled, taking another step closer. Half the males mirrored his step back and he fought the urge to chuckle. 

"Like I said," Silas snapped, "This female has been breaking the law—”

“What law?” Azriel asked, firmly.

“Females are not permitted to live alone nor own houses,” Silas barked out. “She has ignored our warnings—”

“My father left the cabin to me in his will!” The female shouted, causing the small toddler in her arms to whimper. She stroked the girl's hair, shushing her. “It belongs to me.”

“I don’t care what your father promised you,” Silas growled. “It is against the law for you to be living here alone. You must surrender the cabin and go live in the barracks with the other unwed females of marrying age. Your sister will be placed under the care of the matron.” 

“Like hell I’m leaving her under the care of that female! You’re just going to have her wings clipped and force her to do grueling chores all day! She stays with me!” 

“You are out of line! I knew your father wasn’t raising the two of you right. Ever since your mother passed away—”

 “Don’t you dare say another word about my parents!”  

The War Lord lunged towards the female with a growl but Azriel shadowed between them, unsheathing Truth-Teller and pressing it against the male’s throat. 

“Lay a hand on her and I’ll gut you right here in front of all of your brutes,” Azriel snarled. 

Silas stepped back with a scoff. “You want to stick your nose in our business? Fine, then she’s your problem. I expect her out of this house by the end of today, Shadowsinger, or there will be worse consequences.” 

He stormed away, his entourage trailing behind him while sending glares to the female. Azriel waited until they were out of view before he turned to look at the female but she was gone from next to him, already walking up the steps to the cabin with the babe—her sister—on her hip.

Azriel went to follow her but she stormed into the cabin and slammed the door in his face before he could so much as utter a single word. He let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before he knocked on the door. When Rhys had mentioned a problem happening in this camp, he hadn't expected to deal with something like this. It would’ve been much easier if it had been a problem he could solve with his fists. 

When she didn't answer, he knocked harder—nearly causing the door to shutter. 

It flung open a second later, a seething female behind it. "I already told those assholes I'm not leaving. If you're here to tell me to pack up and move, you can kiss my ass."

Azriel had to stop his lips from twitching into an amused smirk at her words. He wasn't used to dealing with female Illyrians that had attitudes. Most of them kept their heads down and stayed quiet. His mother had been like that....

"I'm not here to tell you that," Azriel answered. "May I come inside?" 

She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms and staring him down. He found himself even more amused at how she was trying to intimidate him. Most fae avoided him and his gaze. But a female, whose head barely reached his shoulders, seemed to be completely unfazed by him.  

"No, you may not," she snapped. "Anything you need to say to me can be said perfectly fine from where you're standing." 

“Can I at least bring a healer to come check out your injuries?” He eyed the scrapes on her face, the bruise and her drooping wing. Azriel’s chest ached at the sight and anger pulsed under his skin. He wanted to turn around and go rip those males apart limb by limb for laying a hand on her.

“I don’t need your help, shadowsinger,” she spat out.

"Fine," Azriel sighed. "I was sent by the High Lord because there's been reports of someone here causing disarray. I'm going to assume that someone is you." 

She shrugged, nonchalantly, her eyes flickering between his own and the shadows swirling around him that wouldn't shut up about how beautiful she was, how brave....They were singing her praise. It confused him. His shadows had never acted like this before. 

When she failed to answer, Azriel cleared his throat, uncomfortably. “Will you answer my question?”

“Aren’t you the spymaster?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Shouldn’t you be able to gather intel yourself and not rely on a lowly Illyrian female?”

“A lowly Illyrian female?” Azriel raised an eyebrow at her crass words towards herself.

“Isn’t that how you and all the High Lord’s dogs view us?” Her tone was biting, her eyes filled with hate.

Azriel shifted, at a loss for words. He was used to being met with hostility by the Illyrians, but never usually from the females themselves. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

It was a lousy response, but he truly had no idea what to say. She scoffed, rolling her eyes at him and moved from the doorway, grasping the door. 

“Even if I could help you, I wouldn’t care enough to do so,” she snapped. “Now, if that is all, you can kindly escort yourself off my property, shadowsinger. Thank you.”

The door slammed in his face a second later.

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Azriel returned a few hours later with a letter from the High Lord in his hands. He stormed through the camp, once again ignoring all the glares sent his way. He pushed his way inside the main war tent where Silas was sitting at his desk, twirling a dagger in his hands. His dark eyes looked up at him as he walked in, narrowing.

“You’re back,” Silas said, voice dripping with disdain. “I noticed that the female has still not been relocated from the cabin.”

Azriel strode forward and slammed the letter down on his desk. Silas’s eyes dipped down to it, quickly reading the short message before he looked back up at Azriel with a sneer. “What is this?”

“A notice from the High Lord and Lady,” Azriel answered, face unreadable. “Any laws that forbid a female from living alone or owning property are hereby revoked. This repeal shall be set in motion immediately.” 

"I can read just fine, Shadowsinger," Silas snapped. "I meant what the fuck is this? Does Rhysand think he can just snap his fingers and remove laws that have been around for centuries? I refuse to allow this."

"You'll address the High Lord properly or I'll cut your tongue out for your disrespect," Azriel growled. "The High Lord and High Lady can do whatever they want. You will abide by these new laws or your title of War Lord in this camp will be revoked." 

Silas looked like he wanted to say more, a vein in his forehead pulsing, but he only tightened his hands into fists and let out a long breath. "Very well then, Shadowsinger. I assume you've already informed Y/n of this?" 

"Y/n?"

Silas smirked. "You ran to tattle on us to the High Lord and didn't even know the name of the bitch you—"

Before anything else could come out of the War Lord's mouth, Azriel stalked forward and kicked his desk over, causing both Silas and all his paperwork and trinkets to smash on the floor. The War Lord let out a pathetic gasp in fear, scrambling to his feet and pressing himself against the back of the tent.

"Talk about her like that again," Azriel snarled. "And I'll rip out your throat."

Silas quickly tried to school his composure but Azriel could still see the lingering terror in his eyes. Silas straightened out his leathers before glaring at him. "It's nice to see the Illyrian is still in you after all this time, Shadowsinger. Once a brute, always a brute—isn't that what you like to say?" 

Azriel felt his pulse spike at Silas's words. He hated being reminded that he was Illyrian, even more so being compared to the worst of them. He wasn’t even sure why such rage had sparked in him in the first place. Silas's lips twitched into a smirk as he saw the way his words striked through him. But Azriel didn't wait around to hear what else the asshole had to say, letting his raging shadows swoop him into their darkness. 

He stepped out of the shadows and onto the porch of the cabin he had been at earlier. He took several breaths, trying to calm himself before gently knocking on the door. After no one answered for a moment, he lifted his fist to knock again but the door was pulled open, leaving his hand to hover in the air. He dropped it to his side, narrowing his eyebrows as he was met with no one.

"Hewwo."

Azriel nearly jumped in fright before his gaze dropped to the toddler that stood in the doorway. It was the little girl from earlier, Y/n's sister. He swallowed harshly, eyes darting around the foyer of the cabin in hopes that her sister would pop out any second but no one came. He wasn't good with children, and wasn't used to being around them. Nyx was the only child he had ever really been around and he was still a baby. 

Azriel sighed and crouched down on his haunches, making him more eye level for the little girl. Her shoulder length hair was the same color as her sister’s, her eyes too. The resemblance between the two of them was undeniable. 

"Hello there," Azriel said as gently as he could. "Is your sister home by any chance?" 

“Mhm,” the little girl hummed, busy watching the swirling shadows all around him. 

"Do you think you can go get her for me?" 

She shook her head no, her hair bobbing with the motion. 

"Why not?" Azriel asked, keeping his voice light.

"Cause I'll get in trouble," she said with a little lisp. "Mm not 'pposed to open the door." 

Azriel smiled at her, trying to appear friendly. He was surprised that she didn't seem scared of him or his shadows, as most kids were. "Don't worry, I won't tell her you opened the door for me. It can be our little secret."

She looked to be contemplating his promise, her little nose scrunched up. One of his shadows whisked forward and started swirling around her tiny frame. To Azriel's surprise, the little girl giggled, swiping her hand around to try and catch it. 

"Suri, what are you—Get away from her!" 

Y/n came thundering down the hall, yanking her sister away from the doorframe. Azriel stood to his full height, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as she glared at him before turning to look down at her sister.

"Suri, go to your room." 

"No," Suri pouted, crossing her little arms. "I wanna play with the shadows."

Azriel's lips twitched. This was quite possibly the first time a child had ever seemed anything but scared of his shadows. It was oddly endearing. 

"Go to your room," Y/n commanded in a stronger voice. "Now."

Suri stomped her foot but did as she was told, disappearing from his view. 

"What are you doing back here?" She hissed, once her sister was gone. 

Azriel pulled out the other parchment paper he had brought with him, the same notice he had given Silas. He held it out for her. "I came to deliver this." 

She took the paper from him, glancing at him suspiciously. Azriel watched as her pretty doe eyes scanned the parchment, reading Rhysand's elegant script. To his surprise, she started to chuckle to herself. She handed it back to him, her face twisted into a mocking smirk. 

"Do you honestly think this is going to stop them from trying to kick me out of this house?" She asked him, sarcastically. His eyebrows furrowed. "I'm guessing you're going to patrol this camp for a week or two to make sure they're adhering to the notice and then you'll wipe your hands clean of this all, pretending the High Lord solved everything. But you know the day you stop showing up here, Silas will be at my doorstep." 

"I can assure you that we'll do everything we can to make sure all the WarLords follow these new laws," Azriel said, his face unreadable and his voice detached. She shook her head with a smile that lacked any warmth. “I promise you that.”

"Right," she drawled out, "Well, thank you so much for your help, shadowsinger." 

She went to shut the door but Azriel stuck his hand out, catching it before she could. His gaze fell to her drooping wing, still bent at an awkward angle. "Please, let me bring a healer to attend to your wing." 

Her wing could heal on her own. It would probably only take a day or two, but just seeing it made Azriel's chest ache. He knew the pain she must be in. 

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't pretend like you care about my wings." 

"I've broken a wing before, too," he explained. "I know how much it hurts. Please, let me help you." 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Do you want to know the difference between my wings and your's, shadowsinger? Your wings healed. You get to fly. Mine will never heal."

Azriel's gaze dropped back to her wings, now noticing the two scars—clipped. Her wings had been clipped. His heart dropped into his stomach, rage bubbling to the surface instead.

"Who?" he growled, his voice ice cold. 

"Like I said," she bit out, "Don't pretend like you care." 

"I do care," Azriel replied, fists clenching. And it was true, he did. Wing clipping was a heinous crime, one that had been outlawed since Rhys was sworn in as the High Lord of the Night Court. Of course, sometimes the practice of wing clipping still took place in remote camps that slipped through the cracks. "Wing clipping has been forbidden since—"

"I am well aware that wing clipping is forbidden," she snapped. "But like your stupid little notice, no one cares. And the High lord and all of his cronies, you included, Shadowsinger, have made it very clear that you don't either." 

"We do care," Azriel argued. "We do. But we cannot keep watch of all the camps at all times. We rely on people reporting it—" 

"Oh, spare me from hearing your excuses," she cut him off with a growl. "Do you want to know who did this to me? Here's a clue—go look in the High Lord's desk for a letter addressed from me. I've been sending one every single day for the past six years so there's bound to be at least one still around." 

"Six...six years?" Azriel questioned, quietly. "You've been sending a letter every day for six years and not one of them was ever answered?"

Sure, Rhysand had been gone for fifty years, of course and the rest of them had been unable to leave Velaris thanks to him. Then, they had been busy with the war and didn’t have time to deal with inner court problems. But it had been two years since then and she was still sending letters. Letters looking for justice for what happened to her. Letters gone unanswered.

"Not a single one," she huffed.

"Y/n...I am so sorry—"

"Save it," she barked out. "Now, if we're done here, I'd like you to leave." 

"Please, let me help you—"

Azriel choked in surprise as something within snapped. He couldn’t breath, taking a single step back as a golden thread weaved its way through the space between him and the female standing before him. 

Before his brain could even process what just happened, the door was slammed in his face. But Azriel stood frozen on her porch. Frozen in shock because he had finally found his mate. After all these years, he had finally found the person he had been searching for. 

And she absolutely hated him. 

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Your wing had healed enough by the next morning that you could lift it off the ground, though it was rather painful to do so. Your pride made you suck it up, not wanting to go to the healer and have anyone touch your wings. No one had laid a hand on your wings since the day they were clipped and you wanted to keep it that way.

You got ready for the day, putting on one of your mother's old white, chemise dresses. It fell to the top of your boots, swishing around your ankles. You layered a dark blue skirt over it before putting on a front lace-up corset. You grimaced as you did up the buttons under your injured wings before you tightened the corset until it fit snuggly. Lastly, you threw on a cloak. It was snowing outside today and the last thing you needed was to freeze to death.

You stepped in the hallway, the cabin quiet. You went to wake up Suri to get her ready for the day. Normally she was still asleep, so you were surprised when you heard her voice the closer you got to the door to her bedroom. 

"Bad doggy," she babbled, her voice muffled through the door. "You can't go in there." 

Your eyes widened, realizing she was talking to someone or something. You quickly slammed her door open, eyes darting around in concern. Suri jumped as her door banged open, spinning around on her bed to look at you. A small shadow wisped behind her, like it was hiding. 

"Suri?" You questioned. "Who were you talking to?" 

"Issy!" Suri sang out, jumping off her bed in her little pajamas. She still called you issy, unable to pronounce your name easily or the word sister. "The doggy came back!"

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "The what?"

The shadow darted out from behind Suri, swirling around her and causing the little girl to giggle, "Doggy!"

Your eyes narrowed. One of Azriel's shadows had not only lingered behind, but had been staying with your baby sister. You felt your pulse spike with anger. As if it could sense your emotions, the shadow stopped swirling around and instead pressed itself on the floor like it was bashful and guilty. 

You scoffed, "Go back to your master! We don't want you here." 

The shadow wisped upwards, disappearing through the ceiling. A realization had you clenching your fists. Suri pouted. "Issy, you scared the doggy away!" 

"That was not a dog—" you cut yourself off with a sigh. "Suri, go brush your teeth and your hair while I get breakfast ready, okay?" 

"No," Suri grumbled, her tiny nose twitching. "Not unless you get doggy back!" 

"If you do as I say, I'll make you strawberry pancakes for breakfast." 

"Strawb'rry pancakies!" Suri squealed, the shadow momentarily forgotten. Satisfied with your deal, your sister rushed off to get ready. You left her to it, stalking outside through the backdoor. You walked a few paces away from the cabin, staring up at the roof, using a hand to block the rising sun from your eyes.

"I know you're up there!" you shouted. "Don't bother trying to hide!" 

Footsteps were heard and then there was Azriel, peering down at you from his perch on your roof. His annoyingly beautiful face was near unreadable, his hair in a bit of disarray like he'd ran his hand through it one too many times. Dark circles were underneath his hazel eyes and those familiar shadows were whirling around him.

"Why are you on my roof?" You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. 

"Good morning, Y/n," Azriel said, his voice low and husky from disuse through the night. "I've been keeping watch. I wanted to make sure none of those males would bother you again." 

"I already told you I don't need or want your help, Shadowsinger! Now get the fuck off my roof," you snarled at him. You didn't want him here. You didn't want his stupid shadows near you or Suri either. Besides, since when did he care what happened to you or any other Illyrian females? He had turned his back on his own people the day he ran off to the High Lord's perfect little city, pretending like he wasn't one of you, wasn't Illyrian. 

Easy for him. He was a male that could get siphons to use his powers correctly, a male who hadn't been forced down and clipped. He could fly wherever he wanted, go wherever he wanted. He had money and resources you wouldn't even bother dreaming for. Azriel could wipe his hands clean and pretend like he hadn't been born in these mountains and hadn't left anyone behind to suffer when he left. 

It was one thing to escape this brutalizing, barbaric way of living. It was another to gain power and influence within the court and not bother to help your own people. Azriel was a traitor and he could go to hell for all you cared. 

You hated him for it. Hated him and all of his friends. Hated the High Lord and Lady who did little to help anyone here. Hated the General for leading your father to his death in the war. You hated them all.  

Azriel let out a quiet sigh. "I know you don't need my help, but I... I can't just leave knowing those males might come back and hurt you again. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it."

"I don't care about your stupid promises," you bit back. "Get off my roof and go home, Azriel. You're not wanted here." 

"I know you hate me and I know we've all let you down," Azriel replied, guilt shimmering in his eyes. "I'm going to do everything I can to make it up to you, Y/n. I promise." 

"Again with the promises! Your words mean nothing to me," you grumbled, tossing your hands in the air. "I don't have time for this. You know what? You want to spend all of eternity sitting on my roof, you go ahead! But I would really appreciate it if you would just fuck off!"

You didn't bother waiting for his response, storming back into your house and slamming the door shut behind you. 

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A week went by and Azriel kept watch over you the entire time. Every day you would walk outside and peer up at the roof to see him perched there, oftentimes twirling his dagger in his hand lazily. He'd give you a small smile that looked more like a grimace and you'd roll your eyes and go back inside. 

You hated that some part of you did feel better knowing he was there. You knew his reputation and you knew none of the males in this camp would bother you as long as he was there. But it still infuriated you to see his face every morning. To see him shake the snow off his wings. To see him glare down at everyone in your camp like you were all beneath him. 

You especially hated how much Suri had come to love his shadows, always chasing them down the hallways of the cabin. You just wanted him gone. 

And it seemed like you got your wish two weeks later.

It was nighttime, the house quiet now that you'd coaxed Suri into going to bed. You were getting ready for bed yourself, dressed in a nightgown and putting out the fire when a series of soft knocks caught your attention. You frowned, pausing to look at the door. Who would be coming by at this time? Certainly no one good. 

You were debating on ignoring it when a dark shadow whisked its way underneath the door. 

"Y/n," Azriel called out. "It's just me." 

You rolled your eyes and opened your door, knowing he wouldn't leave until you did so.

"What?" You eyed him, taking in his disheveled appearance. You wondered how he survived spending the night in the snow. Just the small draft that came in from opening the door had you shivering. You hugged yourself, your hair blowing gently in the ice cold breeze.

Azriel seemed at a loss for words for a second, his eyes roaming down your body before he met your gaze. His cheeks turned a bit pink as you raised an eyebrow at him. He swallowed, his throat bobbing with the motion.

"I need to leave for a few days," Azriel finally said. "The High Lord is sending me on a small mission. I...I would feel a lot better if you'd let me take you and your sister somewhere else while I'm gone. I can set the two of you up in a nice inn or tavern in Velaris. Or you could stay at my personal residence. Just for a few days." 

You stared at him utterly perplexed. "You're...you're joking, right?" 

He shook his head looking dead serious. "No, Y/n, I'm not. I worry what will happen if I'm not here to watch over you. Please, just...just let me help. It might be nice for Suri to take her to Velaris and let her see the city." 

"You're out of your mind," you hissed. "I'm not leaving my house and certainly not with you. I already told you I don't need your help."

You went to shut the door but Azriel reached out and grabbed it before you could.

"Please, I just want to help—"

“Azriel, I have survived here on my own for the past two years since my father died in the war,” you growled. “You can't sit on my roof forever. If you truly wanted to fix things, you would've done so centuries ago. So just leave, Azriel. And don't bother coming back." 

“I do care,” Azriel pleaded. “Please—”

"I am not leaving," you snapped. "I am not letting those stupid males run me from my own home. I don't know why you even care! And stop with the whole 'I promised you' thing. You don’t even know me!”

He opened his mouth to say something else but you slammed the door shut in his face. You locked the deadbolt before letting out a sigh. 

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Azriel was worried. Worried and scared and angry. Worried that Silas and his goons would bother his mate while he was gone. Scared that they’d hurt her. And angry at just the thought of that. His chest ached as he thought about his mate and her clear hatred towards him. He couldn’t blame her for it. She was right. He had abandoned Illyria a long time ago. 

But that needed to change. He needed that to change. Not just for his mate’s sake but for her sister, for Nyx, for all the females and children whose lives were awful because of the males in charge of all their camps. 

She had been the wake up call he needed. He had the privilege of being a male in Illyria. He got to keep his wings. Got to work at having a different life then the one he was born into. His mate hadn’t had those opportunities. She was flightless, stuck to the ground and stuck in her miserable camp. 

Azriel wanted nothing more than to just grab her and her sister and get them far away from Illyria. To bring them to his apartment in Velaris where he could take care of them, could keep them safe. 

But his mate didn’t trust him. 

He would do anything to prove himself to her. Prove that he did care for her and all the other Illyrian females. No matter how much hate he was met with, he’d keep crawling back until he earned her forgiveness and a chance to give her a better life. 

She deserved that more than anything. Not just because she was his mate but because she had been so strong all these years, standing up to males twice her size and keeping her sister’s wings from being mutilated like hers had been. She didn’t choose to be Illyrian anymore than he did. 

And Gods, he wanted her to stop hating him. He wanted her to give him a chance. Just one chance to show her what she truly deserved. He had learned so much about her by just watching her this week and he knew that no other female would come close to capturing his heart and attention the way she had in just that short span of time he’d known her. 

Azriel knew he didn’t deserve her or her forgiveness. He knew she was too good for him. Too beautiful, too pure of heart. He could see that just by the way she took care of her sister and the other females in her village, despite the torment it brought her from the males. 

He let out a sigh, his eyes still locked on the camp of Autumn Soldiers. He was doing a reconnaissance mission. Beron was up to something again and these soldiers had been spotted on the coast. 

It had been two days since he left his mate and so far, nothing had been unknowingly sent down the bond except for her normal moods she fluctuated with during the day. 

He just needed to finish this mission and rush back to Velaris to drop off his report to Rhysand before he could get back to her. He normally liked to take his time on his missions but this was quite possibly the first time he ever had a want to get back faster. He was hoping to sneak into the River House and set his report on Rhys's desk without seeing anyone. He'd been ignoring and skipping family dinners for the past week and knew they'd have a lot to say about it. 

Azriel faltered as a wave of fear crashed through him. No, not fear. Terror. Unbridled terror and then pain. He sucked in a breath, nearly falling from the tree he was perched in. He was frozen for a second before he realized what was happening---his mate was in danger. 

It took him less than a second to decide to abandon the mission and shadow all the way back to the Illyrian mountains. Azriel let out a curse when he stepped out of the shadows in front of his mate's cabin to see it covered in flames. Someone had set it on fire and it was quickly crumbling under the flames. His heart was beating in his chest as he strained his ears to make sure no one was inside.

But then the most heart-stopping, chill inducing sound was heard ringing through the camp.

His mate's screams.

He sprinted towards the sound, his boots pounding against the cold hard ground. It led him to the town center where a crowd had formed, males hollering and shouting encouragement at whatever was happening. 

Azriel pushed his way through the crowd, shoving aside male after male until he reached the front. His heart dropped in his stomach as he beheld what was happening before him. 

His mate on her knees, holding up the tatters of her shirt to maintain her dignity. Silas standing behind with a whip in hand, raising it in the air again. Blood all over the white snow around his mate, staining it red. Tear streaks running down his mate's face, her beautiful face pale and twisted in pain. One of Silas's commanders holding a crying and screaming Suri, her tiny fists pounding on his chest. 

Azriel wished he knew what happened next. Wished he had this memory to look back on whenever he remembered the rage he felt. But one second he was standing there staring at his mate in horror and the next second, he was surrounded by dead bodies with Truth-teller in his hand dripping with blood. The camp had fallen silent and his ears were ringing, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. 

Suri had been dropped in the chaos and had rushed towards her sister, throwing her small arms around her neck as she sobbed.

And his mate.

His beautiful mate was staring right at him, eyes wide from witnessing the carnage he had just unleashed in this camp. Silas laid dead behind her, his shadows still ravaging his body. Slit throats, broken necks on all the other males that laid dead at his feet. But his mate was looking at him.

Azriel took a step towards her, watching her carefully as she weakly wrapped an arm around her sister's body while her eyes never left his. And he knew the mating bond had just snapped for her, could see the realization in her eyes. 

"N-no," she stammered out, her voice cracking. "No. Not you. Not...Not you! Anyone but you!"

Azriel could feel her dread pouring down the bond amidst the pain and terror she felt. He felt his heart crack in his chest, heard his shadows wailing as they too felt her pain and sorrow. 

But his broken heart at finding his mate and hearing that she didn't want him was not important in this moment. Not as his mate's eyes rolled to the back of her head and she slumped to the ground.

Azriel rushed forward, scooping both his unconscious mate in his arms and her crying sister before disappearing in a whirl of screaming shadows. 

[nikkento-writes]

Chapter 2 - Someone New

I can be a little much, I overthink, I scared you off, my spiral begins right on cue. I wonder if I’ll ever find someone new.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter (coming soon)

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Word Count: ~8.3k

cw: switching POVs (2nd person for reader, third person for Nanami), angst, fluff, alcohol consumption, explicit language

Summary: Nanami normally likes to keep to himself during vacation, preferring not to forge any needless bonds with people he’ll never meet again. But a silly encounter at a bar leads him to find an unlikely vacation buddy at Crystal Shores.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the love and support on this so far! I also appreciate your patience with this. I’ve been very busy with work and my personal life, so I haven’t had much time to write. I’m slowly but surely making my way through! This story is very dear to my heart, so I appreciate you taking the time to read it. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

Nanami arrives to his destination after sunset, when the last boat of the day finally docks. He’s in his typical work attire, having completed an early morning mission right before his departure. Tan blazer with matching slacks, a spotted tie akin to leopard print, mahogany brown dress shoes. He’s aware how severely overdressed he is for this type of environment, more apparent now as he traverses through the delicate sand, collecting more and more of the beach with each step of his oxfords. Despite his serious demeanor, Nanami couldn’t be more ecstatic to finally be here. As his feet grow heavy with the diamond dust leading to Crystal Shores, the burden of reality that weighs hefty on his shoulders is gradually lifted. Finally, he gets to indulge in this temporary escape for the next few days. 

Since the devastating attack on Christmas Eve six months ago, an event they’re now referring to as The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons, tensions within the Jujutsu community have been high. Nanami’s former upperclassman, Suguru Geto, launched this attack in an attempt to carry out his diabolical plan of eradicating humans and non-curse users from the earth. That night, Nanami performed four consecutive black flashes, a record that’s impressive on paper, though in all honestly, Nanami is tired. He usually plans a summer trip annually, ever since he returned to Jujutsu Sorcery. With all the activity happening recently, he’s in dire need for a vacation now more than ever. Satoru Gojo, a teacher at Jujutsu High and Nanami’s senior (though he doesn’t act it) has already begun his recruitment to build a strong class of first years. He suspects the white-haired idiot is going to enlist him to help these kids at some point, so he’s mentally preparing himself for that. And while Nanami has already gotten accustomed to taking the youthful Takuma Ino under his wing, he’s not sure how well he’ll fair with sorcerers that are even younger. 

Sorcerers, especially those associated with both Tokyo and Kyoto Jujutsu High, remain vigilant in order to protect the students, who were targeted for recruitment to carry out Geto’s plan. While dealing with the aftermath, they continue to actively scout young sorcerers, though Nanami is against it, believing children shouldn’t be subjected to this tragic world. He can’t help thinking about his old classmate Yu Haibara, whose life was taken from him too suddenly and too quickly. It wasn’t fair then, and it isn’t fair now, expecting children to take on the considerable responsibility of saving the world from the hidden evil that plagues it. Training them to kill and preparing them to be killed for the sake of humanity. All of it is cruel and unfair, for adults and especially for these kids. However, Nanami doesn’t have much of a say in the matters of Jujutsu High, so he makes a personal vow to himself to do what he can: protect and help others who need it. This power is a blessing and a curse; he might as well use it for good. 

Crystal Shores is surrounded by a vast garden of native plants and trees, creating the ideal canopy of green above him. The path leading to the lobby is lit up with torches, the flames waving in the gentle breeze. Every staff member on his way to the check-in desk greets him, their smiles welcoming and genuine. He’s read plenty about this world-class resort, about its breathtaking beaches, five-star service, and their highly-rated amenities. As a self-proclaimed foodie, the part he’s particularly excited for is the local cuisine the island is famous for. Somehow, he managed to secure a reservation at their only Michelin-rated restaurant, having gotten lucky at the time he booked his hotel. Aside from that, Nanami is most looking forward to some much-needed rest and relaxation, whether it be by the pool or by the sea. He’s certain he’ll be in perfect harmony wherever he is here at this resort. 

When he approaches the front desk, he realizes his tan blazer is damp from the choppy waters on the way here, so he removes it, folding neatly over his arm. His skin is tacky with perspiration from the day’s travel, the styling gel in his hair worn off, stray strands sticking to his forehead. He’s left his own trail of sand behind him, some of it still mingled with the fabric of his socks. Despite his unusually disheveled state, Nanami couldn’t be more thrilled to be here. He nods at the woman behind the counter, greeting her. “Hello. I’m here to check in.”

Jasmine, according to her nametag, responds cheerfully. “Welcome to the Crystal Shores, sir! We are so excited to have you! Your name please?”

He gives it, trying to inconspicuously tap the rest of the debris from his shoes to no avail. As Jasmine types on her keyboard, a different staff member, a young man with a genial face, approaches him to offer a crisp glass of fruit-infused water. Another soon arrives to drape a floral necklace around his collar. Nanami already feels at peace and he hasn’t even been officially checked in yet. 

“Alright Mr. Nanami!” Jasmine claps her hands once, beaming at him. “We’ve got you on the seventh floor, room 727, all the way down the hall, farthest from the elevator per your request. And, of course, with the beachside view. How many keys will you be needing?”

“It’s just me,” he answers, downing the rest of his drink. “So one is fine.”

Jasmine tips her head a bit, seemingly intrigued by this information. “Will your partner be joining us later on during your stay or…?”

Nanami narrows his eyes at her, though she can’t tell through his tinted glasses. What an odd question, he thinks to himself. Still, he answers it, his hackles raised slightly. “I don’t have a partner.”

“Oh! My apologies, I didn’t mean to assume. I was only thinking that if you did have a partner, there’s a couples mixer we like to host on Friday nights down in Event Hall D.” She rummages through a stack of papers, eventually pulling out a flyer with a schedule of events taking place throughout the week. “Our singles mixers are on Monday nights, so you won’t be able to make that. However, if you do happen to meet someone during your stay here, it’s a wonderful little party with all-you-can-eat hors d’oeuvres and unlimited wine, free of charge for our guests.” 

He takes the paper, looking at it skeptically. Even he can admit that the words “all-you-can-eat” and “unlimited” are enticing enough to have his curiosity piqued. “Will they let me in if I’m alone?”

“Unfortunately, it is a couples mixers, so the minimum requirement is that you are part of a couple. But who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone while you’re here. They don’t call this the ‘Island of Passion’ for nothing.” Jasmine’s professional smile doesn’t waver, though Nanami can tell the cogs are turning in her brain. For what, he’s not sure, and quite frankly, he doesn’t want to know given the direction this conversation is going. 

Nanami doesn’t do relationships. He doesn’t do dating. It’s a vow he made to himself ever since he returned to Jujutsu Sorcery. Involving another person in his already risky world is complicated, adding love into the mix makes it all the more dangerous. It wouldn’t be fair to himself or to his potential partner to invest in a life together that can be so quickly destroyed every time he fights a new demon or curse. He constantly puts his life on the line without question, and when he has nobody but himself to think about, it makes this job that much easier. A partner would only distract him, force him to think twice before running into battle, make him weak. It’s better this way. 

This mindset, however, doesn’t stop him from the occasional fling, especially during his temporary escapes from reality. In this particular case, the alluring promise of endless appetizers is also an added bonus. 

He stuffs the flyer in his pocket, not saying anything more about it. “Thank you,” he mutters, no longer suspicious of Jasmine, who only seems to want to push this agenda of finding romance on this so-called “Island of Passion”. Nanami uses all the willpower he has to resist gagging from the ridiculous nickname.

Upstairs on the seventh floor, Nanami rolls his luggage all the way down to Room 727, relieved to finally be settled in. His stomach gurgles, hungry after not having a proper meal all day. He does a quick refresh in the bathroom, not bothering to change out of his dress shirt and slacks. Though, he does remove his spotted tie, not trying to look too much like a man on business rather than a man on vacation.

Just as he’s about to leave his room, his phone buzzes in his pocket. As soon as he sees who’s calling, he immediately rejects it. When it vibrates a second time as he halfway down the corridor, he groans, answering it reluctantly. “I told you to call twice for emergencies.”

“This is an emergency!” Gojo yells into the phone. There’s the distinct sound of background chatter on the other line, as if he’s at a bar, which he most likely is on a Wednesday night in Tokyo. “I thought you were dead!”

Nanami clenches his jaw, restraining from unleashing his wrath on this idiot he unfortunately considers a friend. “Why would you think that?”

“You never responded to my texts!”

A vein throbs in his forehead. “When do I ever respond to your texts?”

Gojo ignores that. “Shoko was worried about you too, Nanamin. Right? Right?!”

Ieiri’s languid voice comes in quietly amidst the chaos. “We wanted to make sure you got there safely.”

The tension in his shoulders ease, knowing this is coming from a good place, at least on Ieiri’s end. He’s convinced Gojo called just to annoy him. Sighing, he responds, “I’m fine.” 

“Good. Go and enjoy yourself. We’ve got everything handled here.” For someone as laid-back and seemingly uninterested as Ieiri, she is surprisingly perceptive. Her tone is gentle, reassuring. “Not that you need reminding.” She adds the last part in, her smirk audible through the phone, trying not to give away Nanami’s secret concerns.

He’d be lying to himself if he said a small part of him isn’t worried. As much as he’s trying to remove himself from work while on vacation, there’s always going to be that fear lingering in the back of his mind. What if there’s another attack in Tokyo while he’s not there? What if something happens to his peers? Ieiri, Ino, Ijichi, and yes, even that blubbering idiot Gojo, who he usually doesn’t worry about because he’s that confident in his power. Still, what if?

“Thank you, Ieiri,” he says, genuinely meaning it. Her words don’t completely eliminate his apprehension, though for the time-being, he’s alleviated. 

“What about me, Nanamin?! I’m the one who called you first! Shoko didn’t even want to bother you!” He can tell by the whining that Gojo is at that point of the night where he’s on a sugar rush from popping unlimited candied cherries and chugging mocktails courtesy of flirtatious bartenders. And the sooner Nanami placates this nuisance, the sooner he can get off the line to eat dinner. 

Through gritted teeth, Nanami murmurs, “Thank you for checking in, Gojo.”

Gojo laughs, appeased. “You’re welcome buddy!”

“And don’t call me again.”

“But – ”

Before he gets another word out, Nanami hangs up the call with a pleased grin on his face, continuing his path to dinner in peace. 

~~~

It’s been almost an hour now since you watched the beautiful sunset from the balcony of your hotel room. You’ve been going back and forth with yourself about what you should do for dinner, ultimately deciding to venture out to explore the hotel’s top-notch restaurants. Staying in and ordering room service was the second option, though the thought of eating alone in a room that already feels too big for one makes you depressed. On the other hand, the idea of dining solo gives you a sense of dread that you aren’t proud of. 

There’s nothing wrong with having a dinner date all by yourself. People do it all the time. However, you’re ashamed to admit that when you see that, you make up sad stories in your head about why they’re alone. An elderly man slowly eating his split pea soup, who recently lost his wife after fifty lovely years together. A middle-aged salaryman scarfing down a bowl of ramen because he’s on a business trip. A young women all alone, cutting her steak into smaller pieces, wishing she had a partner to share it with. 

For goodness sake, why do you do this? It’s unfair to make these assumptions about strangers, who are perfectly content having a meal without a companion. It’s never crossed your mind that people rather be alone than not, only because you could never imagine choosing that for yourself. You’re so used to clinging to someone to prevent the loneliness you’ve always feared throughout life. Your parents, your childhood best friend Kim, and worst of all, Jun. Because of this, you were willing to ignore the warning signs of your failing relationship with your ex. As long as you had somebody, anybody, things would we okay, right?

Nope. Wrong. Very wrong.

You’ve changed outfits four times since you decided to dine at one of the restaurants on the first level. Anything you can do to keep avoiding the most mundane activity of eating dinner alone. You glare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, giving yourself a pathetic little peptalk. Come on. Just go down there and eat something. It’s not a big deal!

Before you can psyche yourself out any further, you leave the room in a sundress, one of many that you packed for this trip, and make your way down the hall towards the elevators. 

Nighttime at the Crystal Shores has the lobby buzzing with activity. Some vacationers are dressed to the nines, ready to go out and party at the local hot spots. Others are in comfortable clothes, lounging on couches with colorful drinks in their hands. You’re aware that the resort is home to at least ten different restaurants, so you scope out the front desk, hoping to ask somebody what they suggest for a casual meal, nothing too fancy but satisfying.

Jasmine, the poor woman you unloaded your relationship woes to just hours ago, catches your eye. She greets you like an old friend, beckoning you over and calling out your name. “I was hoping to see you again!” 

You approach her hesitantly like a dog with their tail between their legs, still embarrassed about before. “I’m so sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to trauma dump on you like that.”

She waves it off. “No need to apologize! I’m sorry about all the lovey-dovey décor in there.”

“No, please don’t be,” you insist. “It was…it was actually really nice. Please tell the staff thank you.” 

She smiles brightly at you, nodding. “I will. Anyways, I forgot to mention to you about our weekly mixers here at the resort.” She slides a piece of paper out from one of the piles on her desk, handing it to you. “Mondays are our singles mixers, so you won’t be able to make that. Fridays, we host a couples mixer. All-you-can-eat appetizers and wine, free of charge for our lovely guests.” 

You open your mouth to protest, but she doesn’t let you, holding up her hand and continuing. “And yes, I know I said couples. But if you just so happen to meet someone until then, you should definitely go!”

Huffing out a laugh, you say, “Jasmine, you know better than I do that your guests here are already couples. I’m not going to be meeting anyone.” 

She shakes her head adamantly. “That’s not true! Between you and me, I have checked-in several eligible bachelors today. You’re on the ‘Island of Passion’! You never know, your new love could be waiting for you down the hall.” Her eyes twinkle, as if she’s using you as reference to write a cliché romance novel in her head. 

Aside from how bizarre this all is, especially coming from a staff member you only just met, you find her eagerness to mend your broken heart endearing. You know it’s not going to happen the way she wishes it would, though. Tapping your finger to your chin, you pretend to show consideration for whatever story she’s trying to manifest. “The free wine does sound enticing. That doesn’t really matter though, since my ex is paying for everything while I’m here.”

Her jaw drops, enthralled by this new information. “Really?! Everything?”

You nod, a satisfied grin on your face. “Everything.”

Excited, Jasmine flexes her fingers, directing her attention back to the computer screen, typing away vigorously on her keyboard. “In that case, let me see what activities I can squeeze you into. We’ve got cooking classes, paddleboard yoga, spa treatments…I see you’ve already got a few things scheduled. Great! Oh! How about wine-tasting at a private estate? Hiking on a mountain with a waterfall? You’re sure to meet sexy singles there!” 

Before she gets even more carried away than she already is, you hold up a hand, politely stopping her. “Jasmine, while I really appreciate your,” you stall, trying to find the correct word for it, “involvement in this, I don’t think I’m ready to mingle with people yet.”

“But – ”

“Actually, I know I’m not ready,” you reiterate, making your point final. 

After some obvious disappointment, she resigns from her little fantasy. “I understand. I’m sorry for meddling so much. When you told me your situation, I really wanted to help. And if helping you meet someone is all I can do from behind this desk, then I figured I should just go for it.”

You smile warmly at her. “Thank you for the concern, but I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.” 

Jasmine’s meddling, while well-intentioned, is indeed unwarranted. Maybe if this were in reality and not on this stunning island vacation, you’d be annoyed, even offended by her intervention. But this is paradise, where nothing goes wrong, and you’re just another guest passing through. In a few days, you’ll check-out and Jasmine will forget all about you and your sorry situation. No harm in finding comfort over this tiny morsel of camaraderie with a staff member who’s already invested in your love life, or the lack thereof. 

Not wanting to continue the topic any further, you change the subject. “Anyways, I’m starving. Is there a place for me to grab a bite to eat? Something comforting, nothing too fancy.”

“Yes!” Back to professional mode, Jasmine points you in the right direction. “Bruno’s Bistro has excellent food and tonight, they have one of the island’s beloved local bands performing. I highly recommend.”

“Bruno’s. Got it. Thank you!”

You follow her instructions, taking the short walk to Bruno’s, where you can already hear the live music playing as you approach the entrance. A hostess wearing a polo button-up with a palm tree pattern greets you. “Welcome to Bruno’s! How can we help you?”

“I’d like a table for one, please.” Saying it out loud brings back the dread in your chest about dining alone, but you stand your ground, determined to conquer this ridiculous fear once and for all.

“Unfortunately, all our tables are occupied at the moment,” she regretfully informs you. “The Bario Brothers are performing tonight, so we don’t expect any availability until an hour from now, when they’re done. I’m so sorry.”

You start to think to yourself that maybe it would have been better to order room-service. Before you can turn around to leave disappointed, the hostess adds, “We have plenty of seating at the bar! You won’t be able to see the Bario Brothers from there, but you can certainly still hear them. And you can order the full menu there. Would you like to do that?”

Relieved, you agree and follow her inside towards the bar, where there is ample seating for you to choose from. You opt for the bar stool in the middle, four seats to the right of an older couple finishing up their meal. 

“Enjoy!” the hostess says, leaving you with the young bartender who’s currently pouring a guava-pink cocktail into two highball glasses. Jin, according to his nametag, acknowledges you with a nod and a smile, carefully garnishing his concoctions with mint leaves. “Good evening. I’ll be with you in just a second.”

You think to yourself at how fitting his name for his profession and how ironically similar it is to your ex, Jun. As usual, he comes creeping back into your mind like a never-ending itch lodged in the tiniest, unreachable corner of your brain. Maybe you’re the one keeping him in there, finding parts of him in every single thing you do, every different place you go, always feeling sorry for yourself. Lost in this reverie, you watch Jin place the drink onto a tray on the other end of the bar, where he signals for a waiter in the same palm tree patterned polo to pick it up. He lifts it up gracefully in one hand, heading into the dining area, ready to serve a beautiful couple who’s enjoying the soothing tunes of the Bario Brothers. Fingers entwined beneath the table, taking subtle glances at one another until they both meet each other’s gaze. They hold it there for a second, smiling like they’re sharing a private joke without having to verbally communicate it. It’s moments like this, where nothing spectacular is really happening, surrounded by noise and strangers. And yet, they feel like the only two people in the world because they’re so in love.

“Hello? Miss?”

You snap out of it, Jin waving a hand in front of you to bring you back from your trance. It seems he’s been in front of you long enough to have a concerned look on his face. 

Embarrassed, you apologize, giving him your full attention. “I’m sorry. I spaced out for a second. It’s been a long day.”

His expression relaxes, relieved to finally hear a response from you. “I’m sure. Are you visiting from far away?”

You tell him where you’re from, to which he responds, “Oh lovely! I’m visiting family there next year. Have you lived there your whole life?” He pours you a glass of ice-cold water, sliding it towards you.

Taking a sip, you answer, “I have. But I actually just moved.”

“Where to?”

Something about his pleasant and genial demeanor puts you at ease, so you’re honest with him, telling him where you’re now residing as of a week ago, right before you left for this trip. 

“How fun! I’ve always wanted to visit there. The food, the fashion, the culture.”

“Yeah,” you agree with him. “I’m excited.”

The couple to the left leaves, bidding farewell to Jin, who waves goodbye to them as he grabs the generous tip they left for him and puts it in the tip jar beside the register. Focusing back on you, he asks, “So what made you leave? School? Work?”

You could easily lie. Not even that, you could withhold the entire truth, keep your answers simple and uncomplicated. However, at this point, you decide to be an open book. Similar to with Jasmine, you feed off this feeling of telling your story to a kind soul who’s willing to listen. “Yeah, it’s for work. That and a breakup.”

You hold back a laugh at the way his eyes widen at this, yearning to know more. But he keeps his reaction tame. “Well, good riddance. Everyone deserves a fresh start, right?”

Thankful he doesn’t push it, you smile at him, nodding. “You’re right.”

He holds your gaze for a split-second longer, showing his solidary to you, before he points you to the menu. “Anyways, can I get you started with any drinks? We’ve got a wide variety of signature cocktails to choose from.”

Remembering the pretty drink from earlier, you ask, “What’s the one you just made? The pink one?”

“Ah! That’s the Guava Goddess. It’s guava nectar we make fresh each morning mixed with the island’s signature rum and a squeeze of citrus. It’s our most popular drink here.”

Sold by his mouthwatering description, you say, “That sounds perfect. I’ll take one of those.”

“Sounds good. How about some food?”

Too hungry and impatient to look through the options, you ask, “What do you recommend?”

“Well, if you’re looking to a try a few different things off our menu, I’d recommend Polly’s Paradise Platter. It’s basically a sampler of our three most popular dishes.” He taps on his fingers, listing each item’s description from memory. “The juiciest sliders made with grass-fed beef, topped with grilled pineapple, all in a freshly baked mini taro bun. Deep fried spring rolls perfectly crispy on the outside and super flavorful and meaty on the inside. And our special veggie fritters made of several types of root vegetables we grow right here at the resort, in the Cornucopia Garden. It’s paired beautifully with our sweet chili sauce, which is also made in-house. It’ll leave you happy and full, I can assure you that.”

You swallow the drool pooling on your tongue, more ravenous now that he’s described the food so vividly. “I’ll take that too!”

“Excellent! Charging to the room or would you like me to open a tab?”

“Room charge is fine. Room 703,” you tell him, pleased that this is actually going on your ex’s bill instead of yours. With that in mind, you add, “Also, make that two Guava Goddesses. I’m feeling extra thirsty tonight.”

Jin gives you a sly wink. “Coming right up.”

It’s empty at the bar now, though you can tell from the ambient noise behind you how packed it is in the dining area. People let out cheers for the Bario Brothers, who strum their guitars expertly while they croon into the microphone, harmonizing with one another in perfect pitch. Jin begins making your cocktails, his hands fluid and graceful as he works his magic. 

“So, who’s Polly?” you ask, thinking about the name of the appetizer platter you ordered. 

He grins, generously measuring three shots of rum into a cocktail shaker. “Well, as you know, this restaurant is called Bruno’s Bistro. Polly is Bruno’s beloved wife, who inspired all of his recipes. They grew up together right here on the island and got separated when he went overseas to work as a chef. They wrote love letters to each other every day until they were finally reunited back home, where he opened his own restaurant. Now, they live in a private estate up in the mountains. They visit sometimes to see how things are going, but their son is the one who’s taken over almost everything, and he’s great. Next year, they’ll be celebrating fifty wonderful years together, so we’re going to have a big party for both the staff and the guests.” He pours in the nectar next, eye-balling it, before covering it with the lid, ready to mix. “Pretty sweet, huh?”

“Very sweet,” you mimic him, watching him shake the bottle, not knowing what else to say. You think of Jasmine calling this place the “Island of Passion”, which you scoff at. If it is, with love hiding in every little nook and cranny this place has to offer, who’s to say that you’re even capable of receiving it? Maybe you’re not meant to be in love. Maybe it’s not in the cards for you to grow old with somebody, to spend the rest of your life by someone’s side. Why bother looking for love when there’s no guarantee that you’ll attain it, sustain it? You were with Jun for five years only for him to fall in love with somebody else. And while your track record isn’t very long, it basically yields a 100% fail rate. Might as well quit now.

You’re too busy sulking to notice Jin has pushed two attractive cocktails into your line of vision. “Your Guava Goddesses.” He holds up his own glass filled with water towards you. “To fresh starts.”  

His tiny toast gives you a small glimmer of hope. You grab one of your cocktails to cheers him. “To fresh starts.”

You take a big swig of your drink, enjoying the bitter taste of liquor balanced by the sweet tartness of the guava and citrus. Another couple arrives, sitting three stools away from you, canoodling each other shamelessly. And that little ray of hope suddenly fades away, once again convinced that you’ll never love again.

Jin is busy with the canoodling customers, so you spare him from listening to your tiresome misery the deeper you get into your cocktails. You should have known that alcohol, a depressant, would sour your mood further, especially as a light-weight. Thankfully, your food arrives when you’re halfway through your second Guava Goddess, so you stuff your mouth with delicious sliders and fritters to stop yourself from using another unsuspecting staff member as your temporary therapist.  

Polly’s Paradise Platter lives up to Jin’s high praise of it. Each item satisfies your hunger and leaves you craving more of it until you’re happily stuffed, about a third of the platter left for you to take back to room. You’re feeling better now that you have food in you to soak up the liquor that was sending you into a spiral. Now, you’re enjoying yourself, listening to the live music, which is wrapping up soon, and chatting to Jin about other restaurants to check out at the resort. 

Suddenly, a young woman plops into the seat beside you, dressed stylishly in a white jumpsuit with a bejeweled plastic tiara on her head that displays the word Bride. She crosses her arms, grunting loudly, clearly upset. 

Not wanting to pry, you avoid her, picking at the last melting ice cube in your drink. She lets out another groan, swiveling in her chair to face you entirely. “Do I look like an idiot right now?”

Startled, you immediately respond, “No, of course not.”

She bites her lip, eyes watering, holding back tears. “Then why is everyone treating me like I’m a fucking idiot?!”

Jin tries to step in to intervene, though you shoot him glance, telepathically telling him that you’ve got this handled. Leaning in closer, you talk to her calmly. “What happened?” 

She takes a deep breath, smelling faintly of liquor. “I’m so sick and tired of everything. I’m ready for this whole wedding to be over with. I just want to marry Kai so we can start our lives together already. Everything else is stupid.”

A tear streams down one of her eyes and you hand her a napkin to wipe it. She does carefully, making sure not to mess up her makeup. “I’m pretty sure Lin and Jen hate each other and I know they’re not trying to show it for my sake, but they don’t even talk. This romper is so fucking annoying because I have to strip completely naked just to take a fucking piss. And dinner was four hours ago and nobody brought any snacks, so I’m going to be fucking starving while we’re dancing at the club! This sucks!” 

You look at your plate of leftovers, then back at her, presenting her the only solace you can offer her at this time. “Do you want the rest of my food?

She stares at you, contemplating your bizarre suggestion. “Are you serious?”

“I promise it’s clean,” you mention, worried she’ll start yelling at you at how gross this is. “I did double-dip in the sauce, so maybe don’t use that.”

She cracks a smile, some of the stress on her face easing as she pulls the platter towards her, grabbing the last slider. “Thank you. You’re a real life-saver.”

You relax now that her wrath has subsided. “I was already finished anyways, so it’s really no big deal.”

Through a mouthful of food, she muffles, “You’re being a better friend to me than my bridesmaids right now."

“That’s not true,” you say, attempting to mend whatever drama is brewing between strangers. “They took you here, right? That seems really nice to me.”

She nods, biting into a spring roll, bits of the wrapper flying off. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

A blonde-haired man in a blue dress shirt and tinted spectacles takes the empty seat on the other side of the bar. You notice him from your peripheral as you chat with the crying bride-to-be. Still, you continue your pep talk. “Sure, Jen and Lin might hate each other, but they’re not trying to ruin your party. Maybe them not talking is better than them fighting.” It’s weird talking about these people like you know them, but you continue to roll with it, hoping to console her. 

She nods, listening to you intently, stuffing the rest of the burger in her mouth. “Yeah, I can tell they’re doing their best.”

“Rompers are super annoying, but you know what? You look incredible. You’re going to be the star at the club tonight.”

She sniffles, giggling at the compliment. “I’d like that.”

“And you know what the best part is? Sure, all of this is overwhelming right now, but you get to spend the rest of your life with Kai. That’s all the matters, right?” You smile at her, hoping whatever you’re saying is resonating. In the background, Jin greets the handsome man with the glasses, offering him a menu.

The entire platter finished now, she smiles back at you. “Yeah. I love him so much.”

You ignore the pang of jealously in your chest as you hand her one more napkin to wipe her mouth, covered in crumbs.

Crisis averted, she lets out a sigh of relief. “I feel so much better. Thank you. I’m Kali by the way,” she introduces herself, offering her hand, oily from your leftovers. You do the same, grinning at her. As if just realizing something, she smacks her forehead with her palm. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She glances down at the empty plate, giving you a guilty look. “You were probably saving all this food for someone else, weren’t you? I’m the worst!”

You laugh, waving your hands at her in reassurance. “Don’t be sorry! I wasn’t saving that for anyone. I was only going to bring it back to the room with me.”

She props her elbow up on the counter, resting her chin on her palm. “Are you here on vacation? Or business?”

“Vacation.”

“Are you here with your boyfriend? Girlfriend? Husband? Wife?”

You shake your head. “Nope. I’m here alone.” 

A brow quirks as she studies you intently. “By choice?”

“Well…no,” you admit nervously. “But there’s nothing wrong with vacationing solo!” 

“I’m not saying there is!” Kali explains. “I figured an angel like you would definitely be with someone.”

The truth is on the tip of your tongue. You managed the whole dinner without mentioning it to anyone else, and you’re proud of yourself for that. Now you’ve made another new friend and think that maybe she’d be willing to offer you some comfort too. You swallow thickly, admitting, “I was supposed to be here with my boyfriend, but then he broke up with me. Now he’s paying for this vacation we had already planned as a way to make up for it.” You let out a chuckle, knowing it sounds ridiculous. 

Kali stares at you, dumbfounded and unsure how to respond. Jin, who’s been in-and-out of earshot this whole time, happens to catch this and joins in. “Are you serious? Your ex is paying for your entire vacation?” By the looks of it, he’s making an old-fashioned for the attractive fellow, who thankfully doesn’t seem to be aware of your conversation. 

You nod, confirming it. “Yup. Pretty pathetic, huh?”

Jin shrugs, pouring the amber liquid into a rocks glass, topping it off with a candied cherry. “Definitely not. You get a paid vacation and you don’t have to deal with a loser boyfriend? Good riddance.” His words he said to you earlier are said with more conviction this time.

“Jun isn’t a loser,” you argue, coming to his defense on instinct. “He…he fell out of love with me and fell in love with someone else. It happens.”

“Jun?! His name is Jun?! I’m even more ashamed to have a name so similar to his!” He groans in exaggerated outrage, leaving to serve his drink to the customer. 

Kali comes out of her shock to hold your hand in both of hers, a soft expression on her face. “The bartender is right. Good riddance. I don’t know you and I obviously don’t know this ex of yours. If it was so easy for him to fall out of love, maybe it isn’t meant to be. And if it is, he’ll find his way back to you. But at the end of the day, you should be with someone who can’t even stand the thought of ever being without you.” She squeezes you gently, her gaze filled with earnest. 

“What if I never meet anyone who feels that way about me?” You swallow thickly, blinking away the tears starting to well in your eyes. “What if I’m meant to be alone?”

Her look of earnest turns into determination. “If you want to be alone, then there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. People live their lives happy being single, and that’s great! But if you want love, you will find it. It may not be now, it may not even be soon. But it’ll happen, I promise you.”

You want to deny her, tell her that she can’t make promises like this because she doesn’t know what the future holds for you. Nobody does, not even yourself. But there’s so much tenacity in her voice that makes you actually believe it. You keep teetering on gaining hope and losing it all at the sight of a happy couple fondling each other in one corner of the bar. Maybe this time, with this new support from Kali, Jin, and Jasmine, you’ll make the effort to keep it. “Okay,” you answer, squeezing her back. “If you say so.”

Kali grins. “That’s the spirit! Now, let’s find you another man!” She glances around, searching until her eyes land on the gentleman minding his own business, the stout glass of whiskey tipped to his lips. Spotting him, she leans in close, barely whispering. “This guy’s a little grumpy looking, but we’re going to change that.”

It takes you a split-second too late to catch her drift. Horrified, you try to stop her. “Kali, wait, don’t – ”

“You there!” She points directly at him. “Blond man in glasses!”

You hide your face behind your hands, cheeks scorching hot, mortified. Peeking through your fingers, you watch his head turn towards you, confused by this stranger addressing him so blatantly. 

“What’s your name?” 

Hesitant, he responds, “Nanami,” taking a sip of his whiskey.

“Nanami. Are you single?”

He chokes on his alcohol, quickly retrieving a napkin to wipe his mouth dry from the sputtering. 

Kali claps her hands once. “I’ll take that as a yes! Well, you’re in luck good sir! My dear friend here is also single and is very ready to mingle. Are you interested? I bet she’s a real firecracker in bed – ”

Using physical force now, you grab onto Kali’s shoulders and turn her to face you, interrupting whatever nonsense she’s going to spew out next. “Okay Kali, that’s enough!” You mouth a guilty I’m sorry to him before returning your attention to your friend. “Please stop.”

“But why? He’s hot!” she whines, not bothering to lower the volume of her voice. You’re too embarrassed to look at Nanami again, certain you hear him choke on his whiskey once more at her bold proclamation.

You tighten your grip on her, desperate to make her shut up. “Kali, I appreciate the help, but I’m not here to look for another man. I’m here to relax, okay? I’m fine. I’m totally fine.” 

“What about love – ”

You stop her. “If it happens, it happens. You said it yourself: It may not be now, it may not even be soon. But it’ll happen. So let’s just let it happen. Naturally,” you emphasize.

She opens and closes her mouth, trying to find a way to argue with you, though she can’t, especially now that you’ve recited a line from her very own peptalk. Eventually, she relents, nodding with you in agreement. “Naturally. Got it.” Picking aimlessly at the crumbs on the plate, she adds, “But you think he’s hot right?”

In perfect timing, a woman in a black cocktail dress comes stomping towards you, shouting, “Oh my god, Kali! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” She hauls Kali up to her feet, giving you an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, I hope she wasn’t bothering you.”

“Hey!” Kali protests, nudging her bridesmaid with her elbow. “We’re practically besties now!”

You smile at them, relieved and a little sad to see your new bestie go. “Not at all. It was nice meeting you Kali, and congratulations. I hope you and Kai live happily ever after.”

She beams at you, waving goodbye enthusiastically as her friend drags her away out the restaurant with surprising strength. 

The Bario Brothers have since left and more people seem to congregate at the bar, so it seems like the perfect time for you to leave. Exhausted from all of tonight’s drama, you reach into your purse for cash, leaving a sizeable tip for Jin, who’s busy tending to the other customers now. You glance over to Nanami, who’s currently immersed in a basket of freshly baked focaccia bread. Hopefully he’s already forgotten, or at least disregarded, the little exchange from earlier.  

Back inside your room, you change into pajamas and get ready for bed. When you’re tucked comfortably in the covers, you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the mattress that seems to mold around your body. It’s the most comfortable bed you’ve ever been on, and yet, you find it difficult to fall asleep. Insomnia is another condition you’ve been plagued with post-breakup. The empty space surrounding you is unnerving. You’re so used to having another person beside you, a small sense of security that provided you significant comfort. You never realized how much you needed that until now. 

Twenty minutes pass, tossing and turning, switching out pillows, changing positions. Desperate, you get up to walk over to the balcony, opening the sliding door. The natural symphony of paradise outside fills you with ease. You listen to the soothing sound of waves crashing on the shore, the gentle breeze ruffling through the fronds of palm trees. Thankfully, it’s enough to lull you to sleep and by the time the sun rises, you’re relieved to make it to a new day in one piece.

~~~

When Jasmine at the front desk suggested Bruno’s Bistro to Nanami last night, he wasn’t expecting his dinner to be so lively. He’s been so used to keeping to himself during these little trips of his. That’s why it was especially alarming when a random bride-to-be at the bar called out to him, propositioning him to date the woman beside her, who looked absolutely mortified. It shocked him at first, sure. He was eavesdropping on their conversation as soon as he took his seat. While he’s vacationing solo, he likes to people watch as his own form of entertainment, make-up stories in his head or indulge the ones that strangers tell each other out loud. And luckily for him, there was plenty of that just a couple seats away from him. 

He found the bachelorette’s insistent interrogation of that poor woman amusing at first, thankful that he wasn’t in the hot seat himself. Then, she revealed her story about her breakup, how her ex is paying for her to be on this vacation as some sort of consolation for breaking her heart. At that, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Nanami is used to being alone, prefers it. For others, it may not be so easy. Although her smile was warm, there was pain behind it, an aura of hopelessness that he’s used to sensing after so many years of dealing with curses who are drawn to energy like that. If they were anywhere else, he’d worry that she’d be an easy target to feed on. 

It's because he was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t realize he was being called out to until the bride-to-be accurately described him as the “blond man in glasses”. From there, it was all downhill. 

Luckily, the heartbroken woman with the pretty smile found a way to stop the madness, even finding the time to mouth a quick apology to him while she subdued the culprit. Normally, Nanami would be annoyed being bothered by strangers; this, however, he didn’t mind. 

He smiles to himself as he takes another sip of his coffee, his eyes glued to the same words on the newspaper for the past ten minutes. His mind is replaying last night’s events, wondering if that woman is okay. He’s sure she’s embarrassed, though she seemed to take it in stride. Will he ever run into her again during his stay here? Part of him hopes to, just to make sure she’s enjoying this vacation to the fullest. After all, her shitty ex is the one paying for it all.

“Nanami?”

For the second time on this trip, his name is called out. He folds the newspaper down to see who it is and he’s shocked to find the very woman he had in mind standing in front of him. 

“I’m not sure if you remember me from last night,” she starts, hands behind her back, chuckling nervously. “I’m actually hoping you don’t.”

“I do,” he admits, setting aside the paper, giving his full attention. 

Her smile slackens a bit, disappointed that he actually does remember. “Okay, well then, I’m here with a peace offering.” She reveals a small bag, holding it out to him.  “Consider this my formal apology for last night.”

He takes it, skeptical about what this could possibly be. It seems that she’s waiting for him to open it, so without further ado, he does. The aroma immediately piques his interest, and when he peeks inside, he can’t contain his excitement. “Is this…”

“Yeah, it is,” she answers before he can finish. It’s the famous almond croissant that sells out within minutes of the café opening. There’s countless of articles about this elusive treat, made specially by the resort’s most well-regarded pastry chef, who studied for years in France before returning back to their home island. Nanami had attempted a shot at it first thing this morning, but was met with disappointment when he was told it was all sold out.  

Amazed, he asks, “How did you get this? Did you wake up early to stand in line?”

She huffs a laugh. “No. I sort of have this friend at the front desk now, Jasmine. She told me that the pastry chef bakes a special batch just for the staff. When I passed by her this morning, she gave me hers.”

He takes a big whiff of it, inhaling the intoxicating aroma into his bloodstream. “Really? That’s nice of her.”

“Yeah it is.” 

There’s that sad smile again, hiding the pain within. He wants to ask her what’s wrong, wants to console her in any way he can. But he knows that would be crossing a line. Besides, why should he care so much for a stranger? Normally, he wouldn’t, so why now? What makes her so special? 

He hands her back the bag, shaking his head. “I can’t accept his.”

“What?”

“This croissant is very sought after. I don’t know if you know that,” he explains, holding it even farther from him, refusing to be seduced by the scent. “It wouldn’t be right if I just took it from you.”

She waves him off, taking a step back as if touching it will make it hers again. “Seriously, it’s not that big of a deal. Please just take it.”

“No. I can’t deprive you of this special moment. It might be life-changing.” As much as it pains him, he’s absolutely determined to deny this croissant. He’s that serious about it.

They stare at each other for a split second, not knowing what else to do. Then, she laughs. A real one, genuine and hearty, warm and full. Her smile is even more pure, cheeks rounded, eyes crinkled at the corners. “Okay. If it means that much to you, then why don’t we share it?"

His chest does a strange thing, something he’s not familiar with. He ignores it to respond with a simple, “Fine,” pointing to the seat across from him at this small table. A compromise. Something the both of them can benefit from. 

She sits down, taking a few napkins to surround the croissant as she splits it down the middle, giving him the slightly bigger half. “Bon appétit,” she grins, digging in. 

Well, Nanami thinks to himself, taking his own bite into his share. It’s even better than he imagined, the dough perfectly flakey, the center sweet and nutty from the marzipan. It fills him with warmth and comfort as he chews it slowly, watching the women across from him do the same. Maybe this isn’t so bad.

[d8tl55c]

y ' a l l . it took me multiple weeks to start working on a pony town skin <- real <- i made SIXTEEN other ones before the one i wanted

so now you're gonna look at them :D

behold! i bring you: disheveled TCO & rehabilitated TCO

it was a long journey to get here and every freaking detail has some personal lore about it- so if you want to see some progress shots ive chronicled them below X3

ok so 💕✨\o_🎉

the original plan was to: 0. go for a cho post-Showdown and pre-Box 1. use my existing spacescug colors (so i wouldn't get overwhelmed and stop) to create interesting gradients with the black, 2. dress them in.......... WHATEVER seemed cool at the time, and 3. have fun.

SO! i did. ~

(fun facts: the spacescug is one of the 16 skins i crafted while anxiety-ing over ava/m (sometimes ill use it to SNEAK AROUND and admire people (pls say hi lol <3 )))

features. i went with the fluffiest hair i could find, a starry mask for privacy, a comfy sweater, and my two pride and joys: firetail and transparency-skirt.

see look look it's supposed to be showing the legs on the other side of the fabric :D :D :D !!! and, if you look close, it's discreetly distracting from the big shackle i added to the left hind leg. (if you look REALLY close, you'll see i drew some grass in the "hole" of the head. this is why im so excited about this i went ALL IN ;v;;;;) (transparency-skirt ruled as a concept, but in the end it didn't make it any further through my TCOs)

okay so then i spot this character.

i instantly fell in love with the way they did their head (never before seen by me), and was inspired to refine my own work a little,,, so i would fit in more with them when we hung out.

i tore the sleeves off of the cozy sweater, added a Rocket-Brand™-lookin collar, and retired transparency-skirt.

i enjoyed this version so much i didn't change it until fall rolled around....

in which, while re-doing my whole catalog of fav skins to match the new ground color, i changed like 7 entire pixels of the design which i am not going to waste your scroll bar with. <3

now it's getting real.

one day, i needed a break from a thing and decided to dev some more accessories. i had an idea to strap down the wings with one of the feather outline colors and a Waist item, and that quickly spiraled into changing several many, many, more things.

speed round! extra features include:

firetail upgrade! ++shiny

+detail on right hind leg: scars? a tracking device maybe?

aforementioned wing restraint

right cozy sleeve ripped further to install the

Rocket™ wristband: that can't be good

hair accents match accessories and each other better

Back Mane changed for ++disheveled points

Ear accessory added for ++disheveled points

Ear type changed for more fluff back there

and as you can see i bit the bullet and tried to make an homage to my new friend's head style, and i found that these closed eyes (left) look like frowny cho-eyes. :3

AND THAT WAS AWESOME. i felt great. stylish, even. i sat there with an extra 10% deduction to needless social anxiety in my new threads.

and i thought, huh. i've made this little guy suffer, mentally and physically, for fifteen outfits now. what changes if they escape The Situation? and heal?

i pondered this for a while, but i didn't get the boost to act on it until i met this MVP.

they taught everyone on that day cool and funny pony-making tricks! and they're sweet.

from them i was inspired yet again ☝

and this time, i mixed in EVERYTHING. slowly untying the ropes, healing the scars, repairing the hair. the glasses trick that TDL taught me to get the more expressive eyes. the colors and patterning i learned from making a troodon skin (another of the 16) to re-dye the hair and add a new layer of striped pattern to the clothes. yellow with the red so it nods to TDL AND represents more fire. thE SLEEVES ripped ALL THE WAY OFF!!! YEAAAH SHUCK THAT ANGST I MADE THE MARKS BASED ON HOW YOUR CURSOR INVERTS IN WORD

WHAT IF INSTEAD OF RETURNING TO GREYS THEY START DRESSING IN LITTLE EXPLOSIONS OF COLOR •-|,=-||-•|-',=•-|"/, |'['-•-|_|<,['- [,-|'"/,/_',= '////////

and

that's it.

except for ofcourse the :V s :3333333

SO THAT'S THE STORY OF THIS

WOW, haha, thank you for coming on this journey with me. if you know more about pony town than me i am so taking suggestions- i am still learning and having a great time doing it!

TOODLES 💕

[sugar-omi]

I need to know… for science… if when merman!Cove turns human, does he end up naked like Ariel in the Little mermaid?

ANON.... THE GASP I JUST GASPED pls i immediately started imagining it and i had to stifle a laugh 🙈🤭&lt;3 anyway this spiraled but i hope this answers your question 🫶🫶 somehow i think i contributed more to your research than you asked for but were thinking (projecting much naeomi? LMAO /lh)

i got another ask before this one for (innocent) mer!cove hc's, it can be found here: ["merman cove headcanons"] related: ["D&D headcanons for OL1+2"]

tags : Suggestive + crack, drabble

+ NSFW under the cut, monster dick? jfc i never thought i'd type that out....., monster fucking (implied/ment)

synopsis : merman cove when he turns into a human. and a bit on what's under his clothes/scales.

well... i would like to tell you no but yeah yeah he is

cove keeps a "sash" around him, so when he wants to shift, he just ties it around his waist until he puts some pants on

(i imagine he has some fins around his hips perhaps? so he keeps it across his chest. at least keeps it there so it doesn't interrupt his swimming)

omg, imagine you plan to meet one day, and cove thinks he has enough time to run into the beach house and put on some pants before you arrive

so he shifts and starts going to the beach house but then, in the corner of his eye he sees a figure clad in your favorite color and-

it's you. wide-eyed, open-mouthed, and you're so obviously flustered

cove is frozen (a mistake)

and when you glance down, blinking owlishly, does cove yelp and dives back into the ocean....

well... needless to say i think you might need to reschedule n cove will see you in like 7 to 8 business days 😬😬

ofc it's before you're dating so cove is freaking the fuck out

for a bit after that, you meet at whatever location you've decided on until cove can stomach seeing you at the beach again <3 poor baby

i had no intention of talking abt his dick but... I must. and someone will ask anyway right? (im projecting n justifying myself LMAO)

+ in his mer form:

of course we got the typical slit in the tail whatever blah blah if you've read mermaid smut before you alrdy know

(im realizing how many.... interesting. fics i've read... no one say ANYTHING<//3)

his dick is so pretty like this but also so intimidating

because cove is so much bigger in merman form than he is in human form, although he's still impressive then.

anyway, cove's dick has the same gradient as his ears

the base is a deep blue-purple color, the tip of his dick is the same flesh tone of his tan but it has more of a purple undertone <3

now the shape

oh lord...

it's fat.

but to start light... his dick has a nice curve, and don't worry! its not a fight to put in kind of fat, but he has a knot of sorts though...

i wouldn't say it grows n you're stuck together like in a/b/o fics, but it is a small feat to pull out (this is the moment I realized imma end up writing a mer!cove smut fic 💀)

i was going to say he has a piercing down there, but i take that back. he does have ridges though on the underside of his dick

they smooth out the closer you get to the tip, and honestly, they are most prominent around the base

+ in his human form

it's normal!

well... if you ignore the way he's a bit thicker than the average man

(especially at the base, although it's not as prominent as his 'knot')

also that he still has the ridges on the underside of his dick...

other than that it's basically the same as a humans!

at least it's not as girthy as in his mer form

your finger tips can't even touch in his mer form, at least in his human form you're...

well you're closer than before <3

of course, he still has that sweet curve. and if anything, it's a bit more prominent since you aren't being stretched out n overpowered by this huge merman 🧜‍♂️

length is this the same 6-6.5 inches though <3

actually i take that back... I think in mer form, he's around 7 inches

if you're worried abt where all that dick is gonna go, dw a good couple inches is his 'knot' so just don't catch him during mating season and you're okay<3

speaking of mating season....

oh man i didn't even think abt it but he's feral

i think mermaids/sirens release a pheromone during sex, no matter what, but during mating season it's stronger

it's just to calm their partner and make them more relaxed. during mating season, though, it also becomes more like an aphrodisiac

and he's releasing more of these pheromones during this time, a more subconscious thing that otherwise he could control normally.

and ofc, unless you're not worried abt it bc you can't get preg, take some type of birth control potion, or want it. cove's one goal is to breed or mate you

if you're unmated, full expect cove to claim you during this time. now i'm not gonna say smth about biting your scent gland or some shit, but i do think it's like some kind of ritual shit

i imagine its something like cove adding a drop of your fluids (spit, blood, cum) into the special ritual juice and drinking it, then when you wake up next you find a matching "tattoo" on you and cove

or if you're basic (or a masochist) then yeah we'll go w the biting thing

besides that need to claim you, he wants you so bad

to fill you up, to fuck you dumb on his cock, and please you...

he just needs you. but he really does try to hold back, especially since if you're not a mer-person than you probably couldn't handle how rough mer-people can be during heat.

okay i...i think i'm done

excuse me while I reevaluate my existence after wtf i just wrote🫡

[ughgoaway]

Yes so many constant teacher reader thoughts! What about early dating when she's had a really hard week at school, maybe she's been staying behind for parents night or something and is absolutely exhausted. She's not replying to Matty as much or just giving him short ideas and him being Matty starts to worry that she's having second thoughts about their relationship

Omg people having thoughts about my au is so cool… and this is such a good thought. 

You and Matty have only recently started dating, maybe a month and a bit? And matty thinks it's been going perfectly, but he can't help but feel insecure about the relationship. He is so madly in love with you and has been for so long. He can't help but be nervous he's going to lose you. And he can't bear the thought because he's only just managed to get you. 

You reassure him when he asks that you want to be with him, that you were also pining over him for months, and that this is exactly what you wanted that whole time.

And Matty believes you, for the most part. But there's always that sneaking thought of “what if”. What if she hates me? What if she regrets this relationship? What if she thinks im wrong for her? What if this is all wrong?

////

it's been a stressful week at work. You have parent evening at the end of the week, which means it's lots of late nights preparing everything you're gonna say to each parent. It might seem easy to talk to parents about their kid's progress, but it's one of the worst parts of being a teacher.

It seems parents either think their child is an angel on earth or the spawn of Satan. You say one thing they can improve upon, and suddenly, a parent is jumping down your throat, “How could you? My little Amy is perfect!!” or they start scolding the child in front of you “You are useless! Why can't you just focus for 5 bloody minutes??” 

So you've been fucking exhausted all week, and you've cancelled on Matty twice. You had a date on Monday, but you saw the pile of work on your desk and messaged to reschedule for Wednesday.

Matty then didn't hear from you all of Tuesday or Wednesday, so was already nervous you were mad at him. But when you text to cancel on Wednesday? His heart fucking dropped.

You must be second-thinking this whole thing. Maybe you decided the risk to your job was too much, or maybe Matty isn't how you wanted him to be. 

But in an attempt to stop himself from spiralling too much, he texts George and details his worries. Of course, George simply calls him a twat and says “Trust me, she likes you. It's sickening being around the two of you for more than 10 minutes.”

Matty wants to tell George he and Charli are no better, but he leaves it for today and takes his friend's words at face value.

So he texts back saying it's fine and that he misses you. and each minute that passes by with no response is killing Matty slowly.

After 45 minutes of silence, you just reply “<3”, which doesn't exactly help Matty’s mental state. 

He texts you every day, and each day, your responses get shorter and shorter. Until it's Sunday, and he hasn't heard from you since Friday evening. 

It's then he decides you must be rethinking this, rethinking him. there is no reason why you would be ignoring him otherwise. And it fucking shatters him, he goes into break-up mode before any break-up even happens.

He drops Annie off at Hanns and stops at Tesco, grabbing ice cream, red wine, and tissues. He wants to feel like a girl in a shit romantic comedy, so he's gonna do just that. 

2 bottles of wine later, Matty thinks it's the perfect time to call you… despite it being 3 am. Needless to say, you don't answer. But Matty being Matty, he leaves a wine-drunk voicemail. 

“Heyyyyy y/n. It's Matty. Your boyfriend. I think… anyway, im just calling to say you can just dump me, you know? You don't have to be nice or anything. I won't turn Annie against you. But I don't think I could even if I wanted to, m’ pretty sure she likes you more than me already. But whatever… I've had a few bottles of wine and just thought I should call and tell you im fineeee. Totally fineeee. So yeah, if we’re over of whatever, you can let me know. Because im fine. Like so fine…. Okay, bye.”

And with that, he passes out on the sofa, spilling wine on his rug that he will be forced to scrub tomorrow.

///////

It's 7 a.m., and Matty's head is banging, so much so it sounds like someone is hammering on his door. Oh, wait. Someone is hammering on his door.

He stumbles off the sofa and catches a glance in the mirror, his eyes are hollowed, and heavy bags sit beneath them. Half his curls are flattened and stuck to his head, whereas the others are sticking on end like he had been electrocuted. 

“Ye-” he starts to speak as he opens the door, but you storm in talking before he can even get one word out. 

“BREAK UP WITH YOU? WHY WOULD I BREAK UP WITH YOU?” You stand in Matty’s front room with your hands on your hips. clearly, you had stormed straight over here from your flat, not even bothering to get out of your Halloween pyjamas (it is like May btw <3).

Matty rubs at his eyes and blinks a few times, “what?” he asks, coughing as he finishes because Jesus Christ, his throat feels like it's full of sandpaper. 

“...do you seriously not remember?” you shake your head at Matty with wide eyes, and he nervously shakes his head, and he swears he can almost see the steam coming out of your ears. 

“Matty. You called me at 3 in the morning telling me to dump you. Why the fuck would you think that? Why would I ever dump you?” your voice is softer now and you've come closer to Matty, and he can see any rage you might have had was never really anger.

It was fear. Pure fucking fear. 

“Oh.. that,” Matty says shyly, rubbing at his face and pulling it down. 

“Yup. that,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Okay, im so sorry about that,” Matty starts to explain, desperate to get you to understand his fucking crazy brain, “I had a few bottles of wine and my stupid anxiety took over. You hadn't really spoken to me this week, and you cancelled our date, so I convinced myself you were having second thoughts. And drunk Matty thought the best course of action was a long rambling voicemail reassuring you that you can dump me.”

You nod slowly, and Matty seemingly can't stop his word vomit, “And you can if you want to! But I really don't want you to. Like at all. Im actually kind of obsessed with you, if im honest” Matty steps closer to you and pulls you into his chest. 

Your arms remain limp at your sides for the first few seconds, and Matty wants to die. But just before he pulls away, your arms slip over his shoulders, and your fingers wind into his curls at the back of his neck.

You burrow your head in his neck, and Matty can feel you nodding, “Okay. That makes sense” he breathes a sigh of relief. Thank GOD you didn't dump him then and there. 

You snap back and look at him intensely before saying, “But just so you know, I was planning for parent's evening this whole week. That's why I was so quiet. And I would never break up with you just by ghosting you. And if im being totally honest, I would never break up with you in the first place. or ever, really."

Matty nods and can't help the smile that comes on his face, you don't want to break up with him. ever.

You snap your fingers in front of his face before he can get too happy, “Hey don't you start smiling. I’m still pissed off at you… but you are especially cute in the mornings, so I feel you’re trying to manipulate me into forgiving you... are you?”

“Well that depends, is it working?” he teases

“Maybe... Shut up.”

[queenvidal]

The Missing Piece

Chapter 2: Strange Feelings

Chapter Summary: Goodneighbor is facing quite some problems but Hancock needs a break. It's hard to concentrate with his mind spiraling back to the woman from the vault.

Wordcount: 2159

Chapter Index:

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9

Masterlist

The last week has been a mess.

The group of green skins that have attacked Nick and Blue settled down not far away from Goodneighbor. In fact, they came far too close for Hancock’s liking. He and Fahrenheit spend the last few days working hard on finding a solution. So hard even that John didn’t have time to take one of his little chem breaks every now and then to take off the edge.

His usually blurred mind sobered up over the time and got almost completely clear and sharp and it just wouldn’t shut up. Though being sober isn't something John is unfamiliar with, the sheer chaos in his head had kept him from concentrating. 

Thoughts were racing through his head, bringing past demons back into focus. His mind zoned out constantly, brought him back to diamond city, to the things he did and didn’t do. But the worst part was the anxiety. Out of the blue he’d feel knots tightening in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He’d find himself clenching onto his sofas or desk, his chest heaving. At first he thought it might be some kind of bad tripping or a response to the never ending flood of pictures in his head. But he knows what that feels like and it doesn’t come close to whatever is going on with him now. It’s something he has no idea how to handle.

His nerve-racking arm was just the cherry on the top. Amari couldn’t find what was causing that unpleasant feeling and ended up just injecting Med-X. It did not help in the slightest, but Hancock didn’t bother to tell her. He thanked her for her help with Blue and his arm and quickly left.

“Hancock, what the fuck?” She asks, looking up from the map on the table. John’s face stays unreadable sternly, if she wouldn’t know him as well as she does, she’d find it quite intimidating. “That’s just bullshit! Are you even listening to what I’m saying? We are low on supplies as it is.” She points onto the map. “We can't go in with two teams, the two blocks are still raider territory, we'd have to -"

Needless to say that John’s mood soured quickly over the past few days and Fatenheit is getting sick of it.

“I’ve said two teams and two teams will get sent.” His voice is uncomfortably calm. The guards around the makeshift warrable share uneasy glances. Hancock has been really on edge like he is right now. To call the atmosphere in the room tense would be an understatement. 

Fahrenheit doesn’t care about what he wants. “I won’t send our men on a suicide mission just because these mutants hurt the robots little girlfriend.”

John's knuckles are turning white from the tight grip on the table. “You do as I say.”

“Nope. Know what,  I’m out.” Fahrenheit rounds the table to go for the door. She snips into the air, getting her men moving out of the room. “I am fucking tired of your irrational and stubborn orders. We'll adjourn this whole revenge trip of yours until you get your shit together. Go get your ass to The Third Rail and get wasted or something. It is absolutely impossible to work with you right now!" And with that the woman steps out of the office, leaving Hancock alone in the dim light of a few candles. 

He's furious. How dare she talk to him like that? As much as he treasures their friendship, this woman is crossing lines. At the end of the day, he's the mayor and she's just his right hand. He's in charge and that's something she needs to keep in mind. it's one thing to yell at him when they are private and talking eye to eye, no problem with that. But she has to fucking stay in line when it is business related. Especially with their men around.

Her current disobedience is maddening. And the damn migraine isn't helping either. Or his shaking hands. Or the cold sweet. For fuck sake, withdrawals already? The absolute last thing he wants to do is admitting that Fahrenheit was right. Maybe he really should take a break and drown himself in cheap whisky that  would make humans go blind. Maybe combined with jet, slowing his spinning mind that won't shut up about things he'd rather not think about.

Well, If they are still having jet and whisky, or alcohol in general that is. Their supply line is still cut. Another problem Hancock still has to solve. Maybe the mutants will kill the raiders or the other way around. That would be the easiest way but that again, nothing in the Commonwealth is easy.

Whatever. There is still an untouched 'survival kit' of all kinds of chems in the drawer of the mayor's desk. It definitely won't save his life when his town of criminals and junkies revolt against him for letting them dry down but at least he would be far away in mindless bliss when they paint his office with his guts.

Damn, since when did his thoughts go down such dark roads? John shakes his head, he really needs a break before his thoughts drive him crazy. With a sigh he takes his pack of smokes and leaves for The Third Rail.

When he passes Ham with a nod in greeting and enters the bar, he gets hit by the smell of cheap perfume, booze, smoke and vomit. Home.

The ghouls face cracks a smile when he sees his favorite detective sitting right at the bar, downing a longdrink, that smells exactly like coolant. Hancock takes the chair next to him. "Look who's here. Mind some company, Nicky?"

The synth huffs a laugh and takes a sip from his drink before he answers. "Not at all. And who am I to reject the mayor of Goodneighbor?"

Hancock orders two whiskeys and downs them both in one needy gulp. The liquid slowly burns its way down John's throat. Damn, he really needed that. While savoring the slow burn, he puts the glasses down with a loud clink.

Nick eyes Hancock with a questioning frown. "Ehm. A bit eager, are we?" Charlie refills the glasses without a comment and hovers away to the other guests. 

John pulls out a pack of smokes from his pocket, taking one out and offers Nick one as well. The detective doesn't say no but the frown doesn't leave his face when he takes one.

"Long day in the office." John sighs as he lights up his cigarette before taking a long drag. "How are you doing, Nicky, everyone treating you alright?"

Nick simply nods before he takes another sip. "Yeah, yeah."

John notices the tiredness in the synth's voice. Something is the matter. "So." The ghoul starts. "And what is your excuse for being here? Despite the girls and drinks?" Hancock lets his gaze wander through the bar. All familiar faces are sitting on crates, listening to Magnolia, drinking, fainting. Nothing out of the ordinary. A black haired woman meets his eyes, she smiles at him from under her bangs. Hancock acknowledges her by tipping his hat down a bit before he returns his attention back to his friend who still didn't answer his question.

Nick's eyes are glued at the almost empty glass in his hand while he takes long drags of his cigarette. He looks lost in thought, like he is pouting for whatever reason. "C'mon Nicky, what's bothering you? Everything alright with your vaultie?"

The synth just shakes his head. Eventually he sighs, "No, not really." John feels his stomach drop at that. Were her injuries more severe than they thought, did she catch an infection? All kinds of scenarios are floating around in his head. Nick takes another drag, "But I guess the Doc already told you." 

Actually she didn't. John hasn’t talked to her since Nick and Blue came into town. His arm did really go on his nerves, but he didn’t want to bother Amari with it again. He figured it might be part of his ghoulification. Losing some parts other than the nose and ears is normal, usually a toe or two. To lose whole limbs is possible but it's  very, very rare. Definitely not something John would be looking forward to but in the end he knew what he got himself into when he made his decision to become one. 

Also the last days were very stressful.  He was so occupied with his arm and the super mutants, he simply forgot to ask the doc about the woman from a vault. 

Which is a total lie.

John found his mind taking him back to the night where Nick and Blue stumbled through the gates ever so often. But lying to himself is easier than facing his worries for a person he barely met. Or the strange clenching of his guts whenever he memorized Blue’s wound and the sheer amount of blood all over her suit and Nick.

John tears his mind away from the memory, "Haven't spoken to her since you two came here. What's wrong?"

The vague answer only adds to the uneasy feeling in Hancock guts. "Care to be a bit more precise?"

Nick just sighs. “A lot.”

"She… well, let's say she's been through a lot and it shows - mentally."

Now that just piques John's curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"You know I don't talk about running investigations, Hancock."

So Blue is an actual client of his. Why the hell would somebody from a vault leave one of the safetes places in the Commonwealth behind to ask a synth detective for help? John hits the synth on his shoulder lightly. "Come on now, Nick. Don't leave me hanging here like that."

Nick puts out his cigarette in an ashtray before looking up to answer. "She's in the Rexford. Talk to her if you want to know more about her story, it's not my place to tell."

Hancock just rolls with his eyes. Of course he could just do that but if he’s honest to himself, her private matters are none of his business. Sure, he could defend himself by playing the 'I'm the mayor of the town and saved your life' card but that's not his style. And technically did Amari save her life - He just stabbed Finn out of the way.

John cringes internally at that. Damn, shes a fucking vaultie after all, her people are not used to the harsh reality outside their giant metal doors. Hell, she even most likely never saw a ghoul before. What  must she be thinking of him-

"Good evening, mayor Hancock."

The soft voice behind the men makes them turn their heads towards the source of it. It’s the black haired girl from the table on the other side of the bar.

"Good evening yourself-" John knows her, he is certain of it but what's her name again? Mindy? Suzi? "Pretty." Or just go with harmless, flattering pet names. A method that proved to be very sufficient over the years. The woman gives him a bright smile in response. "What can I do for you?" John asks even though he already knows what she's up to.

She bites her lower lip playfully, all of the sudden acting shy. "Well, I wondered if you'd like to have some company later, you know?”

Yeah, just like John thought. Nick looks at him with a knowing smile on his face but doesn't say anything. The ghoul considers her invention for a moment. The main dilemma for the last few years, ever since he became mayor of Goodneighbor - Sex or drugs. 

Both at the same time can be fun, too. But the possibility of passing out during a one night stand, being that vulnerable around a person who is just interested in his caps or chems, or just has a weird ghoul fetish, that's stuff nightmares are made of. At least his. So no, both are not an option.

"You can have him." Nick says nonchalantly as he stands up from his chair. "I've finished my drink anyway and I have a client to take care of." 

Jealousy hits John like a bolt of lightning. A feeling he didn't have in a very long time. It's so sudden and without warning, it takes him off guard. He tries not to read too much into that and turns his attention back to Trudy. Or Ruby? The woman takes Nick's seat immediately even though John hasn't answered yet. With a sigh on the remaining of his lips he just gives in. No drugs tonight then. But before Nick is out of earshot, John calls after him. There is one burning question he needs an answer for. "Nick! Blue ain't her real name, is it?"

The synth waves at him as he makes his way to the exit. "It's not."

Chapter Index:

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9

Masterlist

Taglist: @loverofclones / @squeakythedragon / @martinys-world / @id-rather-be-in-middle-earth

[yeyinde]

Haha, I also spoil myself intentionally, but for the plot of movies, tv shows, and games I’m not super invested in. If I accidentally spoil myself (especially if I learn a character dies) I’ll cope by telling myself “I don’t know how/when it happened though”

Anyways Major Character Death!!

I’m SO disappointed in them killing off Soap and especially in how they did it! No buildup or anything! To me it was disrespectful to the character and to Neil Ellice. And then the 141 don’t even say anything and it cuts to them spreading his ashes with a simple goodbye! They could have at least made them a little more upset 🥲 also I hate how abruptly the game ended. Makarov gets away, but no mention to that at the end.

I had also initially requested what would become infinity in the palm of your hand (eternity in an hour) as a way to “cope” with 2009 Soap’s death because it’s always been on the back of my mind for years (weird, I know). But now after playing the new MW3 campaign I look like boo boo the fool because of who went and got killed off 😭 now every time I go back to reread it, it will be painful knowing what’s in store for reader for their current reincarnation of Soap.

Tldr I’m kinda not okay with MW3.

From what I've seen, it feels like they pulled it out of a hat. All names went in, but his (amongst others) came out. And I guess it's safe because he died in the OG, so the backlash can easily be deflected from within their own community when other fans come to their defence over this choice. But idk.

I agree with everything you said. It doesn't make any sense. It's jarring and misplaced, and canonically pointless. I'm not against character death. Grief is a powerful thing. But I just hate when it's so contrived and needless. It was definitely done for shock value over plot/character growth and I think they were trying to re-create the massive storm that happened when OG Soap died because they know they don't have much else going for them. It just massively missed the mark because: a) Price and Gaz had no tangible in-game relationship with Soap the same way Ghost did; and b) what does his death really amount to in the end? Nothing. It feels cobbled together and poorly thought out. It's sad when Portal 2 has better writing than your whole remake combined. Honestly, it's kind of impressive how little thought they put into this. I'm getting flash backs to DGG's Halloween.

If it's any consolation, the mythology I based the reincarnation off of in infinity would essentially just be neverending. An ouroboros. The events would happen much the same way. A knock on the door. Spiral of grief. A bog. A deal. Restart. So, you'd just wake up again and live life until whatever the old you made a deal with decides it's time to collect. You're forever stuck in a loop with your soulmate until you get it right.

The rest is just how I kinda wish it went, but this was getting very long because I have more thoughts on this than I anticipated lmao 😅

Personally, I think it would have been much more interesting if they brought in a new passel of characters and slowly chipped off the main cast in a series of horrible decisions that slowly begin to feel hollow and empty. That leave you, the player, feeling emotionally gutted with each new chapter because the choices previously are absolutely impacting the way they move forward, but they're too deep into their own revenge fantasy to see it until the very end when it's too late. Give me actions have consequences and every choice you make is directly responsible for someone's death. The realities of war. And what happens when you give a group of people the power to play god in countries they know nothing about. It would have matched the gritty tone they tried to go for with the trailers and actually served as an interesting conversation about war and how we tend to deify the military when they're just men with too much power in their hands. Instead, we have a death that means nothing. That arguably happened much too early in the series so the payoff is solely meant for clicks and reaction channels. Pointless.

And Makarov. A Russian Ultra Nationalist. I feel like that title alone says everything for me, and yet. They still somehow managed to give a Russian War Criminal so many wins. I'm just so irritated by it all.

[withacapitalp]

Tell Him (Nothing) Everything Pt 2

Part One Link to ao3

Chapter Two- Second Mistakes

After their disastrous first meeting, Eddie found himself going to Steve’s bakery pretty much every single day. He would wake up, shower, put on at least semi-clean clothes, and walk down to Claudia’s just in time for the morning rush to be over. In fact, the only days he didn’t were Saturday and Sunday, because those were the days that Steve’s brother and his friends would hang around the cafe on and off all day. 

Needless to say, Wayne was ecstatic at this sudden one eighty. He had no idea what had happened to drag Eddie out of his depressive spiral, but he was happy about it all the same, and Eddie was happy that his uncle was happy. 

There was definitely enough happiness to go around. 

He and Steve entered into an easy kind of routine. For five or six hours straight Eddie would sit at the countertop on the far end of the bakery, writing lyrics and bars in his ratty old notebook while Steve ran his cafe and offered Eddie little nibbles to ‘taste test’. 

When things were busy Eddie liked to hop the counter to ring people up while Steve packed boxes of sweets and made drinks. And, when things were slow, Steve would turn the music up and dance around while he cleaned. Eddie was forced to put his pen down and watch the sinfully silly delight. There was no point in trying to pretend he wasn’t blatantly staring at Steve’s ass as he wiggled his hips and wiped down tables, singing along to ABBA and Bonnie Tyler in the goofiest voice Eddie had ever heard. 

Arguably, that might have been the best part of their new easy whatever this was, but Eddie knew there was something better. 

No, the best part was the talking.

Eddie hadn't realized how quiet he had gotten until he was back to jabbering all day long with someone who was easy to talk to. Steve just had this way of getting Eddie to open up, and for the first time since Chrissy, he felt like he had found someone to chat with that didn’t completely exhaust him. 

It was mostly because they never talked about anything too heavy. They definitely got to the personal- Steve’s brother, Dustin, was a frequent topic of conversation as Steve fretted about raising him ‘properly’- but they never got to the painful. Eddie didn’t ask why Steve was raising his thirteen year old brother at only twenty three, and Steve never wondered why Eddie was in town when he clearly didn’t belong in a place like Hawkins. 

It was fun. It was easy. 

It made Eddie feel completely guilty.

He wasn’t sure if he was even allowed to have good things anymore. He had been given the best person in the world, and he had destroyed her, so the universe had decided to give him another wonderful person? 

Didn’t it know Eddie was a ruiner? 

Well, if the universe hadn’t figured that out yet, then Eddie had resolved to not feel all that guilty about being selfish and keeping Steve when he knew he shouldn’t. He would hoard this happiness until the world righted itself and remembered that he didn’t deserve it. 

But for now, it was ten o’clock, and the cafe smelled like berries. 

“Helllloooooooooo, hungry customer waiting!” Eddie called out, obnoxiously ringing the bell over and over, needing to drown out both his thoughts and the disgustingly cheerful bubblegum pop playing over the speakers. 

“Get out!” Steve singsonged back, his voice growing louder as he came closer. 

“You’d miss me too much, Angeleyes,” Eddie replied, walking to his usual spot and hopping up onto the bar stool, not bothering to wait to see Steve come out from the back. Angeleyes was just one of the many nicknames Eddie had come up with for Steve’s…interesting music choices. 

“Don’t make fun of ABBA, or I won’t let you sample my new recipe,” Steve pouted as he walked over holding a still steaming tray of delectable goodies. His apron was a soft sea green today, the paw prints an icy blue that matched the polo he was wearing. 

Eddie couldn’t stand how cute Steve was, he really couldn’t. 

“What’s this one?” Eddie asked, reaching over. 

“Watch!” Steve immediately said, pulling the tray back so Eddie couldn’t burn his fingers, “Blackberry lemon crumble bars,” 

Steve put the tray down and carefully placed one on a plate, making Eddie’s coffee the way he liked while they waited for the bars to cool down a little. 

“I went out with Dustin and the kids this weekend and we picked a ton of them,” Steve said, passing over the plate and the cup. Eddie broke the treat in half, delighting in the shower of crumbs that fell on the china plate shaped like a cat.

The second the flavor hit his tongue he let out an absolutely sinful moan. At the start Eddie had tried to play it up, enjoying the way his noises would make Steve turn bright red, but he quickly realized he didn’t have to exaggerate anything. Steve’s food was just that good. 

“Sunshine, I’m gonna propose marriage,” Eddie said, his mouth still full, “Be ready for a big fat ring. I’ll wife you up, and then you can just travel the world with me and bake.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Steve automatically said, laughing softly and ignoring Eddie’s flirting the way he always did. He leaned over the counter, grabbing the other half of the bar and eating it much more delicately, somehow avoiding making a complete mess, “You should’ve come with us. It was a nice hike,” 

“Yeah, you lost me at the word ‘hike’. I don’t do hikes,” Eddie joked, conveniently avoiding the real reason he would never spend any time with Steve outside of this cafe, the reason he never came on weekends. 

Because not only was the idea of meeting Steve’s little brother was kind of intimidating (A child prodigy with a dungeons and dragons obsession? Yeah that kid was way too cool for his own good), but Eddie also knew that if Dustin didn’t like him, Steve would probably never talk to him again. 

Or worse, Dustin might recognize him. Then Steve really would never talk to Eddie again.

“Alrighty no hiking. Then what do you do all day? Besides coming here to bother me,” Steve teased, opening the display case and beginning to place the rest of the bars in a neat uniform row. 

“Nothing,” Eddie replied, grabbing his notebook and getting ready for their usual routine to start. He had a pretty good idea for some lyrics about berry kissed lips and tart lemons dripping sour into open wounds. 

“Sounds pretty boring,” Steve said idly. 

“Relaxing,” Eddie countered, looking up from his book, “You forget- I’m on vacation,” 

Well, bereavement. If running away from your entire life to hide at your uncle’s house in Podunk, Indiana could count as bereavement. 

“Ah yes, vacation from this mysterious job of yours that I’m not allowed to know anything about,” Steve said with a roll of his eyes. There was no heat in his voice, no edge to his tone, but Eddie’s stomach was starting to drop anyway. 

They knew all kinds of things about each other. Eddie knew all about Steve’s time as a high school jackass, and Steve had heard the calamities of Eddie’s own teenage years, but then there were gaps. Huge gaps. Big glaring gaps. Mostly on Eddie’s side. 

He couldn’t share most of the things that had happened in his last ten years without revealing his secret. Still, the longer he held onto pretending he was normal, the worse the fallout was going to be when he had to admit he wasn’t. 

“You can ask,” Eddie eventually said with a fake casual shrug, “Just no guarantees I’m gonna answer,” 

But he would. He had decided that if Steve pressed, if he really wanted to know, he would spill it all. The ball was unknowingly in Steve’s court, and that took the pressure off. Steve was the one who decided when this all ended and reality snuck back into their little corner of the world. 

“Nah, you’ll tell me whatever it is when you’re ready,”  Steve replied easily, once again keeping them both in suspense. The bell on the door jangled behind Eddie, signaling that customers had just entered. Steve greeted them with a big smile, and then he was walking away from Eddie who unabashedly stared at Steve’s back.  

Sunkissed Small Town Atlas, what I wouldn’t give to be on my knees holding your world?

God, Eddie was going to Hell. Those lyrics were even too dirty for Corroded Coffin. 

He wrote them down anyway. 

“By the way, Dustin burned me some new CDs of stuff he likes,” Steve said later that day when it was just the two of them again. He was elbow deep into the espresso machine, trying to fix something that was broken with the milk frother, and Eddie was about two seconds away from jumping into help him, “I told him that you’re into metal and rock too, and he said that these would be more your speed,”

“Burned CDs,” Eddie said with a soft laugh, coming around the counter and picking up the plastic cases Steve had nodded towards, beginning to rifle through them. They were covered in sharpie doodles and careful writing of every song. 

The kid had taste. Most of this was the stuff Eddie grew up on. 

“Hey, not all of us can afford music streaming,” Steve shot back, popping his head out of the machine for a second to stick his tongue out at Eddie before burying his face back into the mechanics. 

It was good that he did, because if Steve hadn’t, he would’ve seen the way Eddie’s jaw was dropping as he looked at the hand drawn devil mask on one of the CDs. An extremely familiar devil mask.  

“Corroded Coffin?” Eddie whispered faintly, all of his extremities starting to go numb. 

Was this Steve’s subtle way of telling Eddie he was caught? Was he trying to pull a joke or something? 

“Oh yeah, you’ll see a lot of them. He’s totally obsessed with that band,” Steve replied, cursing loudly as the machine began to spit water at him. Eddie abandoned the CDs and hurried over, helping Steve to do battle against his machine 

“Dustin really likes them?” Eddie said out of breath, panting as they both tried to come down from the high of fighting against the coffee demon. 

“Obsessed,” Steve gushed, grabbing the case with the Corroded Coffin CD and waving it around as he walked over to the player hooked up to the speakers, “He has all their music, a bunch of their records on vinyl, posters and everything. I even saved up to get him and his friends tickets to go see them live,”

Steve’s tone dropped at the last sentence. His brow furrowed, and his face pulled into an uncharacteristic frown as he slipped the CD in. The sound of Eddie’s own voice began to fill his ears. This was one from the before time, back in their MySpace/Youtube era before they recorded their first album. 

The kid really was a fan. 

It’s raining down. 

All around. 

Hellfire. 

God, sometimes it was hard to not cringe at his old lyrics. Sixteen year old Eddie really thought he was a genius. And his voice was still too high, it hadn’t fully dropped back then. Eddie decided to distract himself from the way the song made him want to curl up in a ball and die, focusing on Steve and the way he still seemed upset. 

“You sound disappointed. Not happy that your baby brother is a metalhead?” Eddie asked, keeping his tone light and hoping that would give Steve an out if he didn’t want to talk about what was bugging him. 

“Oh no, as long as he’s safe and happy I don’t care,” Steve said dismissively, waving a hand around his head, “I guess I just- you know the tickets I got him? The ones to see this band? They’re totally useless, because they canceled their whole tour.”

“The entire tour?” Eddie blurted out, rearing back with a jolt. 

He knew that they had to cancel at least the first few dates because he had disappeared, but the entire eight month tour?! They weren’t even supposed to start touring until next week, and Indianapolis was still three months away. 

The other guys were that sure Eddie wasn’t coming back…

To be fair to them, Eddie was also not so sure he was going back. But that had to be a shit ton of money, and without a lead singer or a manager-

Eddie had royally screwed his bandmates. His brothers. He had been so focused on what he needed, he forgot they needed him too. He forgot that without Eddie Munson, there was no Corroded Coffin. 

Chrissy would’ve killed him for that. 

If he hadn’t killed her first. 

Eddie couldn’t help the soft noise that escaped from his throat, and he walked on wooden legs back to his usual corner, tucking himself into the seat and trying to curl up and be as small as possible. Not only was the guilt back, but it had grown devil horns and demon wings, exponentially worse now that Eddie could no longer ignore how many people he was screwing over. 

“There’s a really big mystery about it. Apparently something happened to their manager and she died?” Steve continued to babble, completely unaware of the burning fire poker he was jabbing into Eddie’s chest, “The lead singer, Freddy something, was close with her, and after that he just kind of vanished. It was a big media circus,” 

Freddy. It wasn’t funny, because nothing about the situation was funny, but Eddie laughed anyway. He laughed, because if he didn’t, he was going to start crying. The laughter bubbled out and spilled across the countertop, sounding nothing like Eddie knew himself to sound like.  

“Eds?” 

Steve’s warm hand cupped his face, and when Eddie looked up a watery blurry version of Steve was looking back at him, and when he blinked to clear his vision, he became aware of the tear tracks already cutting through his face. 

Oh. Apparently he could do both. Eddie had never laughed and cried at the same time, but here he was. 

“What happened?” Steve asked, letting his thumb softly brush against Eddie’s cheek, wiping away the tears in a move that was so intimate it sent shivers shooting down his spine. 

The last person who had done something like this for him was Chrissy, and that comparison was just one shade too much for him. Eddie untangled himself from Steve and hopped down, going around the counter and grabbing the black apron with white paw prints that Steve left out for him, tying it around his waist and attacking the dishes in the sink with ferocity. 

Steve let him, sitting back against the counter and waiting. He had learned in the last few weeks that there were moments where Eddie just needed to do something physical to work out whatever was happening inside of him. The first time it had happened, Eddie had just paced for an hour straight, and he was sure Steve would kick him out when he was done, but the younger man had simply shrugged and offered for Eddie to do the dishes the next time instead.

‘Might as well get some free labor out of it’ had been Steve’s reasoning, and Eddie had wanted to kiss him right then and there. 

“Dustin’s pretty upset I bet,” Eddie finally croaked out after he finished rinsing out one of the cat themed mugs. It wasn’t just his bandmates he was letting down, but also all of the fans that had been loyal to them for years and years. 

Eddie was letting everyone down. 

“Well, he was at first, but he’s trying to be understanding about it. He said it was like if I lost Robin. I can’t even begin to imagine what that would feel like,” Steve said cautiously, as if he wasn’t sure that they should just drop the fact that Eddie had been crying only moments before. 

When Eddie didn’t say anything he crept closer, leaning into Eddie’s space to grab a towel and begin to dry the cups on the rack. 

“Are you o-” Steve began. 

“I’m glad Dustin isn’t too disappointed,” Eddie cut in, unable to hear those words. If he heard them again, then he would tell Steve the truth. 

He wasn’t okay. He didn’t know if he was ever going to be okay again. 

“I am too. I just wish I hadn’t spent so much money on those stupid tickets. That was Christmas and his birthday gift all in one,” Steve sighed. Eddie flinched at the sound, looking down at the soaped up canister in his hands instead of at the man he had personally screwed out of hundreds, possibly thousands, of dollars. 

“You didn’t get a refund?” Eddie asked, unable to believe that the other members of the band wouldn’t give everyone their money back. 

“Well some of it,” Steve said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, “I got the price of regular admission tickets back, but I got a bunch of extra stuff too- good seats, backstage passes, the works. All of that was apparently nonrefundable.”

“How much was it?” 

Eddie didn’t want to know the answer, but he needed to know. He was apparently a masochist now. 

“Backstage passes for all six of them plus me to chaperone?” Steve asked rhetorically watching Eddie wince in sympathy, “Yeah, I was feeling that loss for a few months,”

Eddie didn’t have any more dishes, but he had lots of energy, so he grabbed a washcloth and began to wipe down the counters, avoiding Steve’s eyes which he could still feel locked onto his back. 

“Geez, you must really hate that lead singer, huh?” Eddie was attempting to go casual, but he was so far from it that it wasn’t even funny, “I mean the dude just disappears because one person died?” 

Any second now Steve was going to call him on his weirdness, and Eddie was going to have to blurt out the entire terrible story and try to beg for forgiveness. 

“No, not at all,” Steve replied without giving it any thought. 

“Really?” Eddie breathed, turning around to stare at Steve with wide eyes. Steve shrugged, going back to fiddling with his coffee machine. 

“I don’t really know what happened, but if I lost Robin? I wouldn't want to talk to anybody, let alone jump up onto a stage and try to perform, or act like nothing happened. I think everyone just feels bad. Apparently the fans are still leaving him lots of tweets and stuff. Dustin told me some hashtag was trending for him a couple weeks ago,” Steve said, grabbing his phone with the obvious intent to show Eddie. 

He was going to look up Corroded Coffin. Which would lead directly to tons of headlines with Eddie’s face plastered on them. 

Eddie was up and moving before he even knew it.  

“What are you doing?” Steve asked slowly as Eddie grabbed his wrist and pulled it down, making sure Steve couldn’t look at his phone. 

“I don’t wanna see it.” Eddie said in a rush. 

He didn’t want his secret exposed, but he also didn’t want the reminder of who he was. He wanted to keep being Steve’s Eddie. A stranger with funny little quips and a refined palate. He wanted to be able to keep being this person for a little while, whoever he was. He didn’t want to go back to being the Eddie that had lost his Robin.  

“Please,” Eddie said, lowering his voice to a whisper. Steve stood there blinking at him for a second, staring at Eddie like he couldn’t really make sense of him. 

“Alright,” Steve said, finally hesitantly agreeing. Eddie breathed out a long slow sigh of relief, leaning back against the counter and letting go of Steve’s wrist. 

“You’re a really nice person, Steve Harrington,” He said with a tired grin. 

“And you’re a very confusing person Eddie Eddie,” Steve shot back with an incredulous little laugh. He pushed off of his own counter and held a hand out, “But you are a good taste tester. Now come back here and help me make this next batch of crumble bars perfect. I think it might need a frosting,” 

Eddie went willingly, the sound of his own voice over the speakers filling his ears. 

[jmdbjk]

Set me free. A battle cry.

I still think it’s too soon for me to be voicing my thoughts on Set Me Free Pt. 2 but there’s so much going on in my head I have to let some of it out. I’m not an expert on music, the writing or production of it, or on choreography, or on K-pop. What I am is an appreciator and observer of art. And I attempt to express in words my emotions and thoughts while viewing the art. 

First of all... OH MY FUCKING GOD.

Now that I got that out of the way, I want to say I am so proud of Jimin: #1 on U.S. iTunes with all those other releases happening at the same time. And #1 Trending Now on YouTube. Also I think I saw fastest 100 #1′s on iTunes globally EVER (thank you for correcting me). But I know these charts are not the motivation behind his art.

So it begins with some angst with dramatic choir vocals... building up to a crescendo. The music includes a siren-like sound... things are getting critical. The dancers writhing and mimicking screams, invoking chaos, turmoil, pain and anguish.

And then Jimin appears suddenly and the dancers at once jump into order... chaos/order. 

It’s like Jimin’s own psyche with the two sides fighting within. 

The choreo tells the story of the lyrics: “I wandered in a maze, Hennessy and night.” On a path searching for the prize/end and especially these past few years, living a life full of luxury. We know Jimin is a night owl (maybe that is too literal of an interpretation perhaps). 

The autotune vocals add texture and are reminiscent of different voices talking in his head. It’s like using his own voice to role play his different emotions/colors within him: “Finally free; AH YEAH, AH YEAH; I’m standing at the edge; NOT YET, NOT YET; I won’t look back; NOW YEAH, NOW YEAH; fly away, butterfly, finally free” ... 

The choreo here where he mimics a butterfly with his body, fluid and lithe. I literally expected him to levitate during this dance move. 

“Going insane to stay sane. Raise your hands for the past me. Now set me free.” This is where I literally cried. Oh, Jimin.  

The dancers representing the world around him... at the same time are the confines of his vocation as well as his comrades... part of the constriction and also his saviors. His freedom as well as his box. Chaos and order.

At 1:52 the scene goes dark and one of the dancers reaches over to Jimin’s torso and I am assuming at some point, we will see this is deliberate for a reason. When the lights come back up they are a different color, colder, Jimin’s torso is bare with the words of the poem marching across his body in very straight orderly lines (needless to say, my jaw hit the floor).

It is as if the color of the light represents both sides. Hot chaos. Cold order. I think this part of the song is his inner turmoil. It has a different voice. Very angry. Very aggressive. Nothing like the Jimin we’ve known up until now.

The dancers pointing at him, his naysayers. That’s right Jimin, tell them to fuck off. He’s played by the rules up until now. It’s his turn to flip the table and upend what we’ve known. And wow, he succeeded.

The dancers lifting their fists and arms as if in triumph.

Jimin letting himself be offered up to the sky...the lifting and reaching for the sky/heaven.. higher and higher...  

The resurrection of New Jimin at the end. The direct defiant stare at us. With his back to us. What is he saying? He’s moving on? Are we following? We better get our fighting gear on and go. 

The visuals, his attitude. So many elements: the numerology, the golden spiral (fibonacci sequence), the set mimicking the panopticon. A prison. Caged like a beautiful bird. A place he entered of his own free will but ended up being a place where he was put on display to be criticized and judged for not being what everyone thinks he should be. 

Knowing some of Jimin‘s history, knowing a little bit about his personality and seeing how all of this has come together in this piece of art he’s created just makes me appreciate him even more as the deep thinker he is, a highly talented artist, singer, and dancer, and especially a deeply feeling human being. 

I don’t ever recall anything like this making me overcome with shock or being moved to tears or being made to feel so many different things in the span of three minutes and forty-four seconds as I did last night. 

The nature of art itself is to draw out your emotions. To move you. I was moved.

I am 100% certain on each subsequent time I listen to this song or watch the music video there will be something that will elicit something else within me and inspire another different thought or feeling.

And I know it could be because Jimin‘s solo work was so highly anticipated, so talked about and we didn’t know what to expect. We know he’s been working on it for well over a year and finally seeing the climax of it all, or at least the beginning of the climax, was very overwhelming to me. I mean, promo starts for Like Crazy tomorrow. LET US BREATHE! NO! BRING IT ON!

[the-fandom-crossroads]

Hoyofair Spring 2024 Creator Links!

Like last Hoyofair I'm making a post linking to the youtube channels of each project shared at hoyofair! Be sure to follow the creators and support their main channels so they can keep making amazing projects like these!

Galactic Abyss Chronicles - 神·潜行瞬杀 and others

I actually found the director, head animator, and head modeler on Bilibili! Here Real proud of myself because he has no accounts on the western internet. He hasn't posted the full short on his account yet but he does have a fananimation for the Apex Legends X FFVII Rebirth collab.

From what I can tell this is also the first Genshin related animation he's done which is cool. The rest of the creators seem to be from the CN fandom as well although I could not find their Bilibili's from a quick search

Ranked DayCare - by No_Tables

Their first Hoyo short was at Hoyofair 2023. So it's great to see them back with a new bit. Now with Klee!

Moonlit Bamboo Forest - Passion Paris

So this is apparently an Academy Award winning Animation studio!? Passion Pictures is the studios name and the Paris branch animated this short. We have legit 2D animation studios submitting Shorts to Hoyofair now. Wow!

Needless to say this was the short with the most unique animation style. And one of my top favorites this year.

Trial by Combat - ???

So this one seems to be just a collab of a bunch of animators. Like I can't find the project manager online (too generic a name for google). The head animator has a twitter but Twitter changed at somepoint where it won't let me view a direct link to someones profile without being logged in. I ain't creating a twitter for this rabbit hole. his username is rabbitoldman if you want to look him up. But he hasn't made any tweets with the word genshin as far as google's concerned.

I just can't find one sorry.

Progenitor: The Surface - dillongoo

Ex- RWBY animator returns with episode 3 of his "if genshin was a cyberpunk anime" series. The first two episodes hit so hard and the 3rd episode does not disappoint!

Realm of Faith: Live Actually - Type Zero Inc

Another legit animation studio for the animation. They don't have a youtube so i don't know if they'll ever upload the full version anywhere other than hoyofair.

But! The two songs have been posted on the singers youtubes with longer versions!

majiko(Furina), 4s4ki(Lumine), Wolpis Carter(Venti)

Chogakusei (Wriothesley), Amatsuki (Childe), 96Neko (Arlecchino)

Domain 404 - LucHD

Their first and only other Hoyofair short was shown over a year ago at hoyofair 2022. But Luc has returned with a full 4 minute short filled with Spiral Abyss and other meta in jokes. Diluc out here maining a C6 Bennett lol.

TitanSlayers: Edge of Oblivion - Kieru

Kieru once again turns in an amazing action packed animation. The last one was the Persona spoof with Lyney and Lynette. But my favorite of theirs is Cyno vs Anubis and the Gods

Shenhe Awaken - Rhinocore

They made a previous short for Hoyofair but that one was never posted to a youtube channel other than hoyofair. So I'm going to assume they don't have a youtube and this one is just going to say on Hoyofair as well.

---

And that's all the Creators from this Hoyofair! It was less creators than the winter one but I feel like that might be because multiple shorts are nearly 10 minutes.

But which one was your favorite? Do you like the change to less but longer shorts? Or do you wish they went back to more shorts 2-5 minutes long? Let me know in the tags! And be sure to follow all these guys on their youtube's so you can see the teaser trailers they post a few days before each Hoyofair.

[hush-writes-preg]

Of Tempests & Flames: Bringing Forth the Heir

Commission for: @themightyfluffyone Word count: 5,082 Summary: (A D&D-inspired story based on the commissioner's characters and universe) Storm is sick and tired of being hovered over by the infuriating sun elves just because he's carrying the heir to their kingdom. He's also done with the endless summer heat, and those pesky cramps that he just can't seem to shake…

(Part 3 of 4; Part 1, Part 2, Part 4)

TW: Labor, birth

He really, really shouldn’t have gone out today.

The sun shone overhead in a cheery, blinding ball of heat that left sweat beading on Storm’s skin, with nary a cloud in the sky to block its intense rays. He usually didn’t care, but the summer sun left the temperature uncomfortably warm, which coupled with the dark, draping fabrics he always insisted on wearing, left him unbearably hot.

All the extra weight at his middle didn’t help matters, either.  

The moon elf let out an exasperated puff of air as he paused yet again to rub at the middle of his back, his massive belly hanging before him as a constant reminder of, well, everything.  Of the fact that he’d let the prince of the sun elves knock him up after months of trying in return for safe haven, which he needed because he was a wanted man, and he was on the run because he’d stolen a necklace to increase his power but also happened to piss a whole bunch of people off in the process.  Now he was stuck here in Sunvail, with his rented womb occupied—

A tiny foot struck him right under the ribs as if its occupant was scolding him for his spiraling thoughts.  

“Sorry, little one,” he muttered under his breath, one clawed hand curling under his pregnant belly and rubbing soothingly.  “I know it’s not all bad.  Your father is… not as infuriating as he used to be, and you’ve grown on me too.”

Someone just out of sight cleared their throat in that insistent and slightly pompous way that always left his teeth grinding in irritation.  His royal babysitters were rarely out of reach, especially now that he was so close to birthing the kingdom’s eagerly-awaited heir, but that didn’t mean he liked it.  Or them.

He didn’t like many people, honestly.

“Sir?” the voice asked with forced politeness.  “Is everything alright?  Would you prefer to return to your quarters and rest?”  

“No, I damned well would not,” Storm practically growled, drawing his spine ramrod straight in a facsimile of his usual arrogance and doing his best to ignore his aching body’s prompt protests.  “I fully intend to finish my walk, Boon.  I’ve had far too much ‘resting’ lately, and if I get too much more of it, then I might have to break something.  Or someone.”

“Very well,” came the other’s dry reply.  “Just keep in mind that His Majesty, Prince Flamecaller, will be indisposed until well into the evening, so you would do well not to overexert yourself and draw him away from important matters of state.”  Boon was one of many palatial servants who’d been assigned to his well-being as his pregnancy progressed, and like most of them, he seemed to have a stick lodged firmly up his ass.  Boon in particular thought Storm beneath Flamecaller’s notice, and had on more than one occasion bemoaned the fact that the prince hadn’t chosen to mate with one of his own kind instead of some waspish moon elf.  

Needless to say, they didn’t get along very well.

A faint muscle spasm along the underside of his belly compelled him stubbornly forward.  Storm was all too aware of the countless eyes that watched his every move while he was out in public, guards and attendants and curious passersby all helping themselves to a look at the heavily pregnant moon elf in their midst.  Moon elves and sun elves rarely mixed these days in a social fashion, so to see one in the capital city was odd enough.  Anyone who happened to see a pregnant moon elf so close to the palace almost certainly knew who Storm was and what he was doing here, which was why his occasional trips outside had grown few and far between in recent weeks.  

Anyone who had a beef with him or the royal family would know to paint a huge target right in the middle of his back.

So while he’d managed to convince his babysitters to let him outside today, they actually hadn’t left the confines of the palace, preferring to let him stroll around one of Solarian’s many gardens instead of risking his life (and the life of the royal heir) by actually venturing into the city.  

But by the gods, he was growing claustrophobic.  

Step by step, he made his way around the lawn, sticking to the shaded areas where he could and boldly striding through the unavoidable sunny spots when he had to, with his gravid middle leading the way.  To be sure, he had a bit of a rolling gait, but if anyone had even tried to suggest that he ‘waddled’, he might take their head off.  Sweating, aching, tired, and far too warm, his already prickly personality had grown outright scathing over the past few days.

Storm nearly made it the entire way around the inside of the garden wall when another cramp spread through his midsection, the tight pain sending him stumbling to a halt.  The midwives called it ‘false labor’, but the moon elf felt like it was just another way for nature to torture him through this entire experience.

“Sir?”

“Fuck off, Boon.”  

His attendant didn’t bother trying to hide a longsuffering sigh from somewhere behind him. If Storm hadn’t been exhausted from hauling around an extra thirty pounds (and all of the other trials that came with this pregnancy), he might have whirled around and torn into the infuriating man.  Instead, he shuffled his belly around and tossed a glare in Boon’s general direction that lacked its usual biting ire.  

He was fucking miserable, okay?

“You’re dismissed, Boon.  I’ll take things from here.”  Another voice rose at Storm’s side, just as familiar and posh as Boon’s yet bearing a no-nonsense tone that clearly communicated that it expected no defiance.  “I’m sure you must have much better things to do elsewhere, yes?”

Storm didn’t bother listening to Boon’s reply, sure that it was just as snide and passive-aggressive as the rest of him, but waited for his footsteps to fade before addressing the newcomer.  “I don’t recall asking for anyone’s help, Win.”  

“And I certainly wouldn’t deign to give help where it wasn’t requested, my lord.”  He could nearly hear the smile in the other’s voice as he spoke, his tone just as dulcet and soothing to the ear as his appearance was to the eye.  Dressed in muted robes of blue, grey, and silver with his long white hair bundled into a fashionable knot at the nape of his neck, Frostwind was a lithe, pretty male that would have turned many a head in the Court of the Sun if it weren’t for the tell-tale grey tinge of his skin that spoke of mixed parentage.  Storm didn’t know much about him besides that he worked as a palace attendant and somehow seemed immune to most of the moon elf’s hormonal mood swings, which was quite an impressive feat.  “But I do know that you’ve been out in the sun for almost an hour now, and your robes are stained with sweat.  Perhaps it’s time to take a break, if only for a little while?”

Storm wanted to snap at him, to stubbornly do the exact opposite of what Win suggested just to be contrary, but he was ridiculously thirsty and his backache had only gotten worse.  Besides, the baby picked that exact moment to punt him right in the bladder.  

“Fine,” he growled, wincing.  “But only because I’ve got to take a piss.”

By the time he made it back to his room, the cramps had gotten bad enough to steal his breath, but Storm refused to give anyone another reason to fuss over him.

They’d already done more fussing than he had the patience to deal with.  The King had insisted on arranging the most extravagantly prepared birthing chambers for the arrival of his son’s heir-to-be with all of the awareness of someone with no real concept of money, including hiring enough midwives for a whole platoon of expectant parents, which led to Storm threatening to sneak away in the middle of the night and never come back.  It was already bad enough that he’d probably have to spread his legs and push out a baby in front of a stranger or two, but he sure as hells wasn’t going to do it in front of an entire guild and half the royal family in the middle of a gold-gilded suite.  

He’d butted heads with the king over the issue for weeks until the overwhelming stress and a bit of frightening spotting had forced Solarian to surrender the fight.  Instead, they’d had only the essentials moved into Storm’s quarters, while the King swore that no more than a handful of necessary staff would be in the room to assist with the birth.  

After stripping off his warm, sweaty robes in exchange for nothing more than an oversized tunic, the moon elf promptly kicked every servant and attendant right out of the room, unable to deal with the presence of anyone else.  He’d had these kinds of cramps before, but not this bad, and the discomfort sapped away his already limited ability to cope with other people.  Collapsing to his side on the bed, Storm curled around his swollen belly and tried to wait them out.

Time seemed to creep by as morning turned into afternoon, but the pangs only seemed to strengthen rather than fade with rest.  The baby shifted and kicked from within the confines of his womb as if they were just as bothered by the tensing muscles, and the moon elf found himself rubbing his hands over his dark grey skin in a vain attempt to calm them.  But he soon found himself too unsettled to remain lying down, and after a great deal of effort and some rather ungainly wriggling, Storm managed to get himself out of bed and back on his feet.  

The soothing smells of sandalwood and citrus filled the room from a small pot warming in the window, a subtle reminder of the prince’s own scent, but even that failed to soothe his frazzled nerves.  Storm began to pace through the room, one hand pressed against the small of his back while he tried to distract himself by running through mental lists of spell components and memorized incantations.  The cramps had to stop soon, right?  They did every other time he’d gotten them.  It wasn’t like he could already be in labor, not when the midwives said he had another couple of weeks before the baby came.  If anyone in the palace even suspected that he might be in labor, they’d descend on him like a flock of vultures looking for any scraps of gossip they might devour, and he’d never get a moment’s peace.  

Gods above and below, he missed not being pregnant.  

The next cramp shuddered through his gravid womb and left his abdomen painfully tight, forcing him to grasp blindly for the bedpost and hang on while he tried to breathe through it.  “Fuck,” he groaned, his cloudy eyes fluttering shut.  Maybe he had overexerted himself this morning, and his body was retaliating.  Of course he’d feel a little pain and cramping from carrying around such a huge load for too long.  It was only natural that he’d–

Pop.  Storm gasped as he felt a strange release of pressure and a sudden cascade of fluid down the insides of his thighs.  Cheeks burning in embarrassment, the moon elf clutched his legs together in a vain attempt to stem the flow.  Yeah, pregnancy had been hard on his bladder, but he’d never outright wet himself before.  

Oh gods, what if Flamecaller walked in and saw him like this?   

Mortified, Storm grabbed for his discarded tunic and tried to mop up the mess.  It wasn’t until he realized that he didn’t smell the sharp scent of urine that the pieces finally clicked.

Cramps.  Back pain.  Water.

He was in labor.  

Storm wasn’t sure what was worse: the contractions or the pressure.

Once he realized he was in labor, he couldn’t sit still.  It wasn’t like his body would let him, anyway, considering how the contractions continued to speed up and hit harder as time crept along.  He found himself using every piece of furniture in the room as a support to breathe through the rhythmic spasms, clenching his teeth and biting down the cries that threatened to bubble up from the back of his throat.  A new layer of sweat left his tunic clinging to his heaving body, the thin fabric sticking to his milk-swollen breasts and the gargantuan dome of his abdomen.  But still the stubborn moon elf refused to call out.  He’d grown so used to hiding any hint of weakness or vulnerability that even now, he struggled against the thought of exposing himself.  

Bent over the edge of the bed with the latest contraction, Storm arched his hips and tried to rock through the pain, his belly hanging pendulously beneath him.  He could feel the weight of the baby sliding into his pelvis and filling him with an intense sensation of fullness as it worked its way lower, and the knowledge that he’d soon have to give birth began to unravel his carefully-cultivated calm.  His hands and face buried in the bed’s opulent sheets, the moon elf muffled an involuntary scream against the mattress as he tried not to give in to the growing desire to push.  He wasn��t ready to deal with that yet, maybe not ever, and–

“My lord?  Would you care for some refreshments?”

Oh my fucking gods, no, I don’t want you or anyone else near me right now.  Swallowing heavily, Storm struggled for enough composure to answer, but unfortunately, he waited a bit too long.  

“...My lord?  Is everything alright?”  

Another contraction ripped its way through his thin frame, centered on the massive bulge of his belly.  Silk and fine linen tore like paper beneath his clawing fingers while another spurt of warm fluid trickled down to his knees.  “Everything is fine,” he finally managed to growl out, but his forced answer came at a price when the last word degenerated Into a strangled whimper that only a forge-deafened dwarf would miss.  

A muffled curse rose on the other side of the heavy carved door, followed by the sound of keys.  “Hold on, Storm.  I’m coming in.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Storm half-sobbed, but it was already too late.  

Frostwind pushed his way into the room without an ounce of his usual poise, his hurried steps faltering as soon as he caught sight of the moon elf’s barely-covered bottom and the puddle at his feet.  “Goddess preserve us,” he breathed, his gaze darting around the room before returning to the panting elf beside the bed.  “How long have you been in labor?”

“Don’t know,” Storm muttered into the sheets.  

“How do you not– oh, never mind.”  His voice held the slightest touch of exasperated fondness before he turned to poke his head back through the door and shout something

Storm wasn’t exactly of a mind to listen to what he said, though.  He knew that he’d soon be inundated with nosy sun elves intent on watching him make a further mess of himself, and the utter mortification of the approaching situation was starting to settle in.  In half a daze, he tried pulling one of the torn sheets from the bed to wrap around his waist in a half-assed skirt, but someone grabbed his hands.  

“None of that, now,” Win gently rebuked him, pulling the fabric away and wrapping a careful arm around his waist instead.  “Come along; let’s get you settled in your chair, alright?”

“Leave me alone,” the laboring moon elf grumbled, trying and failing to pull away from the delicate-looking elf’s suddenly firm grasp.  “I am not sitting on that stupid-looking–” Another cramp sent him doubling over, and if it wasn’t for Frostwind’s support, he might have toppled over.  He did cry out this time, a pathetic sort of wail that he knew he’d deny later, but how else was he supposed to react to being split open by something the size of a melon?

Frostwind hushed him and drew him along like a petulant child towards the chair Storm had ignored for weeks.  The low wooden monstrosity with a bench seat and handles looked like it’d been made for torture rather than comfort, but apparently it was a traditional piece of birthing equipment in these parts.  Win patiently guided the moon elf into place despite the way the male swore at him, brushing sweat-damp hair from his face and even going so far as to drape Storm’s sheet over his lap to give him a little privacy.  “There we go,” he said soothingly, his lips curled in a faint smile even when he had to duck back to avoid Storm’s sharp claws.  “Try to catch your breath for a moment.  The other midwife will be here soon, and I’m sure His Highness the prince will be right on her heels.”

The ‘other midwife’?  Storm glared in Frostwind’s direction, his eyes narrowing as he finally put the pieces together.  “Are you telling me that you’re a midwife?”

“Guilty as charged,” the other male chuckled, drawing up his loose sleeves and tying them in place to leave his arms bare.  “Do you honestly think you’d have agreed to my near-constant presence over the past few months if you knew that?  His Highness didn’t think so.”

No, he definitely wouldn’t have agreed, because he hated the idea of being treated like some delicate flower on the verge of breaking.  But Storm refused to admit that.  “I don’t like being lied to,” he snarled, ducking away as Frostwind tried to wipe the sweat from his brow.  

“And I never lied to you,” the midwife cooly answered.  “You just never asked.  Perhaps if you tried to get to know people instead of skulking around all the time, you wouldn’t find yourself surprised by such basic facts.” 

Before Storm could shoot out a sharp retort, a chaotic whirlwind of reds, golds, and purples burst through the door.  The usually composed and regal form of Flamecaller, prince of the sun elves, was in slight disarray, almost as if he’d half run the length of the palace to get there.  His breathing was a little fast and his eyes a bit too wide as they landed on Storm’s disheveled shape, but otherwise he managed to hold a noble air around himself like a slightly-tattered cloak.  “Are you alright, Storm?”

“Does it look like I’m alright?!” the moon elf snarled, gesturing wildly at his sweaty, bloated body. “I’m– I’m– oh fuck–”

“The contractions are coming pretty quickly now,” Frostwind said with his usual evenness as he gestured to indicate where the other midwife could set a basin of warm water.  “Your mate managed to hide them from me for hours before I realized what was happening.”

“Not… his mate,” Storm groaned, clutching at his quaking belly.  

“Of course not,” Win replied in an infuriating and entirely too-agreeable way.  “Now I need to check your dilation, which means I need to touch you.  Can I do that without you taking a swipe at me?”

Wood scraped across stone as Flamecaller pulled a stool to his lover’s side, dropping into the seat and grabbing for Storm’s hands.  “I’ll keep him occupied,” he promised, drawing one to his lips to give the back a quick kiss.  “You know, I was in the middle of a meeting with several of the western lords when the runner came.  You should have seen their faces when I got up and walked out in the middle of one of their tirades.”  

Storm leaned back against the chair, sweat glistening on his brow as he tried to ignore the midwife’s probing fingers, infinitely glad that the other kept his claws filed short.  “Are you expecting an apology from me?”

“Of course not.  They’re as interesting as boiled porridge and twice as useful in matters of state,” the prince said with a smile.  “I’m thankful for the reprieve.  Let Father deal with them.”  His words might have been lighthearted, but there was nothing trivial about the intense way his eyes met Storm’s.  Something burned within them, brighter than flame magic and twice as hot, an unspoken affection to which they’d both been reluctant to put a name.  Flamecaller leaned close, his warm lips brushing briefly against the corner of his lover’s mouth.  “I’ve got more important things to deal with right now.”  

They might have been having a moment, but the baby wasn’t about to stop for anything.  A new contraction rippled over Storm’s swollen womb before he could respond, leaving him scrunching his face in pain as he let out a distressed howl through clenched teeth.  

 “That’s right, ride it out,” the midwife said from his incredibly intimate position between Storm’s outstretched legs.  “You’re almost completely open, Storm.  It won’t be long now.”  

“Gods, it’s already been hours,” the moon elf griped.  He turned to glare at Flamecaller, his cloudy eyes narrowing.  “Your child is already a menace, you scheming bastard.”

“Well, at least we know where they got that from,” Flamecaller replied with a smirk.  “It’s certainly not from my side of the family tree.”

The two males stared each other down, ignoring the sound of clinking glass and pouring liquid until a chilled glass was pressed against the prince’s palm.  “Here,” Frostwind murmured, gesturing at the glass with the point of his chin.  “Bloodfruit juice.  He needs some fluids, and the sweetness will give him some much-needed energy.”  

Rime clung thickly to the glass from the midwife’s magic, leaving its crimson contents startlingly cold against Storm’s tongue as he took a careful sip from the offered drink.  Something shifted heavily around the bottom of the glass, but Win predicted the prince’s question before it even left his lips.  

“Moonstone,” he said, sparing Storm a glance.  “For the Goddess’s blessing.  Mother always swore by it.”

It was such a small thing, but that faint nod to their shared heritage in this foreign land eased a little of the tension from the moon elf’s shoulders.  “Thank you,” he mumbled quietly.  

Perhaps it was the moonstone’s boon, or perhaps it was Flamecaller’s presence, or perhaps his body had just gotten fed up with the whole process of childbirth, but everything seemed to escalate from that moment.  Storm barely had a chance to catch his breath before the next contraction slammed into him, and his claws dug weeping punctures in the prince’s fair skin when the pain grew too much.  Soon Frostwind began urging him to push, and he felt the baby’s tiny body shift farther and farther down.  

“I can feel the head,” the midwife called up to them after the next contraction, his fingers probing gently into Storm’s straining opening.  “You’re making excellent progress, my lord.”  

“Just get it out of me,” Storm moaned, exhaustion starting to creep over his features.  “Please.”

“That’s all on you, my lord,” Frostwind replied, wiping his hands on the towel the assisting midwife handed him.  “Keep pushing, and we’ll meet them soon enough.”

“I’m already fucking pushing!” the laboring elf practically wailed, the dome of his belly almost impossibly tight from the near-constant waves of contractions.  

“Shhh,” Flamecaller whispered, pulling his lover against his chest and cradling him close.  “You’re doing great.  It won’t be long until our baby’s here, my beloved tempest.”  

“I hate you,” Storm grumbled, unwanted tears soaking into the prince’s fine shirt.  “You godsdamned bastard.  You did this to me.  Hells, I’m never gonna let you touch me again.”

“I hate you too,” Flamecaller replied, but the spoken words didn’t at all line up with the obvious tenderness coloring his voice as he ran a pale hand soothingly over his lover’s hair.  “But let us save those honeyed words for after the little one comes, alright?”

Swallowing and giving the prince a half nod in response, Storm grasped the chair’s handles and tried to brace himself for the next contraction.

But gods, were they brutal.  It felt like a giant fist closed over his womb every time and tried to squeeze all of his insides right out through his cunt.  

Everything started to blur together into an endless cycle of pain, cramping, and pushing.  The room rang with Storm’s wails, with Frostwind and Flamecaller’s calmer voices adding to the din with their encouragement and soothing tones.  But no matter how hard he bore down, the moon elf couldn’t seem to get over that last threshold.  

He’d nearly brought the baby to a full crown when panic finally hit him.  Wild-eyed and near frantic, the moon elf threw an arm over his face and slumped back in his chair as he desperately gulped down air.  

“Don’t stop now!” the midwife called, kneeling expectantly between Storm’s cloth-shrouded knees as if ready to catch the child at any moment.  “They’ve stretched you almost as wide as you’ll have to go.  Push a little harder, and they should slide right out.”

“I can’t,” the exhausted elf whimpered.   

“You can.”

“No, I can’t!”  Electricity fizzled around the edges of Storm’s wide-eyed face, his chest heaving for every breath.  “I can’t– I can’t do this anymore.  Just get the godsdamned baby out of me.”

“If you’ve got the energy to discharge magic like an unschooled child, then you have enough energy to finish giving birth,” Frostwind scolded, his lips turning down in the first frown that either of them could ever remember seeing on his comely face.  

“No!”

Warm fingers tucked under the stubborn elf’s chin and turned his face towards Flamecaller.  The cocky smile on the prince’s face wasn’t as bright as it usually was, but it still radiated warmth as he met Storm’s eyes.  “Focus on me,” he murmured.  “I have faith in you.  I know how powerful and incredibly stubborn you are, so I know you can do this.  You’re already so, so close.”  His thumb brushed across the bottom edge of the moon elf’s lip, a gentle caress that spoke of all the things they hadn’t yet said.  “In fact, if I reached down right now, I could– I could touch our little one.  The one we made, together.  The one you’ve carried in your belly for all these months.”  

Storm let out a shuddering sigh and gave the faintest of nods.  

“But you know what I’d like most, my impetuous Storm?”  His fingers slid reverently over the moon elf’s cheek, his magic drawing some of the heat from his lover’s flushed skin.  “I want to hold them in my arms and see whether their features take after yours or mine.  I want to place them against your chest and watch them suckle from their father for the first time.  I want to be able to look upon the purest, most precious gift that anyone’s ever been able to give me and finally understand what it means to have everything.”  Flamecaller was the son of a powerful king, and he’d long since learned to mask his thoughts and feelings behind a carefully-cultivated veneer, but at that moment, something akin to vulnerability touched his eyes.  “Please, Storm.  Let’s meet our baby, hmm?”

The thin body pressed against him relaxed ever so slightly, its owner managing a faint chuckle.  “And here I’ve always thought you were a heartless bastard,” the moon elf whispered, leaning into the prince’s touch.  “Don’t tell me you’re going soft.”

“Never where you’re concerned,” Flamecaller teased, though further banter immediately ceased as soon as a tell-tale flash of pain skittered across Storm’s face.  

“Save the bedroom talk for later, my lords,” said the midwife, giving Storm’s knee a purposeful pat.  “It’s nearly time for you to push again.”

It didn’t happen during that contraction or even the contraction after that.  But on the third grueling clench of his overtaxed womb, the moon elf gripped the handles of his birthing chair and filled the room with a fierce shout that threatened to shake the very rafters.  The sound abruptly ended, leaving behind a silence that seemed eager to be broken.

And just like that, it was.

The mewling squall of a newborn filled the gap left by its father’s voice, reedy yet somehow still quite angry, as if its owner couldn’t believe the impertinence of being forced out into this cold, unfamiliar place.  “It’s a boy!” Frostwind called out, cradling the tiny heir to the sun elf kingdom in his arms.  The hall was immediately filled with shouts of unmistakable joy and congratulations, accompanied by footfalls as runners took off to deliver the news throughout the palace.   

“Let me see him,” Storm mumbled, slumped tiredly against the chair.  Everything hurt, and everything leaked, but somehow it didn’t seem to matter anymore.  All that mattered was the tiny gray-skinned child in Frostwind’s arms, a shock of pale hair plastered to his oblong head while his wrinkled little body flailed.  

The midwife nodded, expertly winding a soft cloth around the babe’s body before handing him over to Flamecaller.  The slick cord still trailed from his belly, and his skin was streaked with gods-knew-what, but somehow he was still perfect.  

“A son,” the prince whispered in barely-concealed wonder.  “You’ve given me a son.”

“I’ve given us a son,” Storm chided, though there was only a hint of the usual edge to his voice.  “If you think I’m going to go through all that and then just walk away from him, you’ve got another damned thing coming.”

“Fine, you’ve given us a son.”  Placing the baby gently against the moon elf’s chest, Flamecaller let his hand linger, stroking his fingers along the newborn’s back.  “But I’d hate for him to be an only child.  Does this mean–?”

Someone let out a polite cough, and they looked down to find Win staring at them with one perfectly manicured eyebrow raised.  “I expect you to wait at least four to six weeks, gentlemen.”

“For what?”

Flamecaller burst out laughing, which startled the baby into another bout of displeased sounds just as horrified realization spread across Storm’s face.  The moon elf’s mortified voice added to the cacophony as he leveled a string of scathing curses at the now-grinning midwife and the prince alike, all while the news of this joyous occasion spread across the capital city like wildfire.

And somewhere, the Goddess smiled.

✨ If you liked my story, please consider leaving me a tip so I can continue writing lengthier content! ✨

My Pregnancy Writing ✨ My Stuffing Writing ✨ Commissions

[maitaiwiththecorpses]

Taylor Swift Albums As Aru Shah Characters (or vice-versa) (???)

Debut: Hira. She's young, seemingly innocent, but she's definitely experienced more than her fair share of heartbreaks and sadness. While singing along to Tim McGraw, Our Song, or Picture To Burn, she draws on those first few moments when she met Brynne. The country style and easy patterns soothe her- she definitely loves Shania Twain, too.

Fearless TV: Kara. Needless to say, most everything she's done to get to this point has required her to be fearless. She is all forbidden destinies and regrets, crying and hoping and crying some more. She'd definitely scream along to Fearless, and You Belong With Me, and sometimes with the Sleeper she'd hum Fifteen and Love Story- just for the feeling of a normal childhood.

Speak Now TV: Rudy. He only picked this because he saw the fabulous purple album cover and thought of dark benevolent queen. He thinks of the first time he met Mini when he listens to Enchanted, because he's sure the whole world is in love with death's daughter. He recreates the intricate sounds of Better Than Revenge, Speak Now, and Sparks Fly with his stones, soon getting his own recording studio to record his instrumental covers of them. And of course, Mean empowers him to brush past all the idiots who made fun of him being colorblind and a failure- cause they're pathetic and alone in life and mean.

Red TV: Malini. Do I even need to explain? Throughout the separation and divorce with Aiden's dad, she definitely listened to All To Well (Ten Minute Version) on repeat, nostalgically played 22 for Aiden, and finally, when she got a girl's night out, played We Are Never Getting Back Together. The heartbreak and cheating in Red highlights all her relationship troubles and how she comes out of them stronger in the end.

1989: Brynne. It's her workout music all the way. And life music too. She does HIIT sessions to Shake It Off and New Romantics, and dances to Out Of The Woods with Hira when it's late and they can't sleep. The feeling of reinvention and starting anew really draws her to the album- and who can blame her? (Plus, she was totally jamming to Rudy's TSwift battle music in SoD)

Reputation: Aru. She struggles with her legacy, her reputation, throughout the series. The thrumming beats and quick mood shifts of ...Ready For It? stimulate her ever-speeding mind and she loves making fun of Aiden with Gorgeous, the entire song a huge excuse to outright flirt with him. Getaway Car is her and Rudy's go-to car song when they drive alone, and there are days when Aiden finds her crying to Dress and Delicate in the shower. During and after the final battle, Don't Blame Me and I Did Something Bad were the only things she could hear in her ears- they were deafening, and a way of her brain guilting and processing all the events.

Lover: Aiden. I immediately knew this was his. He's surrounded by love, constantly, despite being afraid of it, calling upon Death By A Thousand Cuts. With his mom he softly sings Soon You'll Get Better and with Brynne and Mini they karaoke It's Nice To Have A Friend. His dad gets a very blurry video of Aiden and Bee one year in Father's Day in pink cowboy boots singing I Forgot That You Existed and his father never texts back. Ever the feminist and bisexual icon, he's out here bopping to The Man and You Need To Calm Down. He makes fun of Aru liking I Think He Knows, but that's nothing compared to his 2 am serenades of Lover. His favorites, though, are Paper Rings and ME!

Folklore: Mini. The med student of Epiphany. The calm, the quiet, the casual anxious spirals. Yearning at desperate when she hears Invisible String, Rudy cries when she sings it. Her mom hates Exile, but Mini hears it and thinks of all the ways she could fail and cries to it some nights. Seven reminds her of running around in a field of sunflowers as a little kid, not a care in the world, forgetting allergies, grades, or Pandava stuff. August is her back to school calling, a reminder of responsibilities and how they're not always bad. Cardigan is her pick me up when she's missing Rudy- not that he's ever too far.

Evermore: Suyodhana. Willow. He can't love the way he wants to, he can't say yes without worrying about everything- he is Champagne Problems. Forbidden, murderous, No Body, No Crime was made for him.

Midnights: Krithika. The definition of Anti-Hero. A lot of the series wouldn't exist without her causing more and more problems, despite being well-intentioned, she keeps messing up, and finally in NoI she starts owning up. Her glittering confidence in the early books beckon to Bejeweled and her ever-sermonizing self would scream Karma at the top of her lungs. Question...? would remind her of everything she left in the lamp, Suyodhana, Aru's chance at a father- the love of her life.

[fangsandfeels]

Oct 13 - Introduce your Hawke

Marian Hawke

Rogue/Saboteur/Assassin

(couldn't find her Dragon Age 2 screencaps, so here is her from the Inquisition)

Marian has a simple motto “If a problem isn’t going away, then you didn’t stab it hard enough.” 

And to Marian, if you threaten her family, you are a problem.

Oh, no, she isn’t a monster, truly. She is your ordinary Fereldan lass. Loves her siblings, loves her ma and wants her to be happy. She doesn’t want much in life – just a good company to spend time with and enough coin to afford a good meal and a decent home.

But, it was too much to ask, wasn’t it?

She tried to keep it together after losing Carver – for Bethany and mother. She took up smuggling jobs in Kirkwall without hesitation – she cared little for the laws of any place where mages were hounded and persecuted. And she also knew that Kirkwall cared little about refugees like her. Marian joked and smiled through every challenge and hardship, gladly taking up any opportunity to get more coin - not for the love of riches, but because the more money you have, the easier it is for you to hide from prying eyes.

She barely kept it together, when Templars came for Bethany – she was ready to cut them up and leave them in pieces, if not for her little sister begging her not to. And from that moment on she started looking for the ways to break her out and leave this fucking place. Her father didn’t go through all this crap only for one of his daughters to be locked away forever.

She almost lost it when she lost her mother. It seemed that no matter what she tried to do, that cesspool of a city kept taking, and taking, and taking from her.

The duel with Arishok wasn't just about Hawke appreciating her allies and not letting Qunari take Isabela, her friend. It was also about Marian's subtle death wish - pushing herself to the limits, the beginning of her downward spiral where she'd throw herself into fights recklessly, just to leave her mind numb for a while.

The thoughts of Bethany and plenty of people to take her anger out on kept her from unraveling completely – she still had a sister to save. And she was going to do it.

Marian even tried to be smart about it - for the fist time in her life she tried to step carefully and work together with Orsino, hoping to kick the chair from under Meredith. The bitch had the nerve to subtly threaten Hawke with Bethany's life - and Hawke wanted to get her sister out of the harm's way before doing something a lot more destructive.

Needless to say, the Last Straw left her royally pissed at Anders. Not because of him blowing up the Chantry, no. Because of him rushing it all and putting all the mages, including Bethany, on the chopping block. Hawke couldn't afford losing any more of her loved ones. Not again. Not again.

So, of course, after Anders blew up the Chantry, she blew up at him. She cussed him out, she yelled and raged at him and told him to piss off and get lost...but she also told Sebastian to fuck off when he started demanding her to kill Anders. If the Chantry boy wanted to end him so badly, he'd better have guts to do it himself.

And when Anders joined the forces to fight Templars and Meredith, Hawke let him. If he started this, he'd better roll up his sleeves and keep fighting for the mages instead of dying as a martyr. She sure as hell wasn't going to become a martyr. She was going to make it, with a wicked bloody smile at her face and her family and friends by her side.

Was ready to send Ser Wesley to his long due afterlife the moment he took a step towards Bethany while reciting his rubbish vows.

Helped Grace and other mages escape in the Act of Mercy – lying to templars was as easy as breathing to her, sent Feynriel to the Dalish, and generally tried to help out every mage persecuted for being a mage. Because fuck Circles, fuck Templars, and fuck Kirkwall’s Templars in particular.

One of the main causes for increased slaver and Tevinter slaver mortality in Kirkwall.

Bullied Cullen at every opportunity after he dared to show his face in her home and take Bethany away. Really, really hates him and probably didn't knife him when there was an opportunity because he stood against Meredith. Still doesn't trust him and probably gave him some PTSD flashbacks once she appeared at Skyhold.

[shiroi---kumo]

⚠︎ I HAVE VIDEO FROM THE LAST EPISODE IN THIS POST SO IT HAS SPOILERS IN IT. NOW YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED ⚠︎

There lots of video throughout the series in this post because I need to make a point.

HEY I just remembered a thing I was going to ramble about here a couple of days ago but I was tired after work so I forgot.

But we need to talk about something important here and that is ->

Kumo's Voice

Firstly, when one watches the series - when you first hear this man and for most of the series, while he speaks little (due to poor company) when he does talk he almost always speaks in near monotone.

See here:

Kumo speaks in damn near monotone for most of the series BECAUSE he is purposely forcing his emotions into a tiny bottle and trying not to feel ANYTHING due to how Chaos functions.

Kumo's voice is mostly monotone ON PURPOSE.

Chaos, the main enemy of the series and who the Unlimited are charged with fighting this eternal fight with - is a god like being that is basically darkness incarnate.

Chaos gains power by feeding on the negative emotions of living beings.

So the Unlimited both took an extremely different approach to how they were going to address this fact in the terms of their shared enemy.

Kaze - continued to brew in hatred and rage and basically just decided fuck chaos and that he wouldn't try not to feel those things because Chaos could choke on it.

Kumo - decided to handle this fact by shutting down every single emotional system he could ever possess - including the good ones - and decided that the best way to address this aspect of his enemy was to never feel anything ever again.

AKA

Kaze at "I don't fucking care about how Chaos feeds. Chaos can take my rage and choke on it." Kumo at "Can't feed off of my emotions if I don't have any."

Needless to say this went very very poorly for the Cloud.

As the series progresses you can hear the emotion come back into his voice little by little and then his brother shows up and all bets are off - the whole episode is a mess and we get this by the end of it:

Kumo's entire voice shifts the next time we see him to pure growling.

And from here he turns into a snarky asshole when encountering Kaze:

To becoming soft and polite with the main party and protective at the end of everything and sort of turning back to his actual voice by the last episodes - >

And I want you to take a minute and compare that "Get out of here!" to the previous "Heed my words, all of you. None of you will ever stand a chance against The Earl." From episode 4.

This is 20 episodes later.

Shit has happened. Kumo is not the same man he was when the series started. He's taken certain masks he was holding himself to and thrown them in the fucking trash. He's done with a certain level of bullshit and he's just not playing games anymore at this point.

Oh but then we get to THIS

(and this my friends is the last episode, so it is the most spoilery thing I can give you even though there's really no context to it)

We get to this RANGE in this man's voice - who has been damn near monotone and almost emotionless for the entire fucking series. We get to fucking THIS and I desperately need you to listen to this to hear him go from the first couple videos to THIS.

Kumo goes from dead monotone to THIS by the end of the animated series all because of all the shit that goes down and all the things about him that CHANGE. I can only imagine had After / After Spiral / After 2 gotten animated - the man's range would have gotten out even more.

My point in all this is - Kumo will destroy parts of himself in order to protect himself and the people around him and his voice is a prime example of that.

I'm also saying this because Kumo did something no one in his life currently has really caught him on yet or thought about.

Kumo destroyed his Misterican accent in the name of survival.

Living in Gaudium under The Earl / Chaos - meant Misterican was considered "speaking improperly" so not only did he need to learn Wonderlandian - he needed to learn to speak it with a Wonderlandian accent.

It wasn't like when he lived on Windaria with Kaze - no he can speak fluent Windarian but he speaks it with a Misterican accent - because he's Misterican.

Misterican speaks a lot from behind the ears and rolling Rs and rolling sounds in general. It'll come from the lower throat and the nose and it is fucking fast. There are some words that are words but are said in a way that makes them more of a sound and less of a word.

Kumo's accent that he should have from speaking his mother tongue is gone. He spent years destroying his own voice, just so he would be deemed as more acceptable to the people he was living with.

AKA Chaos and Company. His greatest enemy.

And then he took it a step further and after he tore his heritage out of his voice, he tore the emotion out of it too.

All in the name of survival and protecting those around him. Chaos can't pull power from his emotions if he doesn't have any and he can't get in trouble if he's not speaking "incorrectly".

This is part of why I keep saying that all of Kumo's words are important. It's not just in choice but in how they sound. The time in the last year he's been out of Gaudium has allowed the emotion to start to really settle in his tone again and thanks to the help of some people around him getting him to fall back in love with his mother tongue, his accent is just starting to peek back out too.

Audio for Kumo's untranslated name:

Valkoinen Pilvi

[mtgpocketrealm]

Map of Komas - 2

The next innermost ring is home to the so-called 'Dead Wastes'. The surface is thoroughly consumed by the Eldrazi, with craters and blistering holes as they dig through the ground to get at the mana crystals buried just underneath the surface. It is eerily quiet and seemingly lifeless at a glance. Though vast swaths of the area can be colorful, gravity-defying, geometric shapes; lakes of dust and ash; or even carapace and bone reluctantly growing from the ground. It is by no means uniform, nor would it be considered orderly, but all would agree that it is nothing more than a wasteland.

The Dead Wastes

Consumed by the Eldrazi regardless of which temperature zone you talk about, the 'true' or 'greater' Eldrazi tend to be within these areas, spiraling inwards as far as they can and then outwards again once rebuffed in some manner. The conscripted howlpacks and their broods of horrors patrol this ring and often come into conflict with the humans who live here. Speaking of, the humans of this ring are very religious, believing the 'true' Eldrazi as avatars of different gods and the consumption they leave in their wake, which they call 'Remnant' the greatest of arms and armaments, which they ritualistically 'feed' crystalized mana to 'grow' or repair. One of their coming-of-age traditions involves the killing of a werewolf or one of their horrors once they've 'cultivated' their weapons and armor enough. Anyways, within the desert slice of the ring, there is no water. The sporadic violent winds erode the consumption of Ulamog's and Kozilek's brood, picking clean the trails of flesh and bone left by Emerakul's. In the temperate slices of the ring, water is rare but often poisoned by the passing of the Eldrazi. Within the arctic slice, however, freshly fallen snow can be uncontaminated, though it is just as likely to snow ash, iridescent colored snow, or blood, small organs, and bone fragments. Which, needless to say, is heavily contaminated from the consumption of the Eldrazi. Though the humans who live here have built up a resistance to the consumption of 'fleshy remnant'.

The skies of this ring are unique, compared to the rest of the realm inner realm. The clouds, rather than fluffy or wispy white are; low floating blobs of ash, dust, and soot floating through the wind; high up, yellow, unnaturally patterned clouds. As if they were each crafted from a form of yellow Bismuth and suspended in the air. Though, occasionally, they have a blueish, greenish, or reddish tinge to them; or they are fog banks of dark gray mist, which if you were to inspect closely, would not only have what appears to be larger beast of some sort in the center of it, but would also be insect sized twisted fleshbeasts comprising the entire fog.

The Pilgrim's Path

The lack of consistent water results in the humans having to frequently go on pilgrimages in the underground layer of the ring, small labyrinthine tunnels lined with dimly glowing crystalized mana. The crystals rebuild themselves over time but are often sought out by the Eldrazi, frequently and consistently enough that it can effectively be mapped and predicted, though the 'cycle' seems like nonsense to you or me. Sort of like how pi can be mapped and predicted, yet is nonrepeating. As these tunnels head inwards to the realm, they expand into expansive caverns, though this is a good sign that one is beginning to enter into the next ring of the realm.

Card Inspirations: Scavenger Grounds, Wastes (Kozilek and Ulamog), Snow-Covered Wastes, Promising Vein, Crystal Vein

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[cdragons]

MCU Eternals Romantic!Ikaris X Reader & Platonic!Druig X Reader AU Idea (AKA my ADHD/Neurodivergent brain is whipping my butt)

Ok so, I'm just going to spare y'all the misery and brain spiral I put both @valeskafics & @its-actually-minicika through, and give the most recent one. This is a really long post as it will go into a lot of detail about the character's personality and her interactions with other characters. Please read through it, and if you hate the idea. Don't be a jerk! Just move on, and ignore this post! But if this is something that you think would be interesting to read: like it and/or let me know in the comments, or send it to a friend you think will find this idea interesting!

So it goes without saying that the MCU Eternals' fandom has unanimously agreed that Druig is best boi/edgelord, and I have no disagreements with that. Hell I basically live on Tumblr's 'druig x reader' tag. BUT I too thirst after Ikaris (AKA Not-Mother's-Favorite)...look, it's Richard Madden, I'm only human.

If you are one of the maybe 10 followers I have, you will know that I am already writing 2 other fics (a Robb Stark x Yi Tish!OC, and an Ikaris X Water Elemental!Reader). But if you read this post's title...you will see that my ADHD brain refuses to listen to reason...and since starting to write fanfiction...it has only gone into overdrive. You will also know that I love drawing inspiration from mythology...and dragons but that's another discussion.

BACK TO THE POINT! So I have seen a lot of Nature Eternal!Reader x Druig fics, and I love all of them. But I read @spacetalbot's Druig x Reader x Ikaris fic where the reader is basically Persephone, AND @winterlves's Ikaris x reader fic where the reader is Thor and Loki's sister who controls nature. Needless to say...I became obsessed.

Basically, I wanted to explore the idea of an Eternal!Reader whose powers are like Persephone (Chlorokinesis, Geokinesis, Fertility Manipulation, etc.). And while Druig is like Hades, he serves more as this reader's overprotective older brother/guardian. Instead, her main love interest in this idea will be Ikaris.

Druig and Hades actually share a good amount of similarities to each other. Both are mostly disliked/not popular amongst the Pantheon/Eternals and humanity, both are secluded to their own domain/community, both are much more somber compared to their family members, and the list can go on. But the reason I wanted to use Ikaris as the main love interest is mostly to due with his attitude towards humanity and how he interacts with them. While life goes on for everyone else, it just sort of "stops" for him. He doesn't really make any effort to connect with them outside of being with Sersi, and when he leaves her, we don't see any further attempts. And this is where Persephone!Eternal kind of comes in.

Now, unlike my other Oc's/Reader fics, I actively plan on writing this reader to show neurotypical symptoms. For example, she will show signs of having trouble emotionally connecting/socially interacting with others. Her mind will wander in meetings and need a nudge to focus back. She might unintentionally put off someone by how she phrases her question/response. She will prefer to study the differing flora and fauna in the places they visit than interact with people. While she does hold some love and affection towards them, she knows that it's not her the humans love, but rather what she can provide for them. This last part is kind of what lays the foundation to Ikaris' and the Reader's connection.

One scene I intend to write that really shows how Persephone!Eternal's mind works is how she interacts with Phastos when he describes the steam engine to Ajak. Personally, I headcanon that Druig likes to be around when Phastos is inventing something, but more just to be his annoying little brother. Persephone!Reader is not at all tech-savvy, but it's how Phastos' thinks of his ideas that fascinates her. What materials would be needed to build it? Does the materials need to be first sourced by humans? Is the conversion of high pressure to low pressure like when an area with a lot of water flowing into an area with low amount of water? If I decide to write Ikaris seeing this, it will make him notice how Persephone!Reader's mind definitely works differently than his. As normally, he wouldn't question Phastos, just accept it and move on. But he would notice how you are the only one to really connect with him by how you don't outwardly mock him like Kingo or Sprite, and by being the only Eternal to act genuinely interested despite not technologically inclined.

Another scene would be how Persephone!Reader was supposed to be attending a feast for the harvest, and so Ajak sends Ikaris to look for her. He finds her in a secluded area of a forest, and with a cow and her calf. He is confused and so Reader explains that she noticed that the cow had been eating much more lately and been much more tired and unable to work. She overheard the humans wanting to kill it, but then she noticed that the cow was in fact pregnant. So while the feast was busy, she snuck away and made an area so that the cow could safely give birth in peace. Ikaris would notice that Persephone!Reader is smiling and much more at peace alone, than in a crowded area with tons of laughter and noise. You are worried that Ajak will find out and make you not see the animals anymore, but Ikaris promises you that he will keep your secret, and that he will just tell her that you weren't feeling well. This furthers your connection.

Another one is where there had been a big dispute amongst the humans, and some people are severely hurt. Druig and Ikaris get into a fight about it since it was under Ikaris' order that Druig not engage. Ikaris is impassive and stern and Druig calls him a coward. Persephone!Reader is seeing the fight and asks Ikaris why he wouldn't let Druig stop it, if he can do it, why not let him? Ikaris retorts stating that it isn't their place to settle their disputes, to which Reader states that he should care about the humans, and not be so cruel. Ikaris gets angry and tells reader that it is not his job to justify his reasonings to Druig or anyone else, much less her. So he storms away. A few hours pass, and Ikaris hasn't been seen by anyone, not even Ajak or Sersi. Reader finds him in a hidden area and notices that his face is very tired looking. Reader realizes that she has made a big misjudgement on her part in saying that Ikaris doesn't care, and is very careful in saying she is sorry. Ikaris is still upset and tells her to go away. But Reader just stands there and doesn't move, refusing to leave him alone. She eventually gives him a hug stating that she was wrong and she was sorry, and that she should have known better. This comforts him a lot as he allows the hug. Reader also makes him a wreath of flowers of her appreciation of him as her leader, but mostly as her friend.

I got a ton of scenes planned, so like and/or comment of what you think!

If you are still waiting for my Robb Stark x OC fic! The 3rd chapter will be out soon!

Edit: I reblogged this post to add on some headcanons of an additional Eternal!Reader who is Hecate. Check out the reboot part in Notes to see it!