#like I cannot express how much better I feel and I hadn't even realized I felt bad in the first place

[mosspapi]

My hair is soft for the first time in literal years I could actually cry rn /pos

[theforestghost]

MegOP Week 2024 -Day 6

Day 6: Banter Fandom: Transformers Animated Prompt: Optimus is the reincarnation of the 13th but does not know it. Rating: G

“I cannot stand you!”

“Feel free to sit down then!”

This had been the first banter that Megatron ever had with Optimus. It was subtle, mundane even, but for some reason, it stuck to Megatron far more than he had liked to admit. He was certain Optimus meant it to be nothing more than a snide remark, a retort as their weapons clashed during one of their many exchanges on that mud ball of a planet. Nevertheless it stuck to Megatron just as much as the next.

“You are a pain in my aft.”

Megatron had sneered the glyphs, glaring down at Optimus in disdain as the Autobot had successfully gained the All Shard fragment that Megatron had been certain was his. He had been ready to snatch the fragment from the little Prime’s servos when once again a snide remark was thrown his way.

“I’m certain Lugnut will kiss it better for you.”

Megatron froze at this, caught off guard at the premise and caught even more off guard by how Optimus used that split nanoklik that he’d hesitated to transform and drive away, All Spark fragment still in his possession. 

Now Megatron would not deny that he enjoyed a good debate. Banter during a fight amused him more than anything else and one of the biggest reasons he enjoyed Strika’s friendship was the bold way the femme talked back to him. Insults and back talk filled with light humor and teasing that few ever expected from a mech of Megatron’s standing. Getting it from the little Autobot that constantly got in his way just made Megatron look forward to their encounters even more, just to hear what he’d say next.

And Optimus did not disappoint. Even when their tentative alliance hung on the thin thread the two mechs had strung, Optimus had still kept up the banter. Even when one misstep could end this all, Optimus did not hold back whenever given a chance to give Megatron a snide remark.

Like when Megatron had unfortunately gotten his pede stuck in a well hidden pit of mud that quickly sucked him down to the stabilizer joint. Megatron had been angry at first, his pride shattered on an instant at realization that Optimus had witnessed the entire ordeal. And of course the Prime had laughed, laughed so hard his vocalizer reset and his pede gave out from underneath him. Megatron had growled at him in frustration and desired to drag the Prime into the mud pit but of course Optimus had made sure he was just out of reach of the Warlord.

“Enough! Now are you going to help me out or are you too pretty?” 

“I’m too pretty.”

Megatron had expected a snide remark, he’d expected something but he hadn't quite expected Optimus’ expression. Optimus knelt before him, a smug expression covering his features and amusement flooding his field that mocked Megatron more than that expression did. At that moment, Megatron wasn���t sure if he wanted to slug the Autobot or kiss him. 

[xcerizex]

"don't look back (but that's impossible)"

Vega, character study (?), fem!summoner, spoilers for the main story, Sirius makes an appearance but it's mainly about Vega, 1.6k words

Vega has no choice but to follow the Summoner as she holds his hands and leads him away towards a secluded spot. It's at times like this he's glad he wears gloves, otherwise, he would have been far too ashamed of himself on having to bother her with his sweaty palms.

But maybe she still notices it. His nervousness. The way his hands tremble in her hold.

Mainly navigating on impulse, the both of them unexpectedly find themselves on a worn out path leading towards a small garden Vega used to play in when he was a child. The Summoner couldn't possibly have known about this place and it's meaning to him, but there is no one around. That is enough for her.

She continues leading him by hand, and when she finally stops, she looks up at him. And he sees the disappointed expression on her face.

"Why did you do that?"

She is referring to the earlier incident, in which Vega had requested Gianna to seal away the powers of Polaris inside of her.

He keeps his silence, afraid of continuing the conversation, and having to hear the disappointed tone in her voice once more. But when his gaze makes its way to the tree swing in idle, she calls his name gently.

"Vega."

What a sweet sound.

He brings back his gaze towards her.

"I'm not mad at you. It's just..." the Summoner trails off, trying her best to come up with words that she's sure won't hurt him. Won't hurt him too much at least.

"Okay, yes. I'm mad at you, but not that much."

She is still brutally honest however. It's not like he hadn't expected it, still, he feels the sting in his heart.

Her eyes continue searching him the longer he remains quiet, perhaps hoping she could gain her answers by the downturn of his mouth, or the depth in his eyes. She's still doing it, even as she starts speaking again;

"But why didn't you consult me first, before you had made that request? If Gianna had truly fulfilled your ask right then and there, it would have been too late."

"The powers of Polaris might have been lost forever."

She speaks the truth.

"And I would have become as powerless as I was before-"

"You were never powerless."

And Vega no longer remains silent. Like a glass of water tipping over the edge, words begun to spill out uncontrollably.

"Not once, have I ever thought of you as powerless. You can't fight, yes. But regardless of the situation, you've always remained strong in your own way."

She's still holding onto his hand, whose grip tightens on her without either his will or knowledge.

"But once people find out that the powers of the Great Sorcerer has come back, they will use you."

He fears her becoming someone he cannot save.

"They will put you on a pedestal, and revere you the way they did with Polaris. The person that you were before will be of no matter to them, in that situation, you may not be able to hold on to your true self."

He fears her slipping away from his grasp once more. He is afraid of her letting go of him again. But when the thought crosses his mind, he realizes his near death grip on her hand, and quickly lets go.

"F-forgive me, Summoner," he should have controlled himself better. "I had lost my own willpower momentarily and hurt you."

But she simply shakes her head.

"It's alright, Vega. Anyways, I understand now."

Her tone has noticably cheered up a bit, after realizing just how deeply Vega cared for her. But he doesn't notice it just yet, still internally grimacing on the inside from his recent mistake. While she hasn't said anything about it, he knows that the grip of a Kamargo is not at all weak, and has to hold himself back from fretting over her like a mama hen.

"But next time, Vega," she continues on with the original topic. "I hope that you will consult me first, instead of making the decision on your own."

He quickly nods his head, "Yes, Summoner. I apologize for my earlier actions."

And he means it. To get his sincerity across, he adds, "The next time I do anything, I will make sure to consult with you first."

At that, she scrunches her nose up in playful jest, "Maybe not everything," she giggles. "Rather than asking for my permission on the things you do, just inform me before you do anything drastic that concerns me."

Before he can agree, she adds, "And anything that involves Sirius."

She doesn't notice the twitch in his hands when she says that, and moves over away from him to marvel at the swing covered in flowers, unaware of the inner turmoil she had caused.

'I find you rather pitiful. It's because both you, Vega, and I are the same.'

Sirius's words ring across his mind and he has to fight back the irritation to clench his fists at those words, soundlessly repeating a mantra of peace in his head. Not because he's wrong, but because he's right. It's exactly because he's right.

He may very well be just like Sirius.

To get rid of those annoying thoughts, he places his hand on the rope of the swing, and feels the familiar roughness associated with his childhood. The childhood he had spent in Bound Arlyn.

And as usual, no matter how hard he tries, he can never seem to remember much about the time he'd spent in Mid Earthiem. The clearest thing he can remember is the empty silence of adults walking past him, the smile of his dearest friend and first love, as well as....

The image of him letting go of her hand.

"Vega!"

She's holding onto his arm as an unfamiliar memory rushes to the surface of his mind and pain crackles inside his head, feeling as if his mind might split apart.

'That's not what happened back then.'

He is sure of it. But the memory simply replays itself in his mind without his consent, and is forced to come to terms with the fact that, it was he, who had let go of her hand the day he lost her.

He also sees her looking back at him in fear, tumbling down, down, and down...

"...Forgive me, Summoner," he apologizes again for the second time today. "I have to go."

She gives him a look of concern and offers to take him to Gianna for a checkup. He declines as politely as he can, all the while the pain makes his ears ring, and his heart pounds as loudly as it can, as if to drown out the truth.

It doesn't work.

The door behind Vega locks with a soft click, with his hands still holding on to the doorknob and his back facing the door.

While his gaze fixes itself on to Sirius.

"Oh, and to what pleasure do I owe on receiving a visit from Vega, of all people?"

Vega ignores the drawl of his words and asks, "...What makes you think that the both of us are similar?"

Sirius laughs. It is not the mocking kind however. He almost sounds...defeated.

"Straight to the point as always, our dear Vega."

Sirius tugs at his restraints which causes the magic to make a slight jangle. Then, his face winces in pain, thanks to the mess of magic tangled inside his body. He can't even get a good night's sleep.

He's given up on most pretences, but as a habit, his expression reverts back into its usual drawl, and Vega hears him sigh in exasperation.

"The fact that you've come here must mean you already have an idea as to why."

"...."

It seems as if staying quiet has become Vega's own habit.

Sirius shifts on his rear so to make himself comfy, and doesn't bother offering Vega a seat.

"Well, I heard about your little tiff with the Summoner earlier, don't you think you're a bit overprotective?"

Sirius likes his dramatics, so instead of rising to his provocation, all Vega can do is answer as calmly as possible.

"You may not be the most compassionate sorcerer in Bound Arlyn, but when it comes to the Summoner, I know you too, would care."

Sirius visibly stiffens and Vega is reminded of a statue he once saw in the ruins of the Tower of Babilli. Worn out, riddled with cracks, as Sirius turns his head to hide his expression.

"The only one I care about is Polaris."

They both know it's a lie, but Sirius gives him no room for protest.

"Tell me, Vega. Isn't the Summoner the only one you really care about?"

What nonsense. "No. Because unlike you, I have other people I cherish too."

Sirius gives him a hollow laugh.

"When the time comes, you will realize how irrelevant those "people" can seem to you, as you quiver in the corner the constellations have pushed you in, for their own amusement," he says with a voice as sweet, and as poisonous, of a belladonna. A flower fitting for his character, something that remains as only Vega's opinion.

"Your words remain as difficult to comprehend as ever."

Silence.

"Vega."

He is slightly startled as Sirius calls out his name seriously for the first time.

"You still haven't let go of that hand have you?"

'What would he know?'

Sirius speaks again, as if reading his thoughts;

"When I said that the both of us were alike, it was not in jest. I meant it."

"Just like me, you're still stuck clinging to a dream long gone - or perhaps it would be more accurate to call it a nightmare - and the ghost of it."

It's laughable. Sirius of all people, the strangest and most capricious out of them, is reprimanding him for being too clingy.

But Vega knows that Sirius isn't playing around.

"You may become just like me, trapped in longing, unable to see the present for what it is. You will always be looking backwards."

Maybe they are similar after all, in the most distant, and yet morbidly intimate way possible.

"I just hope you won't hurt her like I did."

No one else but Sirius hears these words.

[healix17]

Sympathy and Love

On the edge of a rugged cliff, barely holding itself in place, overlooking the vast expanse of the cosmos, a lonely Prime sat alone, deep in thought.

The stars shimmered above him, splattering the night sky with a beautiful glow that starkly contrasted with the pain within his spark.

As the leader of the Autobots, moments of peace and quiet were rare, and Optimus cherished this brief break from the endless war.

Unbeknownst to Optimus, another figure approached silently from the shadows. Megatron, leader of the Decepticons, had been tracking Optimus with the intent to finish their eternal battle.

However, something made him pause as he watched his rival sitting there, lost in contemplation.

Megatron's curiosity got the better of him. He had never seen Optimus in such a vulnerable state. The mighty warrior, always steadfast and resolute, now seemed fragile, almost...human.

Setting aside his sword, Megatron walked towards Optimus, his footsteps light on the rocky ground.

Optimus heard the approach and instinctively reached for his blaster, but growled when he saw who it was.

"Megatron," he said warily, his voice low and steady. "What brings you here?"

Megatron lowered himself to sit beside Optimus, surprising them both. "Calm yourself, Prime. I am not here to fight." Megatron scoffed. "At least, not tonight."

Optimus frowned but did not move away. "Then why are you here?"

Megatron sighed, looking up at the same stars that had captured Optimus's attention.

"I needed a moment to think. We may be enemies, but even I need a break from the constant struggle."

The two leaders sat in silence for a while, the only sounds the gentle rustling of the wind and the distant hum of the planet's nocturnal creatures. It was a peace neither had known for a long time.

Eventually, Optimus broke the silence. "Do you ever wonder, Megatron, what all this fighting is for? What we are truly achieving?"

Megatron glanced at him, a mixture of surprise and understanding in his optics. "More often than I'd like to admit. I started this war for freedom, for power...but sometimes I question whether it's worth the cost."

Optimus nodded, his gaze still fixed on the stars. "We have lost so much. Friends, allies, even our home. And yet, we continue. I can't help but feel...tired."

Megatron felt a pang of something he hadn't acknowledged in eons...sympathy.

"Perhaps we are not so different, you and I. Both burdened by the weight of leadership, both longing for an end to this war."

They sat together, the weight of their shared burdens palpable. Gradually, the tension between them eased, replaced by an unspoken understanding. As the night grew colder, Optimus and Megatron found themselves leaning against each other for warmth, their battle-worn frames offering a rare comfort.

Without realizing it, the exhaustion of their endless conflict took its toll. They fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, resting against one another, their differences forgotten in the quiet of the night.

When the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, Optimus stirred. He blinked in confusion, realizing he was resting against Megatron.

"What the f—?" he said with a start, quickly pulling away.

Megatron awoke with a similar start, his optics widening as he took in the situation. "Prime, what is this?"

They scrambled to their peds, both equally embarrassed and bewildered. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, both uncertain how to proceed. The previous night's camaraderie seemed like a distant memory, replaced by the stark reality of their rivalry.

Optimus took a deep breath, his optics narrowing. "We must never speak of this, Megatron. Our war cannot afford such...distractions."

Megatron nodded slowly, though a hint of amusement twinkled in his optics. "Agreed. But perhaps, for a moment, we saw a glimpse of what peace could look like."

Optimus's expression softened ever so slightly. "Perhaps. But peace remains a distant dream as long as the Decepticons continue their conquest."

Megatron's face hardened. "And as long as the Autobots resist, peace will be unattainable. We are bound by our choices, Prime."

Optimus nodded solemnly. "Then let us return to our paths. The war waits for no one."

As they turned to leave, Megatron paused and looked back. "Optimus," he called out.

Optimus stopped, glancing over his shoulder. "Hmm?"

"For what it's worth, last night was...a reminder. That even enemies can find common ground, if only for a moment."

Megatron looked as if admitting this was the equivalent to getting shot in his spark, but he pushed himself to say it anyways.

Optimus offered a small, weary smile. "Perhaps, someday, that common ground will lead us to a true end to this conflict."

With that, they parted ways, the dawn casting long shadows behind them. Though their paths were once again divergent, the memory of that shared moment lingered, a fragile thread of hope woven into the tapestry of their endless struggle.

As Optimus walked away, he couldn't shake the feeling that despite everything, there might still be a chance for understanding, even amidst the chaos of war. And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself a sliver of hope that one day, the stars above would shine on a peaceful Cybertron.

In that fleeting moment, the connection between them had felt profound, a silent acknowledgment of the burdens they both bore. Perhaps, amidst the battle cries and clashes, there was space for something more—something that transcended war, something akin to understanding, or maybe...love.

[got-into-worm-by-mistake]

The first idea for a Worm fanfic that I had, before I even started reading Worm (remember, my entry into Worm was reading about Worm and the controversy about Amy in Ward and yada yada), but while I was reading Worm Fanfic, was an Amy Dallon Peggy Sue fic, but one a bit different from the small handful that I'd found and that hadn't lasted long.

Namely, I wanted one where after the end of Worm (i.e. after restoring Vicky's body and mind, or at least as much as she could, unwretching her, etc) Amy actually does leave Vicky alone, apart from a handful of times where they might accidentally end up in the same space during hero crises in the years after Gold Morning, etc. Eventually Amy moves extra far away from Vicky to reduce those chances.

The actual story opens with Amy on the eve of her 30th birthday. She's had a metric ton of Therapy, though she's hardly some perfectly functional person. She heals for a living, but to satisfy Shaper she has a whole greenhouse of modified plants and she only heals like 2-3 hours a day, barring emergencies. (Also, it's easier to do a task you hate - like healing - if you're getting paid a substantive wage for it, lbr). Anyway, Amy knows Vicky has ever right to not forgive her, given the mind influence and the rape (remember, hadn't read Worm at this point when the idea formed in my mind) and the wretching and stuff, but she can't help but want for her and Vicky to be able to be sisters again. She just doesn't act on that.

And then like, she opens an envelope as she walks into her home and it's an old picture from an old newspaper of Vicky and Amy as Glory Girl and Panacea from some publicity thing and she expresses some wish about if she could do it all again...

And then the next day, wakes up in her younger body, in her room at the Dallon house, back in 2011... the day after the Bank (i.e. the day the Undersiders face Bakuda at the storage place). Obviously at first it's a dream or a nightmare to her, etc etc, she's conflicted when she realizes it's real because now she can be sisters with Vicky again and make sure she never hurts her like she did but she still carries around all the guilt about what she did and feels like she believes she doesn't deserve to have that relationship with past Vicky (I have this whole vision of an early scene from Vicky's POV where she hears Amy going 'no, no, no, no' in her room - which is Amy realizing this isn't a dream and she's freaking out - and then Vicky, worried for Amy bursts in, breaking the door, Aura going wild and Amy feels fear (because the few times she and Vicky interacted after she dewretched her had Amy feeling fear from Vicky's aura) and Vicky realizes Amy is afraid of her, which of course makes Vicky wonder wtf is going on.

Anyway, cue Amy having to try and help save the world and prevent some of the shit that happens to Brockton Bay while only knowing some of what happened, so her ability to make things go better is limited. And wanting to maybe not have as many people die when they beat Scion this time and also maybe Taylor doesn't die, etc. Of course once she starts changing stuff unintended consequences, etc, etc.

And like, key to this fic would be all the guilt Amy carries around about raping Vicky.

And while I knew that the 'Amy raped Vicky' reading of the story was controversial and seen as a retcon by some, I wanted to work with it for this specific fic because it seemed like it would allow some really cool pathos and angst and dramatic reveals and stuff.

But having read 15.x now, I sit here and like - I cannot for the life of me see how to construct a chronicle of events using what we know of what happened where Amy's rape of Vicky actually works and makes sense and feels like something the character actually does.

15.x just... no. There's nothing there to work with.

Which kind of kills the entire idea as I conceived of it, since a key scene I had in mind did involve Amy trying to explain what happened to past Vicky - not giving excuses at all, just laying out what happened to get from point A (OG Amy as of the start of Worm) to point B (The girl who raped her sister)

(I have this vision in mind where Vicky is interrogating Amy trying to figure out what is going on with her [including an accusation of Amy being a stranger], eventually Amy mentions the 'I'm from the future' but Vicky's like 'why are you afraid of me and won't let me hug you and stuff' and Amy's like 'future you hates me for good reason' Vicky demands to know why, Amy, in a fit of high emotion and guilt and so forth screams 'I RAPED YOU!' and after bluescreening for a moment Vicky goes 'wait, so future me hates you because some sick, twisted Master controlled you and forced you to-' because of course Vicky of that point in time can't conceive of Amy ever doing that to her of her own free will and Amy is like 'No, no, you don't get to do that, I did that to myself too much in the past, but it's not true, as much as I might wish it was' or something)

But like, having read 15.x I try to imagine that scene now, Amy explaining the train of events from Bonesaw to Wretching and... I just can't quite figure out how it works.

I mean, if I ever write this and get that far, I can probably try to construct something (if I do write this, it won't be the first Wormfic I write) but like, when the idea first came to me, I knew that there was enough ambiguity in the text that large swaths of the readership genuinely didn't walk away from Worm thinking an actual physical sexual rape happened, but I figured there was something to work with, and there just really isn't.

[lightcreators]

@rosa-geminae continue from here

A smile passed Francis’ features at the compliment.  Much like the line by Lewis Carroll, mother, everywhere, haunted Francis phantomwise for the past 8 years.

“There are only so many places I can sneak away during a ball, so perhaps I shall go to your manor next time I need to escape from dancing.”  Although, he had no doubt the rumor mill would get picked up once people have noticed his habit, and thus his peace away from social obligation will once again be compromised.

He was not surprised with the Earl, although Francis couldn’t help but think how the sorrow must’ve been greater for the boy. Francis wasn’t sure what he’d do if he were in Phantomhive’s position.

“You said that you’re in no rush. So you mean that you have no other plans aside from my visitation, then?”

Ghosts were left in the shadows, where sympathy of his compliment stayed understandable. At some point, even though he cannot be assured where, his features would betray about how much he could be horrified of ghosts --- tourmented inside an repetition of an shadowing presence behind his back, of associated regrets, of conflicted feelings, where one terrible boy remembrances would still tourment him. He did what he could for learn what kind of person was the real Alois Trancy, who had no respect for him, who hold a grudge to had almost his imposter --- only be saved to be murdered on sight for had befriend the main concerned and was trying to save him … when he had been happy to had let down his stubborness … when he had gratefully blessed an inner decision to be honest about saving him --- … and realizing in comparison how harmless Alois imposter was. More emotionally understanding, less bossing people, less … incredibly harsh and mocking …. but his ghost will follow him. The Earl Trancy wanted to becoming that kind of boy. Internally, he pushed behind the thoughts. He would remaining tourmented about that, and someday, he would better digesting the kind of reality he was living. It had been his fault. He hadn't been able to protect the Earl Trancy enough, hadn't been able to be a king in front of the real Alois, hadn't been able to embracing entire responsabilities of current circumstances … It wasn't something Sebastian can fix.

❝ I can manage for a sort of agreement between us if you need to sneak away. Quiet the rumours, avoid problems on your family name. ❞ He proposed naturally. It was something he could handle by himself. For many months, he had to justify his absence inside noblesse society and his unavailability for the Queen, had also to express the Queen would be removed of her Spider for a some time … and always bring reassurance over circumstances. Justifying inside various letters why he cannot show up in daylight. Some other ally helped him to just focus over current mission of the time, where he could eventually breath partially, having still to handle his compagny, and that, no matter how circumstances were. He wasn't sure anymore how to take the underground's reaction to his situation. He never dared asking Lau about how relationship had been with an certain organization who must have hanging around … meanwhile some man had bring terror inside noblesse spheres. The underground didn't have reacted. The big one didn't, until very late … and it was going to show up physically one more time. ❝ I'm accustomed to host other nobles. I won't be surprised if it's suddently became an second home to you. For some, it has become it. ❞ There was an pleasant expression towards his confirmation request. Outside eventually show up at Trancy's doorstep and regretting his decision one second later, no, nothing. ❝ Not to my knowledge. I've managed to give myself quieter weeks for a while. I will have to visit some nobles in a few weeks, though that can wait. ❞

[casspurrjoybell-28]

The Alpha's Addiction - Chapter 13a

*Warning Adult Content*

Training - Part 1 - Cyrus

I'm finishing up morning training, my gut twisting in anxiousness.

When Koa came to my door the other day and so adamantly demanded I train him, I was shocked.

Never would I have expected him to take me up on my offer, being how he tries his best to avoid me most of the time.

It hurts, thinking about the fact that my beautiful mate is so near but will not even let me know him.

My wolf is in pain from the rejection, constantly howling out in loneliness and urging me to go seek him.

But if Koa does not want me, then how can I?

I cannot force how I feel upon him.

So I am hoping that this new development will lead to him letting me in, even if it is just a little bit.

I stand with Xavier, watching as the other warriors leave the training grounds for the day.

As they trickle out slowly, my eyes zero in on the head of auburn curls coming towards us.

I suck in a breath, a pang of desire hitting me as I take him in.

I can already smell his mouth-watering scent in the wind, the sensation going straight to my groin.

How can someone look like that?

Like the human form of flowers and sunshine and honey?

His golden brown skin is glowing, dotted with those adorable freckles of his that I long to trace with my tongue.

And it is not just his appearance, even if it is absolutely bewitching.

It's the way he carries himself.

So strong, so confident.

Moon Goddess knows what he's been through but he marches on, doing the best he can for his pup.

I'd say he was unbreakable if I hadn't caught a glimpse of his wounded, vulnerable side when we first met and I carried him in my arms.

My mate is lovely.

And it kills me that he will not let me make him feel so.

"Am I late?" his soft voice jerks me out of my internal conflict and I find myself looking down into those pretty eyes of his.

My heart squeezes.

He is so small in front of me like this, both Xavier and I towering over him.

Though to others he's probably considered tall for an Omega, it doesn't make much of a difference when I'm two times his size.

Maybe this is not such a good idea.

Training him to fight would mean entertaining the idea that he could participate in battle one day and the thought of my fragile Omega up against violent brutes so much bigger than him sparks fear into my very being.

But it is his wish.

And him knowing how to fight is better than him knowing nothing at all.

Though I hate to even consider it, if there is a case where I'm not there to protect him his own skills will be the best chance he's got.

Xavier elbows me and I realize I have been awkwardly staring.

I cough sheepishly, scratching my head.

"You are on time," I reply.

I spare another glance at him and to my surprise, there's a trace of amusement in his expression.

While any attention at all from my mate is nice, I do not think this is what I would have chosen.

I must look like a bumbling fool.

"And who is this?" the voice of Rafael, one of the Alphas in Xavier and my inner circle, rings out.

I can already tell that I will not find pleasant whatever comes out of his mouth next.

"The one Cyrus sent you to get fighting leathers for," Xavier replies disinterestedly.

Rafael grins sleazily at Koa, holding out the clothes.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, pretty thing."

I clench my fists and Xavier places a firm hand on my arm.

I know it would be unwise to lose my temper here, especially in front of my mate.

I do not want to scare him.

Koa raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him, snatching the leathers from his hand.

"Don't call me a thing."

Rafael's face falls, presumably not expecting such a reaction to his bold flirtation.

"You wound me."

Koa just rolls his eyes and ignores him.

Pride and gratification sweep through me in an instant at the blatant rejection.

I can barely keep the smile off my face.

"You can go change in that log building over there," Xavier tells Koa and he nods his thanks before heading off.

"I hate to see him leave but I love to watch him go," Rafael sighs, apparently unfazed by my Omega's disinterest in him.

He ogles Koa's retreating figure, gaze clearly focused on the swell of his ass and sway of his hips as he walks.

I let out a low growl, shooting him an icy glare.

"Eyes off."

His hazel eyes widen in shock as he turns towards us, finally tearing his eyes off Koa.

"This a first from you, Cyrus, acting so possessive. Finally got your eye on an Omega? You've got taste, I must say."

"That was his mate, you idiot," Xavier cuts in, shaking his head as he rubs a hand over his face.

"Oh shit," Rafael clasps a hand over his mouth.

I forgot that he only just got back from a long-term mission yesterday and probably hasn't been updated on any pack developments.

Seems like his time away did nothing to diminish his desperate tendencies.

He hits on any attractive person he sees.

And my mate is very, very much so.

I place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard enough to hurt.

"It would be wise of you to stop acting like a sex-crazed mutt, especially around Koa," I seethe coldly and he gulps, nodding vigorously.

Then I let him go, walking off towards the changing house to wait for Koa.

"He's so scary," I hear Rafael exclaim.

"Get off of me," Xavier replies.

Training - Part 2 - Koa

"Three laps around the field," I gape at Cyrus.

"Are you serious? I thought you were going to teach me to like... beat people up."

Xavier and everyone else have gone, leaving Cyrus and I alone together for our training.

I'm uncomfortable in these new leathers, unused to wearing such constricting materials.

The garbs are all black, the top lacing up my waist to my chest for tightening adjustment.

"You expect to be able to 'beat people up' as you say, when you are out of breath just walking from the changing house to here?"

I glare at him in offense, crossing my arms.

Where's this sudden sass coming from?

Perhaps he's antagonistic towards me, after all.

But what I'm really annoyed about is the fact that he's right.

I have basically no stamina.

"Asshole," I pout.

"This 'asshole' would like you to start running your first lap," he replies curtly.

When it's clear he's not going to sway on his decision, I decide to get it over with.

I am the one who asked for this, after all.

*

"I can't. I can't go any more," I pant, chest heaving as I practically fall to the ground on my hands and knees.

I cough like an old woman with fever, my heart feeling like it will burst from my chest.

Cyrus stands over me, the bulging muscles of his arms rippling as he crosses them over his chest, surveying my state.

"This is why I had us do this. Imagine you are running from an opponent that's caught you off guard. If you are not able to endure through the chase long enough to shake him off and plan a course of attack, you're as good as dead."

"I get it, dickhead. Sorry I'm not built like a mountain like some people."

I think I see his lips twitch, almost forming a smile but it is gone in a second.

He regains his composure.

"Despite what you may think, your smaller frame gives you an advantage. There is less weight for you to carry as you run."

I push up from the grass to my knees, still out of breath.

"Even so, I... I can't finish Cyrus. I still have two laps left."

"Koa," he kneels down to me, looking deep into my eyes.

"Yes, you can."

And so I do.

It takes forever but I eventually finish three laps around the giant field.

The sun is low in the sky and I am drenched in sweat but as I near the end marker, which is just Cyrus who stands there stoically, a sudden burst of energy propels me forward.

I pass him and fall into the grass, rolling onto my back as I gasp.

Exhaustion rolls over me in waves and my legs burn but I did it.

"I did it," I laugh hoarsely, grinning up at the sky as Cyrus walks over to stand before me.

"Yes, you did," his face is warm, those cold eyes of his thawed as he takes me in. "Very good, little wolf."

[quinnverse]

"You don't find my behavior appropriate? Well, surely you would know all about behaving appropriately, wouldn't you?" She repeated, nearly scoffing at his audacity. Perhaps she was being a bit more bold with Gregory than was traditionally encouraged, but she didn't think it was inappropriate. She had touched Ben much the same way, grazed her hand over his arm in a similar fashion. And that had been before he had kissed her.

And she hadn't kissed Gregory. She hadn't felt the need to nor the desire to and yet he was considering her current behavior inappropriate? Sarah crossed her arms over her chest, brows knitting together in confusion. "How would you prefer I act, Mister Tallmadge? You didn't seem so appalled by my behavior when it was directed towards you. In fact, if I recall, you rather liked it, did you not?"

His anger caught her off guard. As adamant as he had been about not being jealous, Sarah couldn't help but feel there was at least a hint of jealousy in his words. She hadn't done anything untoward. Not yet. And even if she had, it wouldn't have been as improper as kissing in broad daylight. She couldn't begin to understand why he would have such a problem with it if there wasn't at least a sliver of envy.

"There is no attachment between Gregory and I." Not yet, she wants to add, but thinks better of it. "We're friends, Mister Tallmadge. The same way you and I are friends. Am I to swear off friendship just to please you? Would that make you happy?"

As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized how twisted they were. She did not want to marry Ben, but she did want to kiss him, to touch him, to see him in all the ways that friends absolutely shouldn't want to. And while she wouldn't mind marrying someone like Gregory, Sarah had a feeling that he only saw her as a friend. Honoria would've had a far better chance at seducing a Bridgerton, but Sarah was growing desperate. She could bat her lashes and play coy all she wanted, but he didn't look at her the way she hoped. He didn't look at her the way Ben did.

"Me? I don't know what I want? That's rich coming from you, Mister Tallmadge. You're the one who doesn't know what he wants. Do not project your misgivings onto me." Quickly casting a glance behind them to make sure Gregory wasn't returning prematurely, Sarah glowered back at him. "I happen to know exactly what it is I want. I want a husband, I want a family, a life where I can be taken care of. I want security and safety and, above all, I want happiness, and the only way a woman like me can get that is by marriage. And Gregory has that to offer! Unlike other people." She let out a huff, allowing the steam to spill from her ears as she began again.

Because surely, you would never offer to be intimate with me, if you felt wholly, completely enraptured by Gregory Bridgerton. She nearly let out a growl as the frustration bubbled up inside her.

"Is that what this is about? Because I am not wholly smitten with him? I do not feel enraptured by anyone! I do not have the luxury of such a thing. And, besides, the only person I've felt even relatively enraptured by is--"

You. She cut herself off just before the words dared to leave her lips. She couldn't say it. She wouldn't say it. She had thrown him for a loop already and Sarah didn't wish to torment him. However, if she knew how terribly such a thing would've affected him, she might've done things differently. Letting out a long sigh, she turned away from him. Sarah waited a moment, allowing the burning in her cheeks to cool down before speaking to him over her shoulder.

"Is this because my affections are aimed at Mister Bridgerton? Or do you simply not wish me to be anyone's if I cannot be yours?" She glared at him, wearing an icy expression. If he refused to admit jealousy, then the least he could do was admit his reasonings for the way he was acting. If he was feeling protective over his pupil, Sarah might understand. She would most likely act in a similar fashion when it came time for her younger sisters to join the marriage market. But if he was acting out of discontentment for seeing her flirt with someone else, then she would have some stern words to offer him. "And I'll have you know have not kissed Gregory. Or rather, he has not kissed me. And, if I'm to be honest, I don't think he will. So, as far as inappropriate behavior is concerned, you still take the cake."

She blinked away a wave on hot tears that rose to the surface. She couldn't cry. Not now. Not in front of him, and not when Gregory could return at any moment. There would be no way to avoid questions if he came back to a teary-eyed Sarah, alone with his beloved tutor. And she didn't want to shed any more tears over a man that did not love her.

"If you do not approve of my methods to find a husband, then perhaps you should've thought about that before you decided to offer your assistance. Or perhaps you should stop meddling in other people's lives when you have no intention of participating in them!"

Sarah was once more chirping in that sweet, saccharine manner to Gregory that Benjamin loathed, yet he barely focused on her words -- no, he watched the way her lips moved, soft and coy, and how her hand brushed over his pupil's arm with the warmest skim of affection. Had she ever looked at him that way, Benjamin wondered?

Despite Gregory's clear hesitance to leave, he finally acquiesced and left them alone. It was a death sentence, as far as Benjamin was concerned, and he remained sour and quiet while Sarah made her approach.

“Mister Tallmadge, are you sure you're feeling alright?”

Her hand came to his arm and he drew a breath, flinching and jerking out of her reach. "I'm...I-I feel quite well, thank you," he lied. "It's just...something in the air, perhaps. I'm already feeling better. I promise."

With Gregory no longer upon the scene, Sarah wasn't putting on airs or fluttering her lashes like a siren. This made her feel more familiar, like his again, and Benjamin thought of kissing her like before -- of taking her ruddy cheeks between his hands and consuming her in the way she had so cruelly consumed him -- but instead, he merely glowered down at the ground, nudging a dry patch of grass with his boot.

"The way you’re acting… If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were jealous."

Benjamin froze beneath her gaze, his face blazing white-hot. Swallowing, his throat bobbed and he took a self-protective step back, knowing full well that she held the power to wound and maim, should she so choose, and only with a small handful of words.

Sarah laughed then, almost as if she'd told a wonderful joke. "You’re not jealous are you? Because you—"

"I am not jealous," he hissed, careful to keep his voice low. "I just...I-I didn't find your behavior appropriate, that's all."

It was a lie. A bad one, at that, and when Sarah looked at him in genuine bafflement, he wished for the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

"Are you feeling afflicted again?" she pressed. "Because I meant what I said before, I'm not opposed to helping you, but we can quell your afflictions without ruining my prospects of marriage. Unless... that’s what you intend to do."

Benjamin scoffed, outraged by the implication. "So, you would wish to...to be intimate with me, while also courting my pupil?" he demanded. "I may be many things in this life, Miss Pleinsworth, but I am not a dog. The agreement, or rather, the suggestion you made was for if neither one of us was attached. But this?" He sneered, gesturing sharply in the direction Gregory left. "That is an attachment, and I will not be part of this melodrama because you are too bloody indecisive to know what it is you want! Because surely, you would never offer to be intimate with me, if you felt wholly, completely enraptured by Gregory Bridgerton!"

[tsulv]

ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀɴ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛɪɴɢ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ʟᴀsᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ…

"A dreamwalker can be many things." She spoke solemnly with her eyes fixed on me. "The one that seeks you is not human."

"What is it then?" If I had been awake I don't think I would have entertained the conversation, but dreams are different. Dreams are meant to be explored.

"What's important is that you do not let it near you, and to see it before it is too late." The stories told in dreams, by dreams, are always odd. What's real, and what's true aren't what's important. It's the story that's important, and this one was dire. I had to ask this old dream woman the right questions.

"How do I see it?"

"This one moves by nightmares, the ones beyond the liminal spaces. Once you're in these nightmares, you must look for it to wake yourself up."

I suddenly realized that I didn't know how I had come to this old woman. There was a light from a small fire between us, and a distant light behind her. As I looked around, there wasn't much of anything else. It was like the darkness was too thick away from the fire to see, and whatever the source of light was behind her was too far to tell what it was, or what it was near.

For whatever reason, I also couldn't bring myself to look behind me. Something was stopping me. Not fear, but some other feeling. A feeling that if I turned too far the old woman, the fire, the distant light would all vanish, and I didn't want that. I needed to hear everything she had come to tell me. She had come to me, not the other way around.

"What does it look like?" I relaxed a bit, knowing that as long as I could see her time didn't matter. She would tell me everything I needed.

"It tries to look human, but for now it cannot completely mimic one. None of them can in the beginning, but as they succeed with others they grow. They learn." I noticed the fire grew a bit brighter when she answered. Her face was a bit clearer, and more familiar. Something I had asked was a bit off, not wrong, but not quite what I should have asked.

"How do I look at it?"

She smiled. "It will hide in your peripheral vision, moving closer with other things to distract you. Ignore the distractions before you, and you will see on the edges of your vision the one who is wrong. The one whose face is not clear, whose face is falling apart, whose face is melting away."

"What do I do to wake myself?"

"Don't look away. It will try to make you. It will try to scare you, but you must look into that fear. You must look past its illusion to break it, and the nightmare it constructs."

"What happens if I get too scared to look at it?"

"Then it will take you, and you will never wake up." She frowned, almost as if she pitied me, but when her expression changed her eyes didn't. Normally, when someone frowns their eyelids narrow slightly. Hers didn't, and in fact, when I realized this it also occurred to me that she hadn't blinked the entire time we were talking.

There was no heat with the fire between us, only light, so I leaned forward. I was trying to look at her face better, get a closer look at her to figure out who she was supposed to be that made her so familiar to me. It didn't really help, as far as I knew, I'd never actually seen her before. There was no one name or even relation I could place with her face.

"You don't know me, and I don't know you." She spoke again. "You're just a stranger on a train." Then I realized she wasn't actually looking at me. She was staring, unblinking behind me.

Admittedly, I was a little scared then. I started second guessing not looking behind me before. Where I had this sudden flood of thoughts all at once. What if she wasn't telling me the truth? What if she was tricking me? Maybe only part of what she was saying was true, and maybe she was the distraction. I had to look.

I spun around so fast that my own shadow from the light of the fire almost startled me. That was all that was there, just my shadow, and an impenetrable darkness beyond the edges of the light. Just nothing everywhere I looked, and I searched as hard as I could expecting something to be there.

"It's not here yet." When she spoke, I started feeling like I had fucked up. Seeing nothing behind me wasn't reassuring, and her words weren't helping. I looked back at her and she was fading. Before I had turned around and looked away from her she had been full figure. "But it's coming soon." It was like her body had sunken into the background, and all that remained was her shoulders and head.

"How do you know that?" Even though I was looking at her again, it didn't seem to stop. The fire was dimming, and her shoulders vanished, but the light behind her was growing. It was almost like it was swallowing the rest of her, creeping along the edges of her neck and head.

"Because I saw you," even her voice was lower, like there was a growing distance between us, "and I know why���" I could only see her lips moving to form the rest of her statement, but I've never learned to read lips. I don't know for certain I even heard the last part correctly.

I woke up. The dream was still clear, and I tried to write everything down as soon as I could.

Dreamwalkers aren't something new to me, but I've never heard of anything like she described. I don't know where my mind could have gotten it from.

[why-what-no]

Being Married To Morpheus Would Include

Pairing: Morpheus x Reader

Warnings: None

Notes: I don’t even ever want to get married, but I would say yes to a proposal from this man in a heartbeat

Requested by: @jesllianaquilesrolon

It took a while for Morpheus to trust your relationship enough to marry you.

He obviously loved you, there was never a doubt in your mind about that. But his former relationships hadn't ended well, and he didn't want to rush into things just for everything to get ruined.

But when you two finally got married, he knew he made the right choice in asking you. Knew that he loved you more than he had loved anyone before

Ruling the Dreaming beside him, you were one of the few people he trusted. And one of the even fewer amount of people he would listen to advice from.

He trusted your judgement, knew you only wanted what was best for him and the dreaming. And you trusted his judgement as well.

You were generally on the same page about decisions. When you weren't, you would discuss it private, as neither of you wanted your problems to be a public spectacle.

There was never any petty words to anyone else about things you disagreed with. He had tried that once (Morpheus can be a bit petty sometimes), but you had shut it down immediately. After that, you both realized it was more helpful for your public image and private relationship to discuss things like proper adults.

Because of that, there weren't any cracks in your relationship, nothing people like Lucifer or Desire could manipulate. You loved and respected each other too much.

You would have dates around the Dreaming, with Morpheus creating and showing you all the beautiful parts of it. Picnics on lovely cliffsides, visiting the different residents of the Dreaming

They all loved how relaxed Morpheus was around you

And although he didn't really need sleep, he enjoyed cuddling in bed with you. The feeling of your warmth and beating heart against him was one of the most wonderful things he had ever experienced.

He loves you more than anything, willing to give you whatever you're like.

If you're human, he'll make you immortal so he can be with you forever.

Sometimes Morpheus would close off a bit, stop talking to you as much. He does that sometimes, but all he needs in a reminder that he trusted you enough to marry you, so he should be willing to be open.

He'll nod and kiss you softly, knowing you were right.

You both can always tell when something is wrong with each other, knowing his body language and expressions as well as you know your own.

Speaking of kisses, Morpheus's kisses are the best and you cannot convince me otherwise. Passionate and deep, but with a certain sweetness. One hand on your waist and the other cupping the side of your face, pulling you as close to him as he can.

He touches you and kisses like he can't believe that you're real and love him back. Terrified that you would leave him, always trying to be better for you. Gentle but strong, (and you know he could pick you up his he wanted to)

You can always see the love in his eyes whenever he looks at you, the protectiveness whenever he worries about your safety.

He just wants you safe and happy. If something happens to you or if you're hurt in any way, it would be worse than if they personally hurt him.

Morpheus is the best husband you could ask for

[izzysillyhandsy]

Oh yes, absolutely. I am quite sure both scenes are deliberate parallels, the bucket/basket for collecting bottles, Ed's round-eyed expression, his unthreatening, extra friendly vibe which feels a bit fake (no wonder Izzy, who's freaked out by this, reacts in the exact opposite way by gritting his teeth and being harsh and cruel. This is not me excusing him, it's just in character for him.).

Was it Izzy's fault? Yes, partly. But this goes way back in my opinion. It wasn't just this one moment that completely broke Ed, especially not coming from Izzy who often critzises Ed harshly (maybe not as cruelly, but I imagine this has happened before, and Ed knows not to take it completely literally).

When Izzy says to Stede "You and me did this to him and we cannot let the crew suffer any more for our mistakes", does he think of two single events - Stede leaving and Izzy being cruel this one specific time - or is it Stede leaving on top of Izzy's and Ed's long relationship where Izzy may have pushed Ed towards Blackbeard over and over (without realizing the harm it did back then; but realizing it now).

I guess I see the Ep10 breakdown as inevitable, it may have even happened if Stede hadn't left, because Ed hadn't been in a good place for a long time - his unresolved issues and self-hatred were always going to resurface.

S1 was easy, fun, black-and-white season in some ways. Two unhappy people fall in love, it changes them instantly (especially Ed, who does a 180 so quickly poor Izzy is totally blindsided), they're happy now. Bad Izzy tries to come between them, but true love conquers all, bad Izzy is thwarted over and over (Dream!Stede agrees). Then a misunderstanding - Stede leaves and Ed thinks he never loved him. He cries, opens up emotionally and works through it in a newfound healthy way. But now, finally, it's bad Izzy's turn to shine. He walks in like a proper villain and singlehandedly destroys Ed and all his efforts to be a better, happier person.

That's obviously not how life (and love) works.

S2, I think, will be much more 3-dimensional. Everybody will have to deal with themselves and their unresolved issues and how they affect(ed) the people they care about. There will be no white knight saving Ed from his evil first mate, no sneering villain out to destroy him. We might learn how Ed became Blackbeard and about his past with Hornigold and Izzy and how it shaped the man he became. The central 3, Ed, Izzy and, to a lesser degree, Stede, have a lot of trauma to unravel to get to a deserved happy ending, and I think it will be made clear that the reason of Ed's breakdown wasn't as clear cut as it seemed in S1.

This process has already begun in Ep1-3 of course. So this parallel we see in S1 Ep10 and S2 Ep2 seems to show that no, it's not that easy. A few weeks with Stede can't change a lifetime of learned behaviour and completely erase all the trauma, self doubt and aggression Ed is carrying around. It wasn't Izzy who destroyed everything in that single moment. Calm, friendly, together cleaning-up Ed isn't Ed getting better - it's the calm before the storm. Ed has the whole season to work through this - with the help of his friends, of course - and then Stede and Ed will be ready to fall in love for real.

(sorry for the epic, this wasn't meant to be this long)

one thing i’ll say re readings of last season is that imo these three eps have really proven to me that ed’s “ok time to clean up and do improv” moment in ep10 rly wasn’t like a definitive sign of him getting better bc he exhibits the exact same behavior in ep2 where he has a breakdown, next morning he’s all peppy ready to do whatever, TELLS IZZY TO KILL HIM BC HE HAD A DREAM WHERE HE DID????, goes up to the crew acting like he’s fine and doing better so convincingly that they believe him, and then goes to kill them all. like i fear this is just an amped up version of what he’d already started doing in ep10

[oven-thermometer]

Hello! Are you going to continue the "SFW ABCs" for the rest of the horsemen? The Death's one was sooo good

SFW ABCS of War

Author's notes: anon you physically made my day 😭🥺

I'll try do an ABC between chapters of Unwelcome Guest, Strife's one will probably be next :)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

War isn't really one for words, so acts of service is definitely the main show of affection. He'll help you reach things, move things for you or just do any small thing he can think of that'll make your day better and let him see that smile.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Like with Death, his friends are mainly from work – again like Death, he is incredibly loyal. If you ever need anything he's there to help, but don't expect hugs and kisses. If he's your friend he'll have a certain amount of respect for you that means he sees you as an equal - someone that can fend for themselves.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Loves cuddles. I cannot stress this enough. This man is so touch-starved that the moment he realizes that "Oh wait. You're my partner now. I can hug you." *cue little happy War dance*

Won't let you go. Bear hugs and instinctively being the big spoon are his specialty.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Not very good at cooking or cleaning, since he can't get into most small places or work very delicately - but he means well. He absolutely wants to settle down though, it's soft War hours all the way for him.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He wouldn't want to torture you, if he wants to break up with you then he's going to sit you down and have a conversation about it. He doesn't want any hard feelings so this is the easiest way to do it.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He's very calm about getting married, he knows he loves you with all his heart - so why would he stop at just becoming your partner?? He wants to be with you forever, and if he has to go through marriage for that so be it.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

To him, you are as fragile as a butterfly's wing. Sure he'll pick you up and give you bone crushing hugs, but the moment you seem like you're in real pain he'll simply let you go and settle for soft head pats instead. He'll be soft emotionally as well, always there to listen or for comfort.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

War is somehow always warm, he's like a hot water bottle and never tires of being there whenever you need him. He enjoys you massaging his scalp, and often just grabs your hands and quietly places them on his head as a silent plea.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He'll wait for you to say it first, mainly out of insecurity and being unsure of how to express himself. It happened after about 6 months of officially calling yourself together, you were laying on his chest as you buried your face in his hair - War was gently stroking your back and drawing absent-minded shapes. You were sleepy, he knew that, but it didn't change the fact that you whispered how much you loved him right next to his ear. He smiled and hugged you closer, whispering it back.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He may seem stony on the outside and if he doesn't care, but War is very unsure of a lot of things. He knows you love him and he loves you but the moment you seem like you're ignoring him he goes into a bad mood - he wants to be near you and it makes him upset when you don't want that.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He had never been in relationship before you, he hadn't even thought of it. So of course he's never kissed anyone either. He's a quick learner though, and he's found his favourite places to kiss you are on the forehead and shoulder. They seem so pure and loving to him, like he's shrouding you in every way he loves you.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He's never really interacted with them, but he admires their brashness and

bravery. If you have any younger siblings or a small child you take care of he is more than willing to babysit and tell them the less gory versions of his battle stories. Although the first time you said "babysit" he got very worried because his mind went straight to having to restrain a child. Massively confused.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He prefers to sleep in, he gets very tired from his work so having to lie in bed next to you for an extra hour really isn't seen as a loss to him. When you two do eventually get up, he always insists on a morning walk either before or after breakfast. If you two go out to get breakfast and walk to where you'll have it, he'll do another little internal happy dance.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He'll spend it watching whatever you do; whether you two watch shows together, read, or maybe you have some extra work to do. He'll be there to sit next to you and simply be content in your presence. He doesn't mind whatever you're doing, as long as you're there.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

After you work through the steel cage around his heart and mind, you'll get to see a very calm and easy-going War. He's had enough worries in his life, so he deserves to be a bit care-free. If you met during the apocalypse, he'll keep up his mean demeanour for a lot longer. He needs you to be safe, and being soft is a weakness he can't afford for you to see and worry about. Afterwards, he will calm down since he doesn't have to worry as much about you being murdered.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

During battle he can snap like Samael stepping on a toothpick, with people it's the same. But with his friends, he's slightly more tolerable. With you? He can wait an eternity for whatever you need. He will help you if you need it but he wants to see you succeed as well.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He can't remember as well as Death, but he has a fairly good memory. He doesn't forget an anniversary or birthday (he would never forgive himself if he did) but he might forget bigger things - like when you have appointments, events or where you said you were going. Small things? He'll internalize and keep with himself forever. Oh that book you said you really liked? He's already read it and bought you every sequel from Azrael. Your charger is broken? He'll begrudgingly ask Strife where to get one.

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

The first time you said "I love you" is one of his most cherished moments, but it's a close second only to the moment he realized he had feelings for you. As you two sat in front of a fire, the orange light illuminated your frame and it seemed to make your eyes dance with curiosity as you watched the flames. You looked so, content and calm - and it made him feel... Happy? He was happy seeing you happy. Yes. He liked that.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

War is extremely protective. If anyone's bothering you he's not hesitating to make death threats. Or use Death as a threat.

If you try to protect him though, he finds it as endearing. Obviously you can't do much about the Council or the demon kings saying they'll murder him, but if someone insults him or makes him feel like less of a person you're always right there to defend him. It makes him feel loved to be the one being defended, you care that much about him and it makes him fall in love all over again.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He doesn't have much in the way of money or romanticism but he tries his best. He probably gets a lot of help from Fury or Strife but he also has a some connections to a few particular Makers or demonic merchants that could maybe get you that one

present that makes your heart melt. "All hypothetical really." he'd tell you with a sly grin.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

When you and War have an argument, he gets a bit lost in the swirl of his own emotions and storms out before he can snap and shout at you. The last thing he wants is to see that terrified look in your eyes as his booming voice tears into your soul, so he leaves. Even if you were in the middle of a sentence. He can't listen anymore and he needs to go calm down. He hopes you will too so you can both have a conversation rather than a screaming match.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not at all really concerned with what he looks like. Before he was just a killing machine, so what does anyone care if he looked terrible? Admittedly, sometimes he'd look at himself in the reflection of a river or something particularly shiny and frown. No one had ever told him how he looked, and he didn't have a point of reference - so even he was unsure. If you compliment War, even in passing, his heart will squeeze and he'll have to stop in his tracks.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

If he ever lost you for whatever reason he'd lose himself. He'd turn back into the rampaging beast he was when he was young. You calm the ever-growing storm in him after all. War would also probably fall out of contact with his siblings, not caring for the consequences.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

War is a huge blush boy, he goes redder than his clothes but he can't stop himself. He gets very embarrassed if you point it out, but he'll get you back for it. Be warned, he will not stop tickling you until you've surrendered.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

War doesn't really care for appearances, or judging people on them. He values someone who doesn't mind his sporadic tendencies to need love and physical affection. Someone who won't judge him or turn away when he trusts someone enough to open up and show a softer side. He wants an accepting soul.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

This man sleeps like a log. He also snores a bit, but it's cute. It sounds less annoying and more like a fuzzy bear in the woods. Your fuzzy bear. A very heavy sleeper, will also probably unintentionally trap you under his arm and only let you go in the morning.

[babylooneytoonz]

The Vessel [Pt. 3]

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem! Reader

Summary: While you are trying to figure out why the Witcher is so abhorrent towards you, he finally gives you a hint as to why he doesn't like you. Also, you realize something— Yennefer and her spells can never go wrong.

Warnings: Geralt being a dick is what.

[My Masterlist] [My Witcher Masterlist - Read the other parts here!]

It had been weeks since you slept with Geralt of Rivia, but you hadn't been feeling any different. If it were up to you to say, you would say that Yennefer's plan didn't work— although you couldn't muster the courage to ask her directly if it did.

What made you so sure that the plan hadn't worked was the fact that Geralt and Yennefer had been fighting about something since a few nights and you could feel the strain in their relationship starting to show up. This hunch that you had only strengthened when one day, you unknowingly stumbled upon an argument between the Witcher and the Mage.

It was almost a week after that night on the Great Mount. Geralt had been indifferent towards you since then— not even bothering to spare a glance in your direction when the four of you were in the same proximity.

You were now back at Redania— your home, but so were Yennefer , Geralt and Jaskier— staying at your place like unwanted guests who were exceeding their stay.

Jaskier held two heavy logs in either of his arms, while your own hands were stuffed with the eggs from your coop, that you were intending to cook up for dinner tonight, when you heard shouting from one of the rooms upstairs.

"It was you that said that the plan would work. It didn't work, clearly."

You could recognize Geralt's voice from afar; broody, low and devoid of any emotion.

"Aren't you going to go check in on them?" You turned towards Jaskier and frowned, your eyes shooting upwards, fixing on the topmost stair before you withdrew it and fixed it on him again.

"Me? Stuck between a broody Witcher and a scary Witch? God save my poor soul then." Jaskier commented back as he placed the logs by the fireplace and began to light it.

"Jaskier—" You couldn't help but smile at him, as you placed the eggs on the table and blinked, turning towards him, "Yennefer isn't a witch, she is a mage. Besides—"

Before you could complete your sentence, Yennefer's shaky voice reached the both of you, and you couldn't help but wonder what was actually going on between the two of them.

"I don't understand what's gotten into you, Geralt. These things take time. Why won't you let the spell take it's due course?"

"Yen, your spell failed. It's high time you realize that."

You shook your head to yourself as you busied yourself with trying to prepare the stew for dinner, but your ears were fixed on them.

"You don't question my spells, Witcher. I know what I'm doing. Besides— now to come to think of it, did you even fuck her right?"

Jaskier couldn't help but snort, but when he looked at how red you suddenly were, he immediately masked his expressions as he propped himself next to you.

"Did he, [Y/N]?"

"Jaskier, I'm not having this conversation with you," You shook your head at him, exasperated that he was still bugging you with this question, "Now can you please help me out? I need help with the stew, Jas'." Jaskier stood up, whistling to himself as he fixed himself next to the pot, stirring it while you began working on getting the bread ready when the door above slammed shut and heavy footsteps began descending down the stairs. Both you and Jaskier turned to see a very annoyed Yennefer walk towards the front door, without her Witcher in tow, just like he already was.

"I've got some business to attend to in Novigrad, Jaskier." She pointedly ignored you, and you couldn't help but bite back the words threatening to spill out of your mouth. Living under your roof, she was behaving like you were an outsider. Secretly, you were thrilled that she was leaving , even though it was for a short while.

You watched, through the window as a portal suddenly emerged just outside of your barn, and she disappeared through it, leaving you and Jaskier gawking at each other, Jaskier finally speaking, "I say, trouble in paradise?"

"It's none of your concern, Jaskier. You really need to stop meddling with other people's businesses. Now would you be kind enough and go ask your friend to come down? Dinner's almost read—"

"Jaskier, come on now. We're leaving." Geralt cut you off as he finally appeared, all dressed in his tunic and breeches, his sword peeking out from behind him. You parted your lips, ready to ask him where he was off to but it was like he had already anticipated that this was going to come, so finally he looked at you, but with the same indifference with which he had treated you so far.

"It's time we move on. Keep the coin. Seems like Yennefer's plan failed after all—"

The sheer coldness in his voice stung you like a thorn but you didn't let him realize that. Slowly, you lifted the cloth, wiping your hands with it, trying to act just as indifferent towards him— even though you felt like you had been betrayed, which you mentally cursed yourself for.

This was going to happen one day or the other— and wasn't it better that they were finally going to be out of your life now? And not later when they would mercilessly pull your babe away from a mother's breast and call it their own?

"Where are we going, Geralt? We can atleast stay for dinner, a man needs to eat—"

"We will roast a deer on our way, Jaskier." Geralt's irritation was evident from his tone, so the bard turned towards you, choosing now to ignore the Witcher with a sulk on his face.

"Oh Jaskier," you whispered, softly, "Don't you worry. I'll quickly pack some food for you, for the way."

"Oh hush, woman, don't go so soft on me, I would want to switch the roles with that broody gentleman over there."

Your cheeks suddenly felt like they were on fire; and you were sure you had turned a tomato red. You instinctively looked away, quickly finding yourself a distraction at the table as you began packing some bread and ham in a cloth satchel for him to take along with him— fighting back the smile that craved to break out.

"Jaskier, you are free to stay here for as long as you want, the minute I get on Roach, I leave," grumbling, the White Wolf slammed the front door shut as he walked off, your eyes suddenly widening, as the smile was quickly replaced by a lingering hurt upon listening to his words. Why did he hate you so much? Was it because you couldn't give him— them— the child they so desperately wanted?

"Okay thank you for the dinner, and don't, like DO NOT mind him, he has always been a grumpy ham."

Jaskier took the satchel, flinging it over his shoulder, whilst at the same time grabbed his lute and immediately darted out, and by that time, the Witcher was already trotting towards the main path. You fixed yourself by the front door, watching the poor bard struggle to catch up with him and once the two of them were out of sight, you went back inside.

If there was anything that turned a bright way for you after the three of them stepped out of your life for good was the fact that you had enough coin on you now to last for atleast a year. You bought three new goats so you could milk them and sell the milk in the village, along with the eggs.

But the void remained—

The night's were the most difficult, because there were nights when you woke up to a dream where a certain white haired, amber eyed man was laying in bed with you, his thick palm resting on your waist, your back pressed against him as he spooned you.

Maybe it was because you couldn't sleep that night too, that you did not miss the strangled groan that you heard from outside your window. You forced yourself to sit up, rubbing your eyes as you leaned over the window to look out but you couldn't see anything. Just then, someone began pounding on your front door, startling you.

It didn't take you long to run down the stairs, still dressed in your chemise, your arms wrapped around your arms as the knocking became frantic and urgent. When you opened the door, you felt like someone had kneed you in the gut—

"Jaskier?" The bard looked a mess, his clothes were bloody and dirty, his hair slick and sticking to his face.

"I didn't know who else to go to nearby. Geralt needs—" Jaskier began, and the two of you turned towards Roach. Geralt was although perched atop, he was now arching forward, his body almost limp, his head resting against the saddle.

"What happened, Jaskier?" You ran out towards Roach, who whinnied at you, perhaps having sensed that something was wrong with her owner. You placed your palm on Geralt's shoulder, but the minute your palm came in contact with him, he grunted and looked up, and you saw how weak and pale he looked, "I told J-Jaskier — I'm f-fine.. Jaskier.. Jaskier..fuck.. Novigrad.. I asked you to take us to ... Novigrad."

Geralt of Rivia was injured, the flesh on his side had almost been ripped apart by what looked like claws, and yet he was being a stubborn pig. You grabbed him by the fabric of his tunic, balling the fabric as you began literally dragging him off the horse, paying no heed to his annoying murmurs.

"Jaskier, can you help? I alone cannot get him off, you know?"

Helping Geralt walk into your home was a difficult task but somehow, you and Jaskier convinced Geralt to do it. You sat the very injured Geralt by the fire and knelt down in between the space of his legs, using gentle fingers as you rolled up the torn fabric of the tunic. He hissed when your fingers came in contact with his clawed flesh and that's when you saw how massive the claw marks were.

"Who did that to him, Jaskier?" You let go off the big man as you stood up, your hands now caked in Geralt's blood. You ran up to one of the wooden racks that stood by the fireplace with a dozen glass bottles on it. You grabbed the mortar and pestle, placing it on the table in front of you, as Jaskier lowered himself on a chair, now wiping the blood off his face with a washcloth.

"I swear you should have seen it, it was the tallest harpy I have ever seen— well technically, it's the first harpy I've ever seen," he mumbled, and you couldn't help but give him a weak smile as you began to look for the ingredients to make a paste for Geralt's wounds.

"What are you looking for?" Jaskier asked, intrigued, as he watched you fiddle with the glass containers.

"Turmeric, Jaskier. It will stop his bleeding, although had he been human, that injury would have killed him— instantly," you pointedly stared at Jaskier, and he gulped nervously when your words finally registered into the back of his mind. You quickly turned away, resuming your search for the other ingredients. You pulled out two containers; one with lotus petals and the other one containing chamomile, placing it on the table, next to the mortar and pestle.

"Jaskier, while I prepare the paste, can you get Geralt to lie down by the fire? And take off his—" You pointed towards his tunic that was already ripped apart, hanging loosely by his side. Jaskier immediately nodded, getting to work.

You knelt down next to Geralt. His eyes were open, but his face was sweaty and his breathing was uneven; his lips tightly pressed together as he stared at the fire. Your fingers delicately moved over the gashes on his side, and he didn't flinch as much now.

"Can you sit up, Geralt? I need to bandage your waist."

That's when he turned towards you, regarding you briefly as he grunted, pushing himself up slightly and you quickly bandaged his wound with a cloth, securely tying it around his waist before he fell back against the makeshift bedding you had created for him by the fireplace.

You were finally done tending to the man's wounds so you stood up, moving to wash your hands by the sink, when Geralt's voice reached you, startling you.

"I told Jaskier not to bother you. Yennefer could have fixed this."

Your head sharply turned towards him, and you parted your lips, but it was as if your words were lodged to your throat, refusing to come out.

"You can't put all the blame on Jaskier. He could have left you to rot, stolen your mare and left, but he stuck around to ensure you were brought back to safety. You need to learn to swallow that thick ego of yours and give the bard some credit," you intentionally chose not to talk of Yennefer.

He grunted in response, shifting slightly so he could get comfortable, his body tilted at an angle towards the fire that you could see more of his back— full of old scars— this one will be adding to it soon.

"Are you a healer?"

His question pulled you off track.

You shook your head, wiping your hands with a clean cloth, reaching out for one of the blankets that you had stored for yourself as a winter supply, placing it over Geralt's legs— with half a mind that you will have to fight him for this act too— but much to your surprise, Geralt of Rivia accepted the blanket, pulling it over his chest.

"No, not a healer, just a woman with a passion to know things. You see, living alone you need to know certain things as you never know what life is going to throw your way."

"Hm," he fell quiet, and all the two of you could now listen to were the embers erupting from the fire.

The next few minutes, Geralt was quiet, so assuming that he had fallen asleep, just like the bard had; already snoring away to glory, you pulled your chair closer to the fireplace, lowering yourself against it as you began working on another blanket for Jaskier.

"You should have said no."

Startled to hear the low broody voice again, you looked up but this time found Geralt sitting on the makeshift bedding, the pads of his feet resting against the floor, his back turned towards the fire but his face turned towards you.

"Geralt, you should lie down—"

"You should have said no to Yennefer, but you agreed although you knew what she wanted to make you do."

"Says the man who makes a living slaying monsters. Would you say no to a good bounty if that meant being paid enough to last you a year?" You snapped at him, not meeting his gaze.

"You needed coin, there were thousand other ways to do it."

"Like what, Geralt? Don't you think I tried all these ways you are talking about?" The half done blanket now lay forgotten at your feet, and you were standing, towering over Geralt, your lips trembling with rage. How dare he?

"There are many brothels in Redania that I know of that would have gladly taken you in."

"You know what, Witcher?" You spat, "I'm NOT having this conversation with you. I don't like you anymore than you like me, so there's no point in even speaking. Once you are well enough, I would gladly have you out of my home."

You turned away from him, and then blinked, for you couldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, as a thick chunk of a tear rolled down your cheek. Swallowing bitterly, you began climbing up the stairs, rather loudly, when Geralt mumbled, "You won't see us when you wake up tomorrow, don't worry."

Ignoring him, you reached the topmost stair, but when Jaskier began speaking to Geralt in a low voice, you couldn't help but pause, inching your ear towards them so you could listen to what they were saying.

"Why do you insist on being like that with her, Geralt?"

Jaskier's words were followed by what sounded like a bitter laugh, and a cough.

"I knew you were awake. I wondered why you didn't jump in to defend her like you always do, Jaskier."

"That is not the point, Ger—"

"If you must know why I can't stop being the way I am around her is because every single time I see her, I'm reminded of the false hope that Yennefer gave me, Witchers are sterile, and that's how it is, I should have known than to fall into Yennefer's words."

He was hating for you something you hadn't even done. You gave him hope, or Yennefer did?

You would have stood there and continued listening to what more he had to say, but you couldn't help it— your face turning sour, when sudden nausea hit you. Your palm instinctively flew up to your lip; making you almost double over and your eyes lifted up, scanning the area for anything you could use to relieve yourself. Grabbing an empty basket that lay close by, you fell down on your knees, your knees scraping against the wood of your flooring and you began wretching out the contents of your stomach, sweat trickling down your forehead as dread filled you up. You were scared that Yennefer's spell had worked. Your palm flew to your flat belly and you pursed your lips together, blinking away the tears and wiping the corner of your lips.

Now that you had wished for the spell to fail, it had perhaps, worked. Maybe things weren't destined to go about the way you wanted them to— all you wanted was to watch Geralt of Rivia leave you alone for good and never come back [Wishful thinking]. But if, the spell had worked, it meant that you were probably carrying his Witcher baby, and that meant, you will have to see more of the white haired man with amber eyes, whether you liked it, or not.

The Vessel Taglist:

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Want to be tagged to my list? Please do let me know via Ask, Message box or via a comment. Thanks! 💗

[bored-storyteller]

All the parts you want. If you have anything specific in mind let me know!

Part 1:"Keep death away"

Part 2:"Beyond the Mask"

39- Tokyo Ghoul- Uta x Human! Reader pt. 3

"Just like you"

His tattooed hand presses against the wardrobe door that he has just closed, right in front of you.

Your breath tickles his knuckles as he hurries to hide the jar from your view, which you only caught a glimpse of it.

Trapped between him and the piece of furniture, your guilty gaze meets his.

"Oops ... sorry." You murmur, barely smiling at him.

Uta sighs slightly, shaking his head with his sweet and calm expression: "no ... I'm sorry, I forgot they were there."

You watch him bend over to open a drawer to look for the leather straps he asked you to retrieve, only to see him return to his workstation soon after.

Were those fingers in there?

The shop has been closed for a while now, and even if you would never say it out loud, this makes you happy. It's not exactly the best for you to always be ready to snap to hide in the bathroom, waiting for his customers to leave.

It hasn't happened many times, actually, but in one of them you heard Uta justify the presence of your smell as "his next meal". It made sense, yet you couldn't ignore a shiver running down your spine.

Despite any moral expectations, since you discovered that that boy is a ghoul you have found yourself much more company with him than before. It is something of yours, mutual. Now that a frightening world has knocked on your door, the one who showed it to you has become your safety and protection, and in the same way Uta comes into your protection with concern and at bottom with a slight sense of guilt it tickles his soul, relieved simply by the relief of not having to hide from you anymore.

Even if you are now aware of who you have in front of you, however the dynamics between you two are still fragile, and above all the dynamics between you and your inner fears are fragile.

The day after the tragic and at the same time sweet evening that opened you to a completely new reality for you, he immediately took care to give you the necessary recommendations: if someone asks you for something, any person, you absolutely must instantly forget that he is a ghoul.

At first you actually felt offended. Did he really think you were that stupid to tell someone about this? Did he think you would ever endanger him?

But soon after, you realized that it was not for his safety that he worried so much. He was afraid for you.

"This is really dangerous" he had told you "If anything happens to me, nobody has to know that you know, okay?"

If anything happens to me.

You couldn't say anything clever at the time, so you just nodded, but something bittersweet had started to tingle in your heart.

He is dangerous, and at the same time in danger. You are in danger of being there with him, you are in many ways. Some would say that you are committing a crime, that you are wrong, that you deserve punishment just because you enjoy his company. Yet you can't feel guilty.

You have so many questions to ask him, but in those days since the revelation you have not asked him even one.

It is so difficult for you to understand what you are feeling. He kills, he eats people, this is now known. He is one of those monsters that the news is talking about so much, one of those monsters that should be exterminated.

Yet you are now there, observing the empty, weeping eyes of a mask behind a display case. He must have done it recently, it's the first time you've seen it.

But still, you are there, in a hidden shop where you risk finding a box of human eyes by opening a drawer, and the thing that scared you the most until the other day is that you can't get the reaction you would expect from you.

You keep looking at the masks and him as you did until last week even though you know.

You didn't tell him, but it all kept you up at night. You've always thought about it, every moment was spent to find a way out of that tangle of thoughts and emotions that went through you both in his presence and in his absence.

It was hard to make peace with yourself, it was almost scary, but in the end you accepted it. You had no choice but to accept it.

He eats people like you, but if he didn't he couldn't exist ...

"I like this mask ..." so sad, so scared, a soul of a poor devil in hell.

"Really? I recently did it. But you know, to tell the truth it gives me a strange feeling. "

Even if he doesn't look at you he is attentive to you. Even if he sits on his stool where you are, he listens to you, he perceives you, much more than you perceive him.

Now you know… someone in that cruel world has to die, and you don't want that someone to be Uta, despite the price.

Yeah, the price, that price you didn't pay.

Now there is one more thing you have to solve with yourself, something else to admit, so fragile and so strong together.

You approach him to see what he is working on - or rather to see him.

When you look at him, every time, you immediately remember that he is a ghoul, but at the same time it is as if you forget him.

You've been spending a lot of time together now, yet each time you want more, and you don't really care how wrong it is.

“Listen…” his peaceful voice quickly distracts you from your thoughts “… you've been pretty quiet lately. Do you feel ok?"

His hands do not stop for a moment to work, to create. He certainly has deadlines to meet and yet what he is doing is not simple work, it is art. You feel privileged to be able to observe it at work.

"I'm sorry, you're right, I've been thinking too much lately."

You just laugh, a little embarrassed and a little really strangely and genuinely amused by that turn that everything is taking, as long as you are with Uta you feel free to smile again, despite everything.

You move closer to get a better look at his fingers intertwining with ribbons and straps. Who knows how he does it.

"Is it really such a big problem that I'm a ghoul?"

His words rain down on you like a cold shower interrupting all consideration, yet on his part they were necessary.

Uta also finds himself strangely surprised. His skilled hands interrupt the art, in the surprise of that new doubt that until now he had ignored.

No, in fact, he hadn't really ignored it. It had simply always presented itself in a thousand other terms that had never been posed as such a placid question.

He had experienced that stigma, that exclusion from the beauty of the world in a thousand sick ways, but never as he is experiencing it now with you.

And again that world that runs too fast for him returns, that world that "loves only humans", yet in his selfishness he prays on the sidelines that you will be able to give up that love that that magnificent world grants you, to stay there immobile, with a Pierrot like him.

For a moment Uta doesn't know what to do, whether to resume his job to avoid your gaze and protect himself, or to risk looking at you, discovering your emotions.

Yet before he can decide, he feels your movement.

You don't even know what you're really doing, you just know that for some reason at that moment you need to feel him as much as possible, to understand, to fix yourself.

Kneeling on the cold floor, in the intimate solitude of the closed shop, you let your arms surround his waist without fear. Your head in his lap, nestled against him as much as possible.

He doesn't react, he just looks at you, blank in the face.

Suddenly he feels angry restlessness rising in him. What are you doing? He can't read it, what does it mean?

For some reason he can't really feel your hug, it's as if he doesn't contemplate it among the possibilities. You're hugging someone else there. Snuggled against his stomach, you are approaching human victims like you, not him. There is no bridge between you two, it is impossible to believe.

There is no way that you, little fragile human, can really accept something so big, he cannot ask it to you, he thinks ... and yet ...

"I like it ..." your words are light, shy, and even fearful. Afraid of the scope of what you are saying, of that bestial confession you are revealing "that you are a ghoul ... I like it ..."

And that's the hard truth. It's just something of him, it's him, it's something attractive.

It is attractive to know that those gentle lips could bite you and trap your flesh, that those light hands could tear you apart. That safe sense of danger he gives you is tempting, and the trust you place in him just makes you enjoy that awareness.

This is hard even for you to admit, but you cannot ignore it, nor leave him unaware.

And once again your words overturn his stage, destroy it and rebuild it according to a new conformity.

He is surprised, you can feel it from his breath that stops for a moment, jumps against your cheek.

One thing he loves about you is that he can't help but believe you. No matter how much those words may be at odds with everything life has taught him, if you say it then it's true for him.

His delicate fingers intertwine with your hair, light, almost shy. His hand caresses you patiently, aware, almost as if he is caressing a child, while he holds you there in a sweet constriction.

"Really?"

His calm question about him is not a request for confirmation, as much as wanting to hear you say the things he never has the words to say.

You rise from your seat, getting back on your feet, but unexpectedly you are prevented from walking away from him.

Now it's his arms that surround your waist, and you find yourself there, trapped between his knees and his arms, without being squeezed. His eyes look at you attentively, his bizarre face shows nothing but his calm composure - which does not at all reflect the vibrations of his heart -.

“I think… it's part of you, you wouldn't be the same otherwise. I like it."

You don't know with what courage you spoke those words, so sure and sincere.

You are not embarrassed, perhaps because you both love that little world that belongs only to you, where no one can see and hear you, that behind the scenes of the circus of life.

And it is your way of seeing reality that he likes, what he needs. That your putting Uta before the ghoul, that small and natural confirms that you always give him. This is what still gives many hope, the existence of someone like you, who knows how to see things in the order in which they should be seen. It is the principle for which love exists between humans and ghouls.

The light and affectionate smile that is painted on his lips is the confirmation that is needed, nothing else.

"I could eat you ..."

"I know" but you won't.

You should be food for him, you are. You are a possible meal, but you are also a person. You are someone. You talk, laugh, joke, cry, get angry ... and over time he has learned to want to keep it all, because he likes the way you are. Though you may be his source of life, just imagining feeding on you becomes painful for him. The thought of devouring you, of consuming you, of making you disappear from the world, of swallowing your body, your laughter and your tears, your voice calling his name… has become extremely painful.

And he's also sure you don't really know what you're saying, he's sure you want to change a lot of things about him if you only knew them, but for now it's okay that you only know that drama.

Indeed, no, it is not a scene. Uta is Uta, whole and sincere. What you know is the real and authentic facade of Uta that you deserve to know, there is nothing wrong with that, and he is sure you know it.

Everyone is modeled on relationships, you do too, but it's not that you are less true with him than with others.

The same goes for him, and despite this he is also aware that the affection that binds him to you will not change when he is talking to Renji, and not even when he is at the center of an auction. Uta is always Uta, and you are always you, no matter where you are or who you are with.

Two extremely complex creatures, monster and prey that still share something so profound and at the same time solid and concrete.

His lips curl slightly more, in a vague expression of veiled sweetness.

"Good."

His hand slips on the table as he stands up, but you don't notice it, too focused on seeing that the other hand hasn't given up on the touch on your hips.

Only when something lands on your face do you wake up. You do not understand it immediately, but the mask, still white and anonymous, is now on you, supported by him.

Before you can say anything or ask for an explanation, Uta is close to you, so close that you know you can feel the hard cover vibrating slightly on your cheeks under his breath.

It is still too early, everything is too delicate to utter certain words between you two, to give voice to deep and primitive feelings, which have nothing forbidden even though society would like you to believe.

It is not for fear that you will not admit what you both know, it is just for the pleasure of enjoying that moment, that moment before, that sweet harboring the affectionate secret.

This is why it is the stiff and cold lips of the mask that are kissed, a slight barrier that separates the delicacy of that touch from you.

A kiss that doesn't whet anyone's appetite, is just a silent admission of something extremely big.

And as the mask came, it goes away, returning to its place, leaving you uncovered and incredulous.

Uta also moves away, returning to turn his attention to the stock cabinet, abandoning you still and dazed in front of that almost dreamlike situation.

"Uta?"

"Yes?"

His answer is always ready as he rummages through the rolls of tissue.

"What was that?"

His quiet face of him turns to you, and you know him well enough to notice that slight amused glint in his eyes.

"What was what?"

“That! You know!"

A slight amused snort from him lets you know you'll never get your answers: "You must have daydreamed."

-End-

[disillusionedjudge]

@tarnishedxknight

"I would be concerned if you did not fear personal risks." Gylfie glanced at Gabranth out of the corner of her eye - her brows furrowed slightly. "But, sometimes, the best you can do is feel that fear and do it anyway. Take those chances, Gabranth." Live a little, went unsaid, but those felt more... juvenile than she was going for. Though, she could not fully argue with him. Even with everything else gone, it was too much to lose what little they still had left. She would not fight him on this - not when it was his life and his heart on the line - and she knew how much Drace's presence stabilized him without their feelings for each other being spoken. "Think about all of this. Weigh out the risk in your mind. You needn't speak any of this to her now." Or ever.

Did he...? Something in Gylfie's expression shifted, and a sorrow glinted in her eyes. She knew of Gabranth's demons - or, at least, what demons he allowed her to know - but to hear him speak so poorly of himself was heartbreaking. He held a darkness, yes, but didn't they all? "You carry more light than you realize." She tilted her head, and offered a faint smile. "Have some patience with yourself. Light cannot exist without darkness, or something of the sort. I fear I have never been one for philosophy." Hopefully, her light levity would offer some sort of ease for him. As much as she wished to try and persuade him otherwise, she knew better than to push too far. "Perhaps, one day, you could ask her what she sees in you," she suggested, "but only if you are ready."

Frankly... if in his position, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know what sort of answer. From anyone.

Gylfie couldn't help but grin at the brief moment of playfulness from Gabranth, and chuckled in response. "Sure, not always, but it has some influence here. Better than a fond exasperation." Like how she felt for the two of them, especially with Gabranth's soft smile or Drace's warmth around him, and, gods above, would they get the hint faster if she gagged? No, that would be teasing too far, even if it was tempting, and she, instead, shook her head with the same fond exasperation she mentioned. "Alright, I shall join you both and listen to your denial." She paused, and her expression softened. "You... are allowed to spend time alone with her. I do not mind keeping myself busy if you want to enjoy a lunch together. Truth be told, I am not all that hungry." It wasn't hard for her to keep herself entertained, at the very least, despite it all.

But... that softness soon gave way to grief. To guilt, as she slowly bared a part of her soul to him. Never before had she told anyone about her and Myriel. There had only been two people she had been comfortable enough with, at the time, to turn to, and... well, she could not go to Myriel for obvious reasons, and Balthier had long since left Archadia. And... she could not bring herself to speak about it to anyone else for fear of how they would react to learning she had loved another woman. Her parents' reactions had made her cautious, and... she simply never saw reason to mention it to Gabranth or Drace, or even Caelen. To bring it up now, when a part of her still felt so lost in this time without something to chase...

It tore open a wound she had thought healed. Not... not as badly as it was when she learned Myriel was marrying someone else, but it still hurt. Her heart still ached and she wanted nothing more than to slip away to catch her breath again, to try and maintain some grace in it all--

"I just wish that experience had not hurt her." Gylfie couldn't stop the bitterness from bleeding into her voice. Her gaze darkening as she did her best not to scowl. He was not wrong - that experience had served her well and had been a wake-up call she hadn't realized she needed. But it had not been worth knowing the pain she had inflicted upon Myriel to learn it. Even if it could help Gabranth and Drace avoid feeling something similar... she wasn't sure if she could ever say it had been worth it. Still, his genuine and quiet gratitude was a strange comfort, though she could only get herself to nod before she turned away from him. Her chest tight and her heart heavy. "Think about it, even if you cannot speak to Drace now," she said quietly. "Keep it in mind. I... I will never push you further than this."

She stopped when Gabranth called her name, but could not bring herself to turn to face him. Hearing him use her first name left an odd ache in her chest, but when he asked if she was alright...

Oh, gods, it took everything in her not to crack. Because... no. She was not alright.

Her bottom lip trembled and her vision blurred faster than she would have allowed, but... Gylfie simply took a slow, quiet breath in, and did her best to swallow the knot in her throat. Grateful Gabranth could not see her face. "I'm fine," she rasped, but did well to hide the quiver in her voice. "Just... a sore subject, is all. I... I will see you both shortly. If Drace asks..." She trailed off for a moment, and stifled a sigh. "Tell her what you wish. I will not be long." But she didn't wait for his answer before she quickly retreated - heading for the privacy of her quarters before she could start to cry. She... would be fine. She knew she would be. She just... hadn't expected how much it would hurt.

Noah did have questions, but he respected Gylfie enough not to pry no matter how strong his curiosity was. He could, of course, discern some amount of context from the little she had said in reference to his own words, but he didn't try to figure out any more than that. At least, not right now.

"I am no stranger to risk. I do not fear it," Gabranth said, though next he sighed. "Except in rare cases where said risk is of a personal nature." Never would he have spoken of this to anyone back in Ivalice, but if he had at all, it would have been to Gylfie. And now, here in this time, there was no need for secrecy and the careful handling of information because the Empire, the war, their world... was gone.

"Happy," he repeated with some bitterness, but directed at himself, not at Gylfie. "I disagree," was all he said, for he could not support it with examples or any other information. It was just emotion, just something he felt and sensed, that her mood was always brought down in his presence. She seemed quieter, smiled less... Was he imagining it? No, he couldn't be. "You are right, Ynarra. I cannot see it. The brightness you speak of. Perhaps my own darkness obscures my sight, but that is the point. If she is made of such light, how can she be drawn to the darkness within me?"

As Gylfie said Gabranth was Drace's favorite of the two of them, he actually cracked a smile. "Well, of that I am certain, yes," he said rather playfully, casting her a side glance to see her reaction, his smile lingering. "But even so, favoritism does not equate to... whatever you think she feels for me." Favoritism does not equal love.

Drace came over to speak with them and... gods, her smile. The way it lit up her face. If there was one good thing about the lack of daily helms in this time, it was this, being able to see Drace smile more often than he ever could before. He'd forgotten to school his expression in front of Gylfie, and once Drace had left, he realized he was in for a terrible teasing. "Nonsense. She would love to have you join us for lunch." That was the truth, actually, he thought. "No, we... we do not need time alone." Gods, if he could only have time alone with her.

They hadn't... been together privately since Ivalice. Since... he'd been forced to kill her. She'd taken the news well, he thought, better than he would have himself, and yet... she seemed more concerned with his well-being than with her own at hearing such a terrible thing. He was certain she had to be angry, or feel betrayed, or something, but... she'd given him no indication of such. Or she'd hidden it expertly well. It nagged at him, though, the idea that she might distance herself from him now, knowing what he was capable of doing to her.

His thoughts were interrupted as Gylfie began to speak, though, and once he realized just what it was she was trying to tell him, he fell silent, not wanting to interrupt. Gabranth absolutely realized the gravity of her sharing this obviously personal pain with him, and he would never seek to betray the trust she was placing in him now by treating it as anything less than desperately private information.

So Gylfie had once been in love with a woman. It surprised him a bit, perhaps, only because he hadn't expected it. Other than that, it made no difference to him, nor did it make him think any less or different of her. Her business was her own, and there was no more private business than whom one chose to love. He would leave her to it, just as she left him to- Well, alright, she was nosing a bit into his and Drace's business, but Gabranth knew she was doing so to help them, and because she cared.

And that was what tempered him a bit and made him even more willing to listen to her. Despite that he had a number of years on her, far more experience, and had considered himself to rarely ever need the help of others, Gabranth realized now that Gylfie was not only meddling playfully in the affairs of her two beloved mentors for the sake of playing matchmaker. She was trying to save him from making the same heartbreaking mistakes she had. It was as clear as day to him right then, and he understood why he needed to force himself to speak with Drace.

"I am not sorry for the wisdom that experience afforded you, for it will serve you well in the future," Gabranth said a long moment after Gylfie had finished. His mood now seemed somber and sedate, of the kind one had when a profound realization had crept into one's reality. "But I am sorry for the pain. You... are right. I should not assume what Drace feels or does not feel, and neither should I shy away from speaking with her on the subject." Another quiet moment, and then, "I thank you... for sharing something that intimately painful with me. I am honored that you would do so, and grateful that you think enough of me and of Drace that you would share it to save us a similar pain."

He'd meant every word of that, and as Gylfie tried to gracefully excuse herself to no doubt collect herself and regain her composure, Gabranth simply couldn't let her go that easily. "Gylfie..." he said very softly, lowering his voice so only she would hear. "Are you alright?" He was neither coddling her nor patronizing her. He genuinely wanted to make sure she was okay before she left. "You will join us when you are ready... yes?" he then said, wanting her to know that she was welcome. With that, he let her go.

[shhhlikeme]

SemiShira angst that just popped into my head -

So I just realized that Semi is canonically not the sharpest tool in the box but he works for the government (mean, furudate!!!! but it’s also true in fanon) ... whereas Kenjirou is pre-med...gorgeous and intelligent.

A little angsty, but I don't think Shirabu's parents liked the idea of Semi because of this. Or at least that's what he thought, because:

One night when he was relaxing at Shirabu's house, Semi overheard his boyfriend's parents gossiping about Mr. Shirabu's brother's family because they were doing something as absurd as allowing their daughter to marry an artist. Pretending to listen to the movie, when really he was eavesdropping on the conversation down the hall, Semi listened to them chastise her, heard them say that they would never allow one of their children to date an aspiring actor.

"How do they expect him to support her!?" Mr. Shirabu interrogated.

"I just want to squeeze her and tell her: oh honey, I know you think you love him but relationships like that are only a phase. He is a phase--" Mrs. Shirabu advised.

"--Do you know how many people want to make it in that industry? Surely he is missing some screws if he cannot see that it's simply unrealistic!" shouted Mr. Shirabu.

"I had one before I met you, remember, honey? Dating is fine… but marriage? I wouldn't dare approaching my parents with such nonsense. She must leave him while she's still young," - Mrs. Shirabu added softly.

"I'd make her delete his number in front of me."

"He will never achieve his dream, I'd tell her. And that occurring will leave you picking up the pieces for the rest of her life."

"Mhm. My brother told her they didn't want him coming to their house anymore."

"We can help them find someone so much better, can't we, sweetheart? Why don't we ask around at the Osaka Club next weekend..?"

"--Semi?"

Semi's felt his frown so deeply his chest sunk. It was the same chest that his boyfriend had been resting on, so the sunken chest-pillow made Shirabu lift his head slightly.

"Semi. Babe?"

After being called a second time, Semi glanced down to see his beautiful boyfriend looking up at him quizzically. He watched the younger man bat those long, perfect lashes at him, and suddenly, Semi felt like he could breathe again. Kenjirou removed the headphones he had in and lowered the phone he had been watching videos on. Glancing up at his ash-blonde boyfriend, Shirabu innocently asked what made Semi go rigid like that.

"It's...nothing. Sorry."

The brunette snorted. "Nothing, my ass, E. You've been staring into midair."

"Mm." Semi pursed his lips, attempting to conjure a valid excuse. "Just nervous about my band's show next weekend." Now that was believable. "And sorta wondering if you put any thought into inviting your parents to one of the shows next month?"

Shirabu pulled his lower lip between his teeth before answering. "They're busy next weekend, remember?"

"Mmmm…" Semi nodded. "But there are plenty of shows, so maybe one of them."

"Yeah, maybe."

Semi's heart sank, but he placed a quick kiss on Shirabu's forehead to make himself feel better. "Go back to your weird pimple popper videos, loser."

"Hey!"

"Oh--and wait--Shi?"

"Mhm?"

"Your other brother. The one who's already married."

"Yeah?"

"What's his husband do again?"

"Oh uh…. Zu's husband is a...vet, I think. Moji's boyfriend is a corporate lawyer."

Semi nodded. "Oh. Okay…"

"Babe," Shirabu's eyebrows furrowed, expression pinching to seem even more quizzical than before.

"Why?"

Semi just played it off as if he hadn't overheard anything from Shirabu's parents, lifting a hand to run through Shirabu's hair the way he knew he liked.

"No reason. It's nothing," he continued to card through Shirabu's hair as the younger male got comfortable on his chest again.

The following week, Semi took on an astronomical level of determination. As it stood, he was an unemployed young man chasing his musical dreams; however, things changed.

Semi did everything in his power to pull some strings. He did not have the best academic resume by any means, but he was good with people, and his alma mater was a highly ranked school. Semi worked tirelessly for months, going to workshops and making connections until he finally got himself a decently-paid starting job with the Government. It was a tedious filing job, and he had to work with pre-law snobs, but Semi did not care. He'd work here forever if he had to.

Unfortunately, the new nine-to-five working hours meant he had to cut back on pursuing his dreams with his band, ultimately causing Semi to miss his first tour and more. Semi was eventually kicked out because of his absences, but his boyfriend only found out about that months later.

"So, babe," drawled Shirabu one day when he hopped into Semi's car after work. "I ran into Tachi today."

Shirabu immediately noticed how his boyfriend got rigid like he did that night on the sofa.

"Y-yeah?" Shirabu tightened his grip on the steering wheel at the mere mention of his old drummer's name. "What--is he stalking my boyfriend or something?"

"Not quite," Shirabu hummed, thoughtfully, wanting his boyfriend to just come out with it. "He just said the band really misses you."

Semi forced out a pain-infused laugh, one that made Shiravu raise his eyebrow.

"They'll be fine." is all the man added, then he quickly said, "Are you hungry? Want me to stop for some food for you?"

This all confused Kenjirou, who was shocked that Semi got kicked out of the band he started—the band that was Semi's whole world--but whenever he confronted Semi about it, the white-haired just gave him the cold shoulder or (when he couldn't get his stories straight) Semi insisted that he, in fact, quit because he needed more money; sometimes snapping at Shirabu to just let it go.

It hurt Shirabu to know he was being lied to, but little did Shirabu know that…

...Semi planned to ask his father for his hand in marriage, soon… which was the reason behind why he was doing all of this.

But, at the same time… little did Semi nor Shirabu know, that: no matter what Semi did, the Shirabu's had long ago made up their mind….

And they were never going to give Semi their blessing.

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