#its human but i wish it was taken that bit of a step further

[mettywiththenotes]

Once upon a time I expected the story to deconstruct the roles of heroes and villains in the way that these are just people given titles that society defines them by for the rest of their lives, and I think, in a way, the story does do that a little with Tomura and Izuku

Tomura is shown in light tones, almost angelic, and is called "a hero for the villains" at the end of his character. Which I feel is a change from what he's been known as since the manga introduced him: a villain. He's always just been a villain, no matter his circumstances, because that's what the story pushes and that's what the heroes repeatedly call him. But "a hero for the villains" turns it on its head because its the first time the story (not the heroes, notably) suggests that maybe he's been a hero this entire time, just in a different way, giving a spin to the term "anyone can be a hero"

Izuku is shown in dark tones multiple times, depicted as villainous, almost demonic, in appearance. Which isn't a new thing per se, but it shows a hero can still be a hero even if they look like a villain sometimes. Izuku's incredible anger and recklessness complete this look for him because it is terrifying to be up against someone who will not allow their body's limitations to keep them from their goal. Visibly breaking yourself while still dragging yourself to fight is "scary", "dangerous", "violent", all words commonly associated with villains, too. His rogue arc costume is the first to display this (the visible neglect, the blood and mud, making him look unapproachable) as well as his black whip form (allowing a quirk to dig beneath his skin, in order to move himself around like a puppet, to give him claws and sharp teeth, combined with his wild expressions. The way it looks as if it is infecting him (no wonder Hori called it Carnage)). And it's no coincidence that both have the exact same dialogue upon others seeing them: "I'd never guess you were a hero."

You could also argue, depending on your perspective, that Izuku is sort of a villain for the villains. The villain's villain. Because he couldn't get through to Dabi in war arc (even though he's the Hero Hopeful MC who got through to Dabi's brother and struck a chord in his father so he should be able to get involved and do it, right?), he couldn't connect with Toga (he basically just made things worse by refusing to understand why she thinks the way she does), he kinda sorta killed Tomura (even tho it was an accident, but remember that shortly before this happened Tomura was suggested as a hero for the first time in the story), and he broke Spinner's heart by doing this

Of course, these things aren't inherently villainous. But they aren't marks of a hero, either. They don't usually kill the people they are trying to save, or struggle to even contemplate connecting with the opposing side, especially towards the end of a story

This isn't me saying Izuku was "the real villain" and Tomura wasn't "the real hero" either. I'm trying to say that these are just people who have found themselves on opposing sides, forever given a title that is meant to define them, and yet the story manages to show how their titles of Hero and Villain aren't what they are defined by. It's their actions, which in many ways, can be both bad and good. By mixing it up a little (Izuku being a hero but looking villainous, unable to connect with other villains) (Tomura being a villain but looking quite heroic, able to connect with those who have been ignored by their peers/society), I think it shows that, similarly to "anyone can be a hero", anyone can also be "a villain" too

Because everyone in the entire world is capable of good and bad that can impact the wrong and/or right people

On the whole, it's a human way to show them, and even though Tomura wasn't physically saved, I think the story at least succeeds in showing that human side

[yallthemwitches]

Catch the Wind Ch. 15: All About Fundamentals

This chapter is NSFW for sexual situations~ AO3 Link Here!

There was no manual on how to greet someone who just turned into an animal in front of your eyes.The stag shifted it’s head side to side, eyeing her with anxious blinks. He lowered his head, careful not to hit her with the antlers that branched out around her. Lily lifted her hand and slowly guided it to the top of the stag’s head. The animal leaned into her touch, closing its eyes and making a soft humming noise. An ear twitched in contentment. 

“James?”

The stag’s eyes blinked open again, nuzzling her hand further around its snout before taking two steps backwards into the treeline. As quick as he had transformed, he was human again. 

It could have all been some sort of fever dream if James hadn’t now been standing nearly naked apart from a thin fur cloak which had matched the stag’s coat. His glasses laid near his feet, having been torn off during his transformation. Lily hadn’t realized that she had gone from standing, to kneeling, to sitting on the forest floor, staring in the direction of the many forms her boyfriend had taken in the last minute or so. 

“Ok, we can talk now.” He pulled the cloak tight, but Lily could tell it wasn’t the cold that was bothering him. His eyes, unclouded by glasses, quivered in her direction. She had seen James in many compromising positions, but this seemed to be the most raw of them all. She could feel his anticipation suffocating the space. 

“You’re—You’re brilliant.”

It wasn’t the response he had expected. His face went from addled, to shocked, to pure joy in the matter of seconds. He took a step towards her, unclear with how to compose himself. 

“How—” She looked everywhere. At the supposed fake sky of the room, at the brook that babbled a soundtrack into the space, at her boyfriend, her boyfriend who was—he was— 

“It’s all about fundamentals,” he made it sound nonchalant, “getting the actual animagus form just takes practice.”

There were a thousand questions. A thousand feelings running through her brain. Some stemming from the absolute insanity that he had mastered such a skill at a young age, others about the sheer danger, not to mention law breaking, he was creating by having such a talent. She felt herself drowning in it, in all of the many facets that led to James Potter being one of the most brilliant people she had ever met. 

“Do it again.”

James placed his hands on his hips, leaned his head back and gave a hearty laugh that frightened a group of birds perched in the nearby trees. 

“So I take it you aren’t angry with me?”

Lily swung her legs so they were now under her. The anxiety from James’ features was starting to melt and his cocky self was beginning to shine back into his face. 

“Depends. Are you going to show me again or not?”

James raised an eyebrow, then disappeared again, leaving the same stag from before in his place. This time, the animal had no hesitation, he walked up to the seated Lily and she immediately reached her hands to meet him. She caressed his face, ran her hands up his antlers, down his back, taking her time to feel and see that every inch of him was in fact pure animal. She could feel her mouth agape and she knew if James had the capability to laugh at her he would. After running her hands down his back a few more times, he stepped away again and James reappeared in human form, once again pulling his cloak against his naked body. 

“Gotta say, it's very weird to be pet—something I could really get used to.”

Lily was still too shocked to react to his quip. James sat down next to her, searching her face for any indication that she was ok. 

“I know you probably have so many things to say to me—and I promise to answer them. But I have solemnly sworn not to reveal a good bit until all of us can be together.”

All of us. 

Lily sat dumbfounded. She wished she knew what to say or how to say it, but every time she took a breath to speak, her vocal cords protested. Her mind felt like it was being thrown in a wind tunnel. Images of past conversations between Snape, between herself and any of the marauders passed through her mind. She racked her brain for signs, for how she could have possibly seen this coming. James sat by her quietly, leaning back on his hands and giving her space to think. She was almost about to give up, accept that she had been blindsided, until like a light in a far off tunnel, it all came to her. 

“Animals!” She exclaimed. Some birds chattered angrily at the noise. 

“Uhm, very good Evans. Animagus do turn into animals.” Even his cheekiness sounded unsure. 

“No, you git—of course I know that— I meant to say, werewolves don’t attack animals!”

James tensed up. His head snapped to look in front of him rather than at Lily and he began to feign an interest in the mountainside.

“Always the top student.” He said in a whisper. It was clear he knew the jig was up. How could he not? After seeing him cut to shreds in sixth year and her coming to sleep with him every full moon as a clear intent to check on him. Remus was right, she was no fool, they needed to stop treating her like one. 

“You did this for Remus.”

There was a pause, then he responded slowly. “We wanted to help him–and so far it’s been working.”

“How long have you—”

“We’ve known since second. Finally got our animagus forms in fifth.”

Lily pulled her knees to her chest and ran her hands through her hair. 

“Christ.”

If she was being honest, she didn’t know what she had expected, but it wasn’t this. 

“Lily?”

She didn’t respond. It was all too much. The writing on the quidditch pitch, her talk with Sirius, the confirmation that not only was one of her mates an actual werewolf, but her own boyfriend was using highly skilled magic to spend time with him, no, to help him. Emotions fought to be at the forefront of her mind, ranging from complete utter adoration to alarming anxiety. 

She must have been quiet for a while because when she finally became present again in the forest, he had already wrapped his arms around her and was cradling her head against his bare chest. Now back from her fugue state, she could smell earth mixed with James’ usual smell of spice. She knew it wasn’t the first time she had smelled it before. 

“Lily, I'm so sorry. For everything.” He began to ramble. About the words written on the quidditch pitch, about the secrets that he had been keeping, about the many whys and hows surrounding Remus and their animagus form, about overall how incredibly dumb and risky he was being for all of it. Lily listened, hearing more of his jagged heartbeat than his actual words. After he seemed to have spent all his voice, Lily took her chance to finally respond. She took his face in her hands, regarded the sharp hazel eyes that were rimmed with doubt, and closed the gap between their lips. 

The tension in his body dropped like a curtain. Her lips were soft and reassuring, giving a few lingering kisses on his lips before slowly moving around his face, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids. She moved like honey, treasuring the soft breaths he made, how his head tilted up towards her, how his eyes fluttered closed, like a child being lulled to sleep by the comfort of a perfectly balanced world. 

When she made it back to his mouth, his hands had curved around her. Cradling her back down onto the forest floor and hovering over her. With hands no longer attending to it, his cloak furrowed open, leaving him completely nude against her, the cloak like enormous wings that enveloped them both away from the autumn air. 

They had been more intimate than this many times before, but this time felt different. Instead of burning heat and the claw of desire, they both moved like they were submerged in water. His hand took its time to caress each spot of skin after unbuttoning a part of her blouse. Her hands slid down his bare chest, around his back, over his bum, still unable to comprehend how this form, this man, had been able to be something else entirely just moments ago. 

He kissed his way slowly down her middle. Now with her blouse open, her breasts stood taut against him and he made a lazy path down to her nipple, swirling his tongue around the swell before taking the flat tip into his mouth. He used his hand to caress the other and Lily braided her hands through his hair, holding him against her as he worked in a meticulous manner. 

She wanted him. Just like all of the other times, she wanted him badly. But the fire within her now was a radiating, glowing heat, not the fiery burn of lust. He was like the feel of the sun when winter was ending and the world was born anew. She wanted his breath to be hers, for their bodies to conjoin and remain together, a perfect completion of a severed soul. 

He must have felt it too, because once he serviced both of her breasts fully with his mouth, he hovered back over her lips, using his tongue to softly prod her mouth open. 

“If you will let me, I would like to be inside you.”

She opened her eyes to see him staring back, deep and wide. It came tumbling out.

“James, I love you.”

His body shook. The hand that was holding himself over her gave way and he faltered a bit. She watched how her words made his eyes go from wide to impossibly all-seeing, like he had watched the creation of a new star and was in awe of nature’s beauty. 

She grasped both sides of his face, keeping him steady in front of her. 

“I love you too, Lily.”

A dam broke in his mind. After saying it, all the energy that moved so lazily before picked up speed and intention. Words started pouring from his mouth, unable to control the river of emotion boiling up inside him. I love you I love you, oh merlin Lily I love you.

He was kissing her neck, her shoulders, running his hands around her body as though seeing it for the first time. Lily laughed, feeling slap-happy, like some sort of ethereal being who had just come to earth. She let James rediscover her body and held his close against hers. 

After a moment, she found his hands with hers and pulled them up to her heart, cradling them against her chest. James allowed it, looking at her quizzically, hungry to keep experiencing her body, now in love. 

“James–”

He nuzzled his nose against where her neck and collar met, opening his mouth and leaving little nips as he went. His hardness which had never left since they started, remained pressed to her thigh like a reminder.

“I would like you to be inside me now.”

He made a small hum of contentment, lifted his body back above hers and moved himself against her center. His eyes were fixed on hers, his cheeks ruddy with the autumn wind and the general high of being in love. Lily moved a hand to the back of his thigh, guiding his lower half to move forward and finally enter her. 

His first thrust was slow and deliberate, feeling every bit of her as he went until he was fully inside. He started to thrust back and forth, a hand resting on her neck while another hiked her thigh up and around his waist for a better angle. 

Lily’s head leaned back, mouth open and emitting noises she had only ever made for him. He started to speed up, taking the thigh that wasn’t wrapped around him and led it to do the same. She arched her back and he swooped down to take her nipple into his mouth once more. The sound of skin hitting skin reverberated through the forest around them. 

Lily could feel his thrusting start to get more erratic, his body clenched from inside her. Knowing what would come soon, she took hold of both of his forearms and pulled him in the direction of the ground. She wasn’t strong enough to sway him, and he slowed his movements and arched an eyebrow in question. 

“Let me ride you.”

He didn’t need any more explanation. With a low moan, he followed where her arms had been tugging him and laid himself onto the forest floor. Pulling herself off of him to switch positions, she took the opportunity to duck her head down and take his cock into her mouth for one long teasing lick from his base to the tip. Oh fuck, oh christ Lily. The unexpected sensation made him quiver underneath her. Lily released him with a pop of her mouth and giggled at his frazzled response. 

Impatient now, he grabbed her arms and ushered her to mount him. She nestled him into her folds, letting the wetness from her center glide over him while he threw his head back and continued to spew a string of expletives. 

“Lily–please.”

She arched an eyebrow, excited to have so much power over him for once. She hovered herself higher, no longer touching but allowing his tip to align with her entrance. Slowly, barely moving at all, she lowered herself until his tip stretched at her opening before pulling back off. James’ head whipped up, eyes now burning. He grabbed for her sides and she stopped him, placing a warning hand over his. 

She locked eyes with him as she lowered down again, just enough to tease his tip with her entrance before moving back up again. His mouth hung open, eyes now pleading. 

“Merlin, you’re killing me.”

She giggled again then leaned down, finally taking him all the way inside her. He made a sigh of relief, and started aiding her hips to move up and down on him. She leaned forward, letting him catch one of her breasts in his mouth while his other hand moved down in between them to rub her clit. She made a broken noise as his fingers kept rhythm with her thrusts.

 She could feel the burning in her stomach mounting, each thrust barrelling towards the pleasure locked in her very core. It snuck up on her and she trembled over him in release, crying his name as he continued thrusting upwards into her, holding her face so he could watch her eyes flood with climax. 

Her legs and hips were spent from their work riding him. James flipped them again, putting Lily back onto the ground without ever slipping out of her. His thrusts were harder now, more intentioned. The fingers that had been rubbing her clit earlier were still wet from her come, and she pulled the hand to her mouth, taking the affected fingers with her tongue. At the sight, James’ eyes dilated. She could feel his body twitch under hers, then with a strangled cry, she felt the rush of him releasing into her. 

He let his body fall to the ground, pulling her in to curl against his chest. His hand ran through her hair as both of their heartbeats slowed down. 

“I love you. I mean it.” 

She could feel him smile. 

“Say it again.”

Lily laughed. She pulled herself up out of his arms and looked down at him. He couldn’t contain his happiness and looked up at her in earnest. 

“I love you.”

His smile grew impossibly wider. His eyes glinted in the afternoon sun. 

“Again.”

She gave his chest a light smack and he caught her hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss. 

She fell back into his chest and he cradled her against him again. 

“I love you too. Merlin, fuck, do I love you. I’m going to be incorrigible now, you realize this?”

Lily just laughed into his chest. “When are you not?”

James pulled her tighter against him, his hand started to travel lower, curving around her bum. She could feel his erection start to return against her thigh. 

“Point taken.”

With a squeal he flipped her back over. Crawling his way down her body, until his tongue found the part of her which yearned for him most. 

********

Lily loved him. Not just found him bearable, not just liked him enough, she loved him. 

The words haunted him every second of the day. He would have to give up quidditch, have to explain to his parents why his notes were about to plummet from lack of care or focus. The world was now a spyglass and she was the only thing on the other side. Damn it all, she loved him. 

“I didn’t realize they could get worse.” He could hear Peter moan just off to their side. He didn’t give it a second thought. Lily’s hands were on him, lips opening under his. Oh Merlin, how did we even last an entire class apart?

“Honestly, if I knew that telling women about our animagus form would get me laid, I would’ve—”

“Don’t even joke about that, Pads.”

“What? It seems to work pretty handsomely for Prongs.”

Ignoring them was easy for James, but he could feel Lily become apprehensive underneath him. You would have thought that by the fourth time they had stopped for a snogging session before and after a class his thick-brained mates would have become desensitized. Didn’t they know that they were in love now? That had to count for something.

“Oi! Head boy, Head girl! I don’t think dry humping is on your list of duties!” Sirius yelled, turning the heads of some unsuspecting first years who would have otherwise walked by unnoticed. 

Lily groaned into James’ mouth. “I’m going to hex your stupid friends.”

James just continued to kiss her, taking her lower lip between his teeth and nibbling. From the corner of his eye he could see Sirius cover Peter’s eyes. 

“Please do. I’d love to watch.”

Lily laughed. The damage was already done. Lily pulled away and started to walk casually towards the great lake, allowing the rest of the boys to fall in step with them. 

Sirius wedged himself between the couple, wrapping his arms around both of their waists, eliciting a noise of dissent from both parties. 

“What? Jealous Black?” Lily snorted, cocking her eyebrow.

“Why Evans? You offering some compensation?” He nuzzled his face into Lily’s shoulder, making her swat at him while James whined a protective hey! at his best mate’s antics. Sirius just turned and repeated the nuzzling on James shoulder, which led to a lot of pushing and laughing.

He had to admit, it felt good. Of course, there was still so much to talk about: they had never really unpacked what the Slytherin’s wrote on the quidditch pitch, nor really went through the finer points of Marauder’s secrets, but she already knew enough to feel a part of the group. Despite the endless tormenting from Sirius and the embarrassed look of Peter everytime she joined them, it made him happy to see her meld with the only other people in his life he cared for more than her. 

They all walked down to the lake, stopping under a wide beech tree to throw their things down before sprawling out themselves. Lily sat up against the tree and James laid draped over her, head against her stomach with his arms encircling her waist. She idly played with his hair and he closed his eyes at the feeling. 

“So when am I going to be finally initiated into your little club? Is there some sort of secret handshake I’m gonna have to learn? Need to mix some sort of bodily fluids to prove my alliance?”

“Oh Evans, I think you’ve mixed enough bodily fluids—”

“Pads…” James warned, not even opening his eyes. 

James could hear Remus sigh, then the sound of a book closing. 

“Well what would you like to know? Or I guess I should say, what do you still not know at this point?” 

Lily’s hand stilled in his hair, and James blinked his eyes open. All of the rest of the boys had gotten very still besides Remus, who was looking at Lily with soft, calculating eyes. The two of them seemed to share a moment in silence, something that only years of building a trust would have allowed.

James took his cue to sit up, taking the hand that had been curling through his hair and softly caressing it with his thumb. Sirius did not change his lounging position on the ground, but his brows were furrowed in anticipation. Peter sat quite stiff, finding something down by the lakeside more interesting with ruddy cheeks.

“You’re all animagi.”

“Yep,” James and Sirius said in tandem. Peter’s eyes snapped back to the group and took a moment before nodding as well. 

“A-and you Remus are a…” She was struggling to say it. Remus gave her a pained, weak smile that James couldn’t quite read. 

“A werewolf.” Remus lowered his eyes. Sirius reached out and patted his leg in reassurance. 

Lily didn’t say anything. She got up from her spot from the tree and took a step towards Remus, then another, then collapsed down, grabbing hold of him in an embrace. Nobody expected it, even Remus’ eyes going wide before softening. Lily’s face was pushed into his shoulder, but her voice was trembling like she was on the verge of tears. 

“Oh, Remus.” He just tightened his grip on her. His eyes were watery, but his mouth was pulled up into a smile against her shoulder. 

Nobody moved to pull them apart. There was a part of James that wondered if he should feel jealous of such an intimate moment between his girlfriend and his mate, but the thought dissipated as quick as it came. It had been such a long time coming for them to have this moment, since before he ever even was close to her. In a way, it was anticlimactic. There was nothing Remus needed more in this world than more people on his side that understood him for what he truly was and loved him despite of it. He thought deep down they all knew Lily would be one of those people, but now it was just confirmed. 

Lily pulled back and they held each other at arm's length. Lily’s eyes were blurry, but when Remus started to laugh, she began to laugh with him.

“Oh, god, the amount of times I’ve complained about stupid rubbish to you—as though you didn’t have this to deal with.”

Remus just laughed harder. When all of their emotions settled, they continued. It turned out there was not much she didn’t already know. She had figured that one of them had some sort of invisibility cloak due to using it to sneak away on the train, then was hardly surprised to learn that the ruddy parchment she had seen them all carry at one point or another was able to track people’s whereabouts. 

James watched as Lily looked down at their handiwork with awe, every so often pushing at a teasing Sirius’ or looking expectantly at Remus for finer detail on certain aspects of the charm. Even Peter finally joined in, gloating about which passageways he had discovered on his own. She never looked more radiant than she did now, completing the picture in his heart of what a family should look like. 

“So, you’re telling me that you lot created a complex magical artifact just to…muck around?”

Remus snorted and nodded his head in agreement. Sirius let out a loud laugh, then poked Lily lightly on the cheek. 

“Don’t forget watching what your pretty arse was up to. Merlin knows how many days ole’ Prongsy over there laid awake watching your name on this thing.”

Lily snapped her head up. Her eyebrow cocked upwards, a twitch of her mouth betraying her otherwise angry facade. 

“Watching me?”

James felt a blush growing on his cheeks. 

“Er, I mean–”

Lily just raised her eyebrows higher in a way that said you’ll be answering to that later.

*******

“What’s the big deal, Potter’s favorite hobby is showing your relationship off. He will be a great date.”

“That’s exactly the problem—all of the Slytherin’s will be there..”

“Lils, I promise that the whole school is well aware of you both dating. All your little snogging sessions around the castle have made that abundantly clear.”

Lily groaned and put her face in her hands. Marlene continued to lean back, taking a drag of her cigarette.

“That’s not what I mean,” Lily hissed, “I mean Slughorn’s party will be the perfect place for those arseholes to comment on my blood status where I won’t be able to do anything about it—-and you know James won’t just take that sitting down.”

“And he shouldn’t—look Lil, I don’t even know why you still go to these Slug Club events, especially since Slughorn seems to have cold feet when taking sides these days. Why don’t you just write the whole thing off and—”

Lily flopped herself onto her bed, pushing her head into her pillow. 

“You know I can’t. I haven’t missed one since fourth year—plus it’s especially important since I’m Head girl ....”

Marlene snuffed out her cigarette on the post of her bed. “Well—at the very least you will get to rub it in Snape’s face. Bet he will piss himself when he sees you both.”

Lily hadn’t even thought about Snape. Honestly, he hadn’t even crossed her mind since the day that he cornered her in the classroom and Sirius came to get her. She realized she hadn’t seen James get into a duel with him either since they started dating, something that would’ve happened on a semi-regular basis in any other time in their lives. Sirius must have made good on his promise if things were staying so civil, but now being so open in front of him might set it off anew. 

She walked down to the common room to find James reading by the fireplace. His tie had somehow loosened to the point of hanging off to one side and his brow furrowed at the contents of the page. Lily hadn’t intended on disturbing him, but the moment she sat, he reached over and pulled her onto his lap, leaving his book for another time. 

While she knew that they shouldn’t be basking in as much public displays of affection as they were, it was hard for Lily not to revel in it. There was such a surge of joy every time they saw each other, like there was not enough time in the world to fully appreciate how much love they wanted to share. It was easy to get lost in his touches and kisses when he gave them so openly. She wondered if this was how all loving couples felt, or if they had just surpassed normalcy entirely.

James immediately brought his lips to hers and she willingly let him breathe into her. He made it impossible to focus. His hands were too inviting, his smell too cloying. They might as well retire as Head’s students because they were no longer ever going to get anything done. 

“James, I need to ask you something,” she tried to sound convincing, but he continued to kiss her, pulling his tongue against her lower lip while moving her legs to straddle his waist better. Lily opened her eyes and could see a group of poor second years trying not to stare. 

“James.” 

“I love it when you say my name, even when it is contradicting me,” he started to kiss behind her ear and she tried to stifle a moan. The second years were whispering now. 

“James,” she pushed at his chest, “really, it's important. Also, you’re scandalizing the lower classmen.” James turned to the second years and gave a little wave, making all of them flush.

He turned back to her with his glasses still askew and mouth swollen. “The answer is yes, as long as I can keep kissing you.”

He leaned back in but Lily kept him at an arm's length. “I wanted to see if you would go to Slughorn’s Halloween party with me.”

He blinked at her once, twice, then raised his eyebrows.

“Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, all of those tosser Slytherins go to that.”

“You know that Slughorn expects me to go–” she trailed off. 

“Yes, let's appease the man who refused to take action on what was written on the quidditch pitch last week.”

Lily slid off his lap, resting on the couch beside him. She knew he had a point. They hadn’t really spoken about what happened the day of the quidditch game, but the effects were still there. McGonagall had tried to get the Slytherin team disqualified for the rest of the season, but Slughorn convinced Dumbledore otherwise—a move that James very vocally opposed in their last Heads’ meeting.

“I don’t want to row about it—I have to go whether you come or not—I’d prefer you did.”

James let out a dramatic groan and leaned his head back on the couch. 

“Fine, I’ll go.” Lily jumped back on his lap with delight and kissed his cheek. 

“But if anyone says anything nasty to you, you can’t be angry if I hex them.”

“Fine, of course.” Lily continued to kiss the other cheek. 

“---And you will pay me back by ravishing me well into the night—.”

“Ah, such conditions for such a silly party.”

“And you will need to make a deposit due immediately of said ravishing, so I know you won’t back out.”

His hands were snaking up her thighs, pushing her skirt dangerously high. Lily thanked Merlin that no one could see their laps at their vantage point. Between her skirt and James’ growing erection, they were not leading by the best example. 

“Take it or leave it Evans.”

Before Lily could finish nodding her head, James had stood up, carrying her in his arms up towards the boy’s dorms, leaving their younger colleagues to deduce the outcome for themselves. 

********

James was being unreasonably quiet. Worryingly so. They had walked in complete silence from the common room to the dungeons—a feat she thought was impossible for him. He even stayed quiet when she complimented him on his dress robes, expecting at the very least a polite compliment in return. Nothing. Instead, he averted his eyes, keeping his hands wedged inside his pockets like he had been hexed dumb. 

She started to worry that she was embarrassing him. Lily knew that when Slughorn said “Halloween Party” every year, he just meant a normal stuffy party, but Lily always liked to bring a little flair to the particular event. For a while she did it for fun, but as the conflict about blood status grew beyond the castle, Lily started to think it a point of pride to show off her muggleborn heritage, even in small gestures like wearing a costume. 

She had even been pleased with her choice this year. It was not too conspicuous, easily mistaken for an evening gown, but a costume all the same. The deep V neck showed off a bit of cleavage and the black velvet clung to her body. It was a power move for a Head Girl that needed to emit a lot of power. 

Normally, James would have been beside himself, afterall he was already a randy teenage boy on a regular day. Instead, he hardly even touched her, keeping a large gap between them as they walked the corridors together, something that just hours earlier would have been sacreligious in his eyes. 

When they reached the door to the party, Lily grabbed hold of the handle, already hearing the drone of boring conversations they were about to endure for the next couple hours. 

“James–you alright?” James continued to stare down at his shoes. “What’s wrong? I know you don’t want to be here, but I really need you to–”

She was thrown against the door. James’ hands were everywhere all at once, his mouth finding any place it could gain purchase, her exposed shoulders, her neck, the V of skin that peeked out from the dress.

“Evans, you are going to put me in an early grave. What am I supposed to do with you—like this?”

He was pulling at the dress now, running his hand up the high slit on her thigh to reach underneath. Behind her, she could still hear the party so ungodly close, but his touch was muddying her thoughts. It was too easy to give in to him.

The handle turned and James jumped away from her. Lily tried to smooth her hair as much as she could as Sluhorn popped his head out, eyebrows knitted together. Recognizing them, he swung open the door with a flourish of his hand.

“Ah! The Head boy and girl! I was wondering what all that racket was coming from. Come in, come in! Merlin’s Beard I never thought I’d see the day that I would get James Potter to one of my events–though I’ve certainly tried. Ms. Evans you must have done some serious convincing—”

Lily could feel James hand snake around her waist, giving her side a little pinch. Her skin still stung with phantom kisses.

“Oh, you have no idea Professor—It’s a pleasure really.” James painted on a smile that looked utterly saccharine. He pulled her body against his and she could feel him hard against her bum. Merlin help us. 

Tables were decorated with sparkling silver and students and guests alike mulled around with drinks and hors d'oeuvres, wearing their best dress robes and finest jewelry. At their arrival, many faces turned, sizing up the two as though they were prized cows at an auction. 

Lily tried not to focus on the bulge that was continuing to press into her as James fielded some light banter about Quidditch. It did not go unnoticed that even Slughorn’s eyes blinked down at the deep V cut in the velvet dress, before flashing back up to her face. 

“Well, professor, I think we are in need of a drink—will you excuse us?” James didn’t wait for Slughorn to respond, pulling Lily away from him and walking them both towards the bar. 

“I know our deal was to get through the party before I got my ravishing,” James hissed into her ear, “ but I think we are going to need to speed up this process. It seems I’m not the only one getting randy by your outfit.”

Lily made an exasperated sigh, taking a drink from the bar cart. She knew there was no escaping now that they had been spotted. They at least would have to make it through dinner before finding some reason to sneak away.��

From the other end of the room, a cluster of Slytherins talked in low voices. Lily could see the eyes of Avery and Mulciber gleamed over at them, then a familiar head turned to follow suit. Snape stood petrified, eyes locked on her and James. 

Brilliant. 

The dinner started with the normal pomp and circumstance. James and Lily were seated close to Slughorn. Being the esteemed Head boy and girl, they were expected to entertain all of the special guests that had come to appease the professor. While feigning his best behavior, James' hand slid up and down her thigh below the table, prompting Lily to jump every so often and James to break into a wider smile. 

“Mr. Potter! It’s been an awfully long time since I saw your parents! How are they doing?” 

Slughorn leaned over to the wizard next to him, sloshing his sherry. “The Potter’s are a very talented bunch, you know! Fleamont invented Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion, though unfortunately I don’t have much hair left to use it!”

Lily turned abruptly to James, who stalled his hand on her thigh. 

“What?” James just blinked at her.

“What, What?”

“Your Dad invented Sleekeazys? And your hair still looks like that.”

Slughorn burst into a laugh, chortling about Lily’s knack for being cheeky. James just leaned in until his lips were touching her ear.

“You don’t seem to have a problem with my hair when you pull on it while I’m–” but Lily pushed him away, knowing she was turning red in the face. Thankfully Slughorn didn't seem to notice, barrelling on with the conversation. 

“James, you must  extend an invitation to your parents next time I hold an event. It has been years since—” But James cut him off and there was a deliberate shift in the air.

 “That’s very kind of you Professor, but I’m afraid my parents will probably decline. You see, ever since we took in Sirius, they haven’t been very interested in rubbing elbows with the greater pureblood community.”

There was a deafening silence around the table. James’ smile didn’t falter, but Lily could tell he knew what chaos he was welcoming. He didn’t focus on Slughorn now, but at a smaller boy that was sitting across the table between Snape and Avery. Lily had never really thought much of Regulus Black before, but for someone so deep in the dark arts he had always been relatively civil to her. Now giving him a clear look, he really did look like his brother with deliberate mistakes. He stared back at James with an unreadable expression. 

Slughorn cleared his throat. “Ah yes, I heard about that—sad thing, family strife, but if they do change their mind, please let them know they are welcome.”

Slughorn tried to start up a conversation with one of the wizards sitting to his left but James took a sip of his wine and continued, making sure his voice was clear enough for the whole table to hear. 

“Actually Professor, since we are on the topic of family, I was curious about how you felt about the accusations written about myself and Ms. Evans on the quidditch pitch last week?  I was informed by Professor Dumbledore that you didn’t plan to take any action, which surprises me, seeing as you seem very invested in us otherwise.”

Lily looked at James, who continued to smile as though he wasn’t spewing fighting words out onto the table. His hand squeezed her thigh tightly, an act she couldn’t tell was reassuring or cautionary. From across the table, Snape’s eyes burned into her and she refused to look back, trying to focus anywhere but at the situation. 

“My boy, I think it’s hardly time to be discussing—”

“What? Why not? You all seem to love to talk about bloodlines and purity otherwise. Certainly seem interested in how mine is going, judging by the state of the quidditch pitch.”

“James,” Lily warned. James’ face had dropped it’s facade, now looking more angry by the second. 

“Lily we can’t just sit here and play tea party while half of these people—”

But Lily stood up, tugging at the back of James’ chair. 

“I’m not hungry anymore. It’s time to go.” She stared down at him, her expression completely dark. 

“Right.” James stood up. Years of rowing with Lily meant he knew when he had overstepped.

As they walked to the door, Avery pretended to whisper to Mulciber but made sure his voice would carry.

“Think he likes being whipped by a mudblood slut? I wouldn’t be surprised if blood traitors got off on—” but there was a cry and Avery’s head slammed into his plate. He struggled to lift out of his dinner, but it was as though his head was being held down. For a moment, he rose out of the now smashed remnants of his meal and sucked in a breath before an unknown force plunged his face violently back into the plate. 

“Sorry? Say something Avery?” Lily turned to watch as Mulciber scrambled to help his friend. James stared at her, undecided if he was in awe of her or utterly terrified. She made one last stern glance at James before pushing past him and out into the corridor. 

[anonymouschishiyaimaginesandmore]

The hard kind of Games

Minors, do not read! Contains mentions of smutty behavior!

MASTERLIST (up-to-date)

This is Part 2 !!Here!! is Part 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Alice in Borderland/Imawa no Kuni no Alice characters or original stories, only the plot of this fanfic. Alice in Borderland/Imawa no Kuni no Alice characters and original storyline belong to Haro Aso, who made the Manga the Series is based on.

Trigger Warning: Explicit Smut, Toxic Behavior, Drug Use, Gory, Written Madness, Complicated Consensual/Not-Consensual Behavior Summery: Chishiya x female OC that I gave a Name for this Story

Chishiya didn’t know how Ivy found the willpower, but her clumsy self made it onto her feet, robbing on all fours at first and when she reached the door, he pulled the glass out and went after her, ready to kill her with it. His pants laid casual around his hips, showing half his ass and if he didn’t know that the chances of seeing any of this mentally gone people again were low to non-existent, he would have felt at least slightly embarrassed, while running after a girl with his dick out, jumping at every step and hitting his abdomen.

The door closed behind Ivy just as Chishiya reached it. Fists bumped aggressive against it, before he opened it, almost ripping it out of its frame. He felt like an animal on a hunt, but wishing his prey was out of reach for him.

Sadly, that wasn’t the case as his eyes landed on Ivy’s figure, wobbling away slowly. Her shoulder hitting the wall from time to time, leaving bloodstains all over it.

He clenched his hand around the piece of glass. The pain cutting into his palm was enough to make him stop dashing forward for a moment, but he knew at this rate, he would get her. She was too slow.

The drug in her body was affecting her the same way it did him, but unlike Chishiya, Ivy had taken in most of the pain. She had gotten her body violated so awful, bleeding from different parts of her limbs that he either bit or scratched or digged in, that the blond man was still surprised she hasn’t given up yet and succumbed to her fate.

Chishiya’s steps were the ones of a men on a mission and when he reached her, grabbing her wounded shoulder and turned her around, he saw no surprise in her eyes. She saw it coming. It probably took her all the willpower she still had, to fight the urge to stay in the club, but she did. Unlike so many others inside this hellhole, she made it out. And he followed her outside. At least this part worked as planned. Now, he could only hope the drug died out before she did in his hands.

Sadly, Chishiya knew just too well how Ivy’s chances were standing. He was a med student after all. At least before the Borderlands became his new home. Chishiya knew where to stab and how deep to slice each place, to not only cause her more pain but also kill in the fastest and most harmful way. And the drug? It was using his knowledge for its advantage.

Unless…Chishiya hoped that the girl in front of him, hasn’t given up now that he caught up to her and had her at his mercy. He hoped that even tho she saw what was about to happen, this girl that made it that far and lived thru countless deadly games and mad human acts, would getter her guts anew and try to follow her survival instincts.

He didn’t want to kill her. Not because he was a good person. Not because something she did or he did or he saw, changed his perspective of humankind and definitely not because he suddenly discovered his humanity. No. Chishiya didn’t want to be someone who killed an innocent live with his own hands.

It was different to let someone succumb to their fate. Different to blame the terrible harsh world for another worthless life going extinct or when they just didn’t have the guts to look further and fight stronger to live and exist. But this? This was his own hands. The hands of a man that saved lives that he has framed as pointless. Lives that had done him no harm in any way. Lives he saved because it was his job, not because he cared. But that didn’t mean that he would have taken those lives if he had the power to do so with a snap of his fingers.

No, Chishiya wasn’t like this. Didn’t want to be like that. Killing to survive was one thing but this? This was not surviving. This was murder. Plain cold murder. And he was the murderer. About to be.

Chishiya had done his best to not only get himself but also Ivy out of the club. Not because he cared for her, but because she was the bait that he knew his drugged self would follow if it would run away from him. Sure, it was maybe a little farfetched, but it had worked. Until now.

Chishiya pushed Ivy to the ground, and she fell like a potato sack. As he kneeled, hovering over her, the glass shard in his hand, ready to stab, she spread her legs around him, giving him space to lean on her and he did. His hand with the glass shard was shaking midair, fighting against what inevitably was going to come.

Ivy’s hands were on his waist pulling him towards her, their hips meeting, his member still going strong touching her most private area and nudging against her fucked loose entrance “It’s okay” she whispered, kissing him almost lovingly. Her jaw trembled against his face while he only pressed himself harder on her.

“It’s okay” Ivy assured him again “It will be over soon.”

“No” he whispered back, his voice breaking as their foreheads touched.

Chishiya clenched the glass harder in his palm, the stinging pain keeping him from doing the unspoken, but he knew his body would soon get used to its level and the shard would become useless.

Just a little longer he thought. They were out of the club, away from the drug. He felt it wearing off slowly. If he could just resist a little longer, she would be fine. They would be fine.

“Fight me” he said, a beg in his words.

“I can’t anymore” Ivy answered, and a sob escaped her mouth, as their lips touched again.

“Please” Chishiya whispered against her whimpering lips. She closed her eyes, trying to push this moment as far away as possible, so she wouldn’t feel like giving up, tho she was and Chishiya saw it in the way her head turned to the side and away from him, accepting defeat.

“Please” Chishiya begged again. I don’t want to be a murderer, was the silent unspoken message “Just a little longer…almost…just please.”

Ivy’s head shook lightly against his own and Chishiya knew the girl has lost all hope of getting out of this situation alive. It was too much for her. The fear, the assault and seeing strangers around her doing such mad acts. Her poor brain was probably not able to withstand and broke right under the blond man’s hand, but Chishiya wasn’t in the mood to accept her defeat.

A low deep growl left itself out of his chest, as he tapped his forehead once then twice and then thrice against the broken piece of a human below him, trying his best not to let the urge take over that advised him to knock himself so hard against her, until her scull would break or his would first. It didn’t matter, both possibilities seemed so alluring.

“Fight me” Chishiya half groaned half begged “Please…just one more time.”

She didn’t want to. All Ivy wanted was for things to end. To close her eyes and drown out the male above her. For it to be over fast and as painless as possible so she wouldn’t need to struggle with staying alive and watching others die anymore. Ivy wanted nothing more than to ignore the ex-beach member, but his words hit her deeper than she wished.

Chishiya.

The same guy everyone had told her to stay away from as far as possible and to hope she never catches his attention. This guy begged her to stay alive. Someone who had visibly given less than a birds shit if someone died, no matter how close this person has been to him. This guy…This asshole and poor excuse of a human being begged her to not die.

Ivy heaved her hips off the floor to meet Chishiya’s again, the tip of his dick pushing at her entrance as her hand reached for his with the glass inside, making her whine instantly. She squeezed it, nodding slowly against him “Okay.”

Chishiya opened his hand, not enough to let go of the stinging piece, but enough for Ivy’s hand to press against it, now also cutting into her palm and further wounding her body. Their fingers intertwined as she put more and more pressure against his hand, pushing the shard deeper into his palm.

Chishiya opened his mouth, giving out a silent pained “Ah” as the increasing pain became more and more prominent. He moved his hips down, entering her slowly this time. Nonetheless, it hurt. All the time he rattled into her forceful and uncaring, wounding her insides with each stroke. It took its toll on her body and Ivy winced as she felt the red angry tip painfully going deeper until he bottomed out and she could feel his pelvis nudging her clit. Each time it touched her, even for a millisecond, her body jolted upwards. The small bud too sensitive from all the actions and the drugs effect.

Ivy pressed harder against Chishiya, as he pulled out, only to enter her again, this time just a little faster. Their lips grazed at eachother as they shared the same breath, him rocking his hips on hers while she did her best hurting him with her hand, so he would stay somewhat sane.

Chishiya picked a slow pace. This time he could control himself better, fucking her in a decent way he assumed she did enjoy. He smiled as he felt the urge to strangle her slipping away and him gaining control of his hand back.

The ex-doctor didn’t know how long they were lying there, on the floor, outside of the game venue in a deserted ally with the chilly night surrounding them and stars behind his back, fucking, but it was long enough. Chishiya realized it when he felt the familiar build up in his groin and his body that basically blue balled itself begged him for release.

He was about to come, finally, but it felt like this was the least good time. Still, he couldn’t help but feel relieved when he did. Splurging inside the younger one, his hips rocked a few more times, riding out his orgasm. This was the first time Chishiya fucked during a game, tho he had his fair share since he arrived in the borderlands. No matter what, it was also the first time he had an orgasm but his female counterpart not.

Chishiya was no saint but at least gentlemen enough to be not a total selfish asshole when it came to sex. Maybe he could make it up to her. Later. If she wanted of course. He could understand, if she wouldn’t want him to fuck her or even touch her for the rest of her life. What they did. What he did, tho he was under the influence of a drug…he wouldn’t hold it against her.

His palm opened enough for the glass shard to fall thru their hands to the ground, making a shattering tone.

Chishiya intertwined their hands more, their blood mixing. He felt pain and he knew she felt the same in hers. He laid their hands down next to her head, hair pooling around it like a puddle. When Ivy opened her lids, Chishiya realized her orbs had turned back to their normal color.

Chishiya locked his eyes with her, starring while the quiet black night of the ally swallowed their bodies “You did it” he said praising her “Good Girl.” He did his best to give her an uplifting smile, but he saw her lips trembling, tears coming to her eyes.

“It’s okay”, he said shushing her, planting pepper kisses on bruised flesh, unsure if this was the best idea, but Ivy didn’t turn away from him, so Chishiya went on, making sure that each one was placed as careful and softly as possible, almost sweet on each part of her face “You are alive” he whispered, “You made it out alive.”

To emphasize his word, he took her intertwined hand and placed it over his pulse, hoping to calm her down with his own beating heart. Ivy watched him doing it with a hitching breath, ready to erupt into another tearjerking fit, but his pulse did calm her down.

It was a slow pulse almost impalpable, but it was there, and its lazy rhythm forced her own heart to follow. As her chest heaved in a rhythmic but normal way, Ivy shifted, trying to get into a more comfortable lying position, tho the feeling of short trimmed but stiff hair tickling the abused bud of her clit, send her into another jolt, moaning while pulling her legs.

Ivy’s toes curled, and she couldn’t help it, when she felt Chishiya’s body trying to lift off of hers. Her heels laid over his exposed ass, pushing him back down and with that back inside, forcing a groan out of the grown man that still had his slowly softening dick inside his teammate’s cunt.

The mushroom-like tip was overly sensitive thru the long abuse, tho it had finally gotten what it wanted, by painting Ivy’s walls with his fluid, filling every possible oh so small slit between his dick and her insides. It was so much, he already felt parts of it running down his baggy balls, dropping down in small beads.

If he had the strength, he would lift her legs up and take a proud look, stroking his ego, but the bit he still had, tried its best to lift himself off, tho he was put back in his previous place almost immediately.

“Sorry” Ivy whined, pushing her head onto her neck, as Chishiya’s abdomen flexed, his happy trail grazing her clit again, sending yet another lightning thru her body “Just…if you could…”

“I know I know, apologies” Chishiya mumbled hastily and made preparations to rise again, but Ivy’s heels remained on his behind, unwilling to let go.

“No, I mean…if you can…” another moan escaped her, this time she bit down hard on the poor abused bottom lip “Your hand…can you use your…hand?”

“Yeah” Chishiya said confused, not understanding Ivy’s train of thoughts. As he watched her mewl under him, her legs pulling him even closer while her back arched to meet his chest. Chishiya got a glimpse of what the girl under him could mean, but there was no way right? Not here, not now, not after all that happened.

“Hand…gimme” Ivy’s unwounded hand reached for his and Chishiya gave it to her, letting her do whatever she wanted, and Ivy did. As soon as the pad of his fingers reached between their bodies most sacred places, Ivy whined deliciously, tho the corner of her lips pulled upwards into a delighted smile. Her fingers guided his in a circular motion, while her intertwined hand griped his painfully, making him hiss.

Chishiya catched quickly on what obviously bothered Ivy so much. She hasn’t cum even once and her body was begging for some kind of way to release the overstimulation Chishiya had caused. The small prideless “More” she pleaded him with, tho he wasn’t sure she even knew what she was begging for, were enough signs to know what she needed now more than anything else.

As Ivy pulled their intertwined hands to her face, still bleeding between each digit, she bit down on one of his fingers making him hiss another time but that turned quickly into a groan when her lips wrapped around said finger sucking and licking while her hips rocked furiously against his working hand.

“You can’t be serious” Chishiya whisper-yelled into the younger one’s ear, her walls clenching hard around his length, what got his own hips rocking against Ivy’s in an uncomfortable way. His body hated him for his reaction. Too close was his last orgasm that took so long to achieve and here he was snapping his pelvis against the smaller one’s body, caging her hand with his lower abdomen and overstimulating himself in an almost painful way.

But they were alone. No one else has made it out of the game yet. Maybe no one else even will. It was luck Chishiya got a glimpse of the door leading out of the venue. Chances were high, even if anyone else would find the Latin words, translate them and get the meaning, they still wouldn’t know where to stand when the next room closes up, dooming everyone inside to an almost certain death.

“Fine” Chishiya mumbled watching blood spreading over the tearstained face, completely unbothered “If that’s what you want” Ivy nodded against his finger. She felt the older pressing his forehead against hers, breathing audibly, as his fingers started to move on their own, after what she tried to make them do.

Chishiya’s hips rocked slowly. His thighs shivered whenever his tip grazed her cervix sending her into another moaning fit.

“You like sucking things hm?” he asked, noticing surprised how his flaccid dick grew hard again, pumping precious blood into his groin “I bet that’s all you did at the beach. Sucking your way thru life”

Chishiya watched how Ivy pulled another one of his wounded fingers into her mouth, wrapping her tongue around two at the same time. Was this a silent confession?

“You wish you could have had me sooner, right? That those fingers were something else?”

Ivy pulled the salvia coated digits out of her mouth. Her lips, swollen and plum trembled with yet another exciting moan, making her even more an exquisite and enjoyable sight “But I have you now, don’t I?”

Chishiya grinned. His bloody hand reached for the girls nape, grabbing it harshly and titling her head to the side. He pushed his cock as deep as he could, remaining in this agonizing upfilling state until Ivy whined with luscious eyes fixed on him. Her heels hit his lower back again and again, trying to make him stop, but Chishiya only leaned further. His mouth crashed puffy lips, giving in a deep and throaty kiss, as his hips went back into a bouncing motion. Balls slapping saggy against her cunt with each trust, ready to fill it up again.

Maybe he has lost his mind, Chishiya thought. Perhaps that was the game that broke him after all, or why else was he screwing a girl he barely knew and that didn’t even tell him her real name, right after trying to kill her in a drug-stained state. He couldn’t rule that possibility out. It was just too likely.

Whatever it was, he didn’t care. Parting from his new favorite toy to mumble sultry words “Yeah you got me, now deal with it.”

[lets-try-some-writing]

A concept for you:

Cybertronians are much more respectable about gender preferences because in a society where anything can be changed by a visit to the doctor's office, gender isn't as controversial to them as it is to humans.

Imagine Miko talking with a friend with Bulkhead nearby, possibly listening in, and as they drive back to base Miko refers to the friend with "They". Initially Bulk's confused since as far as he knew humans only used he/him and she/her, but as Miko explains, he thinks it's cool that humans didn't limit themselves if they thought the default didn't fit them.

Miko thinks it's cool too, but idly mentions that it'd be cooler if there wasn't a lot of controversy around it.

This stops bulk in his tracks, "What do you mean?" he asks, but Miko says she would rather discuss this further at base because... she's been thinking about using they/them along with she/her but worries about how it would affect her relationship with her friends.

So it's safe to say that she's floored by all the support she gets from not only her fellow humans but Team Prime as well when she finally speaks her mind.

Interesting concept. Hope you don't mind if I use this as a chance to make more lore up on the spot. But don't worry, Miko still gets her support, its just more toward the end of this post.

Cybertronians and Gender

Cybertronians as a general rule, do not care at all for gender like humans do. As Cybertronians do not actually have any physical differentiations that would give them reason to have gender, they didn't bother coming up with a set of terms for any. As such on Cybertron there was only ever one symbol used to speak of, describe, and refer to a bot. The way they differentiated each other was not through using separate terms, but by adding special tonal indicators in their glyphs that pointed toward a more feminine or masculine nature in an individual. Cybertronians only really used pronouns when interacting with other races, mainly to make themselves more relatable and appealing to possible allies.

Simply put, they had no males, females, or whatever other classifications came from other species among their people. They merely adapted to better suit their environment as needed. When not on missions, Cybertronians fall right back into using their universal designators. But since the bots arrived to earth, they have taken the time to research human customs to create designations, pronouns, and even voices that would best fit the world they have come to see as a second home of sorts.

Everything the bots presented to the humans was catered and altered to best be understandable, right down to tone, body language, and speech. Like the best actors in the galaxy, everything they did was thought out and carefully mulled over in sub-processing routines to ensure the clearest communication. Still, they did not forget their origins despite playing such an intense game of pretend. So when Miko came to base speaking of a friend who wished to go by different pronouns, the bots were a little put off but not startled in any way.

Miko: I have a friend who uses "they" as their pronouns.

Bulkhead: They as in plural?

Optimus: Is that not incorrect grammar?

Ratchet: I thought you humans only had two sexes?

Miko: Um, well they refer to themselves that way because they don't feel like either gender. And since there isn't another word for someone who doesn't feel like either, we use "they".

Arcee: And why is this such an issue?

Miko: Most people don't like it when a person deviates from the normal he/him and she/her. So it's a bit scary trying to ask others to use new pronouns.

Bumblebee: That's ridiculous! We swap genders all the time and its no big deal!

Miko: Wait, what?!

Jack and Rafael who had previously been paying little attention were suddenly very invested in the conversation as the bots shrugged like it was completely normal. When asked what they meant by that, Optimus stepped forward to explain.

Optimus: We are autonomous robotic organisms. We have no components that set us apart biologically like organics do.

Jack: So you don't have genders?

Optimus: No we do not. On Cybertron we all use the same symbol to refer to one another.

Rafael: Then why use pronouns here?

Optimus: Other species have trouble comprehending that while we use the same words to refer to one another, we still recognize our individuality. So to make things easier, we take on the designations used by whatever species we are interacting with.

Miko: So when Bumblebee said you swap genders all the time he meant that-?

Ratchet: We adapt our behavior to suit our environment. Did you really think our voices naturally sounded this way or that we have the same body language as you humans?

The children were left a little dumbstruck once the explanation was complete. But it didn't end there, soon they began questioning more and the team had to explain to them why it simply wasn't a big issue for them. However after a few botched attempts to verbalize their reasoning normally, they ended up telling stories of their other experiences to make their point.

Optimus told the children of his experiences making deals with a species of techno-organic whose largest and most dominant citizens were all female. And so to get along with them, Optimus had taken on the pronouns that equated to she/her in their society, made his voice higher pitched, and did his best to meet their customs. He was dressed up in silks at one point and danced among the noble woman of their courts. He wore bright colors and adjusted his body language to be more feminine to get along. And he even went out of his way to perform what they considered more lady-like activities since all their ruling class were female. To the surprise of the children, Optimus didn't mind all that much despite preferring to lean toward the more masculine end of the scale.

Arcee then added to the tale by telling the children of her experiences with that same group of techno-organics during a mission she had there. Among their kind the males were all very small but highly agile and the most aggressive little things known to their sector of the galaxy. And Arcee being a small bot ended up taking on their version of he/him pronouns and worked her way into their society with practiced ease. She deepened her voice, adjusted her body language, and joined the males in their activities. She fought alongside them as a battle-brother, she performed their rituals of combat, and aided them in their duty of protecting their females and young despite their small size. And once again, the children were left a little bewildered as Arcee shrugged and stated that it wasn't an issue for her since she had been integrating into other societies for centuries.

Bulkhead and Wheeljack shared their story of the time when they were working with some organics who possessed both sets of genitalia needed to produce offspring. The wreckers had used both male and female pronouns interchangeably to make their companions more comfortable. They had adjusted their behavior and swapped between male and female body language and voice pitch every other day or so just like their companions. Wheeljack had been particularly fond of using feminine pronouns while beating tailpipe since organic species tended to find the idea of a female demolishing them in battle outrageous. He then found it equally entertaining to use masculine pronouns to make terrible dad jokes around the crew. Bulkhead on the other hand liked to use feminine pronouns while working on artistic pursuits since it made him feel more inspired. And at the same time he liked using masculine ones while fighting since it aided him in feeling confident.

The children for their part didn't find this particularly odd since Bulkhead and Wheeljack already gave them mixed wine aunt/fun uncle vibes. As such they nodded sagely as Ratchet threw in his own tale to the mix.

At one point the medic had been among a technological species that was built with a specific function based on two models that were akin to male and female. They viewed those who were not forged in either of these models as holy and to respected. So when Ratchet turned up to do some research during his medical schooling he found himself heralded as some sort of saint due to his effective androgyny. Not wanting to be bothered figuring out the specifics he took on the species' version of they/them and moved on with life. Although to keep them from being uncomfortable he evened out his voice, adjusted his alt-mode to something that didn't lean too far toward either side of the gender scale, and did his best to remain focused on his studies. He actually ended up enjoying being referred to by their version of they/them since it meant he wasn't obliged to do anything outside of his studies or comply with any of their cultural norms.

The children blinked rapidly in disbelief at hearing this but opted to not think on it too hard. Ratchet had always been so much like a dad, a grumpy uncle, and a tired grandpa that is was hard for them to see him in a more androgynous light. Jack and Rafael weren't all that invested in Ratchet's story, but Miko was totally enthralled at the idea of one of the bots going by they/them at some point. She only grew more interested when Bumblebee added his own experience to the table.

Bumblebee upon seeing Miko's excitement perked up and went on to tell her and the others all about his younger years. On Cybertron, to allow younglings and sparklings to discover themselves, they were not given gendered pronouns when interacting with other species no matter the situation. Bumblebee was always given the species gender neutral pronouns whenever he interacted with them or he was only referred to by the Cybertronian designation used for all bots. It stemmed from the belief that sparklings and younglings were pure and therefore should not be tainted with the sinfulness of the world around them until they had fully developed. As such he spent his entire sparklinghood using the Cybertronian designation or other neutral pronouns all while never being forced to be more feminine or masculine. It was his choice and only once he was grown in frame did he choose to use masculine pronouns when interacting with other races when possible.

Miko's eyes sparkled at this, although Bumblebee made sure to clarify that like the rest of the team, he did not care for gender like organics and would willingly swap as needed. Of course after every bot shared their stories, one question hung in the air.

Wheeljack: So kid, why did you bring up the topic of gender anyway? Something going on or were you just interested?

Miko: I was thinking of using they/them alongside she/her since I don't always feel comfortable only being seen as a girl.

Bulkhead: Cool. Do you want us to start using they/them now or a later?

Miko: Cool? You don't think its weird?

Arcee: Is there a reason to? We just told you about how gender does not bother us at all.

Miko: I'm an organic and I can't rearrange my body like you bots can. I don't know... I guess I was worried you would think it was silly for me to want to be seen differently.

Optimus: If I were you, I would take some time to do some "soul searching" as you call it before you make any changes to your body. But beyond that, we will gladly support you in your journey of self-discovery.

Miko: You mean that?

Bumblebee: Of course! It's better to be your true self rather than remain locked in a box your whole life! How can you figure out who you are if you never try anything new?

Ratchet: So long as you don't make your chosen designation your entire personality, I see no issue with you changing your pronouns.

Miko: Guys...

Miko was quickly met with casual and not at all overbearing support. The team didn't make a big deal out of her decision and quietly began referring to her as they/them every now and then to help her decide if she liked it or not. Optimus would take time with her on occasion and swap his persona around to match hers to make her feel more comfortable. On such days he would swap to using more non-gendered pronouns to show his support, even adjusting his voice, tone, and body language as he would with other species to show his support.

Ratchet took it upon himself to ensure Miko felt at peace with her feminine nature and female body to contrast Optimus's gentle teachings meant to safely help her explore this new idea that she was fostering. To ensure her desire was not due to her changing body and hormones, Ratchet sat down with June and walked Miko through a deep-dive of the female body (much to her boredom). Once that was done, he went through a series mental health questions to assess her and once again look for possible issues that could have caused a degree of dysmorphia. Then finding nothing serious he took the opportunity to also swap his pronouns, voice, and overall disposition around to give her a better idea of what she was trying to become.

Bulkhead and Wheeljack didn't so much as stutter as they rapidly began swapping through pronouns over the course of a few weeks. They both preferred sticking to a set, but they were willing to swap around to show their support and show Miko that gender really isn't all that important in the grand scheme of things. They made a point to still do what they always did even while adjusting their voices and body language. They didn't want her to feel that she was an outcast or that her choice of pronouns changed anything about her place among them. Miko appreciated their efforts and often enjoyed watching them present differently.

Bumblebee for his part didn't change his pronouns or anything. He was content to just give Miko words of affirmation and treat her kindly as he always had. There wasn't a need for him to make a big deal out of it since it really wasn't all that big of a deal. Miko wasn't altering her body or harming herself in any way, so Bumblebee was not pressed to make it an issue by being super outspoken about the whole thing. Although at one point he did teach her a few of the other alien versions of they/them that he had used over the centuries just in case she found one to be interesting.

As for Rafael and Jack? They literally did not care, but in a good way. They didn't change anything about how they treated her or interacted with her. They just gave her a thumbs up as she went about figuring out what she wanted to be called and continued on with their day.

[ironwhumper359]

Tenets of Growth: Part 9

Honor and Obey

First: The Path of Cultivation Prev: Groundwork || Next: title

CW: conditioning, kneeling, restrained, stress position, humiliation, conditioned whumper (whumper is also a whumpee, who believes they are doing the right thing), religious themes, religion used to justify torture, fantasy world.

Word count: 2,300~

Author's Notes: This chapter is a little lighter on the whump itself, and is more a way to exposit some stuff and set future scenes up, but there's a little bit of whump there too!

— — — 

After a successful replanting, Initiate Cedar has responded relatively well to his first meditation. The subject was the Vow of a Seed. Additional goals for his first day of study include the Initiate’s Code of Conduct, and I hope to introduce the First Tenet of Growth either today or tomorrow. 

Aster hesitated, her quill hovering over the page of the logbook Lady Lantana had given her. Her instructions had been to write about every aspect of Cedar’s training for the Cultivator to review, but something held her back from putting her question to paper. She had learned that she was not to show any doubt, so how would Lady Lantana react if she expressed her difficulty? 

A challenge I have encountered is my own inexperience with the– 

She paused, considering her words. 

–physical aspects of cultivation. I find myself wishing for the knowledge that Pruners have of the human body, of how much it can take before succumbing to pain or exhaustion. Still, I remain optimistic about Initiate Cedar’s progress. 

Nodding to herself, Aster set her quill down on the desk and stood. It had been perhaps two hours since she left Cedar’s cell, instructing the youth to meditate privately on the Vow of a Seed. In that time, she had taken a meal, spent some time in personal study in the Nursery’s library, and meditated on the Vow of a Cultivator. The shape of the Vow in her soul was still new and unfamiliar to her, and she knew she had many more hours of meditation ahead of her before she truly understood it. But for now, she had to put all of that from her mind. 

“When you are working directly with Initiates, your focus must be entirely on their growth,” Lady Lantana had instructed. “For as a Cultivator, their growth is your growth. You yourself become closer to Perivyta as you guide others to her.” 

Aster took a deep breath, then turned and left her room, leaving the log open on the desk. She attempted to find her way through the Nursery’s corridors on her own, but she was still so unused to navigating the Nursery without a leader. Eventually, after ten minutes of wandering, she was forced to ask for directions to the kitchen, where she procured a bowl of thin, watery porridge to bring to Cedar. Thankfully, she managed to make it from the kitchens down to the training cells without further incident, and soon found herself outside his cell door. 

She took another breath, straightened her spine, then opened the door and stepped into the room. 

Cedar was still chained so that he knelt on the floor, unable to look up, but the flinch at the sound of the door clanging shut let Aster know that he was awake and aware of her presence.

“Initiate Cedar, what is the Vow of a Seed?” she asked. 

“I am a Seed,” Cedar said immediately. “As a Seed, I am helpless. I am dependent on Perivyta for every gift of life. I owe my very breath to Her, and so I give Her thanks.” 

“And what does this vow mean?” 

“I am a Seed. As a Seed–” 

“I did not ask you to recite the vow again,” Aster interrupted. “I asked you to tell me its meaning. Or has your time of meditation been in vain?”

“No!” Cedar said quickly. “Um, it means…” he took a shaky breath. “It means that without Perivyta, we can’t survive. She gives us everything, and we…we are nothing, without her.” 

Aster nodded, though Cedar could not see the motion. 

“You are beginning to understand,” she said. “Though you have not yet fully embraced the meaning of the vow in your heart. The sooner you do so, the sooner the fullness of Perivyta’s gifts will be made known to you.” 

She sat the bowl of porridge down on her cart, then leaned forward and put her hands on the collar around Cedar’s neck. As she suspected he would, the boy flinched and tried to jerk away from her touch, but she simply gripped the leather edges tighter.

“Be still,” she commanded, and after a moment, Cedar complied, his breath coming in shaking gasps. 

He clearly expected to have his air cut off again, and for a moment, Aster considered doing so. He would need to meditate on the Vow of a Seed many more times, why not do so now? But no, this was not the right time for such an exercise. She didn’t want him fainting while trying to memorize the Initiate’s Code, he needed his strength for now. So instead of pulling the collar tight, she unclipped the chain that forced him to keep his head down. 

Cedar began to straighten, looking up at her with fear and confusion in his eyes. Aster’s heart twisted at his expression, but she did not let it show on her face. 

“Did I give you permission to move, Initiate?” she asked, and Cedar immediately bowed back down, nearly touching the floor with his forehead. 

“No,” he whispered. 

Already, he is learning to show proper deference, Aster thought to herself as she selected a longer chain from her cart. He’s a faster learner than I was. 

She attached the longer chain to his collar, then retrieved the bowl of porridge. 

“Now you may rise, Initiate Cedar.” 

Slowly, Cedar obeyed, straightening as far as the longer chain allowed. He was still on his knees, but now his back was straight, and he could lift his head to look up at her. Nodding, Aster dipped a spoon in the porridge and held it out to him. He stared at it, and she could see the conflicting emotion in his eyes. 

He had to be starving; Aster knew that this was the first meal he was being offered here in the Nursery, and Perivyta only knew how much he’d been fed at the prison they’d brought him from. But to accept the spoonful was to relinquish this final bit of control over his life. It would not come naturally to him, which was why these few early days were so crucial. Aster herself had failed to submit fully to Perivyta and the Order as a young Seed, and she had paid dearly for that failure. She would not allow Cedar to suffer the same fate. 

“You will eat this now,” she said simply. “Or you will not eat at all.” 

Cedar hesitated for a moment, then his eyes dropped to the floor and he opened his mouth. Aster bit back a smile as she fed him the first mouthful. 

A much faster learner than I was.

“This too is meditation,” she found herself saying as she spooned the porridge into his mouth. “And meditation is a gift. We rely on the Goddess for every aspect of our lives, but it is so easy to lose sight of her presence in our day to day existence. But when we walk the Path of Perivyta, we are constantly given opportunity to take notice of her gifts and give her thanks for them. Whenever we finish eating, we say ‘I give thanks to Perivyta for this gift of her bounty,’ to acknowledge our reliance on her.” 

Aster set the empty bowl on the cart behind her, and looked down at Cedar expectantly. 

“I…I give thanks to Perivyta for…this bounty.” 

“For this gift of her bounty,” Aster corrected, and Cedar repeated the words. 

“Now,” she said, clasping her hands together in front of her. “We return to your training.” 

— — — 

“You embark on the Path of Perivyta, a path that others have walked ahead of you. In order to prevent you from going astray, there is a Code that you and all Initiates must follow.” 

After his meager meal, Cedar had been forced to lower his head back into a bow while the girl swapped the longer chain she’d briefly given him back for the short one. His skin chaffed uncomfortably beneath the leather collar around his neck, and his back and knees ached from being forced to kneel for so long. 

Still, he forced himself to pay attention to Lady Aster’s words. He still wasn’t quite sure what was going on or what she wanted from him, but an “Initiate’s Code of Conduct” sounded an awful lot like “rules” to him, and he had a feeling that knowing what exactly the rules were to be in his new life would be very useful. Every time he had failed to uphold one of these standards that he hadn’t known about, he’d been met with pain and derision, which was something he’d like to avoid as much as possible going forward. 

“Understanding the guidelines of this Code is paramount to your walk with the Goddess, and thus, questions for clarification will be permitted during this lesson. Now, repeat this after me: 

“As I honor and obey Perivyta, I honor and obey her Cultivators, in my heart, in my mind, and in my actions.” 

“As I honor and obey Perivyta…” Cedar said slowly, trying to match the girl’s words exactly. “I honor and obey her Cultivators, in my heart, in my mind, and in my actions.” 

There was a pause, and when Lady Aster didn’t speak immediately, Cedar hesitantly asked, 

“What’s a Cultivator?”

“Cultivation is one of the Paths of Perivyta that one may walk when one’s time as an Initiate is over,” Lady Aster explained. “Cultivators lead the Order, and guide all its Priestesses, Priests, and Initiates.” She paused for a moment, and Cedar glanced up just enough to see her straighten her spine. “And I am your Cultivator. Now, repeat the first guideline again.”

For what Cedar could only assume was hours, Lady Aster drilled the “guidelines” into him. His head was swimming with flowery language and redundant points, but for better or worse, he could at least understand what was being asked of him with each part of the Code. 

As I honor and obey Perivyta, I honor and obey her Cultivators, in my heart, in my mind, and in my actions. 

Always follow a Cultivator’s orders. Simple enough to understand, at least.

To walk Perivyta’s Path and to study the Tenets of Growth is the truest purpose of my life, and I will not forsake these teachings.

Be a good student of all the spiritual lessons that said Cultivator kept rambling on about. 

All work done in the Nurseries and in Perivyta’s name is sacred in nature, and I will perform this work with humility and gladness. 

Apparently, he’d eventually be unchained and expected to perform manual labor, and he was to do so without any complaint.

Posture is a reflection of the spirit. All who look upon me will know the truth of my heart and the Path that I walk.  

From what he could gather, this is why he was chained on his knees with his head bowed. The “Posture of a Seed,” as Lady Aster called it, was meant to both be a constant reminder to him of his place and to show others at a glance what that place was. Eventually, he’d be expected to hold the pose without restraints, but for now, the chains were to help him “learn the posture’s shape.” 

As I heed the will of Perivyta and her Cultivators, I also heed those who have walked the Initiate’s Path before me and are rich in the Goddess’s fruit. 

Cultivators were only one kind of Priestess, and Cedar was expected to obey any Priest or Priestess who gave him an order, so long as that order did not contradict the order of a Cultivator. 

As I am not fully grown in my walk with Perivyta, I associate only with others who are on this walk with me and with those who guide me. 

“What does that mean?” Cedar asked bluntly. He’d understood the other mandates well enough, only needing minor clarification, but this last one made no sense to him. 

“You are freshly replanted, Initiate,” Lady Aster explained. “It is important that you are surrounded only by those who will help in your growth. You are not to have any contact with those who do not also walk the Goddess’s Path.” 

“So don’t talk to anyone who’s outside the Nursery,” Cedar clarified. 

“Or even those within the Nursery who do not walk the Path of Perivyta.” 

Cedar frowned. 

“Who in the Nursery isn’t on that Path?” 

Lady Aster paused, and for a moment Cedar thought she wasn’t going to answer at all. 

“Sometimes there are visitors, or those who have come seeking guidance,” she said eventually. “As a general practice, simply do not speak to anyone who does not wear the robes of the Priesthood. Is that clear?” 

“Yes, my lady,” Cedar said aloud. But inside, his thoughts were racing. 

There was something more to this rule, something that the girl was unsure how to speak about. Why was this so important that it got a special entry in the Initiate’s Code of Conduct? Don’t speak out of turn, don’t act out of turn, follow orders, memorize the rituals, all these rules he at least understood the purpose of. But this last one… 

“Initiate!” Lady Aster snapped, and Cedar realized she had spoken without him hearing. 

“Yes, my lady?” 

“I said recite for me the entire Initiate’s Code.” 

Cedar grimaced. He knew he wouldn’t remember every word perfectly, which meant more “meditation.” Taking a deep breath, he began to speak. 

“As I honor and obey Perivyta, I honor and obey her Cultivators…”

— — — 

Aster picked up her quill, and wrote a final line in her logbook. 

I also am in need of guidance on the best way to introduce the subject of the Chaff.

— — — 

Prev: Groundwork || Next: title

[monstersdownthepath]

Spiritual Spotlight: Orcus, the Prince of Undeath

Chaotic Evil Demon Lord of Death, Necromancy, and Wrath

Domains: Chaos, Death, Evil, Magic Subdomains: Demon, Divine, Murder, Undead

The Complete Book of the Damned, pg. 84~85 The art, however, is from Magic the Gathering, since Orcus’ illustration in the BotD is... laughable.

Obedience: Grind a half-pound of bones from the skeleton of a sentient creature, mix with water to create a gray paste, and then eat it at the end of a long recitation of prayers to Orcus. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus on all saving throws against death and negative energy effects. 

Bet a few of you are surprised to see this lad make it to Pathfinder, eh? Orcus is one of the very few Demon Lords that survived the transition into Paizo’s creations roughly intact without any significant changes, though to Paizo’s credit they’ve stepped further and further away from using OGL content as time has gone on. Orcus suffers a bit from this, as his presence on Golarion is noted to be “remarkably low” due to the prevalence of more popular gods of undeath like Urgathoa, Kabriri, and Zura. Not helping his case is the fact that Orcus holds liches in the highest regard, zombies and skeletons and Constructs made of undead parts in second place, most other forms of undead in one big lump in the middle, ghosts below that lump, ghouls below ALL of those... and vampries in dead last, the “parasitic” undead seen as vermin, creatures to be mocked and shunned as though they were lepers, by Orcus and his flock.

But we’re not here to discuss the unique philosophies of the Prince of Undeath, are we? We’re here to examine the statistical benefits of worshiping a god who wishes to extinguish all free thought and lord over a nation of silent dead! And we start off with quite a benefit here for not much effort! Just a little smack of cannibalism, because it wouldn’t be a god of undeath without it. The average human skeleton weighs roughly 20 pounds (I bear the burden of this question in my search history so you don’t have to), which means one complete pile of bones will last you over a month if you need it to. Half a pound of bones is quite lean for an Evil god, letting you get away with carrying around sacks of bones without anything really identifying them as humanoid. Just a bag of vertebra, or long bones from the arms or legs, or a fractured ribcage and skull fragments, and even inquisitive town guards will have little to go on when they’re waved off as bones taken from animals for soup stock or crafting material. Hell, take up scrimshaw to really sell the illusion AND make your character cooler in one go!

The best part? They don’t even HAVE to be human bones! They can come from ANY sapient creature! Dragons, Magical Beasts, Aberrations, anything with an Int of 3 or more is your Hearty Breakfast! And there’s even LESS of a chance of you being outed as an evil monstrous freak because of that! And, to top it all off, the recitations to Orcus can be easily disguised as prayers to a more mainstream faith if someone crawls up to you and listens too closely.

The benefit is decent. Death AND negative energy effects crop up only occasionally, but having protection from them isn’t something you should ever turn down, given the fact death effects tend to... well, be deadly. However, this benefit loses almost all of its bite in an Evil vs Good campaign, as Good-aligned creatures aren’t likely to be throwing around Inflict Critical Wounds and Finger of Death... but if you’re regularly going up against other Evil creatures--and ESPECIALLY Evil Undead--this bonus will give you an incredible advantage against them.

Boons are acquired slowly: the first once you reach 12 hit dice, the second at 16, and the third at 20. However, the Evangelist, Exalted, and Sentinel Prestige Classes can be entered as early as level 7; doing so grants you the Boons at levels 10, 13, and 16 instead. Servants of demons may also take the Demoniac Prestige Class; you don’t get the Boons any faster than E/E/S, but you may select which set you want, and you get cool demon-related powers!

------- EVANGELIST -------

Boon 1: Power of Death. Gain Inflict Light Wounds 3/day, Death Knell 2/day, or Animate Dead 1/day.

We’ve been over the likes of Inflict Light Wounds and Death Knell before, with the latter having a function that’s too overly narrow for my liking. If you want to use a standard action to execute an enemy, just walk up and stab them! Though, like every time I’ve mentioned before, Death Knell does shine against creatures with Regeneration or abilities like Ferocity and Diehard that you otherwise have no means to easily kill.

Inflict Light Wounds is basically worthless as damage by the time you get it, useful only as a quick patch-up job for any ally of yours healed by negative energy... Like the veritable army of zombies you’re going to create thanks to Orcus being kind enough to give you Animate Dead as a spell-like ability. Without the restriction of the expensive material components cost, you can freely raise an endless number of zombies in your thrall and completely, utterly shatter action economy for the rest of the campaign, something you may want to consider NOT doing for the sake of your DMs sanity.

Animate Dead allows you to command 4 HD of zombies or skeletons per caster level you have, typically allowing you 36 HD of additional allies by the time you achieve this spell, more than enough to raise the bodies of all the hapless commoners you just slaughtered and unleash them upon the survivors. The standard action casting time is especially heinous when it requires nothing more than a thought to activate the spell, letting you immediately turn the site of an enemy’s slaughter on its head

If you want to be a bit more economical (and more game-breaking), you may be able to convince your DM to use the expanded rules and double the HD of a specific corpse or two to make them rise as Bloody Skeletons, unkillable Undead that rise from their mangled remains an hour after being destroyed. They make excellent recurring siege engines, rising from their destruction again and again to work at a single task until it’s complete. The same expanded Animate Dead rule allows you to create Burning Skeletons, which set all they touch alight, Plague Zombies, which carry a lethal infection that creates more free zombies for you, and Fast Zombies, which move with supernatural swiftness and can attack more often.

It boggles my mind thinking of all the uses for Animate Dead as a spell-like, especially for a character in service to Orcus, who wouldn’t have much of a moral stance against killing small villages they cross to add to a hideous undead army. The only limit is the HD leash, but even that just means the zombies and skeletons wander off to do their own thing, they aren’t destroyed!

Boon 2: Destined for Undeath. You are damaged by positive energy and healed by negative energy, as if you were Undead; the bonus on saving throws granted by your Obedience applies against positive energy effects instead of negative energy effects (you retain the bonus on saving throws against death effects). In addition, you gain immunity to exhaustion, fatigue, and nonlethal damage, and you gain a +4 bonus on saving throws against death effects, diseases, mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poisons, stunning, and effects that cause damage, drain, or penalties to your physical ability scores.

i

hm.

y’know, maybe working with a demon isn’t bad, actually.

The negative healing is a pretty hefty downside if you’re trying to pretend to be a good person, though. If you’re not AND you have access to an Evil Cleric or similar, you’re perfectly fine. Antipaladins can give you a big chunk of health via their Touch of Corruption, and you no longer have to worry about being caught in the blast of your friend’s Channel Energy. You can even heal yourself with the Inflict Light Wounds from the first Boon, if you need!

It is, honestly, just a small roadbump when compared to getting... well, what is basically a +4 flat bonus to your saving throws. The sheer number of status effects this ability protects you from covers almost every indirect avenue of attack an enemy could possibly level at you, and since it’s an UNTYPED bonus it will stack with everything else you grant yourself (which means you have a +8 to saves versus death effects!), making it VERY hard to get any ailment to truly stick if you use even minor additional enchantments. Constructs and Undead are typically balanced by the fact they die at 0 HP instead of going unconscious, but you have the benefits of undeath without the downside!

The most important note here is that it guards against any status ailment that would affect your physical ability scores, anything that affects mental ability scores can slip under this ability’s protection! ... provided it’s not mind-affecting, of course, since you ARE warded against those as well.

This is an incredibly strong defensive bonus kept in check by its lack of scaling, preventing you from relying on it alone. As you level up you should be scaling it up through other sources, because again, an untyped bonus will stack with everything! The biggest downside is that if you ever DO become an Undead, as your god encourages, this becomes a blank Boon. But by then you’re an intelligent Undead with an army at your disposal, so it balances out.

Side note: immunity to nonlethal damage technically means you no longer have to eat or drink (or at least can fast without consequence), so take that as you will.

Boon 3: Word of Finality: 1/day, you can cast Power Word Kill as a spell-like ability. However, it becomes a Necromancy [death] effect, not an Enchantment (mind-affecting) [compulsion] effect.

Power Word Kill is an interesting spell. especially if you get it two levels earlier than other casters. With no saving throw, you instantly snuff out the life of a living creature with 100 or less HP, letting you bypass any normal death-prevention the creature may have (Diehard/Ferocity, Regeneration, etc). As most NPC people won’t have HP approaching that amount, using it as an intimidation tactic is especially viable if you don’t mind blowing a powerful 1/day for style points.

Side note: while normally spell-likes have no components, Word of Finality’s description states it requires you to speak “a single word of unfathomable dark power,” so people WILL know you’ve used it.

The downsides of Power Word Kill, and all the other Power Word spells, are painfully known and talked to death. The biggest one is that, aside from extremely specific and narrow-use spells or magic items, tracking an enemy’s HP is more or less impossible. The best you can do is ask the DM how rough the monster’s looking or keep a running tally of numbers you’ve dealt in combat so far and take a guess (HINT: Most creatures hovering around CR 15~16 range have between 150~250 HP, with it rising by an average of 40 per CR), but as many will note: 100 HP is not a lot to cut through by the time you’ve reached level 12 or so and have a decent few DPS players. At level 15, 100 HP represents approximately 1 round of work once the team sets up, but sometimes you NEED to shut down an enemy at 100 HP immediately and with no saving throw, such as if its turn is coming up next and it’s about to kill everyone else in the room. Don’t think of it as saving just one round, think of it as saving the turns of your 3~5 allies so they can deal with any OTHER hazard in the room.

There was also the fact that, as a mind-affecting effect, almost every creature worth using it on likely had some level of defense against it, especially since Mind Blank starts showing up around this time. Changing it from a mind-affecting effect to a Necromancy effect is a double-edged sword, as it allows the spell to affect far more creatures than it could before... But, as a death effect, it’s actually easier to defend against (with Death Ward) and has a harder and harder time striking down boss-level enemies as your power grows. It’s best used for mopping up lesser enemies during big battles and, again, intimidating civilians.

------- EXALTED -------

Boon 1: Necromancer’s Secrets. Gain Detect Undead 3/day, Command Undead 2/day, or Vampiric Touch 1/day.

As is the usual for Evil deities based around death and destruction, these first few gifts are only really useful if you yourself are frequently fighting other Evil creatures. If you’re in an Evil vs Good campaign, you’ll likely never actually get to use Detect/Command Undead, seeing as how creating zombies is typically something Good people don’t do. They also require a bit of foresight; you’re unlikely to know exactly what you’re going to face in a given day unless you have advanced information (or are, like, heading into a tomb), meaning there’s a chance you may simply take the wrong spell.

Command Undead’s name isn’t exactly indicative of its function; it’s more like Charm Monster in that intelligent Undead suddenly become your bestest friends forever for the spell’s duration... which is one DAY per level, meaning getting an extremely lucky shot on a Lich or a Nightshade may simply bring a climactic encounter to a crashing halt as the party gains a new weapon. Just... just don’t let them cast Dispel Magic on themselves.  

UNintelligent Undead receive no saving throw and are entirely dominated by the spell’s effect, but can’t receive orders more complicated than “go here” or “attack that thing.” I do appreciate that commanded zombies can be ordered to destroy themselves before the spell’s duration runs out, but with its massive duration and the option to just recast it over and over, that likely won’t be much of an issue.

You can’t really go wrong with Vampiric Touch, in the end! A simple melee touch attack siphons 4d6 (+1d6 per 2 levels you have) damage and grants you half of what you deal as temporary HP. It works against everything and tends to give you enough HP to afford tanking the AoO to leave the enemy’s threat radius (unless you want to be there in the first place).

Boon 2: Invoke Death. 1/day, you can cast Slay Living as a spell-like ability. A creature slain by this spell immediately rises from death as a Juju Zombie. The Zombie is not under your control, but it will not attack you.

I mean... Slay Living is alright. It’s 12d6+13 typeless damage which grows by 1 per level. It works against any living target and the fact it’s typeless lets it bypass elemental resistance... but it’s a touch attack AND a successful Fortitude save (which is often the highest save a given creature has) cuts its impressive damage track down to 3d6+level instead, damage that’s okay but hardly worth writing home about. It’s also a death effect, making it utterly useless against many higher-tier foes you’ll begin facing at this point (consolation ribbon: it only works on living creatures, so you never have to run into the frustration of wasting it on Constructs or Undead).

And it’s even a once per day for the extra kick in the teeth! The second half of this ability isn’t even particularly juicy; Juju Zombies retain all of their abilities, memories, and even their personality, and get a suite of new powers, resistances, and ability score increases on top of it all. Since the resurrection happens immediately on death, it can actually be a huge disadvantage to use in combat, because all you may end up doing is giving your enemy a phase 2 as they pull themselves back to their feet with a new healthbar and new powers. The stipulation that they can’t attack you has no expiration date, presumably meaning they cannot harm you directly at all, but they have no reason to serve you and in fact may still hate you viciously. They can’t attack you, but they can attack your allies, and they can certainly escape to set up a plot that allows them to kill you without ever directly attacking.

Good thing you have Command Undead, right? That’ll go a long way to swaying your enemies to your side... or you can skip out on all that nonsense entirely and realize that you now have the power to raise your allies as Juju Zombies that are incapable of betraying you. Remember what I said about your enemies getting a Phase 2? Well what about giving one to your Fighter, who’s on his last few drops of HP? Your service is not yet over. Blast the last few bits of HP off them and give them a second health bar, a new coat of paint, and a tireless body. Then, if they for whatEVER reason don’t like the body you’ve so graciously given them, they can be slain again and raised as normal later when the team is safe. Really, using it on an enemy feels like a waste.

... Y’know, as written, there’s nothing stopping you from using this ability on yourself.

Boon 3: Call the Dead. 1/day, you can summon a Nightwing, 1d3 Devourers, or 1d4+1 Advanced Mohrgs as if you had cast Summon Monster IX.

A Nightwing is a terrifying, bat-like phantasm and member of the Nightshade family of monsters, horrors born in the deepest reaches of the Negative Energy Plane. They are pure death incarnate, and it says something when the weakest Nightshade, the Nightprowler, is CR 10. Nightwings are CR 14, monstrous flying creatures with a swath of powerful supportive spell-likes and an incredibly damaging bite attack (4d10+18 +4d6 Cold and a dispel attempt on any creature or item they bite) that vastly amplify how effective even a small army of zombies can be.

All Nightshades produce an aura of desecrating magic that empowers Undead in the area and vastly amplifies the number of Undead that can be raised with a single spell, AND they’re able to channel negative energy as a Cleric; Nightwings specifically can channel 7d6 points of negative energy eight times a day, letting them patch up your whole army at once. Even if you don’t have a party or army of Undead, the Nightwing can still offer bonuses like Haste, Greater Dispel Magic, Deeper Darkness, Invisibility, and 1/days like Cone of Cold and Finger of Death. The problem is that you’ll have to make your army the old-fashioned way, as Nightwings cannot create Undead and you don’t get Animate Dead for free by being Exalted. You gotta spend actual money!

Of the options presented, the Devourers hardly factor in. They only stick around for a few rounds, certainly not enough to take advantage of their spell-likes like Animate Dead, Bestow Curse, and Suggestion, and especially since they need to eat first. Given they come into play with an empty tank, they’re basically melee-only creatures who, at their best, deal 12d6+18 damage to a living target... and at worst, deal only 3d6+18, which again is restricted only to living targets. Typically, by the time they snap up a worthwhile soul that lets them use their powers effectively, their duration is almost up. The fact you could end up only summoning one is also a major factor, because when that danger is possible, why not summon the Nightwing? It’s more powerful and it doesn’t need fuel to run.

Which leaves the Mohrg... 1d4+1 of them. That’s upwards to five bodies to get in the way of your foes, each of which can force a DC 23 Fortitude save to paralyze a target for minutes at a time? Even boss-level foes can fail those when they’re having to make five of them a round. Mohrg aren’t especially resilient creatures, but they’re basically two to five castings of Hold Monster every round for nearly two minutes, and really, that’s significantly better than anything the Devourer can offer you. Plus, their ability to create Fast Zombies out of anything they kill means you can loose them on a hapless population to stir absolute, unholy chaos... all without revealing it was you, because remember: Spell-likes have no components!

------- SENTINEL -------

Boon 1: Abyssal Rage. Gain Doom 3/day, Sound Burst 2/day, or Rage 1/day.

Nnnnot an especially strong showing to start. The first two are negated by saves, and spell-likes all scale off Charisma; unless you’re dumping points into your Cha as a martial character for some reason, that means Doom and Sound Burst are unlikely to make the impact. While I’m not normally harsh on spells like this being given to the Sentinel, the fact of the matter is the impact they’d have even if the enemy somehow did fail its save is too low to matter anyway. If you had to pick between the two, the potential mass-stun from Sound Burst surpasses anything Doom could ever do.

I’m not the biggest fan of Rage, either. The combat bonus it gives will stop mattering in another level or so, though in the fairness to the spell it is a morale bonus, thus stacking with enhancement bonuses, alchemical bonuses, etc. It’s hard to be mad at +1 to attack and damage rolls and +1 HP/level across all your front- and midliners, though it’s not likely to turn the tide of whatever battle you’re in. It’s more of a tiny, useful bonus than the game-changers I like to see as 1/days.

Boon 2: Aspect of the Prince. You can cast Divine Vessel 1/day as a spell-like ability, but only to assume a Fiendish Aspect. Instead of gaining two claw attacks from this fiendish aspect, you gain a gore attack that deals 2d6 points of damage.

Now this is a game-changing 1/day! Divine Vessel is a spell that ONLY Oracles get to use naturally, and for a damn good reason: because giving it to a martial character like yourself would be downright bonkers. I mean, +8 to Str, +6 to Con, +3 AC, Spell Resistance 12 + your caster level, AND you and all of your equipment increased by 1 size category. Your space and reach go up, and the Fiendish Aspect specifically grants you a fly speed, See In Darkness, DR 10/Good, and 10 Resistance to Acid, Cold, and Electricity.

You go from a warrior to a titan, unburdened by the Oracle’s lack of heavy armor, 3/4ths BAB, and lack of weapon proficiencies. For those who don’t want to do quick math, the spell gives +4 to attack and damage rolls, +3 HP per level and +3 to Fort saves, SR 23 (+1 per level), 10ft of space AND reach, plus the added damage from your weapon size going up (melee only; ranged weapons aren’t affected), AND FLIGHT... You’re a problem that’s impossible to ignore, and perhaps impossible for some foes to surmount, considering DV is an 8th level spell that you’re getting five levels early, at a point where 20+ SR gives you around a 25% to 50% chance to ignore a spell outright, including any attempt to dispel your buff.

With a duration of “one entire boss battle,” I can think of few weapons more terrifying in the hands of a full-martial character like the Sentinel, and it’s a hell of a step up from most 2nd Boons that Sentinels get from the majority of deities we’ve seen! How generous! What’s the catch, Orcus?

Boon 3: Wand of Orcus. 1/day as a swift action upon successfully hitting a creature with a melee attack with a heavy mace, you can cast Slay Living on that creature. You must be wielding a heavy mace when you utilize this ability—while the heavy mace can itself be magical, it can’t be one that bears any form of lawful or good magic (such as a Holy Weapon) or one that has particular power over undead (such as an Undead Bane or Disrupting weapon). 

Wow! That’s quite the catch! So once a day you can tack a burst of 12d6+16 damage to one attack against a living creature? And a successful save reduces it to just 3d6+16? How... generous of our Lord of Death!

It’s ironic to me that the Sentinel’s third Boon is essentially the same as the Evangelist’s second (with the small but still notable bonus of taking your swift action rather than standard), and coming off the heels of such an impressively powerful buff, too. It feels... well, it feels bad that your ultimate reward for being a warrior of undeath is a 5th level spell once per day. It’s an alright spell, sure; the dice average adds up to about 44, plus a flat amount equal to your level for a total average of 60 damage. But... once a day. AND the victim can make a save to make it go from 44 average to 12 average. Power Word Kill is, technically, a flat 100 damage with no saving throw allowed. and the summoned Nightwing or the swarm of Mohrg are a huge force multiplier.

Oh, and it only works on living targets. Compared to those two, this Boon is a severe letdown. You don’t even reanimate the idiot you kill! Terrible way to treat your most devoted warriors, Orcus!

You can read more about him here.

[summonhouse]

tell me about sweetheart. i see you tagging them a lot

SWEETHEART gets tagged so frequently because she is SOOO funny and also bc so many of the posts on my blog fit her theming so well its hilarious. its freaky. i think youd like her what with the robots and such tee hee. oh god this got long i summarize the entirety of the rp campaign she was for and its way way way longer than what ive got down even

art by lazer god i hope that loads!

i posted her recently in the context of her being an au of lawrie where she was made for a friends roleplay campaign and world (westal bay), so shes tweaked from the lawrie formula just slightly but keeps the core concepts- shes a robot, but unlike lawrie who was commissioned to be a son, she was created by a lonely little freak who wanted a robot girlfriend (unfortunately for him, she is male. she/her mlm winning 24/7. so now hes gay.), however the technology to make a sapient person from scrap metal got the attention of the jeff bezos of westal bay and sweetheart was taken from him and instead placed in the hands of a couple of terrible lawyers with her memory wiped. shes told now that shes human and their son despite her rampant memory loss, and even with all the holes in her brain all she can remember is vague impressions of nathan her creator- of course not knowing shes a robot, she assumes these are not memories but premonitions and that hes her soulmate and she goes A Little bit crazy as her parents neglect her and she is allowed to sink fully into delusions and fantasies about her beloved boyfriend

art by apotheoseity, dm of westal bay and writer of nathan. so swart (i call her swart mostly sorry) starts off the campaign as goofy, ditzy, real stupid. shes rich, she knows capitalism is a scam but cant do much to change it though she wants to, shes overly kind and naive and just helpless, she desperately desperately DESPERATELY wishes to assist people because she is so delusional she believes shes some sort of divine beast sent upon the earth to save everyone, because she does not identify with humans. she along w the other player characters are hired to investigate various strange and upsetting happenings around their city (westal bay) WHERE she nearly immediately gets dragged into a cult. because of course shes prone to religions indoctrination, shes very very lonely and she thinks everything in her brain is so much realer than the depressing and cruel reality around her and they tell her SHE!! can be their savior. she is manipulated into drinking the blood of a desecrated and juiced god, which is a procedure that SHOULD kill her horribly, overabundance of magic tends to do that. but. because shes a robot, she can handle it well and gains magic powers :) this further influences her terrible delusions and everything quickly goes downhill- the rest of the team are disgusted by the cult and swarts support of it, swart doesnt have it in her to refuse the cult now because shes already drank the koolaid as it were, she NEEDS to help people as they learn that the city is so much more corrupt than they thought- major labs working with the cults and experiments to try and create new gods are abundant. DURING one of these excursions into a lab shes told straight up that she is a robot, not a person, and in fact just a prototype as the jeff bezos is forcing (unknown to her) her boyfriend to make more of her as companions like theyre fucking furbies, so she just goes full fucking tilt. sooo much anguish around her and everything she tries to investigate or helps with just gets worse, her teammates dont really like her, at most they feel bad for her, and eventually their investigation leads her back to nathan finally where thats like. thats where its cemented that she is Fully fucked up bc she and nathan will do aaaanything for each other, they love each other desperately. even kill :) final conflict of the campaign as all the terrors have been uncovered is that nathan steps up to the plate on fixing it, AT SWARTS SUGGESTIONS, by killing everyone in their way so that he can uplift swart as god and remake society !! makes a big murder robot, murders mr jeff bezos, tries to murder the prime minister but the team finally bands together to stop him as his robot begins malfunctioning and trying to suck his soul up- everyone has to drag swart around and make emotional calls to her to stop trying to help nathan as he fully fucks people up it was so. so good.

im really really obsessed with her, i could go on and on and on about her characterization and every little interaction she was in but ofc theres little context bc, private rp haha. but god... she asked nathan once why he made her and he just said, i dont know, i wanted to see if i could. imagine that! her lifes so much of being dragged around, set up on a pedestal and ascribed traits- this is a cool robot i could make! this is a cool boyfriend who has to love me because im all he knows! this is my son who will look and act exactly like us! this is our new savior! this is the prototype for our new project! shes subject to so much scrutiny and she cant even do anything, its everyone around her deciding what she should be and what she should do, she'll listen to any suggestion because she feels so hopeless- its why she keeps doing evil shit, she literally just wants to help people and being told maiming others does so shes like yeah that might be true, i cant do literally anything else! shes so peppy and sweet and optimistic, she knows everyone deserves better but by the end shes so tired and broken up she just wants to kill people so that the obstacles in the road from her big happy ending get out of the way- she thinks life is like a fairy tale and there ought to be one big bad guy to be killed in a glorious just manner. in the end though, everythings ok. nathan gets therapy or something and her parents are arrested so she owns their big stupid mansion, and she invites all of her new friends to live with her, so shes probably learning how to act like a human right about now XD. heres some more of my favorite art of her!

aaaand heres her toyhouse with a more full and properly written description of her story- i dont think its been edited since the last session though hmm https://toyhou.se/14625750.sweetheart?key=2jaB07sEHwA2coD

[lunaetis]

@avaere asked :

for his hand rested in hers as he walked the plains alongside her, telling tales and bringing forth the history that had come to take place without her. he went on about the rise of liyue, how its people had come to turn to themselves for solutions, resigning from the old beliefs related to sole gods, and rex lapis spoke so proudly of their decision as they were finally, as he said it, making choices meant for humans.

then he moved onto how the many yakshas had come to fallen, how he had been to blame for their passings and how there was a portion of him regretting the chasm; " ... after we parted ways, you and i, i found myself making decisions far beyond what my past self would have done under your influence, guizhong."

a way of saying i lost a piece of myself with you were to be found underlying his words, coating them in such a regrettable tone. for he had never meant for the nation to fall to bits under the hands of a reckless archon. no. he had wished to prosper, wished to further guide a people... but it was no longer something he was capable of, there was far too much erosion.

he came to halt, holding onto her hand.

had he ever done enough for her?

" i... am no longer the archon you may remember, nor do i hold a position similar to it. i am no longer the mountain, merely the remains of a long torn formation succumbed to time. what you find in my present self is merely relics lost to a time one will come to forget, for i serve..."

no one. everyone. no one.

he gave guizhong a sweet smile; "... you. and in doing so, i wish to make amends for the years we did not see together. i yearn to do right by the choices i made that were wrong, and i hope you allow me... for i never quite did right by you, and i wish to get it right this time around, my moon. "

unprompted. || always accepting

─「归终」─  the feel of his larger hand clasping her own was a silent reminder how this was not a dream. the way his fingers fit perfectly within her smaller ones, or the SOUND of his voice that had not changed from the last time she had heard it. while the gaps between her memory from more than three thousands years ago could be filled by absorbing the scattered dust and sand, she would rather hear the tales from the person beside her than anything. he had always been fond of stories, yet she did note the tone he carried spoke of the YEARS that passed, the maturity he gathered throughout the decades.

                and the regrets laced so deeply within each syllable he uttered. those golden hues which witnessed great losses of old and new companions alike. the CURSE of lifespan, of immortality, to experience the heartbreaking agony every time a friend perished.

                just like how he dealt with her passing.

                each word was carefully taken in, ONE BY ONE, as the scenery before them also changed with each step forward. time would never stop, and new era began after the old one passed on. how her heart welled in delight to hear the how proud he was of people of liyue, of their people finally taking reign to establish a new era for themselves. he wanted to make sure they would survive even when without their archon, for he knew even his own light was going to go out one day, and he wished to prepare them to take control of their fate.

                to ensure they would thrive when he was no longer here.

                " that's where you're wrong, dear rex. " the footsteps came to a halt, and she turned to face him fully. a hand lacing with his own, while another slowly reached out to tenderly cupped his face. " you are still the same rex lapis i have known and loved. you might no longer see yourself as the mountain, yet, mountains aren't simply there as a strong fortress to keep danger away. mountain provides life, allowing countless of lives to build and create while providing the earth and soil for plants and trees to grow — without the mountain, there would be no forest, no waterfall. without you having laid foundation for them — there would not be liyue today. "

                " if there is one thing that have changed, it would be the regret you've carried for more than three thousands years. " her voice softened, as they rang clear like the sound of the BELL she created. silvery blue orbs mellowed down in utmost affection as her thumb brushed ever so softly underneath the bright amber optics of his. the eyes that had seen the miracle and tragedies, like the SUN watching over all lifeforms under his protection.

                " i'd want nothing more than to spend my years with you, to see the sights i have missed during my absence. but please, oh please know this — " she smiled at him, sweetly, endearingly, as a tinge of tears glossed over those moonlight gaze of hers. " — you have always done right by me. not a single moment had i ever blamed you for what happened. we all made mistakes and had to live with it. and you, my dear rex, had lived with the guilt of my death for too long now. " far, far too long. countless years he must've spent berating himself for leaving her side at that battle, to watch her perish right before his eyes, and relived the torture over and over.

                how many days and nights he had gone through the event in his head to come to a conclusion that he had not done enough ?

                slowly, she guided him down so that their foreheads could touch, and her whole expression MELLOWED incredibly. it was long overdue, these words, this touch, their moments together. how she wished she had cherished it more, that she had made it known how precious he had been, how treasured he was by her back then, and even now.

                " thank you for protecting our people after all these years. thank you for keeping our promise to watch over them and lead them to grow and prosper. thank you for being the great archon to them, for being a dear friend to our companions and friends, for keeping the memory of those who passed and carried them with you, and for being the god and the leader everyone needed you to be. "

                he had dedicated his entire life to the LAND OF LIYUE, to the people who looked for him for guidance. even in his very last moments as geo archon, he had made sure that their people would survive ANY obstacles and challenges that might be thrown at them. he had prepared them for the FUTURE both known and unknown.

                and now, she could feel the last of his remaining power within her. the GOLDEN LIGHT he dedicated to bring her back to life where their souls intertwined in ways that cannot be undone, even by the power of heavenly principles above.

                " i might not know how long we are given, but until the very day we would draw our last breath, i wish to spend every second with you. it is not to make up for lost time, however, it is because i want you to finally be who you wanted to be. not one of the seven, not the god of contract, not morax, but you. as rex, as zhongli. "

                carefully, she leaned back, and a SMILE brightened upon her lips, like the moon shining upon the darkest night. it was the very smile that had not changed one bit from the time they had known each other prior to her resurrection. almost like a child, those eyes SPARKED with hope, and pure love. she didn't want eternity. no. all she wanted was —

                " may i be selfish, and ask you to be mine, my sun ? "

                — him.

[bigimotikwriting]

Their Future - Part 10

Master Post

"Yumemi, what about a double date?" The girls were having some tea at Ichiko's house, helping Yumemi finalize the plans for her date with Munto the next day. "Kazuya says it's more fun with more people around."

"I'm not sure," Yumemi said. "I was thinking it would just be the two of us."

"So what's on the itinerary?" Ichiko plopped onto her bed.

Yumemi pulled out her phone where she had saved the plans that she and her mother had worked on in secret from Mr. Hidaka.

"We'll get some lunch, catch a short movie, go ice skating in the park for a bit, and then we'll walk into town to see the lights and take a picture at the big Christmas tree."

Suzume and Ichiko giggled. "That sounds like he'll have a great time!"

They could not have been more wrong.

Yumemi and Munto had agreed to meet up several streets away from the Hidaka household to avoid causing any bother.

Yumemi overslept slightly, which cascaded into further delays all morning as she tried to get ready without her father noticing. Already thirty minutes behind, she tiptoed down the stairs, gliding carefully over the creaky steps.

Seeing her father engrossed in the news, she cautiously ventured to the front door.

"Oh, Yumemi, are you heading out?"

Frozen in place, she tried to recover naturally. "I'm going over to Ichiko's to study for exams!" She grimaced internally. Lying to her father felt terrible, but she was running late and did not have time for the inquisition that would surely follow.  

"You know how good Ichiko is with science," she said, putting on her shoes and trying to get to the door.

Her father chuckled. "I do indeed. You're lucky to have friends like Ichiko." He flicked the newspaper. "Make sure you're home in time for dinner."

"Yes, Papa." Yumemi sprinted to the door before he could notice her lack of schoolbag or the extra care she had taken on her hair.

Once the front door was shut, she sprinted down the street, but she needn't have worried because while Munto was concerned that she was late, he was far from annoyed.

Putting on her ring, she could feel his elation. Then she felt something else. Distance? Reservation? He was hiding something from her. Perhaps he was annoyed after all and doing his best to conceal it.

"Where do we start?" He smiled pleasantly enough as he grabbed her hand, and Yumemi tried to put her worries aside.

That was when everything started to fall apart.

Yumemi immediately realized her mistake as they walked into town: Munto's hair, eyes, ears, and height made him a prime target for gawking, and the pair could hardly walk a few paces without being the center of attention.

She could feel Munto's nerves flaring up slightly and hoped that sitting down to grab some lunch would let them reset.

Her wishes went unanswered as they entered the family restaurant that was crowded with families and small children. As they waited for a table, there was a never ending supply of whispers, stares, and not-so-secret camera shots.

Once seated, her phone would not stop vibrating as her friends and classmates started finding the pictures on social media. The blasted device had been a present from her parents and now sat playing its own anxiety-inducing tune of buzzing and chimes.

Munto picked at his food and kept secret his true emotions behind a polite facade. By the end of the meal, he was frowning slightly, and Yumemi, mortified, paid for their meal and rushed them onto the next item on the agenda.

The movies were even worse.

Munto drew so much attention that the clerks kept ignoring Yumemi's request for tickets. She dragged him along to the theater, where they ran into a completely different problem. The seats were designed for humans, so the only row Munto could fit in was the very front, but the moment he sat down:

"Please move to the back; you're blocking our view."

Yumemi turned in her chair, squirming under the judging stares. "We're really sorry. It's just that he doesn't fit in any of the other seats-"

Munto laid a hand on her arm. "It's fine. I will stand in the back. You stay here."

He moved to the back of the theater, and when she glanced back, her stomach churned.

Even from this distance, his rage was clear: his face was dark and every inch of his stance screamed that the tiny little human theater was the last place he wanted to be, with his arms crossed aggressively across his chest.

Yumemi was surprised and a bit hurt. As irate as he was, she still did not catch a hint of it through their rings. He must have been working so hard to stash away his emotions-

That was when she saw it.

The ring wasn't on his finger.

In a haze, she turned back to face the screen, despite her complete lack of interest in the flickering presentation.

He had promised that he would never take it off. For Yumemi, that symbolized his unwavering devotion and openness with her.

That very openness had started to close from earlier that day when he masked what he was truly feeling. Apparently his anger had grown so much that even that level of concealment was no longer possible with the rings' connection active. She didn't know what stung more. She folded her hands in her lap and tried to keep tears from falling for the eternal ninety minutes that they were trapped in that dark room.

[elriell]

THIS

“You said your mother and father were wrong for each other; Tamlin said his own parents were wrong for each other.” I peeled off my dressing robe. “So it can’t be a perfect system of matching. What if”—I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden—“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?”

“A mating bond can be rejected,” Rhys said mildly, eyes flickering in the mirror as he drank in every inch of bare skin I had on display. “There is choice. And sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly. Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some … preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that. Some natural function, not an indication of true, paired souls.”

“Azriel stiffened. Let his cold rage rise to the surface, the rage he only ever let Rhysand see, because he knew his brother could match it.  "What if the Cauldron was wrong?" 

IS

“I suspected Feyre was my mate before I ever knew she was involved with Tamlin. And when I learned of it … If it made her happy, I was willing to step back. Rhysand went on before Lucien could snap a reply, “I was willing to lose my mate to another male. I was willing to let them marry, if it brought her joy. But what I was not willing to do was let her suffer. To let her fade away into a shadow. ”

“Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.”

“She glowed with good health. Except … Her brown eyes were wary. Usually, that look was reserved for Lucien. The male was definitely in the family room, ”

“Elain, the wretch, had taken the seat between Feyre and Varian, about as far from Lucien as she could get. ”

“There had been some tightness in Elain’s face as she’d said it. Normally when she made such excuses, Lucien was around, but the male remained in the human lands with Jurian and Vassa.”

“Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.” Silence again. Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed. I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous”

“Elain shuddered, drifting closer. So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open that he knew she had no idea that he had done unspeakable things that sullied his hands far beyond their  scars.”

“I’d feel bad for the mice,” Azriel muttered. Mor and Cassian howled, earning a blush from Azriel and a grateful smile from Elain—and no shortage of scowling from Amren. But something in me eased at that laughter, at the light that returned to Elain’s eyes.”

“Elain mused, at last answering my question from moments ago as her attention drifted to the windows facing the sunny street. That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room.”

WHAT

“The ancient healer jerked her chin toward Lucien. “See what he can do. If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate.” “How.” The word was barely more than a barked command. I braced myself to warn Nesta to be polite, but Madja said to my sister, as if she were a small child, “The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.”

“Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?”

“She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly.

“We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

“Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade. I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife.”

FORESHADOWING

“Tamlin looked between my sister and Cassian—his gaze lingering on Cassian’s wings, tucked in behind him. Snorted. “Seems like other preferences run in the Archeron family, too.”

“He leaned in, and the air shimmered briefly as the shield around me dropped away. His lips brushed over my cheek. “ I'd never do such a thing. You must be thinking of your other mate.”

“They’d spoken of her, her behavior, her attitude. Elain and Feyre—that was the new status of things. The bond Elain had chosen.”

IS ♥

[delimeful]

nothing in this world (i wouldn’t do) (2)

warnings: mild blood/violence/injury, demon slaying, miscommunication, impromptu first aid, mentions of spiders, virgil tempting fate with his internal dialogue again

-

Whenever Virgil wasn’t sleeping, he was on the move.

At first, it had been because he didn’t trust himself around towns for too long, and there was always the chance of a real demon slayer getting wind of that ridiculous rumor and trying to track him down and kill him for it, even though it totally wasn’t his fault.

But then, as time went on, his bizarre pseudo-popularity seemed to have a different side effect.

Namely, every time he managed to save another human and hauled them back to the nearest town, he’d be practically swarmed. Antsy townsfolk would hurriedly inform him of the horrible tragedy they’d heard about up north, or the mysterious disappearances by the woods between this town and the neighboring one, or any sort of rumor that they thought a “demon slayer” should know about.

Where exactly were all the real demon slayers when people needed them? Why was he, an actual demon, seemingly more accessible for seeking help?!

Still, he wasn’t exactly doing anything else with his life (his unlife?), and if there were less demons, that meant the world would be safer for Thomas, didn’t it? So off he went, taking the less-traveled paths and following vague leads right into more danger.

His latest case had been a requested one, from a weaver in the last town. She had received a letter from her brother saying that he planned to come visit, and weeks later, he still hadn’t appeared or replied to her many return messages. The worry seemed to weigh her down like a physical burden, and he’d agreed perhaps more easily than normal.

Now, he was wedged into a shallow crevice in the mountainside and sorely regretting that decision.

The issue wasn’t the demon, no. He’d actually been making good progress on getting deeper and deeper into its territory in the past few days.

The issue was that he wasn’t the only one hunting it.

First, it had been a gaggle of young teens, and he’d been so alarmed that he’d almost dropped right out of the trees and ushered them back out of the woods. The less humans traipsing around this deep in demon territory, the better.

Of course, that was when he’d managed to spot the swords strapped to their sides, and suddenly, never appearing before a human again was looking more and more appealing. He’d immediately switched gears from tracking to stealth, and honestly, should have just turned tail and left then.

Instead, because those kids were around Thomas’s age and he still needed to find that weaver’s brother and also he was a sentimental idiot, he trailed them at a distance, always staying downwind and poised to bolt.

They handled themselves well at the beginning, and then the environment began to warp around them, and then it turned out there was more than one demon nesting here, and Virgil had been on the brink of jumping down and interfering, swords or no swords, when--

Between one blink and the next, one of the demons was cleanly beheaded.

The demon slayer-- for what else could he be-- smiled brilliantly as the body disintegrated to ash, holding a hand out to help one of the teens to their feet.

“It seemed like you all could use a little assistance,” he’d said, turning to face one of the other demons with a confidence that visibly unsettled it. Above, a circling crow cried out raspily. “My dear Missus informed me of your call for backup.”

If the stranger’s swift execution hadn’t tipped Virgil off, the way the baby slayers looked up at him with blatant awe was clue enough. This slayer was powerful and charismatic, whereas Virgil was neither of those things, so he was going to stay right here in his crevice until the whole situation had sorted itself out.

The three other demons seemed to have no such qualms, lunging at him in a semi-coordinated attack. The slayer handled them with terrifying ease, and for a moment it seemed that the battle had been settled, as simple as that.

Of course, that was when the landscape twisted further in on itself, buzzing like a disturbed wasps nest, and Virgil realized abruptly that this was the first time he’d seen so many feral, newly-created demons in one territory.

A stronger demon was keeping them all in line, like the queen of a hive. And it wasn’t at all pleased about the intrusion.

The slayer seemed to have caught on as well, his sword held aloft in threat. “Looks like the real fight starts now,” he said with a sharp, cocky grin.

Mere minutes later, the smile had grown considerably more strained.

Coincidentally, he’d taken considerably more damage in that time as well.

The slayer had given as good as he got, but against a demon’s healing factor, it wasn’t good enough. He was losing.

“Get out of here!” he instructed, and the baby slayers hesitated, clearly torn. He shot them a dazzling grin, hiding all signs of fatigue even as another blow rattled his sword. “Come now, don’t you know an order when you hear one? I don’t want any distractions while I handle this gruesome ghoul, so back to town with you!”

He cut off any further arguments by pointedly leading his attacker astray, giving them ample time to flee. Virgil felt some of the tension fade from him as the baby slayers got away cleanly, leaving just the slayer and the queen.

Really, he shouldn’t want the slayer to survive. Not when having a slayer that strong anywhere near him, or even in the same country as him, could easily be a death sentence. That didn’t change the jolt of panic that went through him when the queen finally gained the upper hand, knocking the slayer back into sheer cliff face hard enough to snap something.

… A slayer that protected others from demons so wholeheartedly was one that would protect Thomas.

The queen advanced towards the slayer, wounded and weakened but already gloating about how his flesh would be more than enough to completely rejuvenate her. Her entire focus was on the human’s fallen form.

Virgil dropped down on top of her soundlessly, claws piercing through muscle and fat until he’d torn her nearly clear in half. She shrieked in outrage, but a skull-crushing stomp was enough to knock her unconscious for at least a few moments.

The slayer, exhausted, half-crumpled against a tree, and his shoulder very clearly dislocated, looked up at him for a moment with something like hope.

When they met eyes, however, that was swiftly extinguished in favor of wary frustration.

“Another demon?” he complained, trying rather unsubtly to grasp for the sword that the queen had knocked free of him. “Exactly how many monsters can one fit on a single mountain?”

The sword was entirely out of reach, but Virgil kicked it a little further away for good measure. The slayer shot him a petulant glare.

Virgil pointed at a scrap of bloodied cloth left behind from one of the baby slayers, trying out a questioning rumble. Backup coming for you?

“I’m offended that you think I would answer that,” the slayer responded, nose upturned, “or any other monosyllabic interrogative questions, for that matter.”

Virgil growled low in his throat, frustration bubbling up. If he ditched the slayer here without backup, there was no guarantee that someone would find him before the morning came, and Virgil was relatively sure that the demon he’d just stabbed through wasn’t the only threat up here.

Not to mention the cold. He hadn’t thought the nights were cold enough to harm people yet, but demons seemed a lot more durable, and the slayer was shaking just slightly. He remembered the few times he’d had to sit out snowstorms while traveling back home up the mountain, and couldn’t help but feel sympathetic.

So, leaving the slayer behind to fend for himself wasn’t an option. That meant doing something insanely, dangerously stupid: taking the guy with him.

Precautions first, then. He was pretty good at hiding himself from other demons by now, but human scents were a lot more trackable.

Virgil scooped the slayer sword up off the ground by the hilt, grimacing at the burning sensation it emitted. The slayer’s jaw dropped.

“Hey! You can’t just take that!” he cried indignantly, starting off on a tirade about craftsmanship and integrity. His rant cut off sharply as Virgil raised the sword and brought it down on the queen’s neck.

His motions were stilted compared to anyone who actually knew how to use a sword, but it hardly mattered. The sun-blade cut through easily, decapitating her in one motion and leaving only ash behind. He took a moment to hope for the soul of whoever she’d been before being turned, and a longer moment for the weaver’s brother, who was surely dead. Exhaling lowly, he planted the sword blade-first in the dirt.

It was tempting to keep it; he’d certainly wished more than once for an easier way to deal with his adversaries than the bloody scraps he normally got in, but there was no way he was bringing a demon slayer and a demon killing sword with him. That was just asking for trouble.

“That demon did all the work in an honest fight against me, and yet it’s the backstabber turning against his own kind who actually gets to eat me? That’s sad, even for a demon,” the slayer bit out, still trying to inch his way back up into a standing position.

Virgil ignored his muttering and took a testing breath in through his mouth. The slayer was definitely bloodied, but most of the major injuries mustn’t have broken skin, because the smell wasn’t too bad. It probably helped that he’d managed to avoid being injured in this fight, and so didn’t have a desperate need to heal like normal. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t even need a nap to make up for it.

He reached out for the slayer’s collar, already mentally plotting out the most efficient way to a distant abandoned bear den when a piercing shriek sounded, and his vision was suddenly full of flapping feathers. He staggered a few steps back with a surprised yelp.

“No! Missus Fluffybottom, you beautiful fool!” the slayer cried out, sounding incredibly distraught.

Virgil swatted outwards and managed to catch his furious assailant on the second try, his hand easily big enough to grasp it. He drew it away from his face for inspection, and realized that the screaming and wriggling bundle of fluff was actually a young crow.

“Scourge! Fiend!” the crow yelled at him in a belligerent tone that was uncannily similar to the slayer’s. He blinked down at it, befuddled.

“Wait! Don’t hurt her,” the slayer said in the most subdued voice Virgil had heard from him all evening. He looked up and found that the slayer had managed to climb to his knees, but wasn’t struggling to move further. “She’s a simple bird, no threat to you. You’ve already got your prize, haven’t you?”

There was something uncomfortably desperate in his gaze, and Virgil realized with a start that the slayer absolutely believed he was about to kill his bird in cold blood. He opened his hand, bracing for another assault, but the crow kicked off and flew right to the slayer instead, nestling against his collarbone. “Roman, Roman, Ro-man!” it crooned.

“Get out of here, you finicky little fowl, go! Shoo!” the slayer-- Roman?-- commanded, to no avail. He glanced up at Virgil, lifting his good hand and turning his bad shoulder slightly as though to shield the little creature.

Virgil averted his eyes from the bird, hopefully conveying how much he didn’t care about her. If he had enough self control to not murder-kill people despite it being all monsters like him wanted to do, he wasn’t going to snap because a bird the size of his palm repeated some swears in his direction.

Back to business. He grabbed the back of the slayer’s outfit and pulled, hauling him up onto one shoulder like a sack of potatoes. … Or like a sack of other, non-food items. Virgil sighed through his nose. Whatever.

Roman sucked a breath in through his teeth as his injuries were jostled, and then immediately started squawking in protest upon realizing the indignity of his position. The crow-- apparently dubbed Fluffybottom-- repositioned herself to a perch on Roman’s calf and joined in on the complaints with her own raspy calls.

Virgil ignored them, already focusing on the trek ahead.

---

By the time they reached the cave, Roman had long stopped muttering creative obscenities under his breath.

The slayer might have actually fallen unconscious, but Virgil wasn’t going to jostle him around just to check. If he stopped focusing on their surroundings, he could easily hear Roman’s heart beating, the blood pumping beneath his skin, tantalizingly out of reach--

… He had mostly focused very hard on their surroundings. The point was, the slayer was definitely still alive, which meant him passing out during their travel was fine. Convenient, even.

It certainly made it easier to squat and carefully lower his body onto the cave floor without worrying about any sudden thrashing on Roman’s part. Laying flat on his back with only the slightest crumple to his brow, the guy looked a lot less intimidating. He was probably Virgil’s age, honestly.

He also looked unsettlingly corpse-like at the moment. Virgil considered for a moment, and then sidled over to Roman’s side, tugging his injured arm out of the curled up position it had taken. He carefully maneuvered it until it was straight out, forming a right angle with Roman’s side.

Then, he pulled, applying a slow, steady pressure. The misaligned bone shifted back into place with a sickening clunk, and Roman cried out as he regained consciousness. Virgil released him, and he instantly cradled the limb to his chest.

“What in the name of--,” he started, and then seemed to remember it all at once. Or the wave of pain from all those other injuries hit him all at once. One of the two.

Either way, he sagged back against the ground, squinting at Virgil suspiciously as he bustled around the small space. Missus Fluffybottom landed on his forehead, making him look even more ridiculous.

“I notice I am not devoured,” he finally spoke, almost conversational.

Virgil ignored him in favor of moving to arrange some firewood near the mouth of the cave.

“Not even a teensy bit,” Roman continued, making a show of inspecting himself for missing flesh.

Virgil continued to stack rocks around the wood. He was beginning to regret waking the slayer up, dislocated shoulder or not.

“Now, my silent saboteur, I want you to be honest. Are you planning to turn me into some sort of spider?” the slayer asked, and that was enough to finally make Virgil turn with an incredulous raised eyebrow.

“What?” Roman defended, pinkening. “That’s a real thing that a demon did to some people! And you seem... spider-y.”

Virgil scowled at the insulting way the comment was phrased. Spiders were cool and helpful and oh yeah, they didn’t annoyingly needle him while he was busy keeping them alive. He abandoned the fire to stalk closer and drop to a squat by Roman’s legs, dodging a wild kick easily. He pointedly tore a long swath of white fabric from the slayer’s overlayer.

“Hey! Do you even know how long embroidery like that takes--,” Roman cried, and Virgil smacked a hand over his mouth, drawing close and hissing quietly. The sound was close enough to a shush to get his point across, going by the way the slayer huffed indignantly but didn’t speak when Virgil pulled his hand away.

He did whine in protest when Virgil grabbed his injured arm, but then he went still and silent, like he thought any sudden movements would end with the whole limb removed. Virgil wrapped his forearm in the fabric, and then looped the extra around his shoulder, maneuvering him as painlessly as possible, and tied it off.

Roman’s silence suddenly felt distinctly different.

Virgil pulled him up into a sitting position by the front of his shirt, and tightened the knot slightly. The sling looked just about as good as could be expected, given the circumstances.

“You are actually a demon, aren’t you?”

Speech was one of those human things that Virgil still hadn’t recovered, but he thought that the sarcastic fang-bearing smile he directed at Roman spoke volumes all on its own.

“Then why are you tenderly nursing a demon slayer back to health?” he retorted, sounding bewildered and incredulous in equal measures.

Why are you pushing your luck? Virgil thought back, clicking his teeth in irritation and shoving the slayer back into a prone position.

Roman let out a high pitched wheeze, his good arm coming to cradle his ribs defensively. “Or not-so-tenderly, I suppose. The question stands!”

Virgil rolled his eyes and returned to the half-built fire. He’d pestered the only doctor in town for first aid lessons for months, he wasn’t going to stop practicing medicine just because of a little thing like being turned into a demon that craved human flesh.

To his surprise, the silence lingered as he worked, long enough that he turned and cast a suspicious glare over his shoulder at the slayer, who jolted nervously at his attention.

“Wh-what?” he asked, fiddling with the torn edges of his sling. “No escape attempts here, haha!”

“...” Virgil squinted at him and his blatant fake laugh for a long moment, trying to figure out just what was wrong with the scene.

Wait. Where was the bird?

A chill ran down his spine, and he twisted to stare at the mountainside beyond the cave entrance. No raspy-voiced baby crows in sight.

It had to have gone for help, knowing exactly where Virgil and its slayer had holed up. Roman knew he’d realized it, was watching him with the wary expectancy of a cornered hare in front of a trapper.

A surge of furious panic did bubble up in the back of Virgil’s mind, but he quelled it with relative ease.

If backup was coming, then the human was no longer his problem.

Pleased at the neat way the situation had resolved itself, Virgil tapped two fingers to his temple in a gesture of farewell and scrambled out the cave, scaling the cliff face and resolving to put as much distance between himself and this region as possible.

With any luck, he’d never run into that particular slayer again.

[wildlyglittering]

The Perils of Being Mr. Nesta Archeron

It’s important you understand this is my incredibly poor attempt at comedy and I just wanted to write some nonsense.

This popped into my brain after seeing all the posts about how awesome Nesta is and how she had a ridiculous amount of marriage proposals and interest from human men, fae males and demons alike. 

I just kind of took it from there...

***

“I still like what Nesta’s done to the place.”

Feyre looked around the grand drawing room of the House of Wind, her dozing son on her lap and her bored mate at her side who murmured something which could be taken as an agreement while pulling off imaginary pieces of lint from his sleeve.

The House was now Nesta’s, in as much as anything sentient could truly belong to anyone, and as such was rarely used for official Night Court business. Its predominant function was as home to Nesta, Cassian and a reluctant Azriel, who’d been gifted the responsibility of ‘supervisor’ – a gift which Feyre suspected he’d like to return.

The Inner Circle still held Starfall at the House and, like now, the High Lord and High Lady of Night, would visit. When she visited alone, Feyre visited in the capacity of sister and friend but when with Rhys, it was all work.

Nesta and Cassian had embraced their titles as the Lord of Bloodshed and Lady Death and their combined reputations proceeded them sending them into every corner of Prythian and the many dark outer reaches was a tactic Rhys now employed.

The aim was to achieve negotiations and encourage peaceful surrenders where necessary but if there was resulting collateral damage, it was of little consequence to Rhys.

The other reason that the House was seldom used for official Night Court business was the unnerving issue of the House itself. Whilst the majority of the architecture remained unchanged there was the occasional surprise addition. Or subtraction.

Amren discovered the House’s penchant for the latter when, on one uninvited call, she opened a door which should have led to private chambers only to find herself plummeting through the air onto the ground. She swore blind the House foundations quivered like it was laughing.

Feyre wondered how independently the House acted from Nesta and how much it carried out her wishes. She suspected that this room, the grand drawing room, had been one of Nesta’s heart fulfilments or, at least, something for Cassian.

The room was sizable, entered from the hallway via a series of doorway arches wide enough for splayed Illyrian wings. Oversized plush furniture filled the room and the floors were strewn with thick sable rugs.

The most spectacular draw to the room was the window which stretched from ceiling to floor and from wall to wall on the side opposite the doorways. The view, one across Velaris’ golden rooftops and shining turquoise waters of the Sidra, filled the space like a painting.

Feyre sighed, at least this current visit was expected and so they weren’t risking the windows opening of their own accord to fling them out. The occupants of the House had been gone for longer than anticipated on this task and so Rhys sent ahead a message that he wanted a full debrief when they returned.

Feyre opened her mouth to speak again but stopped when she heard the thud of boots and flutter of wings.

“Finally,” Rhys said with a glance towards Nyx whose eyes flickered open.

“He’ll be happy see Aunt Nesta,” Feyre said in a sing-song voice to her now awake baby, turning him so he could view the entrance. “He loves Aunt Nesta.” She wasn’t above using her infant son as a tactic to avoid her eldest sister’s potential irritation at the intrusion into her home.

Rhys eyed up the shaking walls, “Yes, as does the House.”

Nesta entered first and Feyre breathed a sigh of relief that the floor remained solid underneath where she sat.

“Hello,” Nesta said, her voice soft and cooing. Her welcome wasn’t to her sister or brother-in-law but to the now beaming baby in Feyre’s lap whose legs and arms flailed in the air as he wriggled.

Nesta stepped further into the room, treading over the rugs, arms outstretched, “Come to Aunty Nesta.”

The vast windows let in the bright sunlight, sunlight which illuminated the state of the Illyrian leathers Nesta had clad herself in.

Feyre shrieked, twisting in the chair and blocked Nyx from Nesta’s grasp, pointing at her sister’s waist. “What is that?””

Nesta paused and frowned, looking down.

Aside from the interesting splotches of red across the leathers, the utility belt tightened around Nesta’s waist contained the usual items Feyre expected; knife, pouch, knife, another knife and then... another item she hadn’t.

A leather strap was wound in multiple knots around the thick band and tied to an uneven, lumpy dome the other end. The lumpy dome ended in a stump clotted with congealed blood.

“Oh,” Nesta said with a shrug, “I forgot.” She untied the leather strap and pulled the lump away. “Just another one for the collection.” With a graceful arm movement, Nesta threw what Feyre realised was a decapitated head onto the floor where it landed with a thud, a dribble of blood oozing fresh from the neck wound.

“Well, you can’t hold the baby until you’ve washed your hands. Thoroughly.”

Nesta frowned at her, an ice-cold glare fixed on her face. “Fine,” she snapped, as though Feyre’s request was unreasonable.

Cassian, unlike her sister, had taken some time to remove his blood encrusted leathers before greeting his guests, and he wandered in through the arch with a nod of his head towards Feyre and Rhys.

His hazel eyes noted the bloodied head by the door and he released a sigh.

“You need to stop doing that.”

“The House doesn’t mind.”

The shutters covering the windows in the other rooms started to clatter up and down.

“See?”

“Yes, but I mind and besides,” he gestured across to Feyre, “an infant is present.”

Nyx, now bouncing on Feyre’s lap, slapped his hands together as hard as he could in time with the House. He gazed at Nesta as though she’d sliced her way through necks especially for him.

“He doesn’t care,” Nesta said in a sing-song voice eerily similar to the tone Feyre herself used earlier. She beamed at her nephew, “He’s clapping with the House.”

Rhys’ face turned white, “The House is applauding you?”

“Oh yes,” Az said, arriving at last and pushing his way through where Cassian and Nesta stood to flop down onto the armchair next to Feyre. “Nesta always gets rapturous applause when she brings home a kill.”

Feyre glanced from Azriel, legs sloping over one armrest while his head flopped across the other, to Nesta and then onto Cassian who was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“As much as I am ecstatic to see you all,” he said, “I’ll leave Az to deal with the debrief. I need to go lie down for a while.”

Cassian exited as swift as he entered, Az not bothering to open his now closed eyes. The concerned glances of the other room occupants followed Cassian’s retreating back.

Nesta turned back to Feyre, the ice-cold glare melted away. “Excuse me while I disappear.” Then, in a heartbeat, her expression was one of joy, “Bye-bye baby, I’ll see you in a little bit for snuggles.”

Nyx let out a small sob as Nesta left and Feyre quickly turned him towards her, readying him for a feed, knowing that the small sob would turn into a loud shriek.

“Well,” she said, “she obviously prefers Nyx to me.”

“Feyre, darling – you got spoken to,” Rhys said. “I think it’s safe to say Nesta didn’t acknowledge my existence. Which I’m fine with,” he added, nervously eyeing up the House’s stone walls, “whatever makes her happy.”

Nyx, thankfully, latched onto Feyre’s bared breast and for a moment no noise sounded in the room other than his greedy milk-hungry gulps.

A thought played over and over in her mind though; Nesta’s look of concern, Cassian’s uncharacteristic broodiness. “Are they ok?” she asked Az, at the same time Rhys enquired as to how the recent mission went.

Az’s eyes fluttered open and he gestured to the head on the floor. “As you can tell – we won.” Then, his voice gentler, he turned to Feyre, “They’re fine.”

“Is Cassian upset at the violence? At Nesta doing the um...,” and using her free hand Feyre motioned across her throat with a finger.

Az laughed, such a rare sound it reminded Feyre of the bells on Solstice evening. “Not at all. He likes that she does those things it’s just-”

He paused.

Rhys, satisfied that the mission went well and not caring about anyone’s romantic woes, settled back into the loveseat while Feyre leaned forward, careful to not disrupt her feeding son.

Azriel nodded towards the head, “Before the Anguis went the way of Hybern and the Kelpie, he managed to propose.”

“Not another one!”

“Don’t worry,” Azriel said, “I’m sure Nesta is reassuring Cassian of her love as we speak.”

As though cued up with expert timing, or, as Feyre suspected, the House lifting a self-imposed sound barrier to prove a point, the thumping drifted down to the grand room from several floors up.

“That was...fast.”

Suddenly Azriel appeared just as exhausted as Cassian had. “Nesta reassures Cassian of her love at least twice a night anyway, and when she’s done reassuring him, he feels the need to thank her back.”

Feyre winced, her face contorting into one of displeasure while Rhys didn’t try to hide his smirk. “This is what – the fourth proposal? Fifth?”

Az closed his eyes and dropped his head backwards once more. “Ninth. This isn’t the worst we’ve had.”

Nyx snuffled and Feyre moved him to her other breast. “Wasn’t the first in the Winter Court?”

They’d been in Winter for the naming ritual of Kallias and Viviane’s baby and once the ceremony was done, all guests mingled in the palace hall. The High Lord and Lady of Winter stood on the dais, draped in silver and grey, Viv beaming as she held her pink cheeked daughter.

The music, food and wine flowed freely but Feyre could barely hear the former over the laughter of the high fae and the chime of glasses as toast after toast was declared. The Inner Circle members had dispersed throughout the crowds earlier, all intent on seeking their delight in various forms.

Feyre had seen Nesta on the dance floor for the opening songs but she’d long since gone and Feyre wondered if Nesta and Cassian had snuck away to take advantage of the Winter palace’s numerous private bedrooms.

She had done her duty as High Lady of Night, walking around the hall, ice blue gown sashaying around her legs as revellers congratulated her on the arrival of her own child.

Feyre had smiled and thanked them but she tired easily after Nyx’s traumatic birth and it wasn’t long before she sought out the fur-decked chaise longue tucked in one of enclaves on the far wall.

As Feyre made her way towards it, movement from the corner on her right drew her attention.

Nesta was standing by another enclave, glass in hand, virulently shaking her head. Nesta’s golden-brown hair had been braided into a complex knot adorned with diamonds which caught the fae lights and casted shapes on the ceiling. It had been this that captured Feyre’s eye.

“No,” Nesta said, “I don’t think so.” She smoothed down a non-existent crease on her dress, a pale grey-blue that shimmered like mist over ice, ever changing.

The male she was speaking to was some high-ranking courtier from Winter who Feyre had been introduced to earlier that evening but whose name escaped her. He was tall and handsome enough, gazing at her sister with sapphire blue eyes, but Nesta’s demeanour suggested nothing other than sheer boredom.

Cassian emerged from the crowds, seemingly drawn to what was happening in the corner of the room like a moth towards a flame, his body screaming nothing but fury. Still, he interjected himself between Nesta and the Winter male with a decorum Feyre felt he should be proud of. His fists were clenched and his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth but there was no violence. Yet.

Feyre moved quickly to them.

Side by side there was no contest that Cassian was the larger, broader and less refined male. He wore scuffed Illyrian leathers and the most he’d done for the event was clean his hair and tie it back.

The courtier wore ivory silk brocade strewn with pearls and viewed Cassian up and down with a sneer.

“And who, exactly, are you?”

Cassian spat out his answer, “Her mate and husband and your executioner – you are?”

“Ah yes,” Rhys said. “The naming ball. Was it just the one dance Nesta performed before she had the males panting over her?”

“Still,” Feyre said, “that one was the easiest to smooth over. No one was killed. Or maimed.”

“I think the proposal with Chrysos was when Cassian was aware this was going to be a repeat issue,” Az said.

Chrysos stood before them, undulating between the visage of a male and of something else, something other – possibly human but not quite. His skin was translucent and his gold blood ran through his veins, clear to their eyes, like streaks in white marble.

He was horrifying and beautiful and Feyre struggled to tear her eyes away.

“I must marry you,” he said, directing his words to Nesta. Chrysos’ voice echoed around the cave chamber, strangely melodic, a harmony of angels singing in chorus, one voice on top of another. “I shall make you my Queen and take you into the darkness where we shall make the sweetest music and-”

Nesta’s shoulders sagged, energy sapped from her as she gave a frustrated sigh.

“What the fuck?!”

Feyre jumped at Cassian’s yell, the noise bouncing from the tops of the cave to the bottom, deep into the darkest part and back again.

“Seriously! For fucks sake, I am standing right here!”

Rhys chuckled. “That ended quick enough if I remember?”

“We were on a recruitment mission though, we wanted him on our side,” Az said, “not dead.”

“Cassian maintains he slipped.”

“From six feet away?”

“Yes.”

“With his sword aloft?”

“I didn’t think the proposal in Summer was too bad,” interrupted Feyre, now with Nyx resting against her shoulder so she could pat his back with soothing circles.

The party on Tarquin’s barge was held at the height of the season the Court was most famous for.

The weather was idyllic; sunshine beating down on Feyre’s skin, endless blue skies stretching ahead while a cool ocean breeze drifted from the teal waters teaming with coral. Dolphins pranced in the frothy waves around them, shimmering and shining, their scales a rosy pink.

“Look, Nyx, look!” Feyre held her cooing baby high, pointing the dolphins out to his curious violet eyes.

The barge moved at a comfortable pace and again, like all parties the High Lords arranged, the music, food and wine flowed. Guests streamed from the top desk to the lower one and lower still when they felt like taking to the private cabins, the heat in the air turning into heat in the blood.

The decks were vast enough to not see the same individuals constantly but small enough to see them often and Feyre had smiled every time she walked past a relaxed Cassian and Nesta.

On their first stroll about the deck, Nyx had been awake and grinning, Nesta peppering his small face with a flood of kisses that had him squealing and his limbs flailing with joy. Cassian had joked about knowing his place in the pecking order and Nesta smiled at him in turn.

Cassian’s hair was tied back into a loose bun, strands of black hair falling past his jaw. It was too hot for leathers and, with his white linen shirt with sleeves rolled up to expose the black tattoos on his arms, he was the most casual Feyre had ever seen him.

Nesta stunned in a dress of blue which started ice blue at her shoulders before blending into a shade so dark at the hem it was almost black. The front was a demure and delicately scalloped neckline but Nesta’s back was entirely bare, held up by invisible straps.

Multiple pairs of eyes glanced their way but Nesta’s hand never left Cassian’s and his free one travelled the length of her spine dipping beyond the fabric at her lower back.

You’re borderline indecent, Feyre told them with pretend outrage and continued to walk the deck.

The second time Feyre passed them, they had been talking to Tarquin and Feyre only caught a brief snippet of their conversation, trying to settle a now restless Nyx against her shoulder.

“One apology,” Tarquin had said, “that was my mother’s favourite building.”

On Feyre’s third pass, Nyx now in Rhys’ arms, Tarquin had gone. In his place stood a fae Feyre didn’t recognise.

“I had turned away for a couple of seconds,” Cassian said, his hands in fists, “and you thought this was your opportunity to sneak in here like a panting-”

“Cassian,” Nesta warned, “we don’t want another incident in this Court.”

“Well, there will be one if this prick doesn’t move out of here. We’ll see how he fares with my foot up his as-”

“Cassian!”

“She’s married and mated. Can’t you see the matching rings? Can’t you smell the mate bond?”

The high fae nodded his head, “Yes, but...”

“But? But what?! That’s it,” Cassian said, “we’re leaving this fucking party.”

Rhys and Az stared at Feyre as she burped Nyx, their mouths open.

“What?” she asked.

“You didn’t think it was too bad?” Rhys said, his voice incredulous.

Feyre shrugged, “No one died and no wars were started.”

“They’d only just removed the ban on Cassian to have to enforce it again.”

“I don’t think the second ban was fair though.”

“Feyre, darling. He destroyed the barge.”

“We spent hours fishing everyone out of the sea,” Az said. “Then we had to work out where Nesta’s unfortunate suitor had landed after Cassian threw him towards the cliff.”

“Wasn’t he clinging onto the side of the rockface?”

“Yes.”

“And didn’t Cassian destroy another building in his haste to get away?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” Feyre said, frowning. “So maybe it was bad.”

“I quite liked the proposal from Locuples,” Az said, “that was the best for all involved. No one died and we ended up with a pretty good trade agreement.”

“Oh, I remember that,” said Feyre, “I was here when Nesta and Cassian came back.”

Feyre and Az had been in the grand room, as they were now, sitting opposite each other in companiable silence. Steam from their tea cups swirled in the air and Feyre gazed out the windows at the white clouds over the city.

“What the-?”

Feyre’s head snapped round, surprised at the uncharacteristic shock in Az’s voice. He stared towards the door archways and Feyre followed his eyeline.

Cassian and Nesta had returned, surprisingly quietly, as she hadn’t heard them land on the roof. Or perhaps, looking at the display in front of her, they’d travelled by some other means.

Nesta sat on a throne on an open topped litter, carried by two lithe creatures who were more shadow and smoke than real and whose feet never touched the ground. Nesta herself, bedecked with jewels, a tiara and clutching a sceptre, wore an expression of confusion.

Cassian followed on foot, wings tersely tucked in, heaving a trunk filled with gold, jewellery, silks, furs and bottles which wafted exotic scents.

Cassian glanced at them from the corner of his eye, “Don’t ask.”

“I thought we expected this to be a hostile negotiation?”

“I said don’t ask.”

“We still receive gifts on a monthly basis,” Feyre said and slid to the floor to lay a barely awake Nyx on the soft furs - one of those aforementioned gifts. She traced a thumb on the arch of his foot and watched it curl, his lips smacking in contentment.

Feyre swore the floorboards underneath him adjusted to accommodate his shape.

“Don’t you receive monthly gifts from Helion as well?” Rhys asked. “Or did Cassian put a stop to that?”

“Cassian put a stop to that one,” Az said.

“Doesn’t Nesta still have the first gift though?”

Az groaned and placed his scarred hands over his eyes. “Yes, and I cannot express how much upkeep it takes.”

Feyre smiled, “Oh, I remember that one too.”

The shriek took Feyre by surprise and she leapt from her chair, readying herself for action. It was only seconds before she realised it wasn’t a shriek of pain but one of sheer, childlike joy.

Once again, her and Az were in the House and, once again, she hadn’t heard the arrival of the House’s other permanent occupants.

“In the name of the Mother,” Az breathed and, in what was a familiar pattern, Feyre turned to where he was looking. This time, instead of Az looking towards the doorway, he was staring outwards at the windows.

Nesta, clad in her leathers and with windswept hair was sat astride a glorious white winged horse, her black leather a stark contrast to the white of the creature she sat upon.

“Someone find Gwen and Emerie! They need to know about this; they need to come here!”

With another shriek of joy and a gentle nudge to the horse’s sides Nesta rose higher, the wings of the horse flapping with enthusiasm, happy to appease its new owner.

There was a sigh from behind them and Feyre and Az turned. Cassian leant against the doorframe, fingers rubbing his temples.

“Cass... isn’t that Helion’s last and most prized flying horse?”

“Please – do not ask.”

“That thing is a nightmare,” Az said, “it eats everything, likes very few fae and can somehow find its way into the House in the dead of night. Do you know how terrifying it is to wake to find a winged horse hovering over you demanding sugar cubes while stealing your blanket? I can’t live like this.”

Feyre shot him a sympathetic smile while Rhys laughed. In the brief silence which followed, Feyre could hear the rhythmic banging echoing its way through the house.

“Aren’t they done yet?”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

“At least it will be over soon.”

“Nope.”

“Oh.”

“You think this is bad?” Az said, “You weren’t here after the proposal with the Peregryn.”

To Feyre, the Dawn Court was one of the most beautiful. Its shades of gold and red weren’t bright or ostentatious but were the softer golds found in the rising sun, the reds not vermillion or scarlet but something akin to a dusky rose.

Every town held a thousand clock-towers, every hand matching perfectly, the chimes on the hour synching in a glorious song, calling to the skies in praise of a new day, of promises to be made, of joy to come.

The peace of that particular morning had been broken by the shouts of males, all raised in the ecstatic spirit of competition. Nothing violent or aggressive but it spoke to Feyre of knuckles and bone crunching all the same.

She’d pushed her way to the front of a crowd, the fae recognising her and making room for her to pass. A fighting circle had broken out in a section of the town square, cheers raising into the air as one of the fighters scored a blow.

In the circle stood two males, both tall and broad, barefooted and bare-chested. One had wings similar to the Pegasus which Nesta now owned, white and gold-feathered, and the other had wings as black as night, the rising sun highlighting veins and patches of amber.

A female was eagerly watching them, a female Feyre shoved past fae to move next to.

“Nesta! Why is Cassian sparring with a Peregryn?”

Nesta didn’t tear her eyes from the males. “Some old nonsense about fighting for the right to take my hand.”

Cassian landed a punch to his opponent’s jaw, the crack reverberating through the air as the crowd cheered on.

Sweat trickled down Cassian’s own jaw and onto his neck. His muscles were strained, his abdomen contracting. As the fighters turned positions, his back faced Feyre, black tattoos against dark skin, his shoulder blades gleaming with oil.

Feyre glanced at Nesta who was dressed in a pale peach dress adorned with pearls, her hair up but with soft stands framing her face. She would have looked a wholesome picture of innocence if not for her darkening eyes.

“Shouldn’t you stop this?”

“Probably.”

“Are you going to?”

Nesta’s eyes flickered from the top of Cassian’s head down his back and then, as the fighter’s moved again, to his stomach where they lingered on the trail of hair leading down to the waistband of his trousers. She sighed.

“A few more minutes.”

Feyre blinked as if she could rid herself of the memory. “I can only imagine.”

“If I didn’t visit the river house for dinner I would have starved. The House had to perform a deep clean.”

The walls shook in what was akin to a shudder.

“The bard was wholesome enough,” Rhys said.

Az groaned, “And yet ridiculous.”

 In a concerted effort to apologise to the Courts on behalf of the behaviour of some Inner Circle members during previous gatherings, Feyre and Rhys had invited the High Lords and their significant others to Starfall.

The House remained still, either curious as to who all the guests were or silently sulking that there were guests at all.

The tang of a rich red wine was on Feyre’s tongue, not from anything she had drunk, but from a stolen kiss from Rhys, under the night sky, in a moment solely theirs before it became everyone else’s.

The night was filled with laughter and talking and Feyre slid into the embrace of her mate, content in the knowledge that Nyx slumbered underneath the watchful eye of the House’s nursery, a room which hadn’t existed before this very evening.

Her heart hurt, but in a good way, as though each chamber was bursting with a joy they couldn’t contain and her happiness spilled out into every corner of the rooftop.

Azriel was intently speaking with Nesta’s red-haired friend while Elain watched on from a distance, either not aware of, or ignoring, her own red-haired watcher.

Amren and Mor stood amongst another group, Mor’s golden hair cascading down her back like a waterfall and near the balcony was Cassian and Nesta, pressed side by side, hand in hand as they gazed upwards, Cassian pointing to a constellation.

Nesta glanced at him as he spoke, her face softening in a way Feyre never thought possible, a smile on her lips. When Cassian looked back at her, to check her understanding of what he was saying, he brought their intertwined hands up to his mouth, to kiss her fingertips.

Feyre smiled, all was well and all would continue to be well. That was until a voice, clear and resolute, spoke out into the crowd.

“My High Lords and Ladies and Paramor’s, I am a bard from the Spring Court – famed as the best in all the Courts!”

Chatter drifted into murmurs as heads turned expectedly to the fae now standing in the centre. Feyre noted his lute fixed upon his waistband but the bard made no attempt to reach for it.

“I have travelled across the land, coming to the Court of the High Lord and High Lady of Night with one purpose and one purpose only – to serenade with tales of fortune and love!”

A ripple of anticipation broke out amongst the crowd to hear such songs and Feyre turned to Rhys. “Did you arrange this?” but his face was twisted in confusion.

“I dedicate my melodies to one female, one who understands music as though her very bones were formed by the notes. My song to you, Lady Nesta and also my hand in marri-”

“FUCKS SAKE!”

Feyre let out a sigh. “I felt so sorry for the bard. He must have seen Nesta on one of her visits. To think, he spent all those weeks travelling on foot to arrive to the House and then Cassian threatens to dangle him from the roof.”

“Cassian did dangle him from the roof.”

“No one’s going to invite us to any more parties,” said Rhys with a sorrowful sigh.

“I think we can handle an overly amorous high fae or two,” Az said, “it’s the demons which worry me.”

“They’re no cause for concern,” Rhys said with a wave of his hand. “In fact, we have a valuable asset on our side. Drag Nesta in front of them and it tends to shut them up.”

Feyre frowned. “That is my sister you’re deciding to use as romantic bait. Besides, the issue we had with the Caligo demon was that it didn’t stop talking. There was such a mess.”

Screams filled Feyre’s ears as terrified Night Court citizens ran past her, almost a blur.

Tears streaked down terror-stricken faces as they grabbed the arms of their loved ones and scooped up children too small or young to so anything other than shiver and cry.

Cracks appeared in the ground beneath their feet, the cobbles of the street twisting and turning before jutting upwards like the jagged, sharpened edges of broken bone. The air was thick with acrid smoke which stung Feyre’s eyes causing them to stream with the tears she saw running down her people’s faces.

Rhys was to her right. Or that’s what she hoped. He had been standing but he’d gasped in pain and then she no longer saw him through the gaps in the cloud. When she managed to glimpse him, he was on his knees, thick red blood pouring down his face from a cut on his scalp.

Feyre choked back a sob and clambered over the rips in the earth to reach him.

Steel clashed with steel in the darkness, the shouts of Cassian and Azriel tearing through the blackness as they pressed forward. A shimmer of magic absorbed as much of the darkness away as it could and created a halo around the members of the Inner Circle.

Hands, strong and steady, circled Feyre’s waist and Nesta held her up, helped her over the torn earth.

“I am destroyer,” the thing hissed. “I am consumer, I am flesh ripper and soul tearer and I-”

It turned, watching them all, gloating in their misery and gorging itself fat on their pain. One of its bulbous eyes slid to where they stood, Feyre leaning into Nesta’s side. Her sister’s hair was dishevelled, her arms smeared with blood but Nesta’s eyes remained cold and hard upon the demon.

“And I – oh, oh, you are spectacular.”

A roar ripped through the darkness; a bellowing from powerful lungs as the words of the creature reached the ears of all present.

“Absolutely fucking not!”

Cassian advanced from the void, red siphons blazing as though he were shrouded in flame. “I am her mate; I am her husband and I suggest you put those sloping tongues back into your mouth or Mother help me...”

Feyre swallowed the rising bile. She tried not to think about the events of that night, though she didn’t know what was worse – that night or now, with the thumping above their heads gaining momentum.

“He got the job done,” Rhys said and then smirked, “and he’s doing the same now from the sounds of it.”

“Rhys!” Feyre admonished and placed her hand on Nyx’s stomach to calm herself. “Why do you think he puts up with it?” she asked Az.

“What choice does he have? Besides, he loves and trusts her. There’s no one for him but her and no one for her but him.”

“Disgusting,” Rhys said with slight mockery to his tone.

“No,” Feyre said, “what’s disgusting is the head in the corner.” She eyed up the lump that had once been somethings head; the glassy eyes, the bloodied stump. She wouldn’t relish touching the thing but she would happily remove herself out of earshot of Nesta and Cassian’s post proposal love affirmation. “Where do I take it?”

“The House created a trophy room three doors down,” Az said.

Anguis’ mouth hung open, razor sharp rotted teeth all lined up on display. Feyre felt a slither of pity. “I’ll take it there.”

“No, Feyre darling, I’ll do it.”

Feyre breathed a sigh of relief and nodded before turning to Az. “Shall we wait for them to be done? We need to discuss the next mission which is rather sensitive.”

Az shook his head, “No, you may as well go home. It was a proposal so they’re not stopping until – what day is it now, Thursday? – they’re not going to be fit for purpose until Monday.”

Rhys, still lounging, stretched out into the space Feyre previously occupied. “We can’t wait that long.”

“Do you want to volunteer to interrupt them?

“No.”

Feyre glanced between them both. “Cassian did look rather sad.”

Azriel laughed again, the sound echoing throughout the room, his head thrown back. “Don’t pity Cassian, he knows what he’s doing.”

“And Nesta falls for it?”

“No, she definitely doesn’t fall for it.”

“But isn’t she in their chambers um...reassuring him?”

“Yes.”

Feyre bit her lip, “So surely...”

“Oh Mother,” Az rubbed his hand across his face. “It’s their form of twisted foreplay. When Nesta received a proposal from – well, I can’t remember which one, I came home early and almost went blind. Have none of you questioned the indoor swing?”

Feyre’s voice was quiet when she spoke, scooping up her son into her arms with haste. “I thought they were creating an inside playground.”

“Ah,” Az said, his voice soft, “not quite.”

The thumping reached its crescendo and blessedly, stilled.

“Oh, thank the Mother,” Rhys said, “they’re done after all. Az, go retrieve them. We need to discuss the next mission.”

“Why me?”

“You live here.”

“You’re the High Lord.”

Feyre looked around her, Nyx clutched in her arms. “I think the floor is sloping us out towards the door.”

“I don’t think so Feyre, darling.”

“No really, the head - which you said you’d deal with by the way - is rolling away.”

Feyre wasn’t imagining what was happening, she’d passed under the entrance to the room, Rhys and Az’s chairs beginning to follow.

“This happens,” Az said with a calmness Feyre didn’t feel. “Usually when they don’t want anyone to overhear the next part of their ‘Nesta got proposed to again’ sex marathon.”

“Why? What could they now be planning that’s so much worse?”

“I don’t know,” Az replied, “the House always shuffles me out at this point. One time I was trying to prep my knives and almost stabbed myself in the eye.”

“Right,” said Rhys, “I think we can walk out of here without a sentient lump of stone forcing us to. Which,” he said with an eye to the steepness of the floor angle, “is completely within its’ right.”

Feyre nestled a snoring Nyx into one arm as Rhys helped her up. Az was already on his feet, out the door and into the hallway before he got flattened by an oversized, burgundy armchair.

He turned to them both.

“So, where’s the next mission to anyway? Where are you sending our glorious Lady Death and Lord of Bloodshed and can I sit it out?”

Feyre and Rhys exchanged glances. “I think we might need you in attendance,” Feyre said.

Az raised an eyebrow. “Well, I know King Lascivus is causing some problems with his tithe but as long as you weren’t planning on sending us to his palace, it will be fine. He’s famous for his side hobby of trying to find a muse to depict as the Mother in his artworks. Borderline obsessed.”

Feyre cleared her throat, “Sounds like he’s fervently religiously devout.”

“Hardly. The issue isn’t him trying to depict the Mother but that he’s spent centuries convincing everyone that she needs to be represented in her naked glory and I quote ‘with the petals of her flower fully opened.’”  

Rhys coughed and moved fast down the hallway towards the roof entrance his wings already forming.

“Rhys!” Feyre called out. “You know I can’t run when I’m holding the baby!”

Az’s voice was quiet. “Feyre?”

“You know we love you,” she said, not meeting his hazel eyes, “and you’re always welcome at the river house. For as long as you want, whether that’s weeks or months.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “I swear on the Cauldron, if you need to you can stay for centuries.”

“Feyre?”

She turned and didn’t look back, picking up her own speed to follow Rhys, ignoring the quiver in Az’s tone.

“We love you Az,” she shouted over her shoulder, propping Nyx into a position ready for flight as the House opened its doors to hasten her exit. “Always remember that.”

TAGGING

@live-the-fangirl-life

@champanheandluxxury

@dontgetsalmonella

@purpleglitterypinecone

[arvinsescape]

Sweet Creature

A/N: Based on ‘Sweet Creature’ by Harry Styles. I was listening to it earlier today and this idea popped into my head.

Summary: Reader and Tom hit a rough patch and Tom’s not sure how to fix it but he knows he’s not going anywhere.

Warnings: Swearing.

W/C: 2.9K

You’d been with Tom for a while now and like every relationship it’d hit its rough patch. It wasn’t like the first year and a half of your relationship when you’d have a small argument and figured it out before you fell asleep. This was always something you’d made sure you did when you first moved in.

You’d done what most couples did when you felt that small change into chaos rise, you’d ignored it, assuming maybe the other was just tired and not spoken about it.

It presented itself in the way it usually did, your tempers with each other became short and the snapping started. You were both stubborn to a fault and didn’t take the responsibility of apologising.

“Did you really have to snap like that Y/N?” Tom had sighed when he joined you in bed.

“Look, you pissed me off. Sorry okay.” It wasn’t sincere and you both knew it; you were being stubborn. But Tom was more patient than he gave himself credit for and let it go. He knew you were stressed. You’d done the same for him the day prior.

That’s when the next issue would present itself. Tom was a very touchy and loving person, always wanting to present his love through all the affection he could. He always claimed having you in his arms felt like home. You didn’t sleep without his arms around you in some way, shape or form. Until you did. The snapping had ultimately reached a point that had you sleeping annoyed with each other and so, you stopped holding each other.

Then the next step. You’d both had enough and an explosive row had started about absolutely nothing. Neither of you could recall just what it was that started it but it grew into something it wouldn’t normally need to.

“Fuck sake Tom, you’ve really outdone yourself this time.” You’d screamed at him, slamming the washer shut; you were both so angry.

“Like you can fucking talk Y/N. What is this all about?” He’d yelled back at you as you made your way into the living room.

“I don’t know how many times I have to ask you to do simple things. It’s not that hard and you’ve found a million different ways of not doing a single thing today.” You seethed.

“I’m busy! Just because I’m not on set doesn’t mean I don’t have work to do.” He shouted as he slammed his script down on the coffee table.

“Whatever. Leave me to do fucking everything!” You screamed as you slammed the living room door shut, leaving him there with his anger.

That was the night you stopped sharing a bed completely. He took himself into the guest bedroom and you didn’t talk about it. That stubborn streak in both of you taking a firm hold.

After that it was awkward. You avoided each other, not wanting yet another explosive row to take place. You’d had too many over the last couple of weeks and left it you both tired. It was as if you’d forgotten how to communicate properly. Neither knowing what to say to fix it and not wanting to upset the other.

You both felt that distance settle in your chest. You hardly spoke, you didn’t touch and you missed each other in bed. Tom had almost given in one night and as he was about to make his way back into your shared bed, he faltered at the door. Sighing and shaking his head as he made his way back into the guest, well ‘his’ room. He wanted to rip the stubborn streak out of both of you and if it was possible, he would, in a heartbeat.

You’d started to find it unbearable. The distance was becoming too much. You missed him. You’d even take another argument at this point, you just wanted to feel any kind of emotion from him. He’d gone out to visit his parents, mumbling something about ‘needing some air.’ As soon as he left you broke down. You cried, the painful ache in your chest was too much. His side of the bed didn’t smell like him anymore, signalling just how long it’d been since he’d been in there.

You made your way into what had become his room and picked up his hoodie that he’d had on yesterday, you brought it up to your face and let his scent fill your senses. You’d forgotten just how good it was. Tears streamed down your face as you pulled it over your head. You made your way into his bed and let his scent take over everything. You cried for what felt like hours into his pillow.

Tom came back from his parents; he’d had a long chat with his dad about his frustrations. His dad had comforted him saying you’d fix it and find your way back to each other, that you were young and still finding the right way to navigate yourselves and he felt some of his resolve dissolve. He shut the door quietly and took in how quiet it was. He worried for a second that you might have left, but he knew you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t take off without saying anything.

It also confused him that Tess hadn’t come to say ‘hi’, maybe you’d taken her out? Then he heard it and it broke his heart. You were crying. He made his way upstairs and into the room you’d both shared. You weren’t there. He furrowed his brows as he made his way into his new sleeping residence.

There you were and you were crying so hard and so loud, he knew you’d not heard him. The sight made his heart rise and fall at the same time. It was an odd feeling, you had his hoodie on and you were curled up in ‘his’ bed, face planted in ‘his’ pillow and Tess wrapped up with you. She always did comfort you when you were sad, not leaving you for second. Seeing you in his clothing made his heart soar but the pain in your cries made his heart drop, all at once.

He moved towards the bed and made his way into it behind you. He took you into his arms and it seemingly made you cry harder. His heart was aching more than it had over the last few weeks. He missed you, he missed you being in his arms, missed your scent as much as you did his. He knew it wasn’t the end of the two of you, that it was a rough patch but that didn’t make it any easier.

He was glad that he wasn’t due to go away for a while. He realised he needed to fix it, do something. He just didn’t know what. He was somewhat scared to approach it, it had seemingly spiralled out of his control but he would and he was determined to. For now though, he just held you as you cried, feeling his own tears fall.

You still hadn’t spoken about what happened, although you fell asleep like that. The feeling of home slowly making its way back into both your chests. You had to go out that morning and you felt something shift back towards normal when he’d kissed you and told you he loved you before you left. You wished more than anything you could avoid this outing but you couldn’t.

Harrison had decided that he was going to visit that day, texting Tom to ask if he was in. When he got his reply, he made his way to his best friend’s house. He knew something had been off due to Tom’s lack of enthusiasm in their recent conversations and had decided that he needed to lend an ear.

“What’s wrong Tom? You seem off.” Harrison had commented slowly. He got a sigh in response.

“Me and Y/N are fighting. I think. I don’t know.” Tom dragged his hands over his face and sat further back in his chair.

“What do you mean you don’t know? Have you had a row?”

“Yeah but that was like two weeks ago. We just aren’t talking at all really.”

“What was it about?” Harrison was trying to pry the information carefully from his best friend.

“Fuck knows, I can’t remember. It was stupid I know that much.” He sighed again. “We’ve both just been so stressed, we were snapping at each other a lot and I don’t know it just exploded a couple times and now we’re just left with the aftermath.”

“Have you talked about it?”

“No.”

“That’s the problem Tom. You should talk.” Harrison had a stubborn streak to him but it was no where near as bad as Tom’s. It was simpler in his mind.

“We’re both so stubborn Haz, neither of us wanted to bring it up first and I don’t know, be the first to apologise. Fuck, I miss the days when we didn’t let it take over, when we’d made up quickly after an argument.” Tom felt the tears again but he didn’t let them fall.

“Look, I know I’m not as stubborn as you two but the answer is still clear, you need to talk before it gets any worse.” Harrison said as he patted his friend’s back.

“We’re not sharing a bed.” Tom suddenly stated and Harrisons eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“That bad?” Tom just nodded.

“She cried yesterday and it was the first bit of emotion we got from each other in ages.” Tom sighed again as the memories of your cries flooded his mind.

“That’s good right? She’s feeling the same as you?” Harrison asked.

“I guess. But I didn’t know what to say to her. It’s like I don’t know how to fix it. It’s not like either of us did anything worse than the other, we both let our stress get to each other and treated each other poorly as a result. I love her and I know this isn’t the end of us, I can’t imagine being with anyone else at this point Haz but fuck, I don’t know what to do.” He let a few tears fall, quickly wiping them away.

“Do something for her.” Harrison suddenly suggested.

“Like what? What if she doesn’t want me to?”

“Look, even if she doesn’t want you to, it’ll force a conversation. She was crying Tom, I’m sure she does want you to do something, she’ll be just as lost as you. Do something nice for her, make her dinner.”

“I can’t cook Harrison.” Tom reminded him with a soft laugh.

“Call Sam. He’ll tell you what to do. She’ll appreciate the thought.” Harrison comforted him.

“You’re right. I think maybe we just need to remind each other how much we love each other.” Tom sighed.

“Yes, you do. Now stop being so fucking stubborn. Don’t let her slip through your fingers mate. I’ve never seen you so happy with another human being.” Harrison laughed as he clapped his friends back again.

You’d been gone all of the morning and afternoon; it was almost six o clock before you made your way back into the house. You had a little time to clear your head, you were ready for a conversation, you can’t let this continue on. You made your way through the door saying a quick ‘hi’ to Tess as you furrowed your brows.

What was that smell? It smelt amazing and you knew Tom had not inherited the same culinary skills his brother had. Your feet padded into the living room in search of your boyfriend. He wasn’t there but you heard him in the kitchen.

“How do you have the patience for this? Are you sure that’s everything? I don’t need to add anything else?” Tom asked whoever he was talking to. You made your way into the kitchen and were shocked by the sight before you. Tom was cooking, it smelt amazing and you wondered for a second if this was Tom. You cleared your throat and he turned around. He looked at you and gave you a shy smile.

“Sam I Gotta go. Thanks bro. I will.” He said as he ended his phone call.

“Who are you and what have you done with Tom?” You teased lightly and he laughed.

“I can’t take all that much credit. Sam guided me through everything but I made your favourite.” He said shyly. There was still an awkward tension in the air but it was better than yesterdays.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did.” He said confidently. You took a moment to scan the room. He’d laid the table as if you were at some fancy restaurant. Your heart soared as you smiled. He’d even bought a bottle of your favourite red wine.

“Oh Tom.” You suddenly sighed, happy tears finding their way to your eyes, a stark contrast from yesterdays. He’d completely taken himself out of his comfort zone to do something nice for you and you couldn’t be more grateful. Whatever it was that was going on between you was slowly dissipating. He smiled sheepishly at you.

“I’m gonna go run a bath, this needs another hour before it’s ready.” He said as he made his way upstairs. You sniffled quietly as your heart felt like it was slowly gluing back together. He returned five minutes later and took your hand in his.

You followed him upstairs as he took you into the bathroom. You slowly undressed, he watched you as you slipped into the tub and smiled. He’d missed seeing you naked. It wasn’t a sexual need that had settled in him. It was that comfort and that trust that you felt at home enough with him to let him see you like this. He followed suit, finding his way behind you.

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He said as you shook your head.

“No I’m sorry Tom. I was being stubborn and I should’ve apologised sooner.”

“We both should have. I love you.” He said as he kissed your shoulder.

“I love you too.”

“I’ve missed you.” He placed a few loving kisses to your neck as you sighed and rolled your head back onto his shoulder.

“I’ve missed you too. So much.” You said as you kissed his cheek. He smiled as he pulled you impossibly closer to him.

“We gonna be okay?” He asked softly.

“Yeah, we’re gonna be okay.” You said confidently.

“Can I come back home?” He said sheepishly. You furrowed your brows as you turned round to face him.

“What do you mean?”

“Back to bed, back in your arms where I should be.” Tears were brimming both your eyes as you looked at each other. Normally, you’d pull him up for being cheesy but you couldn’t, this wasn’t the time. He was being vulnerable.

“Tom.” You sighed as you took his face in your hands, wiping the tear that had slipped down his cheek. “Of course you can. I still love you okay, that hasn’t changed, we just hit a rough patch.” You said as you kissed his forehead.

“I’ll be damned if I ever let my stubbornness take over again.” He sighed as he manoeuvred you back to your original position.

“You will and I will but it’s okay. Couples fight Tom, that’s normal. We’ll frustrate the hell out of each other at times but that’s okay as long as we still love each other. As long as you always come home.” You said as he kissed your shoulder again.

“I’ll always come back to you.” He concluded as he grabbed your shower gel and washed you. You silently cleaned each other up, fixing each other’s hearts as you went. It was loving and sweet and intimate and just what you both needed.

You ate your dinner and wow, it was amazing, you made a mental note to text Sam and thank him for his teaching skills. You cleaned up together and it was playful, normal. Like when you’d first got together. You had music playing softly in the background when your favourite song came on and you remembered your brother’s wedding you had attended six months ago. You and Tom had danced to this and you remembered your brother joking about how the two of you looked like the newlyweds.

Tom reached his hand out to you and you laughed. You’d already passed up one opportunity to tease him, you weren’t going to let this go.

“Do you not think this is a bit like the ending to a Hollywood romance film?”

“I am an actor sweetheart.” He teased back as he laughed.

Nevertheless you took his hand and he pulled you into his chest, you stayed like that in the kitchen. Slowly swaying but just enjoying the comfort of being in each other’s arms. Tom knew that you were it for him, that he wanted you and only you. It didn’t matter where he was in the world, he knew his end goal was always going to be to come home, back to you.

[wthtorke]

Cultural Differences

One shot commission for @scallopedsuitcase ! Thank you! 

You didn’t know what to do anymore.

When you heard that the Yautja-Human peace treaty was finally up and running and that not only that meant everyone was safe and sound but also that the galaxy’s greatest and sexiest species was to roam free within your planet. You were proudly part of a small community that wasn’t opposed to...engaging-, with such creatures.

It didn’t take long for you to find your Yautja of interest. He was tall. Taller than any other partner you ever had before. That alone did things to you. Their ships had taken residency in whatever forests seemed best to them. You’d never thanked the skies more for living right outside a reserve in your life. 

The first thing you checked was his wrist from afar. To make things easier for everyone while they sorted out yautja translators for humans, yautjas interested in human contact wore different colored lights on their wrist gauntlets. Some of the colors were; red for ‘No Contact’, yellow for ‘formal contact only’, blue for ‘Friendly contact’, and purple for ‘Accepting of human advances’.

Now, while the term was awkward at best, but you were the happiest human on earth when your crush showed up on your street with that purplish wrist gauntlet. it’s lights dancing, glowing brighter and then darker again in an endless cycle.

He was everything you’ve ever dreamed of physically and after some time observing and building up your courage-, you found that his personality was just as much endearing as his physique. 

You’d taken to hiking, something you didn’t exactly have the habit of doing, all in hopes of spotting him by his ship, and so you did. So, there began your mission. While you didn’t have a translator on your person, there was one language that was known to all the galaxy.

Flirting.

Flirting was supposed to be exciting, charming, and well, what better way to let someone know you were totally into them, right? Surely, some winks and gestures here and there would pass him the message loud and clear.

2 weeks in of hiking and you could feel your muscles hardening up. The way your body responded to this new routine spoke volumes of your previous sedentary ways, never really having a reason to leave the house if it wasn’t for work or well, buying what you needed. So far, however, your flirting had brought you no results. The times you could make out his expressions when he saw you were...not pleasing. He looked...confused, at best. 

So, you sat at home on a particularly cold night, holding a warm mug of hot chocolate to keep the shivers at bay, wondering what could you possibly be doing wrong. You bit your lip, winked, wore your best clothes, and still, nothing. It was frustrating.

You checked on your translator order situation, refreshing the page now and then as you knew they were updated at night. When the peace treaty was first announced and the ‘requesting’ system was up, you hurried to place your order. The translator wasn’t cheap, and it would only be one of the very prototypes, meaning it wouldn’t be able to translate everything at once so fluidly, but at least you’d be able to communicate faster before most of the people could, and that alone made you very happy, it was exhilarating. 

The translator had been ‘In Confection’ for months now, finally coming around the expected date of postage as your page told you. 

Another hour went by before you refreshed it again, the yellow dot becoming green with the text you had been waiting for underneath it. 

“In Transit.”

Finally.

With newfound excitement and determination, you pulled up the weather report for tomorrow’s morning and afternoon, sighing as you thought of your Yautja crush yet again.

The next morning came as fast as your head hit the pillow as you jumped up and out of the bed, ready to start your day with your morning jog, hoping to see him either on the way up or down the trail. Teeth brushed, hair tied up, and a water bottle filled, you made your way out the door, feeling the chilly morning air fill your lungs, wiping away the last remains of sleep from your body.

While jogging, you fell in thought. 

The translator wouldn’t take more than 3 days to arrive. In little time you’d be able to communicate with him...but what if he didn’t like you? 

Your jogging slowed down to a walk as this hit you hard in the head.

What if he had already rejected you and you didn’t catch it? You thought about it further and so came the odd looks he gave you, the puzzled stares, and more. You made your efforts well known and well shown as well, and he didn’t growl or try to move away, so it couldn’t have been that bad, right?

You looked at your feet as you walked, lost in those thoughts as you hit something hard, making you stumble back a couple of steps. You looked back up in surprise only to find out it wasn’t something but someone.

“Oh, hi! Sorry, I um, I didn’t see you,” You said, doing your best to gesture to him, and then your eyes, trying to tell him what you said.

As always, he stood there for a second, slowly nodding afterward. He tilted his head to the side a bit, getting a little closer to your person as if inspecting your face. His tusks were close to your face, so close you thought he was going to kiss you. Or well, try to, given he didn’t have lips.

“I-,” was all you managed to get out before he stepped back, shaking his head slightly before reaching behind his back, where his pouch usually was. Hands coming forward again, he extended his arm, opening his palm to present you with something.

You gasped at the notion of receiving a gift from him, this could only mean courtship, right?

Looking down at his hand, you were more than confused to see a very human-made looking pill bottle. “What?” You said, picking it up from his hand.

‘Melatonin. Sleep aid.’

“Sleep aid?” You questioned, looking back up at him, “Are you saying I look tired?!” You said, shaking the pill bottle towards him, the yautja raising his hands a bit, the universal sign for ‘hey calm down’.

But what could this possibly mean?

“I tried so hard! And you say I took tired? I’ve been coming here every day to see you! You-!” You sighed, shoulders slacking a bit after your outburst. “Okay, okay. You know what? Fuck-, I get it, I’ll let you be,” You said, turning right back around, deciding to end your exercise right there when the biggest hand you ever felt closed around your arm, making you look back again.

You had heard the Yautja language before, but hearing it live was just as foreign. He was speaking fast, the clicks and guttural growls making absolutely no sense to you.

He still, somehow, managed to look confused while speaking such a harsh tongue.

“I don’t understand!” You exasperated, yanking your arm free and sighing again. You put your hand up, “Wait.” you said. 

He looked at your hand, which accompanied with the word made something light up in his face as he nodded this time. “Good, I’ll um, see you later,” You said, waving and making the rest of your way back to your house.

You couldn’t stop thinking about it. Sitting on your couch while staring at the pill bottle on the table. It was what it was, you supposed. It was truly melatonin. 

But what did he mean with it? Did he want you to sleep well? Why did he think you weren’t getting enough sleep?

“Where did he even get this?!”

The pill bottle was sealed still, just like the ones you’d buy at the drug store. Could you imagine? A Yautja walking in a drug store and purchasing melatonin? If you told that to someone, they’d think you were crazy, even with the whole peace treaty going on.

Another day went by and you didn’t go jogging anymore, afraid your ‘relationship’ could turn sour if you saw him again without your translator. Still, the pill bottle haunted you, sitting in the exact place on your table.

On the second morning after your disastrous encounter, the doorbell rang. And you knew exactly what it was for. Sprinting for the door, the mailman was different, clearly a private company worker, holding your package with both his hands, looking around as he waited for you to come up.

Package picked up, opened, and fiddled with. After 15 minutes, you sat in your living room muttering words into your translator, watching as it came to life, making some odd sounds in what you knew was the yautja language.

Now you could go talk to him, for real.

Picking up the pill bottle from the table, you sprinted up the trail again, regretting not bringing your water bottle as you reached the place where you last saw him, panting and a little red in the face.

You looked back up when you heard soft purring, a sound you hadn’t heard before but wished dearly to.

‘It means affection’ you recalled reading once from the article the first human to mate a yautja wrote, ‘Fondness’.

You straightened yourself, clearing your throat before looking up at him, “Um, hi, I- ah fuck,” you fiddled some more, producing your translator from your pocket, getting a curious look from the yautja before you.

“I hope this works” you muttered before lifting the device closer to your mouth and taking a deep breath. “Hi, I hope this translates what I’m saying decently, now, I’d please like to know what did you mean with this?” You said into it, waiting a second before it started its clicking noises.

The Yautja’s expression changed instantly, his eyes widening as he leaned forward to the sound of his language. He squinted as he kept listening, making you blush in embarrassment. God, was the translator that bad?

Upon hearing the last of the clicking, you lifted the pill bottle to him for emphasis, waiting for him to react.

He stood up straight again, eyeing the bottle he gave you a few days prior, still unopened. He extended his hand, shaking his head when you offered him the bottle, pointing instead to the translator in your other hand. “Oh, of course!” You handed it to him, watching as he had a look at the digital screen, apparently switching its mode from ‘Human to Yautja’ to ‘Yautja to Human’ seeing as the translator worked with just about every human language around the world.

Satisfied with the settings, he started speaking into it himself, gesturing to the pill bottle while he did so and then, to your surprise, to your face. This made you gasp a bit, your mind jumping to the worst conclusions possible. Did he think you were ugly? Well, you’d have to wait and see.

As he finished speaking, you both gave the translator a couple of seconds when a male voice spoke up, making you jump a bit, hands shaking in anticipation. “Hello. I thought you were sick. Whenever we had an encounter, you would make these strange expressions. I searched for them, the results were that what could be possibly making you have these...tics, was lack of sleep. The excessive blinking, biting your lips, involuntary facial pulling, all are the result of sleepless nights, excessive exhaustion, and the medicine for that is...that, for humans anyway.”

“WHAT?!” You yelled, snatching the translator back from his hand as he stared at you with yet another confused expression. “I was flirting with you! Flirting! I’m not sick!” You said, holding out the translator as it did its thing.

Confusion melting away into realization, he spoke again, not bothering to hold the translator but simply stepping closer to you.

“You were trying to court me?”

“Yes! I was winking at you! It’s a human thing!” You said, then realizing your mistake, “Oh...human thing...Ah fuck” You covered your face in embarrassment, “God, that’s why you always looked at me like that, I-”

“Would you still like to...court me?”

“Yes!” You said, head jerking up again so fast the yautja before you flinched a bit. “I-, yes.” You cleared your throat, a hard blush creeping its way across your face again.

“Good, it was my plan to court you too...after you had healed of your...sickness.” He said, chuckling, “Which apparently was no sickness at all.” He cleared as you squinted at him, “Well, I’m Yeyinde.” He said, “I’m glad we can finally communicate, always wanted to ask you a few things.”

You smiled, feeling that blush coming back again, “How about we go on a walk? Then we can talk about anything you want” You said, holding out your free hand for him to take.

“Of course,” He rumbled, massive hand closing gently around yours as you started walking up the rest of the trail.

[lrissa]

You’re Easier To Kick When You’re Kneeling.

summary: you and eren were both titan shifters, getting your ass beat in the court room by humanity’s strongest

warnings: violence, swearing,

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

“Good luck!”

Where the last words Hanji spoke before shoving you and Eren into the court room. Tension penetrated the air as the Survey Corps gave hard glares to the Military Police.

Spinning around you saw everyone looking to you and Eren. Embarrassment and fear crawled through your nerves, gazing to Eren as he looked just as afraid.

“I’m scared..” You whispered to the brunette, he turned to look down at your lightly shaking physique.

“We’ll be fine.” He gave you a small smile, his eyes creased softly, he wished he could reach out and pat you on the shoulder.

Straining yours eyes forwards you bit down your tongue readying yourself mentally. You noticed two long metal pillars beside eachother, gulping.

“Step forward.” An office spoke as he shoved the barrel of a gun into Erens back. Urging him forwards forcefully, quickly you walked to catch up with him.

Two officers pushed you and Eren apart. Snapping your head to the brunette, he nodded his head to you calmly, his eyes gave you comfort as the man shoved you to your knees infront of the pole.

Together the men picked up the metal and ordered you to place your hands stretched behind you, doing so they let the pole fall back into place. Having you directly connected to the pole and squatted down.

You hung your head low as the hair on your shoulders fell forwards to conceal your face. Your eyes had dilated and your body shook. Fear. Worry. Anxiety.

A door opened followed by footsteps and a chair scraping across the stone as someone seated themselves. The judge.

“Well then, let us begin. Eren Jaeger and Y/N L/N, yes?” He’d adjust his glasses and stare at the small paper in his fingers before continuing. “You are soldiers, sworn to sacrifice your life for the public good. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.” Eren answered as he stared bug-eyed at the judge, “Yes, sir.” You repeated after Eren and tilted your head up.

“This is an exceptional situation. The tribunal will be held under military, not civilian, law. The final decision rests entirely in my hands.” The white haired man looked from the paper to us, “Your fate will be decided here. Do you have any objections.”

Looking to the floor you squeezed your eyes shut momentarily, opening them wide again. “No, sir.” You and Eren spoke simultaneously.

“I appreciate your perception. I will be direct. As anticipated, concealing your existence has proved impossible. We must make your existing public in some form, or a threat to humanity other than titans will arise. What I will decide today is which force will have custody of you.”

“The Military Police,”

“Or the Survey Corps?”

“Then, I ask the Military Police for their proposal.”

Your head shifted to the Military Police, watching as a man readied himself before speaking vibrantly.

“Yes, sir, I am Commander of the Military Police, Nile Dawk, I will present my proposal. After a thorough investigation of Eren and Y/N’s body, we believe they should be eliminated immediately.”

Your eyes expanded as he said this. This man hardly knew either of you, not a single fucking thing. Your eyebrows furrowed into a scowl while your hands contoured into fists.

“It’s certainly true that their titan power overcame our pervious peril. However, now their existence threatens to spark a civil war. So we ask them to die for humanity’s sake, leaving behind all information they can.” He finished

Your stomach churned as he spoke, did everyone seriously wish you dead?

“There is no need for that! They are an invasive pest! They have deceived the walls that embody Gods wisdom! They must be killed at once!” A preist yelled at the top of his lungs as he pointed to us with crazed eyes. Freak.

“Preist Nick. Order, please.” The judge calmly stated before shifting his attention to the right side.

“We’ll hear the Survey Corps’s proposal next.”

“Yes, sir. I, 13th Commander of the Survey Corps, Erwin Smith, will present my proposal. We would welcome Eren and Y/N as an official member of our forces, and use their power to retake Wall Maria... That is all.”

You stared at the Commander, that’s all. That’s all? Yours and Erens life were on the line and he couldn’t conjure up another defense statement.

“That’s all?” The judge questioned suspiciously.

“Yes, sir. With their power, we can retake Wall Maria. We believe it is clear what our priorities should be.”

“I see. And where do you plan to begin this mission”The judge stated, “Pixis, the Trost wall has been completely sealed, correct?” He added.

“Yes, it can never be opened again.” A bald man retorted.

“We would like to set out from Karanes, in the east. From there, we will proceed to Zhiganshina. We will determine the route as we go.” Erwin confidently spoke as he stared to the judge.

“Wait a minute!” shouted a man, whipping your head over, “Shouldn’t we seal all the wall gates once and for all? The Colossal Titan can only destroy the gates. If we can strengthen them, we needn’t endure further attacks!” His planned seemed smart but there where missing pieces and it would most likely be difficult to achieve.

“Shut up, merchant dog!”

“With those titan powers we can return to Wall Maria!”

“We can no longer indulge your delusions of grandeur!”

Argued two men as they yelled at one another from across the room, ‘So annoying’ you thought.

“You talk a lot, pig.” A dark voice rung throughout the court, turning your head up you spotted Levi. Behind his tough physique he was actually a bit funny.

“Where is your proof?” Levi continued, “that the titans will wait while we seal the gates? The ‘we’ you speak of are only those you wish to protect, your ‘friends’ who help line your pockets. The people who starve because there isn’t enough land to sow don’t even figure into the thoughts of you pig.” Levi finished as you stared at him with wide eyes, was he seriously protecting you from the Military Police?

“We just thought that we could survive by sealing the wall gates—“ The merchant began, “Silence!” Yelled the priest beside him as he slammed his hand on the railing, nearing the mans eyes. “Impious traitor! Mere humans altering Wall Rose, walls that were a gift from God? Can you truly see those walls? Gods work far beyond human capabilities, and not understand?”

The rest of his words drowned out as your mind took hold, thoughts of the future plundered your head as you squeezed your eyes shut.

The judges taps of his desk brought you back to reality and you snapped your head up, “Silence. You may discuss your personal philosophies and opinions elsewhere.”

“Jaeger, L/N. Can you continue to serve as a soldier, using your titan powers to benefit humanity?”

“Yes, I can!” Eren spoke clearly, the judges cold gaze shifting to you, “Yes, sir.”

“But the report on Trost’s defense says this... ‘Immediately after turning into a titan, Eren swung his fist at Mikasa Ackerman.’” You sucked in a breath and looked to Eren, his eyes extended as he looked to Mikasa. Of course, he doesn’t remember.

“Is Mikasa Ackerman present?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“You are Ackerman? Is it true that, as a titan, Jaeger attacked you?” The old man questioned her.

You sighed softly, ‘As if he can control it yet’ you thought angrily in your mind.

“Yes, its true.”

Gasps of terror rung throughout the court, all eyes falling on Eren in a deathly glare.

“I knew it... He’s just another titan.”

“What about the girl!” Another protested as your head whipped to them, sending a glare to them.

“But, on two previous occasions, Eren saved my life in his titan form. The first time, mere seconds before a titan would have had me in its grasp, he stood between us, protecting me. The second time, he saved Armin and me from an HE shell. I would like these facts to be considered aswell.”

“I object,”

“I believe these comments are greatly colored by her personal feelings. At an early age, Mikasa Ackerman lost her parents and was taken in by the Jaeger household.” Well haven’t you done your homework, you pondered with a small frown.

“Our investigation had also revealed a surprising fact about the underlying events. At age nine, Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman killed three robbers who tried to kidnap her.”

More gasps could be heard as the news entered their ears, you shook your head. ‘What stupid fucking evidence to have, like they had a choice’ you considered furiously in your mind.

“Even if it was self defense, I must question their fundamental humanity. Is it right to entrust humanity’s fate, resources, and lives to him?”

Whispering and arguing broke out between the different sides, turning their heads to their fellow comrades to spew hatred. What a loss. Losing to this mans ugly mouth. You hung your head and sighed quietly.

“So is she. Do we know if we can trust her!” Referring to you as he pointed. “That’s right! Just to be safe we should dissect her too!” He looked to Mikasa next.

“Wait!” Yelled Eren and looked up to the man, “I may be a monster, but they have nothing to do with it! Nothing at all!” Eren defended as you watched, his spit flying from his mouth as he spoke from his soul. Your heart clenching in pitifulness as you frowned sadly.

“We can’t trust that!”

“It’s true!”

“If you’re covering for them, it means they’re one of you!”

“No!” He screamed and slammed his handcuffs against the metal pole, looking down in defeat, “I mean, you are wrong. But you’re simply coming up with theories that fit, whatever it suits you to fit.”

“Eren..” You said softly as you stared at him, your eyes in pain for him. He was so much braver than you and it gave you courage to see him so persistent.

Looking up you began to speak, “Besides, all of you people. You’ve never seen a titan! What are you so afraid of? What is your point if you do not have the power to fight? If you’re afraid to fight for humanity’s survival then, help us!” Your voice getting increasingly louder as you glared at the pathetic people who called themselves the Military Police.

“Just shut up and trust us!” You yelled your last statement and looked up to the judge, your chest panting heavily as you meant every word.

“Weapons ready!” The Commander of the Military Police shouted while his cadet set his gun on the railing and pointed it to you.

Until your face snapped to the right and pain shot through your nerves, your vision blurred instantly. Metal was all you tasted. A tooth had even managed to fall from your mouth and rolled onto the ground. You blinked to dimish the haziness and looked to your striker.

Levi Ackerman

“Huh?—“

His steel pointed boot slammed across your face again. Your back slamming against the pole behind you. Blood trickled down your nose and down to your chin, dropping onto the floor. Your blood had even splattered small droplets along the stone flooring.

Levi grabbed your collar and shoved you forwards to him. The handcuffs clanging against the pole as Levi stared down at you, his frigid glare locking eyes with your beaten ones before slamming his knee into the side of your head, sending it flying.

Pain. So much pain. It was burning you alive from the inside as all you could do was endure it. Tch, this guy’s a dick.

“Y/N!” Eren screamed from the opposite end. Hatred and worry evident in his tone as he struggled against his own cuffs, “Stop it!” Eren attempted again as all he could do was watch his friend get beaten to the brink of death.

Levi continued to sock you with his boot, giving you zero remorse as he beat the girl below him. Mikasa glared and got ready to jump the railing before Armin held her back.

Blood streamed down your face, a large puddle had began to form under you. You gasped for air before Levi lifted his leg high and stomped down on your head into the puddle of your demise. Grimacing at the filth and pain, all you did was lay there. If someone wasn’t looking hard enough, they’d assume you were already dead.

Croaks of pain left your body as his boot remained on your head, struggling to breath as blood trickled down your nose and into your mouth, unintentionally swallowing.

“This is a personal opinion. But I believe pain to be the best way to train someone. What you need is to be trained like a dog, not a man.”

Your rigid breathes left your mouth as you stared straight at Eren, his eyes meeting yours as he seemed to become visibly furious. Bruised and cuts tracked your once pretty, soft skin. Blood now coating all the crevices in your face.

“It’s easier to kick you while you’re kneeling, too.”

Levi lifted his boot and slammed it into the side of your head once again, giving you no time to breathe he stomped it back onto the cold ground again. Repeating his tourtue when he kicked your head all over again.

Strangled breaths was all you could muster, along with the rattling of the handcuffs as you were thrown around like trash, filling the silence of the fearful court room.

Kick. Kick, Kick.

All anyone could do was watch your doom, “Wait, Levi...”

Your head was pushed against the pole with his boot flat on your face as he turned his head to the one speaking, “What is it?”

His boot fell from your face as you hunched forwards, croaking as you gasped for air, blood trickling down the sides of your mouth.

“That’s dangerous... What if she gets angry and turns into a titan?”

You slowly tilted your head up to Levi, hair falling away from your face and resting on your shoulders. The raven head stared at you for a moment, then shoved his boot back onto your face and slamming it against the pole.

“What are you saying?” Levi dropped his leg again and gripped a fistful your hair, violently pulling you to his face as your eyes struggled to remain open from extreme bruising.

“Aren’t you going to dissect her?” He dropped your hair and stood straight, peering down to your defeated and beaten figure.

“When she turned into a titan last time, she killed twenty other titans before collapsing. If she is an enemy, her intelligence makes her a more formidable foe. Still no match for me, of course.”

Levi gazed to the Military Police, “But what will you do? Anyone persecuting her should also consider that fact. Do you really think you can kill her?” Levi spoke cooly as he stood infront of you, staring you down.

From afar you heard others speak, but your heartbeat clogged your ears as it deafened any other noise. Staring at Levi’s boots infront of you, you noted your blood coating the bottom before gently shutting your eyelids.

You could only hear Levi as he spoke from ahead of you, “I’m certain I can kill her. The only problem is I doubt I can do any less.” Levi proposed.

Hearing the pound of the desk above you, the judge made his decision. But you’d never make out what he proposed.

Footsteps stepped back from ahead of you as new ones came from behind you, uncuffing you and lifting the pole.

You tumbled forwards onto the unwelcoming ground, cautiously opening your eyes to the glaring sunlight that entered through the windows.

Eren ran to you, crouching down infront of you as you saw him shout words at you. He picked your head up in his hands and cradled you in his lap, checking for your pulse.

Your eyes began to shut again, your head lulling to the side to spot the raven head. Levi stared at you from afar, his arms crossed over his chest. The last thing you saw was the ravens dark gaze before your eyes rolled and all you saw was darkness.

be real, we all wish we were the ones being kicked

[moon-lixie]

about a letter left to be found and a boy who disappeared into thin air.

word count: 2.046k

genre: slight angst

song: 말할 수 없는 비밀 (Secret Secret) - Stray Kids

I don't think any of you would be able to understand, not even if I sit down and speak all of my truths. Still, I think I owe an explanation.

With trembling hands he gathered his things, the notebooks filled with dreams spilling from the edges of every page, his favourite hoodies, the pair of bright red headphones he had since the beginning of high school.

From the open window a cold breeze came in and ruffled the slightly damp hair of the boy, paying special attention to the ends that were still clamped together due to the dampness.

He wasn't exactly in a hurry, but he still felt nervous and anxious, because even if it was almost impossible, at the back of his mind he was haunted by the idea of someone coming in and stopping him.

Moving quickly he reached down for the towel hanging around his shoulders and ruffled his hair a couple of times more until he felt satisfied.

First of all, I have no idea where I am going but know that I'm fine.

A loud sigh caressed his lips as it escaped, filling the room that he had always called his own, his little world nobody could disrupt because in between the forgotten comics and the piles of clothes sprawled here and there he had felt more at home than he has ever felt anywhere else.

Throwing the towel to the basket of dirty laundry at the end of the hallway, he finally finished everything he had to do, simply being left with staring at himself in the mirror and fixing the wild strands of hair that had been upset by the freshly washed hoodie hugging his torso.

He could barely muster a smile at his reflection, not because he was sad, but because it all felt surreal in a sense that left him wondering if it was still the middle of the night many years ago and the last years had been nothing but the hopeful dreams of his younger self.

Maybe it's a bit selfish of me to simply leave without a warning, but please understand that I want much more than this place could ever offer me.

He closed the front door of his house, locking it with the pair of keys his mother had given him once he turned twelve; they were still held together by the Pororo keychain he had bought one day after school with such an overwhelming excitement that made the memory pull at the corners of his lips.

It felt bizarre to walk away from the entrance of his home knowing that he was never really going to come back, that this was the last time.

Just like the very first time he had arrived there along with a moving truck packed with boxes and furniture, he felt breath leave his lungs at the sight of the white façade. It made him stop for a second and contemplate in utter silence.

Goosebumps coated the length of his arms once he turned around and kept moving forward at a steady pace, leaving his old bike behind as well.

Know that the decision to leave wasn't made in a haste, I've been thinking about it for long and now just seemed like the perfect time.

Mr. Kim lazily waved in his direction, gentle smile and downturned eyes with the familiar brown that reminded Jisung of his grandfather; maybe that's where he would go next, to visit his grandfather.

Without much thought he returned the sweet and familiar greeting, feeling a bit nostalgic when he thought back to all the summers that he had spent working with the man in his garden.

Back then a young Jisung had been happy to make a few bucks while getting to stay out all day in the yard playing with bugs and with the sun kissing the skin of his chubby cheeks and legs that weren't covered by his favourite pair of green shorts.

He couldn't help but wonder where had all that time run to because despite being the one who lived through it, he could barely make sense or when had he ended up where he was.

Time moved too fast and without a warning, it left everyone wondering.

It isn't easy to leave my whole life behind but it feels right, the mere idea makes me feel lighter because who knows who I'll get to be when I get to the end of my journey.

Perhaps I'll be braver, a little bit smarter, more mature, maybe even a couple of centimetres taller.

He could walk the streets with his eyes closed and still know where every bump and crack was in the sidewalk, he could still point where his old school was, where the closest convenience store stepped in his way and as usual tempted him to buy a snack even on those days were his pockets were empty and his tummy full.

From there he knew his way to everywhere else in town, he even knew how long it would take him to get to said places on foot or with his trusty bike.

It all felt too easy and familiar, too comfortable, and those things weren't bad at all but Jisung thought he had had enough of them. He craved discovering himself inside the walls of another place so foreign that every single one of his truths were only known by himself.

Was it silly? That he thought a change of scenery would make him a new person, one much more alike to who he truly was.

Sometimes talking to someone isn't enough, because you don't think they'll understand, you know they won't. That's why I never said anything about the deepest desires looming in my heart or the biggest fears that tied me down for as long as I can remember.

All the interrogations running leaps around his mind made him walk faster, filling him with the same dreadful excitement he felt every first day of school, one that mixed with nervousness and fear.

He wasn't sure if starting fresh would let him be someone whose fears didn't weigh upon his heart so harshly, he wasn't sure if he would get to be the person he had always wished he could be but he could only hope.

Hope had been what drove him this far and today he was giving it full control of where his feet moved to, control over how his next day would look like or where he would wake up the next day.

Never in his life had he felt more ready to wander around by himself.

But I guess, since I'm going, it's only fair that I try to sit down and talk to someone, hoping that they will understand even if my words are scarce and there will be nobody to talk back to at the end of this letter.

On the horizon the sun rushed to slumber, leaving a comforting lilac pooling around the clouds and making them stand out even more.

Night hovered over his shoulders making him breathe with much more ease because if there was something that portrayed hope and tomorrow with an uncanny resemblance and lack of effort, it was the night sky with its endless stars and its shining moon.

In his childhood days he had discovered that there was no better cure for uncertainty and a nostalgic heart than staring up at the night sky; there was something about it that made him feel like time stopped for an instance, that time wasn't quite as unforgiving while the veil of darkness covered everything.

If he could go anywhere he wanted —which he was already doing— he would wish to go to the sky, not the endless and uncertain space, but the idea of the sky that humans have in their ignorance, a canvas that goes no further than our eyes can see.

Ever since I can remember I've felt like there was a place for me somewhere out there, a place I always called home without knowing what it really was.

It wasn't like I didn't feel at home here, there was just a feeling in my chest that told me out there I could feel completely free in the way I've always craved.

For him it had always felt unfair, how everyone got to live and walk around without the things that kept him back. Of course when he grew older he understood that everyone had their own problems but sometimes that was easy to ignore when one's own darkness loomed around their heart.

He had spent many years wishing, praying to whoever was listening, that he could just be himself without the voices in his head and the uncertainties that made every single one of his steps be cautious.

Nobody seemed to have listened as years went by and things got harder, still, he never gave up and even though he could never really say that there was nothing else bothering him he could at least say that he had everything under control.

If time is unforgiving it also is healing, and for him it had healed many wounds that couldn't be seen.

Unknowingly I spent a lot of time wanting to go to that place, craving to find where it was.

Some years ago I understood that it perhaps wasn't a place but a version of myself that could bring such soothing feelings. That's where I'm going to, that's why I have no destination.

He wanted to believe that nothing had been planned, that his savings carefully stuffed at the bottom of his backpack had just been him being responsible about his money and having enough for the impulsiveness that one day had won over reason and had driven him to this adventure.

He wanted to pretend but it was stupid to do now, there was nobody around to judge him or question his motives, so there was no use in not being honest with himself.

Thinking back to all those evenings spent running around the small restaurant in which he had found a job, he could see that perhaps this plan had been many years in the making.

Unconsciously he had always been hoping for a moment like this, a moment of unadulterated freedom.

Hopefully I do get there, hopefully I get to be happy and everyone I left behind does too.

The journey to happiness, to authenticity, to being unapologetically himself, had taken him to the airport, another thing that wasn't as spontaneous as he had tried to make it seem.

Passport in hand and trembling self, the whiteness of the place and the various people walking back and forth made him realise that this was really going on, he was really leaving.

For the first time in his life overthinking had no place in his plans.

I wish to be who I am meant to and disappearing was perhaps the thing I had always been destined to do. A boy who disappeared into thin air, that's who I am, a boy with secrets that weigh down on my heart and that I'm unwilling to carry with me on this journey.

Approaching the desk he was met with a young woman, in her mid twenties or early thirties, sweet but practised smile covering her lips as she recited the words that he must've learned a long time ago when she first started working there.

"I want a ticket for the next flight available," Jisung said, offering a reassuring smile after the confused look the woman gave him.

He looked around as the sounds of typing filled his ears and before he had time to start regretting something the ticket had been placed on his palm and his savings were short by a considerable amount.

I'm afraid that wasn't much of an explanation but it was my truth.

Good luck and see you whenever we're meant to cross paths.

The last thing he saw before falling asleep were the clouds from above and the sky now completely dark like the many nights he had wondered where he belonged.

Now he had an answer, he belonged wherever he felt free and right then in that comfortable plane seat he felt the freest he had ever been.