#like Im force into this Idle mood

[raksh-writes]

Gosh, I hate the way I don’t know what to do with myself on sundays, just stuck in that "waiting for monday and going back to work" state. It’s probably some underlaying anxiety stuff but there's like No way to go around it, whatever I try to get my hands on, I need to Force myself into it and my brain's all "!!!!!!!!" during anyway, so I end up sitting in idle mode doing absolutely nothing, ughhh

[justplainwhump]

"Match, set, and game" for the prompts!

This one sentence prompt has been in my ask box forever, and long before this AU was born. But now, it fits perfectly.

Part of the heartbreaking Dany/bad!Peyton-AU with @wildfae-afterdark ; Geoff and Peyton are their characters.

[Just A Fling Masterlist]

Content / warnings: vaguely implied past noncon (m/f), past noncon drugging, vibes of abusive relationship and date rape, survivor struggling to cope.

"Game, Set and Match."

Grinning, Dany drops her racket, and bumps Dennis' fists.

It's a beautiful day, the sun's shining over the lush grounds of the tennis club, filled with cheers and idle chatter, and both Dennis and her are in great shape.

"Langley/Hammond qualify for the quarter finals."

They do the obligatory handshakes with the losing team, and Dany fixes her ponytail before she grabs their water bottles.

"Watch the other match?" Dennis asks. "Check the competition? They're still at it. Not everyone can win to zero."

Dany takes a swig from the bottle and shrugs. "Sure, why not."

It's not really necessary in a tournament like the Fitzwilliam Memorial Trophy, that's more of a societal summer event than a sports challenge- their only true challenge are Sita and Sanjay and they've been drawn into another bracket entirely.

"Who is it?"

"Kim/Carter vs Cortlandt/Cortlandt."

"Cortlandt?" The water tastes foul somehow, and Dany sets down the bottle. Her stomach feels queasy.

"Yeah." Dennis looks at the names on the draw and then down at the other court with a shrug. "Geoff and Liza. Cousins. They're not horrible, I guess. Not a threat, either."

"I, uh." Dany looks at the players and trails off. Geoff Cortlandt moves with long, measured strides, his game not focused on speed, but rather on a precise strength. It makes her shiver.

She reaches out to steady herself on the railing.

"Dany?"

She doesn't look at Dennis, can't, when Geoff picks up the ball to serve and bounces it once. For a moment, his gaze flits over the audience and settles on her.

His lips twitch into a slim grin, and then he turns back to the court, tosses the ball into the air and slams it over the net with impossible force, unreachable for Stevie Kim.

"Dany?" Dennis repeats. "What was that? You're having history with Cortlandt?"

She forces herself to breathe, slowly shakes her head. "Just an acquaintance. Met him a handful of times. I, uh. I just don't like him."

Dennis chuckles. "Yea, nobody really does. Only ones who can stand him are that weird little cult around him and Peyt-" He trails off and clicks his tongue. "Oh. That's how you know him, huh? You still seeing Montgomery?"

"No." Dany exhales softly, not bothering up to ask him how he knows. Rumours travel fast, in their circles. "It's over." It's over. They haven't seen each other since that gala. Peyton had left the very same night, set off to Georgia.

With Geoff.

Seems they're back.

"But you're good?"

"Sure am." She chuckles darkly, almost in reflex. "I won't let a fling affect my mood."

If she'd look, she knows she'd see that Dennis doesn't believe her. But she doesn't look.

She can't take her eyes off of Geoff. There's something about him, something deeply unsettling, something that makes her sure if she looks away just once he'll show up right in front of her, and he'll grab her head and-

She shakes her head. Ghosts. He's getting into her head, she needs to focus on the tournament, nothing else.

Like Dennis, who's mumbling into her ear about their techniques and weaknesses, about tactics and strategy.

She can't listen. She's trapped.

And she knows that he knows. If anything, it makes him play better. They make the next point, too, and the next.

"Match, set and game."

"Cortlandt/Cortlandt qualify for the quarterfinal."

Before even congratulating his partner, Geoff's gaze locks with Dany's again. He moves his hand, a slow gesture, as if he's holding a champagne glass.

"Showoff," Dennis next to her groans. "He's not even half your level."

Geoff raises his imaginary glass to a toast, and Dany's legs give in.

It's only Dennis' quick reaction that keeps her from falling. Dennis' arm around her waist. Like Peyton's, when Geoff had toasted to her at the gala. Like Peyton's, later, when her mind was foggy and they were somewhere darker, more private.

But not alone.

They hadn't been alone.

Geoff Cortlandt had been there.

"Withdraw." She staggers back to her feet and shoves Dennis' hand off her. "We withdraw. I... No. No. I can't. Not that."

"What?" Dennis steps back to stare at her in disbelief. Behind him, the players leave the court and walk up the stairs.

She spins on her heel and flees towards the bathrooms.

*

She's thrown up twice. It helps, to deal with her body, not her mind. It helps to think about what's real. She cleans up her face, straightens her hair in front of the mirror, trying not to think too much about the other time she's tried to fixed herself up from a messed up state.

At least the shadows have a face now.

I'm sorry, she texts Dennis.

We need to talk, she texts Peyton.

Then, she throws in a breath mint and goes find Geoff Cortlandt.

*

He's seated in the player's lounge at a corner table, scrolling through his phone, his face still a little flushed from the game. His eyebrows shoot up when he sees her, but the short hint of surprise shifts into an easy smirk. "Ms Hammond. Too sick to play, I heard? Still hungover from that gala, where we've run into each other?"

Dany's jaw tightens. "What did you do?"

He laughs a little, leans closer like they're best friends. "What did we do? Nothing you didn't beg for, princess. You still can't remember? I guess the tabloids were right about your partying reputation."

She should've sat down as well. Her knees threaten to give in again. And somehow it's not the pet name, not the insinuation, not the humiliation that hurts her most.

It's the 'we'.

"I had a tox screen made." Her voice is slow, but firm. She's a negotiatior, after all. She can keep her voice steady, even when everything is pulled away from underneath her. "I'm sure you know how it came back. It was you, wasn't it? It was you, who spiked my drink."

He looks at her, hooded eyes flat and suddenly unamused. "Whatever you took that night is none of my business. I had enough to do keeping my friend out of your clutches."

She feels dizzy, and yet, weirdly relieved. The ghosts, the nightmares, the faceless void they've manifested into something real. She's still lost at sea, but she's been drowning before, and now she's broken through the surface, she can breathe again. Breathe, and fight.

"That's why?" She stares at him. "You drugged me and you fucked me and you left me like trash, because you felt threatened?" A wild giggle escapes her throat. "Oh. Wow. What a pathetic little man you are. Go fuck yourself, Mr Cortlandt. Or go fuck Peyton, for all I care. But guess what? I fucked him better."

Anger flares up in his gaze, his muscles tense, his weight shifts to the edge of his seat - but instead of attacking her, his lips bend into a fake, calm smile.

"Who we fuck isn't your business any more, Ms Hammond. My game is up. Gotta win a tournament." He gets up and brushes over the front of his pristinely white shirt. "Have a good day."

Dany stares past him as he leaves, counts her breaths to twenty to calm her racing heartbeat.

Then she calls her driver.

She needs to know.

She needs to see Peyton.

[sparksnevadas]

Im going to delete this probably but gihasm ns4w below

The first time they all sleep together it’s… more difficult than they expect it to be. Its not like a couple adding a third— no, its all equally unfamiliar for all of them, just like their relationships are new and growing together. None of them know all the best ways of their partners get off. But scar tries to make it feel natural and fun, instead of nervous, and he ends up taking the lead, guiding them, sweet talking in mumbo’s ear while he shows him how to slick his fingers and open grian up in a way that pulls out all his breathy moans and makes him arch up to force their fingers deeper into him. Then he sweet talks and caresses grian as mumbo ‘makes love’ to him (Mumbo’s phrasing, not theirs) and scar guides grian’s hand to his dick while kissing his neck. Its not that theyre shy (well they are a little, but its not the only reason) … but its hard to concentrate on two people at the same time, especially when everythings so new, and scar helps facilitate that

Eventually they get over needing scar’s encouragements (although theyre very much appreciated), and they go on dates just for the excuse of taking fancy clothes off each other in a tactile frenzy. And they start to fuck each other seperately more often

Grian and scar, for reasons, often do it in his mayoral office? Grian walks in, subtly locks the door and then just sits on scars desk for a while making idle chat (“oh, are you too busy?”) and then in a moment’s notice, switching over to sit in his lap (“well, ill wait here until yours not busy”) until Scar simply cant ignore him. Then they fuck on scar’s paperwork and make a big mess of things.

Grian does that with Mumbo in his lab, but Mumbo just moves them to the floor or carries him to bed, refusing to break his projects with Grian’s nonsense. Its sweet and grian likes being carried, burying his face in his neck (maybe sucking a bruise while hes there)

And scar and mumbo,,, they have the slowest, sweetest love making (with mumbo refusing to call it anything else) after making out for a bit. Scar can always tell with mumbo when he’s in the mood, bc he gets more touchy, more in scar’s personal space without asking. It sets him on fire, and he coos sweet nothings to him until mumbo finally pulls him towards him, and kisses him. Theyre favorite spot (outside of their usual beds) is the living room sofa after watching a movie together.

Oh gods im sorry i dont know why i wrote this

[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

Hakuoki Yuugiroku 2 - Okita Chapter 1

This is my first post of the month, so I’ll start by asking you to please support me if you can through my ko-fi, and paypal or patreon which provides access to my hakuoki blog translations and early access to my postings. Also, please let me know if you have any hakuoki drama cds that you’d be willing to share that are on my Lookout List since i either do not have audio for those cds or do not have audio that I can share…. and if you are able to remove watermarks from a video, please contact me…

*sigh* i seem to have lost my favourite pliers (yes i have a favourite pair. you would too if you were making chainmaille cuz that seriously hurts your hand after a while lol). they were the only needle-nose pliers i have and while i can’t say im not tempted to get another pair as the ones im using now are broad-headed pliers, and using them is extremely difficult with the ring size im working with, im extremely cheap when it comes to getting new tools if i already have them.

anyway. enjoy! 

Hakuoki Yuugiroku 2 Chapter 1 - Okita

Translation by KumoriYami

The pleasant sound of birds chirping came from nearby/ I didn't know where they came from, but I heard the pleasant chirping of birds.

I was hurriedly walking through headquarters———

Yukimura: Ah.....

I saw/bumped into Okita-san, who seemed to be unusually idle. .

Yukimura:…………

As I thought about the worrying conversation that happened this morning, I summoned my courage to try and greet him/courage and called out to him.

Yukimura: Ah, um, Okita-san......!

Souji: What is it?

Yukimura: Can I have a bit of your time......?

Souji: That’s fine, but...is this about the festival? Did you want to go too, Chizuru-chan?

Yukimura: !

Souji:......Well, there’s no way that it’s not that [???]. You should know what sort of position you’re in.

Souji: Although it's a rare festival [reword later? basically festivals rarely occur], you however, can't leave headquarters by yourself, right?

Yukimura:…………

Souji:…………

With his smile full of ill intentions, Okita-san stared at me as if he were urging something......

Yukimura: If, If Okita-san doesn’t mind, I’d be very happy if you could take me to the festival... 

Souji: Heh. It's a bit surprising/little unexpected. [That?] You'd actually ask me that.

Souji: I don’t mind (though). I can’t/don't have patrol or need to practise today/I’m not allowed to patrol or practise today, so I have some/can spare the spare time.

Yukimura: Can’t /Not allowed to practise...?

Although those words made me feel uncomfortable, as I tilted my head... 

Okita-san simply smiled, not answering the question I had just asked, and continued/and changed the subject. 

Souji: Anyway, call me when/if you're ready to go out.

Souji: I don’t want to cause any problems, so make sure you aren’t seen/found out by anyone else. 

Yukimura: Ah, that’s fine/there won’t be a problem...!

Souji: ?

Yukimura: Hijikata-san said that "it's okay, as long as/okay if you go with someone," and gave me permission to go out/head outside.

Souij:…………

I don't know why, but /For some reason, Okita-san suddenly fell silent and looked/became upset/frowned.  had an unhappy expression as he fell silent.

Yukimura: Ah, that/this/Ah, um.....?

Souji:......Well, that doesn't matter. Regardless of what Hijikata-san said, I'll be the one to actually go out with/accompany you.

Yukimura: H-Ha......

Souji: Hey, Chizuru-chan. Hurry up and/Quickly get ready. Otherwise you'll be left/I’ll leave you behind?

Yukimura: I understand!

After making my preparations to go to the festival, I met up with Okita-san to leave headquarters.

At this time, Okita-san's mood seemed to have completely improved, and he was smiling happily.

Souji: I'm really looking forward to the festival. Then let's go.

Yukimura: yes!

However, as we started walking, a person quickly rushed out in front of us. 

Yamazaki: Hold it/Wait, Okita-san. You can't leave/aren't allowed/ I can’t allow you to leave headquarters......!

Souji:——What would Chizuru-chan like to eat? There should be many stalls selling food/stalls that sell food at the festival. 

Yamazaki: Don't ignore me!!

As if to physically stop him, Yamazaki-san moved his own body to obstruct/block Okita-san’ path.

Yamazaki: I was talking to you just now, Okita-san!?

Yukimura: Um......

In contrast to Okita-san and Yamazaki-san who were facing each other, I worriedly/carefully asked a question.

Yukimura: Okita-san, did you do something/did something happen/is something wrong?

Souji:......Aren’t those words a bit much/too much?

Yamazaki: Okita-san was very sick. Just a few days ago, he still had a terrible fever and cough, and had been bedridden.

Souji:......I've already recovered.

Yamazaki: You haven't completely recovered yet. [Furthermore,] The Vice-Commander should have ordered [that you] "are not allowed to go out until you recover first."

Yukimura: Is, Is that so?

Souji:…………

Perhaps it because of his illness being mentioned, or maybe it was because of Hijikata-san's name...

That Okita-san looked incredibly upset, and his expression became angry [or something like that. this sentence was weird]. 

Yukimura: Okita-san. Was there a reason (for) why you couldn’t/weren’t allowed to practise?

Souji:.......Everyone's just too overprotective. It's not that serious, but it's just that the dojo is so noisy that I’m staying away from it [really word. reword later?].

Yamazaki: Regardless of what Okita-san may say,  you aren't allowed to pass through here. It’s what the Vice-Commander has ordered. 

Yukimura:…………

I clenched my fists and stared straight at Okita-san. [not sure bout this sentence since i can interpret at least 5 different ways].

Yukimura: Let's go back/return/head back for now/the time being. Even with force, I don't think Yamazaki will ever be leaving here/moved | I don’t think Yamazaki-san will leave here, even if you used force...

Souji:…………

Yukimura: Please, Okita-san.

Even after listening to me though, Okita-san didn't provide any response......

After a while/Eventually, he reluctantly started walking and returned to headquarters.

However, Okita-san still hadn't/didn't seem to have recovered from his bad mood/ when he separated from me, it still seemed like Okita-san hadn’t recovered from his bad mood——。

-end of chapter-

[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter Seventeen//

Masterlist

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd, @amandaraey-sunshine, @easy-p-lemon, @azymondias05, @dagypsygirl, @makeshift-utopia) *bold tags don’t work ;-;

...I’m sorry ^^;

X

Something wasn't right.

"It doesn't make sense," Cassian said; all of us gathered around the map laid out on the large table in the library. "I've rotated my most trusted legion across every single Illyrian camp since the summit, including the ones we know haven't sided with Kallon—just in case, and nothing."

Azriel shook his head, as equally astonished as Cassian was at the lack of intel they had been working tirelessly to achieve in the last couple of weeks.

"My spies haven't found anything either, on any front." He said, hazel eyes growing hard as they scanned over the maps and reports spread out before us.

Two months had officially passed since our summit meeting and our tenure of peace was now plagued by stress. In the months that passed, Cassian and Azriel worked together to keep a watchful eye on the traitors in our court—the latter keeping his network of spies focused on Keir and his Darkbringer army, while the former kept a strict watch on the rebellious Illyrian camp lords. As our second and third in command, Mor and Amren not only attended to their duties in Velaris, but also visited the Hewn City on mine and Rhys's behalf—a show of force and distraction while Azriel's spies lurked in the shadows. In the last few weeks, Rhys and I corresponded with the other High Lords and Eris, updating them on whatever intel we managed to gather, and them offering us any information they might have regarding the Autumn Court and promising to keep alert on their end.

But as of late, there was nothing. No movement whatsoever from Keir, Kallon, or Beron.

We initially received a report a couple of weeks following the summit that our steward had called for a stall in his plans, and because of that we assumed the trio were biding their time in order to regroup and organize new plans to strike before my due date—now a short twenty-odd weeks away, but it was taking them too long.

No, something definitely wasn't right, and we all knew it.

"Is it possible they're folding back on the coup?" Elain asked, amid the tense silence that had befallen us.

Nesta placed a hand on the back of her chair, standing just to her side with Cassian on the other. "Keir wouldn't just give up on killing Feyre, the High Lord, or their child," she said, as blunt as ever.

I grimaced and Mor threw her a disapproving stare, but Amren loosed a long-held breath through her nose.

"The girl is right. They aren't pulling back on their plans now, but they are plotting something." she said, turning her silver gaze to Rhys and me.

I sighed, an idle hand running along the line of my belly—a considerable size now that I was nearing the end of the second stage of pregnancy. The baby inside was mercifully calm in light of the topics we discussed, which I was thankful for since my other symptoms weren't; a dull headache creeping in at my temples since I awoke this morning, and my lower back muscles sore with my new weight.

I drummed my fingers on the tabletop, readjusting myself in the chair I sat in for the hundredth time since the start of our meeting. "Could Keir be plotting something on his own?" I asked as Rhys offered me a hand up, wanting to help mitigate some of the ache in my back and hips temporarily.

"It's possible," he answered as I took his hand, standing with a heavy sigh.

I kneaded a sore spot on my back as I turned to look at Cassian and Azriel—who were watching me with equal concern and glancing at my swollen stomach. "Your reports say that Kallon hasn't corresponded much lately with Keir?" I asked, addressing Azriel.

The shadowsinger cast a wary glance at my mate, something they had all begun doing recently anytime they had bad news to share—as if they were afraid the information would harm me or the baby. The only ones who didn't tip-toe around me were Amren and Nesta, and I was grateful for it. As increasingly uncomfortable as I was becoming the more my belly grew, my mood swings now tended to lean more and more towards irritation. The last thing I needed was everyone trying to handle me as if I were made of porcelain.

I sighed in frustration. "You don't need to coddle me, Az. None of you do. Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I can't handle reading reports or operating during the threat of a coup." I snapped, harsher than I meant to.

I felt Rhys rest a hand on the small of my back; knowing he gave the spymaster a curt nod of approval, and Azriel, Mother bless him, dipped his head in apology. "You're right. Most of the messengers sent between them with letters or verbal messages have come from Kallon but have gone ignored in the last few weeks."

"From what I've seen, the stupid sot has been feeling slighted by that bastard and he's called off sending those imploring letters to the camp lords who haven't yet sided with him." Cassian added, "He's waiting for Keir."

"Because he knows he needs them," Mor scoffed.

"The steward is definitely concocting something," Amren said coolly and motioned to my sisters.

"Tell them what you saw, girl," she said to Elain.

We all turned to her, Nesta going rigid at her side—nails digging into the wood of Elain's chair.

"You saw something?" I asked her.

She frowned as she nodded, scanning the other faces in the room. "I had a vision the other night, of Vassa. She's our ally so I didn't think much of it at first, but last night the vision came to me again and it was...different," she explained, her eyes beginning to go vacant as she recalled the details.

"What happened in the vision?" Azriel asked, trying to gently coax her back in the conversation.

Her eyes were still distant as she turned her attention to him, as if he grounded her during these moments. "I saw just her face at first, she looked distraught as she gave some kind of warning. I couldn't make out the exact words," she said, shame quivering her voice as she looked at her lap.

"That's okay, Elain." Azriel said, stepping closer to her side and to my surprise, Nesta didn't flinch. "What else?" he asked again.

Elain sighed shakily. "Then, last night...I saw her face again, giving the same warning, and then...a weeping firebird sweeping over land before setting fire to it."

My eyes went wide, turning to look at Rhys as we both recalled the connection her new vision had with the previous one from months ago. A great-winged animal sweeping over a grassy knoll. Only now we knew that animal was a firebird, one that Elain also warned us of during the war. We all must've had the same realization, because within seconds we exchanged worried glances. Silent conversations passing mind-to-mind between my mate and his brothers, as well as Mor and Amren.

"I'm sorry," Elain whispered, staring at her lap again. "For not saying anything sooner, I just assumed her warning was about the coup. I didn't get any other details until I saw it in my dreams."

"You didn't do anything wrong Elain," I said reassuringly. "We're all working with the information we have."

Rhys nodded. "Cassian and Azriel will go to the Mortal Lands and check in with Vassa, Jurian and Lucien. I'll send a letter ahead of them, and we can hope we get there before Keir does."

"You think Keir will move against the Mortal Lands?" Nesta asked, silent horror hidden behind those blue-grey eyes.

"He knows of the ties Lucien has with them. If he can take them down and sever whatever bond Lucien has with the Queen before they can ally with us against him, that's an advantage for him with the Autumn Court," Cassian explained.

"We need to monitor them as well," I added quickly. "In case Beron decides to work on Keir's behalf to sweeten the pot in whatever deal they've struck."

"I'll send my spies," Azriel said, nodding at me in acknowledgement.

"You'll both leave tomorrow," Rhys ordered them. His violet eyes were hardened, wings flaring slightly as they began detailing out new plans.

Go with them. I urged through the bond.

The hand that held my waist only tightened slightly. I can't leave you behind, Feyre, not with something like this brewing

I'll be safe with Mor and Amren here in Velaris.

I'm going to take you and your sisters to the Cabin until we get word back from Cassian and Azriel. Mor and Amren can guard Velaris

Or you can leave me and my sisters at the Cabin and meet up with Azriel and Cassian.

He gave me a weary look, but I squeezed his hand. The three of us will be safe there. No one outside our family knows of its location, and no one can winnow inside. We'll be taken care of until you three return, and you can keep me updated.

I saw the contemplation swirl in his violet eyes, knew that behind his adamant shields he saw the sense in my words but was still reluctant. His hand came to rest on my stomach carefully, earning a delightful kick from our son—who seemed to have awoken during our silent exchange.

I can't leave you. And even through the bond I could hear the strain in his voice.

I sighed, but before I could argue further, Cassian cleared his throat. "We'd be better suited if we had the High Lord at our side, since the High Lady is incapacitated at the moment."

Azriel nodded in agreement, "If there is a threat to the Mortal Lands, we'll need a more competent diplomat present to warn and ready them for the strike."

Rhys's gaze hardened again as he met his brothers urging stares. They knew as well as I did that my mate was on edge, his nerves only growing more unsettled in recent weeks, making him more protective of me and our child. He hardly left my side at all these past few months, so the opportunity to go out and perform his duties as High Lord would help alleviate the tension growing through our bond once again.

I squeezed his hand reassuringly, those hardened violet eyes growing softer as they met with mine. We'll be waiting here, safe, until you come back. Go warn our friends in the Mortal Lands, and then we can finally take care of Keir.

His eyes landed on my stomach once again before he loosed a breath through his nostrils and nodded in acknowledgement at his brothers.

XXX

"Do you think she's alright?" Elain asked.

Her quiet inquiry interrupted my stormy thoughts as I stared out the window of the sitting room. Only a couple of hours had passed since the Illyrian brothers carried us up to the safety of the cabin; Cassian holding Nesta, Azriel taking a flushed Elain, and Rhys hauling me and my swollen belly. I had made a sly comment about the burden of my new weight to Rhys in the hopes to ease his apprehensiveness and was glad when he smugly reassured me of his otherworldly strength with his trademark feline grin, before depositing me on the steps leading to the Cabin. My heart tugged at the memory of the two of us having escaped here only weeks before, but we all knew this was the safest place for me and my sisters at the moment. Mor and Amren remained in Velaris, as we had all agreed on, and moved to monitor the city from the House of Wind as an extra precautionary step.

I turned away from the window, having stared at the mountains surrounding us since Rhys kissed me and my belly goodbye. "Vassa is fierce, and well-guarded thanks to Lucien and Jurian," I reassured her.

"She's still got that curse," Nesta scoffed from her place on the loveseat across from where Elain sat.

Elain frowned and I glared at my eldest sister. "Yes, but thanks to the bargain father made for her temporary release, we've been able to extend it and she hasn't been forced into her firebird form in over a decade," I explained.

"But my visions haven't been wrong yet. What if she is forced into it?" Elain pressed.

I sighed and crossed over to where she sat, using the arm of the chair to help lower myself onto the plush seat—noting how cautiously Nesta eyed my movements. "We still don't know what your vision meant. Perhaps Vassa shifts into her firebird form in order to aid us in the coup?"

"She was weeping as she set the fire," Nesta interjected.

I sighed and pressed a hand against my temple, messaging it lightly in an attempt to relieve the stress beginning to build up. Elain leaned over to rest her hand over mine gently, "Let's talk about something else. You were right, Vassa is strong and we won't know anything until Rhysand, and the others return."

I nodded in agreement with a faint smile, moving my hand to rest on my stomach. "How have you been feeling? You've been so busy serving as High Lady that Nesta and I haven't seen you much lately," she asked.

Nesta interrupted before I had a chance to reassure her. "You need to allow yourself more time to rest. You're nearing the end stages of your pregnancy, and the strain of all of this isn't good for your youngling. Let that High Lord and assistant of yours take care of matters from now on," she scolded.

Elain and I balked at her, equally shocked that she was being so stern with me again. I had noticed fairly early in my pregnancy that Nesta was growing increasingly vigilant of me—concerning herself more with the welfare of the child I carried, and after what Cassian revealed to me weeks ago, I now understood why. Despite her brute facade, she cared about me and worried about the fate of my child; perhaps as any older sister would.

I swallowed the irrational tears and sob that built up in my throat, a reaction I now involuntarily had every so often, and sat up a little straighter. "It's not that simple," I reasoned. "I'm still High Lady and given the concerning reports and lack of intel we've obtained in the last couple weeks, I've had to work together with Rhys to reach out to the other courts and meet with the rest of the inner circle."

"They're all thinking the same thing, except maybe Amren. They want you to rest more and let them handle this situation," Nesta went on. "They're just too scared to hurt your feelings or upset you, or whatever idiotic reason it is, not to tell you."

"Oh, but you aren't afraid to do any of that, are you?" I asked a bit bitterly—beginning to second guess my earlier sentiments.

"I'm not, because I see the toll this pregnancy is having on you and unlike the others, I'm not afraid to bring it up and say what needs to be said." She argued, hands placed on her lap with striking elegance—even though her words were anything but.

I hardened my stare at her, our identical blue-grey eyes cold with contempt; hers out of unyielding concern, and mine out of...reluctant understanding. It was no secret that my pregnancy was difficult, increasingly so since the early stages. There were periods of time when I felt fine, energetic and able to accomplish multiple tasks in a day, but there were still days where the lingering nausea and fatigue left me in bed for hours at a time. That, accompanied by the new onslaught of pelvic pains, back aches, and my rush of hormones caused me to be frequently disgruntled. Rhys, being the overbearing mother-hen he always tended to be whenever I felt the least bit poorly, did his best to console me. The others did as well, to the point where I believed they were coddling me. It wasn't until now that I realized they only wanted me to remain at ease; knowing the risk of any stress on me or the baby could be dangerous. Madja had warned us of what complications could arise from that burden, and I knew now that they were all just trying to prevent it.

My gaze cracked as tears sprang back into my eyes and turned away as they burned. I took a few steadying breaths, Elain's hand coming to my shoulder to help soothe me as she slid closer to me on our shared seat. "I didn't try insisting I go with them to the Mortal Lands or anything. I'm letting them handle the situation, but as High Lady I need to oversee the operations."

"Yes, but you're burdening yourself with worry." Elain offered softly. "You've been taking on work that you could leave to your mate or the others."

"Like that meeting with Tamlin." Nesta reminded me and I frowned, remembering the toll that trip had taken on me at the time.

"Or insisting you attend all the meetings on the reports Cassian and Azriel have gathered. Rhys can attend to those and fill you in later," Elain added.

"The point is that you need to delegate more. You were off to a good start after the summit meeting, coming here with your mate and spending time with the others, but you've overloaded yourself far too much over the last couple of weeks." Nesta concluded.

I sighed, leaning back to rest against the plush seat and ran my hands over my protruding stomach, feeling my son beginning to stir from the occasional nap he took in the warmth and protection my womb offered. Every point they brought up was right; while we all had allowed ourselves a moment of peace following the summit, I had taken the anxiety of the recent reports Cassian and Azriel gathered and threw myself back into working to find a solution. Rhys had as well, but I knew there were times he wished I would retire to our room or at least sit when my aches and pains reared its ugly head.

"I know you two are right, it's just...difficult, at times. I am High Lady; my duty is to my court—alongside Rhys." I explained.

"But he isn't pregnant. You are, and your first duty is to the child you carry," Nesta insisted.

"The child who will be the heir to the Night Court," Elain said.

I nodded in understanding, but before I could agree with them, there was a frantic pounding at the door, followed by Mor's panicked voice behind it.

"Feyre, it's us. Let us in," she said.

Nesta was the first to stand and rather than take the hand I stuck out to help me up, she strode over to the cabin door, checked to make sure it was really Mor the voice belonged to and opened it. Elain helped me to my feet as Mor and Amren strode into the room with equal grim expressions. I noted both of their clothes were dirty, some scrapes and fresh cuts healing on their own that decorated their face and arms—my heart squeezed.

"What's wrong, what happened?" I asked, my voice sounding strangled.

Mor's brown eyes were broken as they met mine and she swallowed, "Vassa showed up on the front steps of the house, beaten and bruised, and crying...as she warned us to leave."

My heart nearly stopped, and I felt Elain go rigid beside me; her hand coming to cover her mouth in horror. "We tried to ask her what was wrong, and what happened back in the Mortal Lands to have brought her here now, but-" Mor began but stopped, her throat bobbing.

"She kept warning us to leave before anyone got hurt, before you got hurt, and her face went blank. She turned and transitioned to her firebird form, leaping to the skies...and began setting Velaris aflame," Amren finished bitterly.

I couldn't hold steady on my feet and I stumbled back into Elain's arms as my head began to spin—speechless. Velaris was on fire. Velaris, my home, was under attack again.

"Did you...is she...what…?" I couldn't even manage my thoughts as Elain held me upright.

Mor stepped forward and took hold of my arms, steadying me. "She disappeared after a few minutes, but not before setting many of the buildings along the Sidra on fire."

The Rainbow. Vassa had set the Rainbow of Velaris aflame.

"We sent word to Rhysand and the others but haven't heard anything back yet. I also sent word to Varian, perhaps Tarquin can help put out the flames," Amren said.

"W-What?" I asked breathlessly, my chest heaving. "The fires haven't been put out yet?!"

"It's spread quickly, we're doing our best, but without Cassian and Azriel to gather the Illyrian force…" Mor explained and our eyes met in mutual understanding.

I was the one they could turn to—rely on.

"Take me back," I ordered, still reeling. "I'll put out the flames myself. We can't wait for Tarquin or anyone else."

"Feyre, you can't use-" Nesta began but I snapped at her with a feral growl I hardly believed came from my own throat.

"This is my court. My home. I am High Lady and I demand you take me back now." I said, addressing them all.

Mor and Amren exchanged hesitant glances before the former spoke up. "I'd have to winnow you there Feyre, and you know the effect it has on you. You could faint and have to recuperate, there isn't enough time for that. Even if you could use your powers," she tried to reason.

"So we wait here and do nothing?!" I exclaimed, turning away from her hold on me and striding to the window.

I could see nothing from here, but as I closed my eyes the memories of the last attack flashed behind my lids. The screams of agony and despair as my people were attacked—ripped to shreds by the army of the Attor from Hybern. Nausea roiled in my gut as I reached down the bond.

Rhys. Where are you?

I was met with silence, and I could only guess what horrors my mate and his brothers were facing in the Mortal realm—for him to block me out. If Vassa had been here, who knew what threat had been made and who had orchestrated it all. My heart pounded as my power awakened inside of me, boiling in my veins and I tried not to tap into them as I felt the slight twinge of pain in my abdomen—until thoughts of Velaris kept invading my thoughts. The screams echoing in my head, trying to imagine those beautiful buildings now on fire. Thoughts of Ressina and our studio, of the children she was teaching, those innocents.

Everyone in Velaris was innocent, and they were on fire. I had to do something.

Dosomething.Dosomething.Dosomething

I couldn't hear whatever conversation was happening between my sisters, Mor, and Amren as I lingered by the window. All I could do was turn back to them, briefly meeting Mor's gaze before those brown eyes widened in realization. She opened her mouth to protest, but she was too late. In the blink of an eye, I became darkness—tapping into my power that had gone untouched for months, I winnowed onto the front courtyard of the estate that sat along the Sidra's edge. I stumbled forward on my hands and knees as my head spun, my ears roaring with the blood rushing to my head and it took every effort within me not to faint—to seize the darkness that threatened to overcome me and push it back.

My heart pounded, the pain thundering throughout my entire body, resounding excruciatingly in my head as I forced myself to stay conscious and I was finally able to raise my eyes to the nightmare before me. I saw the orange and red of the flames reflected in the river first, barely able to hear the screaming as I saw each and every building lining the Sidra ablaze. From my position in the courtyard, I could see the figures of citizens scrambling to put out the flames; could see the number of buildings extending backwards that were already lit. I sobbed as another painful twinge ripped through my abdomen, causing me to turn my head and vomit in the grass.

Sobbing again, I closed my eyes and felt my power simmering rather than boiling. Just enough to breathe it into my core as I raised a single hand in the air and slammed it back onto the ground with a lethal smack. Once again, as it had so many years ago, the Sidra rose in response and I summoned just enough strength to lean back onto my knees—raising both of my hands in the air above my head as I became the river. Shaking, I slowly stood, keeping my arms raised as a wall of water rose with me; expanding deep and wide before I walked forward.

Suddenly, it felt as if my abdomen was being ripped to shreds and I screamed, doubling over and sending that wall of water forward and over those buildings. I didn't have time to pray to the Mother, the Cauldron, anything in hopes that it had been enough to snuff out the flames before I was seized again with the pain that tore through my core. I gasped in breaths as I gripped my stomach with one hand and fell onto my knees—catching myself with the other.

No, no, no. Please…

I felt a trickle of liquid that quickly began to spread at the apex of my thighs and sobbed as I reached a hand under the band of my pants and touched my thigh. I screamed again as the agony ripped through my abdomen again and fell onto my side. I felt the darkness beginning to ebb around my vision, the pain going with it as I raised that shaky hand to my face. The last thing I saw before my world went entirely dark was bright red blood coating my fingers.

[ilovelollipopx]

Thresh x reader

Title: Ghosted Memories

Summary: Seeing a familiar face in a fog of memories sure does erase the loneliness 

Warnings: A little angst and bad writing

Hidden from outsiders for many years, the Blessed Isles was dedicated to knowledge, philosophy, and the protection of magical artifacts from across Runeterra. The capital of the Blessed Isles, however, was filled with varying archaeologists, astronomers, and scholars of every conceivable discipline. The Blessed Isles were once a beautiful realm, at least to what you can still remember of it.

 What’s left is just a corrupted fragment of what it used to in its golden days. Where was your place in this? Where you a corrupted soul or a tormenter to the lost pieces of souls?” In truth, you were neither. Unfortunately, when you were in your mid-teens you had been struck with misfortune. Traveling so far to the blessed isles just to seek help from something that seemed to doom many around you. Unfortunately, there was no cure for pure death, instead of locking you away they saw the purity and fear in your heart, teaching to control and keep it under control. For that, you were so gracious and assisted those past scholars with whatever task was place upon you. Perhaps that is what you previously felt, what did it matter now in place of what used to be was a ruin. Those who gave their lives, as well as those who were dragged into unsuspecting chaos, were either lost in time swirling around aimlessly or most became corrupted versions of themselves.

Staring at the gloves covering what has made your life so miserable your brows furrowed, in the end you were left alone once more with yourself and the whispers of agony.Nothing changed much, supposedly would that be a gift of this curse? Not being affected by the curse? Oh how cruel fate was left alone with yourself and nevermore with death around you. A fleeting purpose of life takin away because of greed, grief, and betrayal. Now you a laughing stock embodiment of death once more was left in the prison of souls. 

Taking a breath you continued walking throughout the mist, passing souls alike. Similar to a lost fragmented soul you wondered searching for another purpose. Cold air passed by, another thing you’ve gotten used too. But the feeling of the air, that was much more different. An idling sensation had gone and instead, a sense of dread had pooled, cries of torture filled the air. There was no one to be seen, not even a single soul. Pausing in your steps your eyes fluttered closed focusing in on the distant sounds. A chain being dragged amongst the cobblestone ground, along with it was a burst of defiling laughter that sent chills up your spine, something even the atmosphere couldn’t do. 

This sparked a curiosity a feeling that you wouldn’t have if not given the circumstances. Onward you drifted closer to the noise, the swing of the chain becoming clearer to hear. Once close enough the outline of a figure appeared, its head wasn’t attached to its body and it wore familiar clothing their backside was turned to you. Yet that’s all you had wanted to know, even with you’re death aura you could still be hurt and severely injured by those who lied wake waiting in the mist. 

Not surprised when you tried continuing on past them they already caught your presence. So you stood still as they spoke,

“And where do you think you are going?” they spoke, the voice sounding more masculine so you naturally assumed they were a male.

“I...Im just a soul passing on by” your voice croaked out an answer, nearly forgetting that it had been centuries since you’d talked to someone that wasn’t fully dead or the air around.

His ghastly figure turned straight towards your direction and began walking towards you. 

“Do you think me foolish? I would know the sweet tones of the misery of a soul” his voice seemed more...amused

The short distance he crossed was realized once he got closer to you, and really you honestly didn’t have the energy in you to run. Instead of allowing him to get dangerously close to his face, as you had seen the chain that you had heard earlier, and it wasn’t as simple as you had thought.

At first, he didn’t say anything and you didn’t dare look him in those ghoulish eyes, if it was intimidation it was only half working because you just wanted him to go away. 

A claw-like finger was placed under your chin lifting up your head forcing you to peer into those green misty eyes.

“Something seems...familiar about you” he mumbled tracing the outlines of your face.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat at the proximity, oddly enough the air didn’t feel suffocating and you really doubt he would hurt you since he seemed to know you. Shoulders slumped gaze burning back into his, a little more out of curiosity than caution. Quickly you went from fearful and cautious to fairly annoyed. 

Smacking his hand away you scoffed,

“Whoever you think I maybe you are probably mistaken.” 

Completely ignoring what you said he snapped his fingers as if he remembered something a menacing smirk somehow forming on his face. Though it didn’t matter as you had already started walking past him. You didn’t get very far before the sound of a chain being thrown was heard and had wrapped around your waist pulling you back to him.

“Where do you think you are going ‘Deaths Incarnate’?” his voice flowed through your ears with an echo.

Brows furrowing in confusion on how he knew the title that was first given to you by those who feared you,

Noticing the perplexed look he spoke,

“Did you really think you could live a peaceful life amongst them? No matter how much you helped, how much you resisted with the gift you were given you were never accepted now were you?” 

The chain wrapped around your waist had long fallen to the side and had been replaced by his clawed hand holding you against his frame as he murmured those things in your ear. As those words drifted into understanding your whole mood shifted once more, you didn’t want to hear about the past and your failed attempt of trying to fit in with society

Shivering against him of resurfaced memories you shook your head,

“What happened is in the past, I don’t know who you are and how you know me but I don’t care”

“Oh, but I guarantee you do dear~ Can’t you remember your lover?” 

Everything that was coming out of his mouth was just getting more and more confusing, sure if he somehow knew about your lover from your time in The Blessed Isles that’d be fine. However most were lost in the king’s ruination so naturally, you had gone searching for him immediately, but all you found was an empty vault and no lover to be found. He was a lowly warden gone by the name of Thresh, both of you being shunned away from those who were considered normal. On the contrary, you didn’t mind his much more sadistic mindset, although he tried a little too many experiments with you.  It took a moment to click all of the information together but once it did you were surprised.

“T...Thresh?” your voice quivered as a name that fell from your lips so long ago had returned.

You wouldn’t deny and be surprised about him being alive, after all, there was nobody, no soul fragment left behind. He had been encountered by the Ruined king so you assumed he cunned his way out, but with no crumbs to pick up on his location you gave up on many years of searching for him.

“The one and only”

Relief flooded through your body, releasing much tension acquired through the years. You didn’t cry, nor did you get angry simply you turned around and placed a head on to his chest even if it was colder than the warm touch you were used too. Instead, you let out an amused chuckle,

“Who would’ve thought that the two of us changed so much huh?” your voice was just above a whisper.

He hugged you closer as well, 

“There is no mortality and morals to hold us back, I simply embraced my true wants, no its time for you to do the same dear”

Whatever he was implying you simply didn’t care, perhaps yes his sadistic ways have evolved into one of a murderer but you didn’t care. Whether you were to join him in his ways or not all you wanted to relish in was his embrace.

Because now you could finally hold his hands without the thought of mortality

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

hey! thank you for everything that you do! you are awesome. im just wondering if you any fic were Stiles is fae? thank you!

We sure do. - Anastasia

till the moon has taken flight (to the waters and the wild) by WindyRein

(5/10 I 1,426 I Not Rated I Steter)

It's not fair! But he knows already that life isn't fair, doesn't he? He can feel the bitter smile curling his lips.He, if there is such a thing anymore, floats and is torn apart and doesn't exist. (but that would be kind, wouldn't it?)

Bloody Secrets by cywscross

(1/1 I 3,085 I Teen I Steter)

Stiles has silver in his veins.

Peter could’ve done without finding out this way though.

Somewhere to Start by Lissadiane

(1/1 I 3,352 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles has always known that he isn't quite human - the plant life that tends to sprout around him whenever he gets upset or excited gives it away. He's never really fit in among the regular people in Beacon Hills and is determined to wait it out, go to college, and find somewhere to belong. He's forced to abandon those plans, however, after he desperately agrees to enter into an arranged marriage to save his father's life.

An arranged marriage with an angry, sometimes furry dude with trust issues. It's all very Beauty and the Beast, without the singing candlesticks.

Dance Under the Moonlight by Therapeutic_Steter

(2/2 I 3,440 I Mature I Steter)

Fae!Stiles saving Peter from Pack's stupidity and washing his hands of them. Please?

The Other Side by Green

(1/1 I 3,769 I Explicit I Steter)

Stiles doesn't know anything about his father, only what his mother told him, that he's human. Despite her words, Stiles has had his doubts. So when the queen sends him through the veil, he's nervous and isn't sure what to think.

Seven Years Falling by InfiniteAlexisA

(1/1 I 3,880 I Not Rated I Sterek)

“I don’t mean to!” Derek yelled throwing his hands in the air.“DON’T YELL AT ME!” Stiles screeched, his entire body going up in flames.This is what Derek gets for dating a fire elemental.

we're not so different (you and i) by colferstilinski

(1/1 I 5,621 I Explicit I Sterek)

For many of the fairies that lives here, Utopia is their sanctuary—haven, in other words—and why shouldn't it be? It never rains on this stretch of meadow, the clouds in the skies always pink with interest and it smells like the breaking of spring every dawn and dusk.

Stiles detest it, the least to say.

It’s too much and he hates swinging along with the status quo with the other fairies. Yeah, with their blooming shades of colours and the shimmering, silken tunics they don on and fuck, the limitless sparkles. There’s even a new trend going on with the younger generation where they gather allium blooms to form a flower crown, oh—with added glitter!—and it makes Stiles wants to roll his eyes.

-

Or the fic in which Stiles is a fairy and wants to escape the horrendous, boring world of fairyland to have an adventure. And by adventure, he means meeting Derek. The plant. Or... not-so plant.

Cold Iron by the_problem_with_stardust

(5/5 I 5,641 I Teen I Sterek)

Derek thought the disaster that ended with Kate Argent almost burning down his family home was a relationship worst-case scenario. So, when Dr. Deaton reveals that his current girlfriend is not what she seems, Derek is ready to swear off romance forever. In an attempt to escape his well-meaning (but insanely overbearing) family, Derek volunteers to take over remodeling the small cottage that was left to the Hale siblings in his grandmother’s will. Connemara is nothing like California, and Derek feels like his luck just might be looking up.

salt and a waltz by The Byger (Byacolate)

(1/1 I 7,433 I Explicit i Sterek)

"Not that lubed-up Q-tips aren’t the sexiest thing in the world, but I kinda want to know what it’s like, you know. To be impaled on your huge dick without actually being impaled.”

“It was about to get sexy there, but you shot the mood right in the face.”

In which Stiles is a faerie and Derek is sick and tired of not being able to fuck him.

Don't You Wanna Be My Sky? by WhoNatural

(1/1 I 9,420 I General I Sterek)

Stiles got ratted out by the Realm Guard for sneaking off with Scott a total of seven times before his dad buckled, promising sabbatical once Stiles reached Faehood, and enough Earth culture in the meantime to have him talking like a born-and-bred Californian teenager.

He just didn’t have the tan.

(Or, in which Stiles is a Frost Fae sent to the Earth Realm on the Fae version of Rumspringa and immediately falls head-first into a Coffee Shop AU)

No Love in Idleness by Elpie (Horribibble)

(2/2 I 11,687 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles is the sole grandchild of none other than Robin Goodfellow, the most mischievous faerie ever to wreak havoc among the Folk and Man alike. To the people of Beacon Court, he is at best a merry wanderer of the night.

At first, Ser Derek is inclined to agree, but the little bird on his shoulder has quite a bit to say about that.

Trees are always a relief after dealing with people (except when they aren't) by ravelqueen

(1/1 I 15,889 I Mature I Sterek)

Derek Hale decides to become a hermit before he reaches 25. Too bad he picked Beacon Hills as his retirement home.

(Or the one where Stiles is a wood nymph/pixie/human hybrid who falls in love with his new grumpy werewolf neighbour)

Broken People Get Recycled by poemwithnorhyme

(1/1 I 16,389 I General i Sterek)

Nothing is ever just calm in Beacon Hills. No, something always has to go wrong, and this time, it's Stiles' turn in the spotlight. That doesn't mean he has to like it. Post S2 AUFae!Stiles

The Magic's in the Coffee by xxxillusionxxx

(8/8 I 17,596 I Explicit I Sterek)

Ever since the tall, muscled, leather-clad werewolf had begun his daily coffee routine at the Skullery—a horrendous name in Stiles’s opinion, but his boss was a skeleton who thought he was terribly clever—an impromptu competition developed among the baristas.

When Trust is Everything by hellbells

(12/12 I 27,913 I Teen i Sterek)

For a secret to remain true then only one person can know it; if not then it will come out. Beacon Hills is the converging point of several secrets all wrapped up in the supernatural. For Stiles, the unravelling of several will let him find peace, love and safety in the arms of his true mate. The only question is can he trust a Sourwolf and his pack well enough to show his true self.

It just might be the one thing between Beacon Hills and safety!

(Or observe the really awkward distrustful courtship between a Sourwolf and a hidden Fae Mage)

A Little Bit of Sunshine by 100KlicksAway

(21/? I 29,600 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles woke with a start, dreams of pixies flitting around his head. He’d dreamed… He’d dreamed that he was a wolf? Or…. He wasn’t sure. Something with fangs… His mouth had been dripping blood in his dream, and when he woke, he could still taste the thick copper taste coating his mouth.

Stiles has been working hard for the pack since Scott was bitten. They leave him out more and more frequently, though, until Stiles realizes that he's strictly unnecessary. Then, the pack's activities throw him into danger and he ends up in a shitty situation with no one helping him.

Stiles leaves Beacon Hills. He doesn't care anymore, he just... Needs out.

The Last Chills of Winter by LeeHan

(1/1 I 42,525 I Explicit I Sterek)

“He didn’t magically charm me,” Derek shot back in his defense.“Oh, so he just regular charmed you?” Laura said with a smirk.“What? No,” Derek growled.“Was he hot?”“No! He just—“ He just had a laugh like a sun shower. Fuck.

We Follow Darkness Like a Dream by GreenasCole

(10/10 I 51,106 I Mature I Sterek)

When a mysterious note is left on the Stilinski's door it leads Stiles and his best friend Scott out into the woods on quest for answers about Beacon Hills's most infamous tragedy. After a surprise encounter with a monstrous wolf the two boys are hurled into an ancient and terrifying world, only for Stiles to discover he was secretly a part of it all along. Will he manage to survive the insanity of Fae politics and avoid the enemies that are suddenly crawling out of the woodwork to find a place in this new world? Or will the very revelation of his existence be the catalyst that plunges both worlds into war and chaos? And why can't Scott just stop teasing him every time he catches Stiles looking at their new "friend" Derek too long?

Laughter in the Dark by Starshaker

(13/? I 56,148 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles is a fae. A trickster spirit with too much curiosity for his own good and a knack for getting into trouble. When he's just trying to help things don't go to plan and coincidences don't seem to end up for the better.Trapped, isolated and aching to get home, though it's better than what Gerard would have had planned for him initially, Stiles learns to deal with his new set of circumstances.

The Fairy's Wolf by kuki

(57/? I 90,602 I Explicit I Sciles)

In a world where non-humans mingle with humans in public schools until they became of age, about high school age, going instead to a specialty finishing school, a young halfling fae fights to stay with his friends. His fear of losing touch with his best friend, a young Alpha werewolf, has the pair pushing their relationship to the edge; and their relationship has the world on the brink of war.

-or-where I apparently ship Skittles hard now, hate myself with this work load on top of my school work, switch up species because f-u that's why, make up mythology, and try to give Derek a nice life.

Where You Still Remember Dreaming by yodasyoyo

(15/15 I 95,612 I Explicit I Sterek)

“What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Balto.”

“What’s yours?”

“Stiles.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. That isn’t his real name. There’s no way. But now he thinks about it, he has a vague memory of someone, probably Uncle Peter, telling him that with the fae, names have power. “I’m Miguel,” he says.

“Lie.”

“Are you trying to tell me your real name is Stiles?”

Stiles runs his tongue across his teeth and considers Derek carefully. “Fair enough,” he says, “Miguel it is.”

Grabbing his groceries and pocketing the change, Derek turns to leave; he’s nearly at the door when Stiles calls out, “By the way, Miguel, if you’re interested, it’s two for one on bags of kibble at the pet store down the street.”

Derek doesn’t look back, doesn’t hesitate, just raises a hand and flips him off on the way out.

[luntica]

Coming down from a hyperfixation or in this case building on an idle future plan, can really be a downer.

Idk how many know this but when focusing/ fixating on something it cancels out so much bad, and produces all the good chemicals that going back to everything else is like coming off a high, or a depression mood hitting. Nothing feels as bright or real, nothing feels (in that moment) like it'll ever be that nice again.

When I think of my commune idea, getting really into it, thinking out all the details, that's a hyperfixation for me. Im invested. Im enjoying it, I'm planning and hoping.

But when it backs down on being my focus, I get pretty depressed. It's this feeling that I'll never be able to have that freedom or security, that comfort.

I know that by it being such a hyperfixation that there is gonna be a lot that's fantasy. That there will be expectations there I will never be able to make reality because it's not realistic.

But to feel like none of it will ever happen is what kills me inside. It's like feeling I won't ever have that stuff. That I'll be stuck relying on other people's decisions, be under someone, or be unsafe always.

I constantly hear "get a job" but with the world right now, my gap of time from working and disability means that's not a real option for me. I get told "don't know till you try" but I have, I have contacted plenty of places with the money and ability to accommodate my needs, but that means corporates that would rather higher anyone else. I've connected small places who are more likely to higher me for me and not the list of shit the see on the paper, but they arnt hiring cause they can't afford to pay others to live.

I get told "go back to school" but without accommodations im going to fail again. I can't get accommodations until all the paper work and corvid is gone. That's not happening any time soon as I ordered stuff from government on paper work months ago, to no reply, and expect a year could go by.

"Sell your art" but won't support me threw buying anything themselves, contributing to my patreon (www.patreon.com/luntica) or just sharing my stuff around.

If I could just force my stuff to be sold I would, if I could force myself threw all the mental health shit to work any job I would, if I could build the houses for my commune idea myself I would.

But I can't, I'm stuck and it sucks

[reesefms]

                          ✩ —  𝒉𝒊  𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒔  !  i’m  buzzing  with  excitement  because  we’re  finally  open  !  i’m  so  excited  to  see  everyone  bring  their  muses  to  life  ,  it’s  unreal  .  i’m  leia  (  she  /  her  )  repping  the  est  tz  ,  which  fits  my  #basic  personality  because  i  would  kill  for  starbs  iced  coffee  w/  oat  milk  .  i  honestly  apologize  in  advance  for  how  ramble - y  &  long  this  into  is  ,  it’s  a  little  embarrassing  !  i  would  love  to  plot  with  each  &  every  one  of  you  so  please  smash  that   💛  if  you’d  like  to  !  you  can  find  me  at  theweeknds#0379  on  discord  or  we  can  use  tumblr’s  ims  if  you  prefer  !  

                           *  𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐠𝐨𝐬  here  and  do  i  have  the  tea  for  you  .  reese  is  back  in  bridgehampton  for  the  summer  ,  living  off  the  leblanc’s  family  $302  mil  .  must  be  nice  to  come  back  home  to  the  hamptons  ,  i  wonder  what  her  fellow  class  of  2017  grads  think  of  her  return  .  you  know  ,  she  was  known  around  town  as  the  reveler  and  for  bhs  senior  superlatives  she  was  crowned  as  most  likely  to  be  late  to  her  own  wedding  .  i  wonder  if  that  still  holds  true  today  ,  a  lot  can  change  when  you  go  off  to  ucla  and  study  communications  .  either  way  ,  i  bet  she  is  still  very  audacious  ,  blithe  ,  negligent  and  depraved  .  hopefully  this  time  next  year  the plans  to  stay  in  la  and  focus  entirely  on  her  youtube  channel  come  true  .  in  the  meantime  ,  i  look  forward  to  seeing  her  blast  teen  idle  -  marina  and  the  diamonds  at  every  hamptons  function  .  it’s  going  to  be  a  wild  summer  home  ,  welcome  back  .

*  tw  :  drinking  ,  drug  use  ,  death  ,  overdose  ,  suicidal  ideations  if  you  squint

╰  ✩   𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢  𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜   :  

the  leblancs –  an american  made  ,  household  name  .  hollywood  embedded  so deeply in  the  bloodline  ,  it  made  the  rest  world  question  whether  or  not  a  gene  for  acting  existed  .  the  leblanc  women  always  seeming  to  marry  into  the  business  –  actors  &  actresses  going  hand  in  hand  ,  marriages  supposed  to  last  the  test  of  time  .  however  ,  for  every  card  of  luck  fate  deals  a  cursed  one  –  messy  divorces  ending  in  vicious  headlines  ,  the  media  practically  salivating  for  the  next  leblanc failure  .  every  ending  prompted  with  a  –  &  when’s  the  next  wedding ?  (  side  note  :  i  was  inspired  by  goldie  hawn  /  kate  hudson  !  )  

dawn  leblanc’s  determination  to  break  the  cycle  had  been  admirable  ,  the  young  actress  entering  a  tumultuous  relationship  with  a  young  musician  ,  bandleader  kurt  rhodes  .  for  four  magical  years  the  pair  defied  the  world’s  expectations  ,  perhaps  the  leblanc’s  would  finally  achieve perfection –  climbing  back  onto  the  pedestal  after  being  knocked  down  time  & time  again  .

the fifth  year brought  reese  elizabeth  leblanc into  the  world  ,  another  girl  slated  to  continue  on  the  leblanc  family  legacy  .  the  night  had  been  stormy  ,  thunder  no  match  for  her  cries  –  as  if  the  universe  had  known  the  blonde  was  destined  to  be  a force  of  nature  .  her  parents &  the  rest  of  the  world  fell  in  love  with  her  ,  angelic  golden  curls  & wide  ,  doe  eyes (  thanks  to  the  leblanc  genes  )  masking  the  terror  she  became  –  born  with  an  insatiable  curiosity  that  drove  her  to  explore  any  & everything  .

dawn  clung  to  the  hope  that  reese  would  mature  into  perfection  ,  hiring  yet  another  painter  to  cover  up  scribbles  in  a  bold  ,  crimson  shade  of  chanel  lipstick  .  forks  moved  to  the  top  shelf  in  an  effort  to  stop  her  from  emulating ariel ,  her  favorite  disney  princess  –  the  gold  metal  bound  to  ruin  her  curls  .  reese  favoring  time  with  her  father  ,  enamored  by  the  vibrations  raking  through  her  tiny  body  as  chubby  ,  little  fingers  pressed  against  black  &  white  keys  .

the seventh  year  ,  the  leblanc  curse  took  its  effect  ,  gifting  reese  a  divorce  for  her  second  birthday  .  this  one  messier  than  those  before  ,  kurt’s  affair  with  a groupie ,  no  less  ,  plastered  on  every  news  stand  .  her  grandmother  quick  to  swoop  in  ,  reese &  her  mother  moving  in  to  hide  away  from  the  flashing  lights  .  the  eldest  leblanc  reminding  her  daughter  that  she  should  have  listened  all  those  years  ago  –  musicians  weren’t leblanc  material  .  the  blame  never  falling  on  the  leblanc  women  –  self  -  absorbed to  a  fault  .

within  a  year  of  her  divorce  ,  dawn  re-married  ,  her  co-star  &  american’s golden  boy  brent  jacobs  –    the  supposed  new  love  of  her  life  .  as  always  ,  the  media  latched  onto  the  news  –  eagerly  sinking  their  teeth  into  the  idea  of  a  publicity  stunt  to  rub  the  tarnish  off  dawn’s  reputation  . &  when  reese  turned  three  ,  her  family  grew  to  four  – savannah  dawn  leblanc  entering  the  world  much  more peacefully than  her  older  sister  ,  wrapping  every  person  around  her  finger  with  just  a  bat  of  her  baby  blues (  eye  color  seemingly  the  only difference  between  the  leblanc  sisters ) .

╰  ✩   𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗  𝚒𝚍𝚕𝚎   :  

as  much  as  she  should  ,  reese  could  never  hate  her  younger  sister  .  the  pair  forging  a  bond  that  could  be  explained  by  no  one  despite  their  obvious  differences  .  with  only  a  shared  mother  ,  it  shocked  everyone  to  see  just  how  similar  they  looked  .  dawn  taking  to  the  idea  of  pretending  as  if  reese  were  the  daughter  of  her  second  husband  .  her  mother  had  always  been  too  good  at  acting  ,  a  master  at  eluding  reality  & morphing  it  into  an  acceptable  idyl  .

savannah  was  the  golden  child in  everyone’s  eyes  ,  reese  cast  aside  as  the other  leblanc ,  the  problem  child  .  the  blonde  often  found  sulking  in  her  room  only  to  sneak  out  the  window  the  second  she  got  an  urge  to  explore  .  the  supposed  ,  inherited  acting  bug  had  never  bitten  her  ,  reese  waving  away  any  offer  to  star  in  a  film  or  commercial  .  any  attempt  to  drag  her  to  an  audition  resulted  in  her  either  running  away  ,  or  creating  such  a  scene  that  no  one in  hollywood  would ever want  to  work  with  her  .  a  downpour on  any  project  .

savannah  took  to  acting  just  like  her  mother  .  the  pair  bonding  in  a  way  reese  could  never  ,  frequently  flying  from  their  home  in  the  hamptons  to  auditions  in  la  .  reese  tagging  along  only  so  she  could  see  her  father  ,  the  only  one  who  ever  seemed  to  get  her  –  dawn  claiming  reese  may  have  been  gifted the  leblanc  looks  ,  but  her  moodiness  all  stemmed  from  her  father  .

it  drove  her insane  ,  staring  at  her  reflection  in  the  mirror  every  night  as  if  to  ask  what  was  wrong  with  her  .  why  was  she  so  different ?  why  couldn’t  she  be  agreeable  like  savannah  ?  it  fed  her  jaded  soul  ,  reese  losing  her  innocence &  rose  colored  glasses  far  too  quickly  .  her  realism  tethering  her  to  reality  ,  able  to  see  through  the  pink  ,  glittery  fog  of  dawn  leblanc’s  world  .

she  fought  with  her  mother  constantly  ,  savannah  always  sneaking  into  her  room  at  night  to  ask  quietly  ,  why  won’t  you  &  mom  get  along  ?  she’s  doin’  her  best  re  .  reese  never  had  the  answer  ,  always  a  heavy  sigh  as  she  brushed  her  sisters  questions  off  .  unable  to  explain  that  ,  while  savannah  was  content  with  being  her  mother’s  doll ,  she  couldn’t  bring  herself  to  –  not  when  she’d  seen  the  world  beyond  the  facade  her  mother  &  grandmother  painted  .  

&  like  clockwork  ,  dawn  drove  her  second  husband  away  –  reese  16  & savannah  13  .  the  promise  to  co-parent  kept  ,  their  split  amicable  despite  the  constant  fights  that  had  ended  in  broken  dishes  &  reese  quietly  sneaking  out  –  losing  herself  in  a  party  ,  in  noise  to  forget  that  silence  could  be  just  as  loud  ,  but  more  deafening  .  

╰  ✩   𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑   :  

reese  couldn’t  escape  the  hamptons  or  her  mother  fast  enough  ,  ucla  her  ticket  away  .  the  only  dark  cloud  ,  leaving  behind  her  sister  .  the  two  promised  to  text  every  day  ,  savannah  always  welcome  to  stay  with  reese  if  their  mother  ever  got  to  be  too  much  –  savannah  much  more  adept  at  handling  her mood  swings  ,  appeasing  her  mother  with  a  sugar  sweet  smile  & a  promise  to  major  in  acting  after  graduation  .  

reese  ,  however  ,  had  no  idea  what  direction  she  wanted  to  go  –  communications  her  fall  back  in  an  effort  to  just  choose  something  that  didn’t  require  much  effort  .  ucla  her  dream  school  for  its  social  climate  more  than  its  educational  one  . &  her  freshman  year  marked  the  start  of  her  youtube  channel  –  reeses  ,  which  currently  has  a  whopping  3.4  million  subscribers  .  true  to  her  surname  ,  the  blonde  did  find  love  in  front  of  the  camera  ,  but  also  behind  it  as  she  vlogged  her  escapades  much  to  the  world’s  enjoyment &  her  mother’s  disappointment  .

savannah  &  reese  texted  every  night  ,  updating  each  other  &  signing  each  text  off  with  a  forever  &  always  .  occasionally  ,  reese  would  forget  –  too  drunk  or  high  to  craft  a  text  ,  always  apologizing  the  next  morning  when  she  woke  up  to  savannah’s  worried  texts  .  despite  being  the  one  that  should  look  out  for  her  sister  ,  savannah  always  seemed  to  be  looking  out  for  her  .  

one  visit  sophomore  year  ,  savannah  begged  reese  to  take  her  out  .  her  sister  living  a  more sheltered  life  ,  one  bound  by  strict  bedtimes  &  after  school  acting  classes  or  rehearsals  .  unable  to  say  no  ,  despite  knowing  she  should  ,  reese  brought  savannah  along  –  letting  her  sister  borrow  her  clothes  ,  the  two  starting  early  with  a  bottle  of  grey  goose  as  they  got  ready  .  

reese  always  had  a  tendency  to  loose  herself  in  a  party  ,  letting  the  night  drag  her  wherever  it  wanted  .  losing  sight  of  savannah  had  been  her  first  mistake  .  telling  savannah  to  have  a  good  time  ,  try  something  new  had  been  her  second  mistake  .  not  being  there  had  been  her  third  &  final  mistake  ,  savannah’s  introduction  to  a  line  of  cocaine  her  finale  .  the  screams  of  someone  call  911 still  keep  reese  up  at  night  –  remembering  vividly  what  it  felt  like  to  see  her  sister’s  body  limp  on  someone’s  bed  .  the  od  unexpected ,  the  line  bad  –  mixed  with  something  too  strong for  someone  so  pure to  handle  .  &  reese  was  left  to  blame herself  .  she  killed  her  sister  .  

the  world  mourned  the  loss  of  savannah  leblanc  .  reese’s  relationship  with  her  mother  more  estranged  ,  casting  the  blame  on  her  just  as  she  had  already  .  she  took  a  6  month  hiatus  from  vlogging  ,  reese  unable  to  do  anything  but  drink  herself  into  a  coma  like  sleep  .  it  was  far  easier  to  numb  herself  ,  bags  under  her  eyes  hidden  by  sunglasses  .  

her  re-entry  online  had  shocked  everyone  .  her  vlog’s  no  longer  carrying  the  light  air  despite  how  badly  she  tried  to  force  it  .  reese  no  longer  the  same  ,  more  self  deprecating  than  before  & much  more reckless  .  her  love  of  vlogging  no  longer  stemmed  from  pure  enjoyment  ,  but  a need to  be  seen  ,  to  no  longer  feel  alone  .  convinced  that  she  was  a  hurricane  ,  destroying  everyone  she  could  ever  get  close  to  .  yet  unable  to  bring  herself  to  care  for  her  safety  because  it should’ve been  her  that  night  ,  not  savannah  .

reese  has  a  blatant  disregard  for  herself  ,  willing  to  push  the  boundaries  so  far  for  the  sake  of  a  thrill  ,  to  feel  something  beyond  the  suffocating  culpability  that  feels  like  a  choke  hold  around  her  neck  . & if  she  ends  up  not  coming  back  from  it  ,  who  cares  right  ?  

she  still  pays  her  sister’s  phone  bill  ,  never  missing  a  beat  –  texting  her  updates  ,  rambles  ,  apologies  .  the  texts  signed  with  their  infamous forever  &  always  .   

so  !  i’m  currently  working  on  a  lil  connection  page  with  ideas  ,  but  for  now  please  accept  this  mess  💛

[yandere-daydreams]

omgg im cryin requests are openn!!! please can i have some more villain!shinshou using his quirk on his s/o?? thank you

Logical Brain: Only one of the villains canonically wears a suit, so just sticking every character in formal wear and calling it an AU is kinda dumb.

Monkey Brain: Buttons,,, and ties,,, and collars,,,

“Twirl,” Shinsou called, gesturing in an idle swirling motion. A lazy grin was painted across his face, his shirt unbuttoned and left open, tie discarded somewhere on the living room floor. He was still tired from work, clearly. “Slowly. I want to see.”

You did so, but not of your own accord. The haze of his control remained thick, intoxicating to the point of numbness. It was familiar to you, comforting in a certain, terrible way. You could only vaguely tell what he’d forced you into, finding yourself glad that he was in a more domestic mood today. One of his hoodies was a lot better than his self-proclaimed ‘favorites’, all of which you’d gotten to know intimately. Shinsou hummed contently as you spun, clicking his tongue when he wanted you to stop. “Now, what do you say?”

“Thank you for loving me,” You mumbled, too robotically for it to be genuine. God, it didn’t even sound like you. “I love you too.”

“Of course you do.” With a wave of his hand, you were released, reality falling onto you like a lead brick. Knees growing weak, you instantly dropped to your knees, clawing at the wood floor underneath you. A mixture of humiliation and exhaustion (you barely walked by yourself, nowadays), formed a tight ball in the back of your throat, forcing you to keep your eyes anywhere but Shinou. Unfortunately, that came to an abrupt end when his nails dug into your chin, tilting your head upward and forcing you to meet his eyes. “See? Was that so hard?”

Without thinking, you slapped away his hand, scrambling backward and putting as much distance between yourself and Shinsou as you could. You wanted to scream, anything from stay away from me to you’re sick, but that would’ve just let him take over again. Instead, you froze up, tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes as Shinsou silently stood up.

“Are we really going to fight? Again?” His tone was low, an unspoken threat. He kneeled in front of you, catching your wrist with a crushing grip when you attempted to move away. His other hand came up to slip under the collar around your neck (a plain leather sash, with a tiny, cutesy bell strapped to the ring), tugging you forward harshly. 

“Look, I don’t want to do this tonight. You can either be a good little kitten and purr for me, or I can choke it out of you.” He finally let you go, but you didn’t try to move away this time. You expected him to lash out again, but Shinsou just smiled, holding an outstretched hand towards you. “But, I don’t want to do that. C’mere, and I’ll try to forget about this.”

In your defense, you were terrified. He hadn’t given you any warning while… persuading you to corporate before, but that wasn’t very comforting. So, in a few seconds, you found your head buried in his chest, his arms gently strung around your waist. If he’d stopped himself from chucking, you might’ve even called it sweet. Still, you opted to just bite the bullet and get the apology over with, spitting out a quick ‘please don’t hurt me’.

Shinsou just ran a hand through your hair, pushing a short kiss into your forehead. “It’s alright, pet. You just need more training.” There was a short silence, but you knew what he was thinking. His smirk was still pressing against your skin, after all. “How does a leash sound?”

[mastcrplanncr-a]

issue #23 made me really heccin’ emo over eggman and sonic. i was prepared for it, but also ?? not prepared??? holy frick im just gonna ramble under the cut.

first of all, i’m just gonna’ idly ramble about some things i noticed.

Eggman, literally 11 issues ago:

he makes these off remarks and then changes his mind whenever it’s convenient for him smh. that or hes a freaking liar and. WELL THAT’S PRETTY TRUE HONESTLY.

i’ma be honest fam starline is a freaking mood rn. it’s ?? so dumb?? LIKE EGGMAN WHERE IS YOUR FUCKING FAILSAFE UR SOLUTION WAS “not touching the robots hurr durr” PL EASE.

In retrospect, though, this is an interesting parallel to Forces because he’d apparently learned from his mistakes. TBF, and it has been brought up elsewhere on tumblr, this is a man recovering from amnesia. He must’ve just not gotten to that part. OR HE’S JUST. DUMB AND ARROGANT. Like, yeah, sure, there’s no vaccine - lol the heroes can’t fix anything & it also means you’re valuable because you’re the one person who can. BUT COME ON EGGMAN.

my friend actually predicted this holy shit. i was rambling abt a discussion we had in the egg cult, where we were talking about the possibility of sonic infecting eggman to blackmail him into getting the cure because he’s reached the point?? hes so done with eggman’s shit??? all his friends are in danger and hes backed into a wall what else is he to do than do the one thing he doesn’t want to: use eggman’s tactics against him?

and my friend was like:

LIKE. IT IS A HUGE RISK, and Sonic went FOR IT. I’M SCREAMING TBH.

THIS CONFRONTATION WAS SO FUCKING RAW YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND. I thought I was ready for it but I really, REALLY wasn’t. I love the little details of Starline bein’ like: “oh fuck” - usually he’s pretty cocky around Sonic but uh. HE’S INFECTED NOW. And the zero remark - idk if that’s intentional on the writer’s part but ZERO TO HERO anyone?

anyway toxi broke down crying at this point. you have no idea how much i was sobbing over my blue son just. pouring out his heart to his nemesis. that’s top tier tearjerking material.  also starline passive aggressively readjusting his outfit lmfao. BITCH IM FABULOUS. but man the usage of ‘ BE’ and ‘LIKE’ - Sonic knows who Eggman is; he’d never ask him to be something he’s not. but it’s also a reiteration of sonic’s want to see good in him; being LIKE tinker is a statement in that he wanted eggman to be who he was, but NOT to go back. to do good for the world. have it be his own decision, because deep deep down:

isn’t that what he really wants?

Also, although there are those sickly sweet descriptions, the usage of ellipses in this narrative really fucks me up because you can practially hear the gradual realization in eggman’s voice. his mockery starts out so !!! but it just eventually gets straight to the point, as a list. as a routine. because he was used to it. and because, some part of him misses it. notice the usage of ‘need’ and ‘use’. they needed him, and yet he used the people that appreciated him sm like puppets.

some nice guilt there, huh, doc?

ALSO I SPENT LIKE, HOURS TRYING TO FIND THIS EXACT DIALOGUE, but Eggman has a conversation in Dark Brotherhood with Sonic and makes this remark:

LIKE??? this isn’t new to his character, actually? Ignoring the ken penders thing bc smh. Going by this game he’s actually kind of okay with that set up. And he just works so well with the others too??? this isn’t even taking into account the other games he’s teamed up with them. I’m sorry but my head just goes back to this line so many times; it’s one of the ones that stick with me, along with ‘complicated guy’ from lost world. HE COULD!! legitimately do good. and he actually doesn’t find it too bad??? IM EMO MAN...

and IMAGINE making super cool things that people genuinely like... eggman has a HUGE ego, that much is very apparent; he’s super big on appreciation as comes with. and with tinker? he had that - he felt appreciated and loved. people LIKED what he made, and he didn’t have to bend over backwards to have that. his work felt included and he didn’t have to take that appreciation by force like he did with his lackeys (which half the time was fake anyway) .

first and foremost - WE SEE THAT OPEN YOUR HEART REFERENCE, IDW. also sonic’s frustration here, in comparison to the lil smile the panel before - he’s just!! “WHY CANT YOU WAKE THE FRICK UP OLD MAN”. the justification here seems a tad bit like DENIAL to me. and the justification seems... kind of odd from him? since when does EGGMAN justify anything he does? He does what he wants and when he wants, because he’s the E.G.G.M.A.N. he doesn’t care what anyone thinks... right?

it’s because - especially with the usage of better - he didn’t like where that train of thought was going. for once, he’s justifying himself - because the alternative is admitting sonic is right. that he did like that life. that he’d want to go back. throw it in a hierachy and it’s all so simple, right?

also the inclusion of open your heart lyrics here. the incident with chaos was just as catastrophic. and these lyrics in context of the previous panel, highlights how sonic and eggman both seek unity and peace but in their own ways; eggman’s is just evil. it seems a little bit of a diversion to me - to antagonise sonic and make him forget about it. what better way to do that than to relate to him? ‘own styles that we won’t change’ highlights a stubbornness in ways, too, especially with the current context of eggman denying his old life. ALSO IT IS LITERALLY TELLING EGGMAN TO OPEN HIS HEART.

and ngl this seems like idle banter to hide the fact he genuinely felt remorse for his actions for a second. because lbr he has a habit of being all talk when a plan goes wrong or suffering inside,

which starline does quite pointedly explain.

As I was saying above, Sonic has no choice in what to do now - he’s reaching his limit. OR ELSE. hes pondering doing the thing he doesnt want to do. and honestly, ‘you can’t stop me. no one can,’ is so hardhitting not just because of its looming threat, but because of how much it solidifies for sonic that he can’t take the chance anymore. if anyone is going to change eggman, it has to be himself.

also can i just cry over how much sonic trusts tails. im getting sa2 flashbacks.

also man i’d like to point out the specific use of ‘lock you away forever’. it coooould be a reference to sonic’s time imprisoned during the events of sonic forces. bitterness?

NOT SAYING I CALLED IT, BUT I CALLED IT. it still hurts though. and wow, it really is horrifying when eggman fears his own heccin’ creation, huh?

i live for sonic being passive aggressive with eggman. give me more please.

im immensely concerned the direction starline is going, honestly. but it does say a lot about eggman; how he’ll keep trying the same things expecting different results, but failing and never seeing that. because he’s EGGMAN; every plan is brilliant by default!

i love how sonic just !!! SHOT... THE MOMENT HE WAS REMINDED WHAT WAS AT STAKE. son i love you so much you’re doing great sweetie

also, man, can we talk about eggman avoiding his blatant faults, and shoving his failures onto someone else? because this little scene here - eggman ur literally the one who crashed the thing. it had absolutely nothing to do with sonic. i feel as though this is symbolism of his self-destructive nature, honestly. hes always gotta make things harder for himself. (also starline’s face is killing me)

Eggman does what he has to, but technology won’t work every time you kick it. he thinks he can get everything through force but we have several instances in idw where force did NOT work out; you’re not gonna get far, egghead.

MHM, and just who does that sound like, Eggman? honestly the mirrors between these two are seriously destroying me. although sonic is in a horrible position, so is eggman; he likes to think he’s won the war, but hes surpassed his own expectations, and that’s going to backfire on him eventually. hes stubborn to admit he has NO REIGN over this and they’re all doomed, so he’s pinning his failures / loss on Sonic.

is that the amnesia kicking ya in the shin, eggman? or sonic’s reality check? either way, the doc hates emotions. dammit man why you gotta make him emo

future eggman is going to kick past eggman in the kneecaps. it’s times like this ur reminded how much of a kid he is. eugh but that’s work i want my victory and senseless destruction now. honestly if the doc is after success, he is certainly not getting it this way and I AM FEARING FOR EVERYONE’S LIVES. he’ll probably have to work with what’s left of the resistance like the back end of most games at some point.

I’m getting a little burnt out but i can’t forget my son and how much he hurts me.

first of all that third panel terrifies me. the fact it GOT that far does me great concern. the RED EYES? that’s pushing it fam i dont like that. the expressions are also just freaking destroying me; they’ve been PERFECT this issue. and the fact sonic is at his weakest when he feels like he’s failed everyone hurts me deeply. he has SO much on his shoulders and its getting too overwhelming for him.

also man... the whole thing with eggman... just stuff me man. but it hurts all the more because it’s so glaringly clear that there is?? some good in eggman??? he just. doesn’t want to admit it. and unfortunately these aren’t good circumstances to debate on that.

ANYWAY, THAT ISSUE WAS AGONY AND IM STILL REELING AND HAVENT EVEN. TALKED ALL THAT MUCH ABOUT SONIC HERE (on account of this being eggman’s blog) but idk if i’ll write anything on that.

gonna go cry about an egg now brb

[hinugundam]

anyway here’s my thoughts so careful for 7R SPOILERS and all that

where to start. guess i’ll section it out.

gameplay wise: fun as all hell. the weapon abilities was a great touch. materia was still as good as it’s always been. the system keeps you in a constant battle between winning and losing. always challenging and felt real, real good. never a dull moment. the sidequests, which were truly few once you’ve beaten the game and look back on it, were either fun, funny, or simple enough to do. didn’t take much time and had some sort of connection to whatever was going on. i enjoyed the forced party changes and how you got to do/see things from different perspectives at different times. all characters were fun to use and had cool abilities.

character wise: everybody was so good. from the man himself to all his friends. they were how they used to sound in my head before they had voices and before we got to this point. cloud? s tier. barret? perfect. aerith? she stood out to me the most, i couldn’t believe how much she made me fall in love with her all over again from the very moment you see her. shit got me thinking i might call her best girl. biggs, jessie, wedge? i love them. they were so alive and fun. the secret mission with them in the begging felt so natural, like they were a group of friends doing some sketchy shit in the middle of the night. the side characters they added in were good, too. leslie, who ended up being my fave side guy, and all the others at wall market. tifa? i feel a little. sad for her this time around. she’s great, really is. was truly tifa through and through, but i was displeased with the change in her dialogue when cloud had his flashback to the nibelhiem incident. going from “i hate” to “i’m sick” felt.. lesser. hate is a strong emotion, and tifa feels strong things. that’s always been a part of her character. felt like she was a little too soft, but its not a huge fuck up. she’s still good ol teef and i love her to death. i felt like i was among friends again. these characters that have been with me for years were more alive than ever before. they made me truly happy.

music wise: shit fuckin bangs. from the og songs that come back and sound nearly the same to the new, remixed versions. god is it good. several times i had to stop and stand idle just to listen to shit. the expressway theme, the battle theme there, the song that plays when aerith is leading you to wall market (which is my absolute fave), the colosseum theme; it goes on. the music being played at just the right moments sets the mood for everything and they knocked that shit out the park. uematsu did it again.

story wise: here’s where shit got me. this game really was a love letter to old 7 fans. they kept it all intact, the old scenes, the old dialogue, the way shit felt. it was there. but there was new stuff that added a little extra. the way you saw how the everyday people reacted to decisions made by the party, how things didn’t just affect avalanche, but everyone else. the impact was much larger than it ever was before. it felt bad but in the best way possible. i hate to admit shit makes me cry but i cried on and off like 30 times playing this game, and sometimes it was about the smallest shit. i was either crying, laughing, or in awe. i couldn’t believe what was in front of me. couldn’t even believe i was playing it. i’ve said it over and over but it was pure magic. magic that i never thought i’d feel. i felt so genuinely happy playing through. it was crazy.

my biggest gripe? started pretty early. when cloud gets his first vision of the future. didn’t like that. brushed it off. kept happening. then you get the end and suddenly it’s all over the place. not only is everyone seeing visions of a certain someone dying, everyone now knows about the meteor. i hated it. why? why were we spoiling the characters in game about their fate which they’ve never known about? i went through the end of that game blank because i was severely disappointed. they weren’t supposed to know about their futures, they never did. the og was about random people fighting on knowing nothing about tomorrow, but doing it anyway. fate was blank and the future was empty, but they went on. felt like the charm and whole backbone of 7 disappeared. where would the shock and importance of major story events be when now suddenly the characters know whats gonna happen? for like a full 12 hours i was just. so disappointed. the game didnt need this huge change in plot. it didnt need some alternate reality, fate is the biggest enemy, suddenly we know our futures story. shit bummed me out. even now after i feel like i’m coming to terms with it, whether i was too harsh or just too attached to what the original always was, im not thrilled about it, but i think i can accept this new fight against fate plot, cause yeah, they do sorta fight against fate, just not literally. i can get with it, but i dont think i’ll ever like the visions. just has me really nervous and scared. what will change now? how deep will we go with this? who will change because of this? im ripping every bandaid off myself and forcing myself to accept it. nothing else i can do. no matter what though, it was an experience. an amazing one. maybe eventually i’ll end up really liking this ending and getting with it like other people. its nice to see people really pleased with it. i have to keep beating myself in the head and saying “this is different now, no going back.” i always said they cant take the og away from me, and they cant. i dont think this new version is ruined, not at all. think im just in a little too deep.

anyway, it was. spectacular. and im ready for part 2. whatever happens. wherever this new fight against fate goes. wherever this new 7 takes us. i think i can learn to love it.

[cryptid-bloodhound]

can i just have some fluffy gibby and octane??? that's all i need in my life tbh

IM LATE BUT I GOTCHU FAM!

Thoughts Like Thorns

Ao3

Octavio was bored again. When he was bored, bad things tended to happen. He didn’t mean to cause so much havoc, honest! Well, most of the time he didn’t mean it. All that destruction and chaos was simply a byproduct of his endless hunt for his next adrenaline rush. He really couldn’t help it. That desire to do something - anything - was almost pervasive. It was a gnawing, clawing need that guided his day-to-day life. When he sat idle for just a moment too long, that feeling would well up inside of him again, like nails down his spine. If he didn’t know any better, he’d compare the uncomfortable sensation to anxiousness. It was like something inside of him telling him to ‘ go go go!’ and not doing that was something really quite awful.

Those quiet moments between drops when there was nowhere for him to run and video games just weren’t cutting it was horrible. He’d bounce in place, jump around, and use his fellow Legends as makeshift springboards. Anything to alleviate that need. For the most part, the others tolerated his constant frenetic energy. Sometimes, if the mood was bright enough, they’d join in on his reckless little games. It usually wasn’t a problem for the adrenaline junkie. Hell, he loved the rush so chasing these little highs was awesome! But, there were moments when it was all a little too much. When his attention felt like it was being ripped in every direction and his mind buzzed like a nest of angry hornets. When nothing could satisfy that need of his. It seemed like today was one of those unlucky days.

He was pacing back and forth in the complex, muttering under his breath rapidly as if he could chase away this feeling through cursing alone. His hands flexed, clenched, and beat an uneven tempo against his thighs as he moved on an endless loop. Sometimes he felt like clawing at himself because surely that would feel better than whatever this sensation was crawling under his skin, but he refrained. The last time he did, Ajay scolded him and gave him that ‘I’m-unhappy-but-also-worried’ look he’s so familiar with. He tried playing games but nothing would hold his attention or quell that buzzing. He tried hanging out with the others but found himself too...raw to handle them right now. This uneasy restlessness was killing him.

“Ughh, estoy a punto de enloquecer!”

Octavio was so engrossed in his own static-filled mind that he didn’t notice the rather large figure walking through the door. Really, it should be a feat all on its own to have Makoa Gibraltar of all people sneak up on you. The giant of a man wasn’t the type to sneak around. So, when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, the borderline shriek that left his lips was all the more embarrassing. Gibraltar looked torn between amused and mildly worried. That expression made Octavio want to shrug the hand off of his shoulder and bolt for the door.

“You alright there, bruddah?”

It was a simple question. It should have been easy to answer. Should . But the nonstop racing thoughts and aching in his nerves told him otherwise.

“Yes. No. Yes! ...Maybe. UGH, I don’t know!”

His hands went from tapping his thighs to gripping at his hair as he fought himself for a moment of respite. After seeing the almost volatile reaction to his touch earlier, Makoa resisted the urge to lay a reassuring hand on the younger Legend. It wasn’t often that Octavio had a bad day like this but it happened just enough for Makoa to recognize the signs. After a moment of thought, Gibraltar shifted his presence, expression dropping from openly worried to casual friendliness. That same sort of warmth colored over the darker tones of his voice. He didn’t want Octavio focusing on the bad - especially if it was thanks to the way he was acting.

“Hey, I seen you’re pretty good at art, yeah?”

The question was so unexpected and lax that it actually threw Octavio for a bit of a loop. His grip loosened and he squinted in slight confusion at Makoa. When he spoke, his answer was drawn out and pitched as if it was a question.

“...Yes?”

That seemed to brighten up Makoa’s disposition immediately. He gave one of his famous thousand-watt grins and threw open his arms in a grand gesture.

“Perfect! I got a cake here that needs some serious decoratin’ and you’re just the guy for the job!”

There wasn’t a singular part of this shift in conversation that didn’t confuse Octavio. Granted there were a great many things that did confuse him. In his defense, however, he rarely bothered enough to pay attention to, well, anything really. So, he just let his arms drop back to his sides as bewilderment overtook his features. Seeing the shift, Makoa kept on going. Anything to keep him distracted was good in his books. As he spoke, he subtly herded Octavio toward the kitchen area where a tasty but objectively plain cake sat. Next to it was a slew of decoration tools and what looked like a rough image of what Gibraltar wanted on it. It was pretty, certainly something he could imagine giving to a significant other if he were feeling romantic. But his way of drawing was a bit more, ah, stylized than what was pictured. As he started imagining what it’d look like in his own design, Makoa continued on.

“It’s my anniversary soon and I wanted to do somethin’ nice. I made a cake but I don’t have an artistic bone in my body. Figured I’d ask ya for help, shortstack. We can work on it togetha ‘n you could tell me what’s botherin’ ya.”

At the reminded of his earlier unending nerves, Octavio frowned. Without meaning to he started bouncing back and forth on his feet as that prickling sensation started taking over his attention once more. Without wasting a second, Makoa barreled on as if nothing changed.

“Or, I could tell ya about that time I stole my dad’s motorcycle to go on a joyride with my boyfriend.”

Again, the switch up blindsided the younger Legend. The mental image of The Gibraltar doing something so reckless and immature as stealing his dad’s motorcycle absolutely floored Octavio. His jaw dropped and that jittery discomfort was replaced with a sort of giddiness. That sounded like something he would do and not the unofficial Team Dad.  

“No. Way.”

“Way.”

There was a smug sort of smile pulling wide at Gibraltar’s lips as Octavio stared at him with wide eyes. He figured if there was a story to draw him out of a bad spot, it’d be a crazy one he could relate to. The air was filled with the rapid little ‘tinks’ of his feet as he danced in place with all that pent up energy he was so well-known for. He wanted to hear more about this crazy tale. It was drawing his mind away from all those sharp, intangible edges he could never figure out.

“Let’s do it!”

And so they did. They set up their impromptu cake station as Makoa spoke about the shenanigans he managed to get himself into in his wilder days. Of course, he left out the darker parts. No need to drag the kid back down. It warmed something in his heart to see Octavio calming down. His mind was distracted by the story and attention needed to detail the cake while his hands were busy drawing out lines of frosting. It was engaging enough to keep him entertained without being self-destructive (or any kind of destructive, which was a step up). So, when that story ended, Makoa conjured another, and then another, and another. However many it took until that frantic tension melted away from Octavio.

“So, when ya gonna pop the question amigo? Time ain’t waitin’ for any of us! We won’t stay this young and good lookin’ forever. Well, you won’t. I’ll always be this gorgeous. ”

It was Makoa’s turn to be surprised at the unexpected words. Maybe it was the shock, maybe it was the cocky, over-the-top attitude, or maybe it was just the irony that the usually oblivious one here hit the nail on the head. Whatever the case, Makoa let out a deep belly laugh and clapped Octavio on the shoulder. The force behind the gesture was still enough to cause the much smaller man to jolt forward.

“Ha! Keep it up, shortstack. I’ll remember that next time we’re on a team and the enemies are lookin’ for a punchin’ bag.”

Rather than respond verbally, Octavio just stuck his tongue out and gave a rather colorful hand gesture. Though the way his lips turned up at the corners in a grin spoke volumes of his current bright mood. After a moment, Makoa sighed in a way that Octavio could have sworn would be considered ‘dreamily’. He did very little to hide the amused snort at the action. ‘What a big softy.’

“To tell ya the truth, I been thinkin’ ‘bout it. I wanna do it soon. Hey, how’d you like to come ‘n help me pick out a ring, huh?”

The invitation was a surprise. Seems like today was full of those - mostly good, at least. It made Octavio smile wider than he has in a long time. Again, he couldn’t help but do an excited little jig in place, prompting Makoa to laugh at his antics once more.

“Hells yeah!”

His brain was already rushing ten thousand miles a minute picturing all sorts of expensive and fantastical bands. That led to him also picturing crazy wedding ideas and - ‘Oh! Wonder if I’ll get to be a groomsman!’ His colorful and exciting daydreams were interrupted by Makoa as he peered over his shoulder at the cake and spoke up.

“This looks great, Octavio, but uh...you spelled his name wrong.”

Sure enough, when he looked at the wonderfully decorated (in his humble opinion) cake, he had forgotten a letter in Makoa’s boyfriend’s name. With a groan, he slapped a hand to his forehead and accidentally smeared icing on his face.

“Mierda.”

[sher-soc-the-famder]

I know that you don’t want me here

Summary: Patton never wanted them to know. He had dealt with it alone; he had always dealt with these moods alone.

Word Count: 2739

Pairings: Platonic LAMP

Warnings: Depression, allusions to self harm

Notes: Well I am so sorry this took so long anon ^-^;; I hope that it is worth the wait and at least somewhat close to what you were hoping for! I’m working on MTO and the other prompts that are in my inbox, so keep an eye out for those as well!

Read On AO3

Patton picked at the edges of his sleeves, and sighed. He really should get up and turn on the lights. Or do the dishes. Maybe actually make himself some food instead of shoving another piece of bread into his mouth. But the thought of moving just seemed...too hard at the moment. Like he’d be trying to walk through mud instead of air.

His phone buzzed next to his arm and Patton poked it idly. Virgil had been trying to get ahold of him all day, something about thanks for the messages Patton had been sending all week. Which only made Patton feel worse, or it would have if he could dredge up anything other than the numb ache in his chest. Because the messages had been an attempt at distracting himself and Virgil deserved better than that.

My Dark Son <3 10:13 am: pat? r u busy?

My Dark Son <3 12:45 pm: i know u don’t have work

My Dark Son <3 12:48 pm: txt me when u can

My Dark Son <3 1:03 pm: Lo wants me 2 remind u 2 eat 2

My Dark Son <3 3:28 pm: pat im concerned

My Dark Son <3 3:29 pm: if u don’t respond im coming over

Patton took a deep breath and straightened as he started to type out a message. His fingers hovered over the keypad for a long moment before dropping. He should let Virgil know that he was doing alright. That nothing had happened, that it wasn't Virgil's fault Patton wasn't responding. The guilt would only make things worse if he let the messages sit any longer.

But Patton couldn't think of anything to say.

He set his phone back down, leaving the half typed message unsent.

It would blink at him later a daunting taunt that he couldn't even work up the energy to message one of his favorite people. Patton's head slid back down to the table at the thought, and he tugged the hood of his sweater up above his head. The dark helped, just slightly, but did nothing about the pressure on his chest.

He wanted to cry but the thought of crying just made Patton feel worse. Because if he cried than someone really would notice and he would be asked what was wrong. Which was nothing. Nothing was wrong except for himself and his heart. They'd make it into a big deal, and Patton hated the very thought of it.

He didn't want his friends to try and fix something for him. There wasn't anything to​ fix. Just him and his heart that wouldn't work the same as anyone else. Not to mention that they all had it so much worse than him. He was just tired.

Yeah that was it. He was just tired and if he waited long enough it would go away and he could go back to smiling and cheering them all up. Patton could laugh and smile and then laugh and smile some more if that was what they needed him to do, be an ever eternal fountain of positivity. Patton was who they turned to when they needed a smile and he hated to disappoint them.

Which meant that he never let them see him get like this.

He could deal with it alone anyways,

Patton would simply-

Well, he'd do what he had been doing for the past two weeks, do what he had done his whole life.

Patton took a deep breath and finally heaved himself up from the kitchen table. He let the hood fall further over his face, and tugged the sleeves into sweater paws, running his fingers over the soft fluff inside of it. He left his phone on the table, trying to ignore the new surge of guilt at the thought that it would soon be blowing up with more messages that he wouldn't be answering.

Virgil would tell Logan, who would send a couple of texts, one to Roman and a total of three to Patton, before he started to call. Virgil would text up until the moment that he broke Patton's door down. Roman would alternate texts and calls before helping Virgil break into Patton's apartement. At least, that's how it went when one of the other three felt down.

And when they arrived Patton would paste on another smile, crinkle his eyes as he did so they wouldn't be able to see how it didn't reach his eyes. They would fret and Patton would laugh, wave a turned off phone around, make an excuse about how he forgot to charge it. The lie would be bitter on his tongue.

Patton's shoulders curled inward as he shuffled towards his cabinet. He reached up, towards the back where he knew not even Roman in his scavenging would find, and pulled out a box of oreos. Patton always made sure to have a pack for these days. When he needed the comfort of sugar but didn't have the motivation to bake his own batch.

Patton didn't even bite back the guilt and self hatred about that, simply ripping the packet open and shoving a cookie into his mouth. He clutched the box close and wandered away from the kitchen. He settled down on the couch, curling his legs up and then over the armrest. He closed his eyes as he leaned back and tried not to think about when the others would get there.

He dozed, hating that he wanted to simply forget about them at all, hating that even then he couldn't completely. Patton was just so exhausted. He loved his friends to the moon and back. But he- he just couldn’t. Couldn’t care, couldn’t act, couldn’t do anything, he just couldn’t today.

(You fly too high Chickadee, Mother had told him once. It's alright to think about yourself every once and a while. It's not selfish to make sure you're safe before trying to save yourself.)

Patton opened his eyes, staring at the remote for a long minute. He stuffed another cookie in his mouth and told himself that he wouldn't eat another until he had turned on something to watch. Even a little background noise would help, even if the wrong thing would make him cry. Patton stared at the remote again, and ate another cookie.

God, he hated himself in that moment.

He ate another three cookies before finally reaching for the remote. He leaned over the couch, stretching as far as he could. His fingers brushed the remote and he inched it close enough for him to grab without getting up. He straightened, holding the remote next to his oreos for a moment to just breathe​.

Patton stared at the remote in his hands, and hated that as soon as he had put in the effort he didn’t want to watch TV anymore. He let the remote drop to the couch cushion and leaned his head back to doze once more. He should probably try to take a bath or shower, or even respond to those messages from Virgil. But he didn’t. He just...didn’t.

His hand dipped into the box of oreos, blinking sluggishly as he hit emptiness. Patton stared at the box for a long moment. He would have to get up to get more. Patton didn’t even know how long he as been sitting there just eating the cookies. Time felt as much of an illusion as Logan normally said it was in that moment.

Patton didn’t have any other oreos, and the thought of eating anything else made his stomach roll. He might be able to slide by with Kraft mac n’ cheese, but he had run out of that last week and had been getting by the oreos stashed around his apartment. Patton knew from experience that trying to force himself to eat ended with gagging and hours in the bathroom if he tried to force past his gag reflex.

He heaved himself to his feet, letting the box drop to the floor despite the idle thought of throwing it away being what got him moving. Patton tugged his hoodie tighter around himself, arms wrapped around his waist in the closest thing he could do in giving himself a hug.

He ignored the way that his eyes prickeld just for a moment as he bent down to pick up the box.

His socked feet brushed against the the carpet and then the kitchen tile. The sensation grated on his nerves at the same time that wasn’t enough. He wanted more, but he wanted less. Patton wanted his brain to make up its mind.

He dropped the box into his trash can and slid to the floor of the kitchen. Patton pressed his hands to the tile, wanting to relish in the cool tiles. All it did was make him uncomfortable. Patton leaned back against the counters, ignoring the way that one of the cupboard handles dug into his back. The pain was almost a welcome relief from the numbness that wrapped around his heart.

Patton had never hurt himself, not on purpose anyways. He could never work up the courage or stomach for it. Patton ran a fingernail over the inside of his wrist, over and over again. He pressed lightly, not enough to do more than sting as he felt the slide and bump of the tendons just under his skin. He wondered if actually cutting the skin would help.

Pain scared him though, on a normal day.

Now he couldn’t care less. What kept back his fear of pain also held back the energy to truly hurt himself. Patton tipped his head back. One of the vents that connected to the air conditioning turned on, and Patton didn’t move despite the cold air that blew across his hands and face. It seeped past his hoodie and the only effort Patton made at warming himself up was curling into a tighter ball.

He ran a fingernail over his wrist again.

He knew that no one would care as long as he wasn’t being annoying. Patton could mentally picture the glass wall that he had put up himself between him and the others. He had built it with a grin and encouraging words. He had said nothing more substantial about himself, had never offered anything past his positive attitude. They had never asked and he never encouraged them too.

He was selfish for dreaming of them noticing anything was wrong when he went out of his way to hide it.

Patton closed his eyes picturing the cabinet as the glass wall. He wanted to press his back to it and wish that he had the courage to let people through, to see just what sort of pain he was in. He never wanted them to know. He hated that he could never make up his mind. There was no winning. Either he hurt them by lying and remaining silent, or he hurt them by speaking up and adding even more troubles to their burdened shoulders.

Pain sparked in his palm as his nail caught against his tendon and he winced. The movement made him realize that he was shivering. He flexed his hands, nerves tingling at the action. He stared at his hands as the pins and needles ran through them, flexing them again just for the feeling. He wondered if he would have laughed about being numb inside and the becoming numb outside as well on a better day.

Distantly, he registered the fact that his phone buzzed against the table. A bumble bee pushing against a glass wall. Bump, bump, bump. No matter how hard it tried, it couldn’t shatter the glass and reach the flower it saw behind the glass. Patton wasn’t sure he really wanted it to. He wanted-

His skin itched with the need to scratch until he could draw what he wanted out of his body and put the whole thing to rest.

He brought his hands up to press against his eyes, flinching as he felt the wetness already there. He didn’t know when he had started to cry. A little desperately, Patton wiped at his face, but the more that he cleaned himself the harder he sobbed. His breath hiccuped. His chest felt like someone had laid bricks on top of it.

Knocking echoed through his home, and Patton flinched again at the noise. Muffled voices clawed at his ears and Patton couldn’t breath. He didn’t want them to find him like this. He didn’t want anyone to know. He wanted a hug. He hated himself and the world and his body and he was so stupid and overemotional and lazy and useless and-

“Patton?”

Patton squeezed his hand shut, pressing his palms into his eyes. If he couldn’t see them, they wouldn’t see him. A childish and stupid sentiment just like the rest of him.

“Oh Padre,” Roman whispered from his left. Patton hated that he was too exhausted to figure out if it was pity or compassion in the actor’s voice. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t make anyone else feel worse.

“Go ‘way,” he whispered, “‘m fine.”

A hand pressed against his head. Patton curled into an even tighter ball. The fast that he hadn’t washed in over a week screamed at him. The fingers threaded through his greasy hair and Patton bit back a whimper at the gentle touch. Nails scratched against his scalp, a gentle loving pressure that made Patton’s shoulders shake.

“You are most certainly not,” Logan’s voice came from above him. And oh. Logan was the one petting him like there was nothing else he’d rather do than love Patton in that moment. A warm hand against his numb core. Logan’s voice softened, “But that is alright Patton.”

Patton shifted his hands so that he could take a peek at his friends. Virgil’s panicked eyes stared back at him. He crouched down at Patton’s level, looking him over with careful eyes. Patton covered his eyes again, hating the way that his stomach twisted at Virgil’s search. Of course they’d be worried about that. He was acting out of character.

“Didn’t hurt myself,” he mumbled. Logan’s hand in his hair stilled. “Don’t like hurting myself.”

“We didn’t-” Logan’s voice cracked. Patton wanted to tear his own voice out. Stupid. Selfish. How dare he make them worry. He’d be fine in a couple of days. They would have their Happy Pappy Patton and nothing would change.

Calloused hands touched his gently. They curled around his and tugged his hands away from his face. Patton squeezed his eyes shut, but in the brief moment of light he caught sight of Virgil’s gentle face and Roman’s stricken one.

“I don’t like it either,” Virgil whispered, running his thumb over the back of Patton’s hand. Patton’s shoulders dropped at the understanding in his tone. He cracked his eyes open and meet Virgil’s shaky smile. “Too much work, isn’t it? And god, do I hate having to work even more.”

Patton’s lips twitched at the joke.

“There we go,” Virgil coaxed, tightening his grip on Patton’s hands. Patton felt more tears well up in his eyes and even surrounded by their warmth he was so tired. Virgil tugged at him as he tried to curl back in on himself, and Logan’s hand on his head pressed down gently before resuming it’s stroking. “You up for telling us what’s wrong, Pat?”

Patton shrugged. The whole problem was that nothing was wrong. He didn’t have any reason for feeling the way that he did.

“Well this just isn’t fair,” Roman declared into the silence. Patton could feel Virgil’s hands twitch in surprise at the words. Roman pouted and then opened his arms up wide. “The other two get to comfort you and here I am doing nothing! It’s the cruelest thing in the world. I, for one, would very much like a hug.”

He winked. Patton sobbed, just once before throwing himself forward into Roman’s arms. Roman tugged him close, arms wrapping around his waist and face buried in his hair. Patton felt his warmth leech into his own cold bones. They tangled together until Virgil joined them; Logan’s voice above them all starting to rattle off ways that they could help and things they needed to do.

Patton buried his face in Roman’s chest, and let himself fall.

His friends would catch him.

Tag List:

@moxieties @bloodropsblog @justanotherpurplebutterfly @dragonangel-funandfire @brikcsandbones

[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 22//

Masterlist

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd, @amandaraey-sunshine, @easy-p-lemon, @azymondias05, @dagypsygirl, @makeshift-utopia) *bold tags don’t work ;-;

Just in time for ACOSF’s release tomorrow! Enjoy chapter 22!

XXX

The entire estate was abuzz with activity in preparation for the encounter with Keir and his legion of rebels. As predicted, once Rhys and the other High Lords had lifted the wards from our armed forces, Kallon alerted the steward and frantically gathered the Illyrian numbers he rallied for his rebellion. We had all been surprised when Azriel's reports indicated that those numbers had dropped—not significantly, but enough to know that we now had an advantage over the Illyrians. Those who abandoned Kallon's Illyrian rebels appeared at neither camp, leaving Cassian to assume they were remaining indifferent to either side. Regardless, they would be dealt with after this ordeal.

Through this nightmare, my heart not only ached for my mate—for the pain he endured knowing it was his mother's people who sought to betray him, but for Cassian as well. He commanded those armies, fought at their side through two wars, trained in their camps and, in spite of their ire, sought their approval. Their losses were his as well, and he took the brunt of the blame onto himself, along with their distaste. From the beginning, I saw the pain that swirled behind those hazel eyes; knowing despite everything he did, how hard he tried, they saw him as nothing more than a bastard-born Illyrian and aspired to bring him and his brothers down.

In the two days it took for Keir and his Darkbringers to arrive at Ironcrest, amidst the frenzy that ensued at the estate while every High Lord present worked and met with us in order to prepare, I tried time and time again to find a moment alone with Cassian. I wasn't sure what I would say, how I would comfort him, but I at least wanted to offer him some kind of support. He had spent the last several months, the duration of my pregnancy, trying to set me at ease; promising an end to the coup and the rebel Illyrians, all the while his own inner turmoil caused him a great deal of pain that was long-stemmed. It was my turn now to offer him some peace in the hours leading up to a confrontation he previously hoped would never occur.

By the time I managed to find the general, I had thought he was alone in the library—only seeing his winged shadow outside the double doors, until I heard Nesta's voice mingling with his in a tense and hushed conversation. I had been too far away from the doors to hear their discussion, but based on how impassioned my sister's low voice sounded, I knew better than to interrupt. Ever since opening up to me about her loss and her time with Cassian in the mountains, Nesta again began to warm towards me. She still held onto that powerful veneer, but I was glad to see that she no longer used it to push me away. Instead, she surprised my mate and I by showing up in Rhys's office with Cassian just moments before our morning meeting. With Keir and Kallon officially together at the Ironcrest camp, this would be our last assembly before all the High Lords and our forces left.

"I'll be going to this encounter," Nesta said after we concluded the session. "Since my sister is unable to travel in her condition, I will be going in her stead; as a representative of the High Lady of the Night Court."

I stared at her in disbelief, shocked that she not only acknowledged my position, but that she was volunteering to face a potentially violent conflict—for me. Despite the healthier state of mind she was in a decade later, I knew the events that took place with Hybern were still raw for her; as they still were for me. Yet here she was now, offering to represent my position in our court. I glanced at Cassian, but judging by his arrogant smirk, he already knew of her plans. I briefly exchanged a look with Rhys, a small smile on his face, but his eyes conveyed a very simple response: it was up to me.

I paused as I turned to look at my sister. Her chin set and hands clasped formerly across her abdomen as her grey-blue eyes stared intensely at mine. "Are you sure?" I asked, unable to help but be a little hesitant.

She simply nodded, unyielding. "It isn't right. For me to sit idle, when I am capable. After what happened last time-" she paused, thinking back to the attack on Velaris—when we had been housed safely in the Cabin with Elain. "You have your health, your youngling, to worry about. As your eldest sister, I can do more. I can represent you and your position in this court."

My eyes burned as I dipped my head in approval. "Thank you, Nesta."

"Well this will be a welcome addition," Helion mused. "Given how the Illyrians quake in her presence."

"Perhaps some may drop their weapons at the very sight of her," Thesan added.

"That may be wishful thinking," Tarquin said, though he too acknowledged the unnerving demeanor my sister possessed.

We all did, and knew that her attendance would no doubt send a clear message in this coup. Her powers were still unknown to us, whether she knew of them or not—she never said, but the lethal aura about her remained as strongly as it had the day she'd been made.

"If no one else has anything to add, then I say it's time," Rhys said with a look at the other High Lords, their entourages, and then at me.

My eyes still burned as I met his, my heart pounding in my chest and I wondered if he could hear it—feel it, down the bond. When no one else spoke up, he cleared his throat. "I will take Feyre up to the Cabin and meet you all at the designated camp just outside of Ironcrest," he said.

"I'll meet you there with Viviane and Eira once they are ready, it shouldn't be long, and your shadowsinger has shared the coordinates of where I should winnow," Kallias added.

Azriel nodded at the High Lord of Winter before addressing us. "I will bring Elain at the same time the High Lord and Lady of Winter arrive," he said quietly.

"Thank you Azriel," I said, quickly swiping at a stray tear.

The emotion laced in my words was indication enough for everyone to leave and attend to any last minute preparations. They were gone in a matter of seconds, but I hardly noticed; unable to look away from Rhys's violet eyes. With the room cleared, he stepped closer, holding my face gently as he brushed away the tears that began to fall in earnest.

"I know I can't go, but," I sniffed. "I don't know how I'll be able to part with you, knowing the danger you face. I...I…"

Rhys pressed his brow against mine as I wept and held me closer. For days my hormones had left me anxious for the moment my mate would leave with the others and put an end to Keir and his betrayal; so, I allowed myself to give into those emotions and the tears that accompanied them. These precious seconds in my mate's arms were just what I needed in order to feel at ease—to let him go while I stayed behind with our unborn child. Once my crying subsided, I lifted my eyes to his again and pulled back just enough to now hold his face in my hands and stare into his sparkling violet eyes.

"Don't let him get a rise out of you. You are a warrior, and warriors know when to pick their fights," I began, reiterating the very words he said to me during the war with Hybern. "Their crimes won't go unpunished. You are the High Lord of the Night Court, night triumphant. You go there, put an end to this treachery, and come back to me—to us, alive." I said fiercely, my voice quavering as our breaths mingled.

Rhysand's answering grin was slow as he nodded his head. "I swear it, High Lady," he said before pulling me into a deep kiss.

XXX

Even with my mate's promise, I couldn't help pacing about the living area of the Cabin once he, Kallias, and Azriel left. Elain and Viviane eyed me warily as I moved, Eira peacefully sleeping in a small cradle Viviane had brought along and placed just beside the leather sofa.

"Feyre, why don't you come rest?" Viviane urged as she stood, crossing over to where I had stopped pacing and began rubbing a sore spot on my lower back.

I shook my head. "I can't sit still," I said as my only reply.

It was true. The uncertainty of the events unfolding at this very moment left me restless. Until I knew Rhysand, our allies, and my friends and family were safe, I would remain on edge.

Viviane touched my shoulder gently. "You do know that walking around so vigorously can stimulate the body into going into early labor? If you keep pacing around here like this, you might very well give birth before the others return," she gave me a wry smile when I hesitated. "We don't want that now do we?"

I sighed in defeat and allowed her to help me back to the sofa, helping me lower myself onto the seat slowly.

Elain popped up just as I sat with a grunt, "I'll make us some tea!" However, just as she said that, a freshly brewed pot appeared on the table before us—along with three tea cups. She laughed nervously, remembering the magic that existed here, before going to pour us each a cup.

"I know it's hard not to worry, believe me," Viviane said as she sat beside me. "But think of it this way: this issue will finally be resolved."

I sighed in irritation. "That's all anyone has been telling me for days, what I've been telling myself," I snapped back, but immediately regretted it.

For her part, Viviane smiled in understanding-all too familiar with the quick shifts in mood that pregnancy caused.

"I just hate feeling like some kind of damsel in distress," I admitted.

"You are anything but, Feyre," Elain said as she handed me a cup.

She's right, my love

I nearly startled at the sound of Rhys's voice through the bond. Is it over? I asked in return.

His dark chuckle made me shiver. Unfortunately, we haven't started yet. We're on the front lines, waiting for Keir and Kallon to arrive

I gulped and knew this time he could feel my heart racing. I thought you might want to see things firsthand, rather than have me fill you in later

Through the bond, I felt his offering hand, dark talons beckoning me as I took it. His black adamant shields yielded to me, and a second later I was looking through my mate's eyes. From his peripheral vision, I could see Nesta standing immediately to his left while Mor and Amren stood at either side of them—Azriel and Cassian flanking them. Based on all our meetings, I knew the other High Lords, excluding Eris, were lined up just behind them. In spite of the crisp air in the Illyrian mountains, I could feel the sun on my mates' skin, could see it reflecting off his Illyrian leathers. Unlike my galloping heart, Rhys's was steady and calm; even as his sharp eyes picked up movement in the distance.

Slowly, arrogantly, Keir walked with Kallon and the commander of his Darkbringer army on either side of him. His hands were neatly folded behind his back, as they often were whenever we saw him at the Hewn City, his chin lifted proudly. Kallon at least had the sense to look a little intimidated at the sight of the three most powerful Illyrians in history on the opposite side of the battlefield; that intimidation probably coming not only from his lack of experience, but from his unexpected lack of numbers with the Illyrians. As he approached, I could see their soldiers following at a distance, but as the trio got closer, the troops stopped.

I could feel Rhys's muscles tense, wings flaring slightly at the steward's outright arrogance as he approached with a smug grin. I noticed Mor's own muscles go rigid, Amren and Nesta remained the picture of menacing ease, their cool facade's masking any rage they might've been feeling. Finally, with only a few dozen paces between them, Keir stopped in his tracks—meeting my mate face-to-face.

"Rhysand," the older male said by way of greeting.

I heard Mor growl from beside Rhys. "My lord," she corrected.

Keir didn't acknowledge her, his dark gaze penetrating as they stayed on mine—on Rhysand's.

"You forget yourself, Keir," he replied coolly, ever the embodiment of casual grace, even in the face of such blatant disrespect and deceit. "Since when do you address your High Lord by first name, and so casually too?"

The male seemed to ignore Rhys's words altogether, simply casting a glance over my mate's shoulder at the other High Lords aligned behind him—their forces also staged at an interval behind them.

"I see you've rallied this bunch. How you all actually managed to become friends after Hybern is truly a surprise to me," Keir scoffed, his disdain echoing for the word 'friends' in particular.

"Especially with that one," he motioned to Tamlin standing beside Tarquin at the far-right of the line.

I could feel Rhys's patience wavering, his dark powers seeping into his shadows and making them stir lightly. I ran my delicate fingertips along his shields to calm him, sending him another reminder: You are Night Triumphant. He is nothing.

"You openly plot against me, my mate, my crown, by rallying your army and joining with rebellious Illyrians in order to...what? Overthrow me? Kill me and take my throne as your own?" Rhys asked, his rage still in check for now.

"I've only come to take back what has rightfully belonged to my bloodline for centuries, before that ancestor of yours came along and claimed the seat of the High Lord for himself," Keir replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "It was one thing for your father to rule as High Lord, but to allow a half-breed disgrace to sully the throne? I have been complacent for far too long, especially now with that mate of yours carrying an abomination of such obscure proportions."

I felt Rhys hold back a growl, every ounce in his body wanting to retaliate for the threat against his mate, against me and our unborn child. Instead, he appeared outwardly unfazed. "You mean to demean my position by pointing out that I am half Illyrian, and yet here you are, allied with them," he said casually, his mask remaining the picture of ease.

"The Illyrians don't want a half-breed High Lord anymore than Keir and his lot do," Kallon spoke up. His voice was strong, but young, attesting to the inexperienced warrior that he was.

"You can come back once you've been around and bled for a few centuries, boy," Cassian retorted, all seven siphons flickering. "In the meantime, you're too wet behind the ears to speak on behalf of the Illyrians."

Keir shot Kallon a warning glance that silenced him. Turning back to Rhys, Keir straightened his shoulders, but before he could answer with some clever reply, Rhys cut him off with a laugh. A dark, whole-bodied guffaw that I had never heard come from him before. It was unscrupulous and dripped with condescension. I didn't have to see the rest of our party to feel the mood shift.

"Am I meant to be intimidated? You have your army of Darkbringers, who are assuredly substantial in numbers and skill, but yet ally yourself with the self-appointed leader of mutinous Illyrians, while said leader has only lived a couple of decades and has never seen the true course of battle," Rhys shook his head with another dark chuckle. "Perhaps the centuries haven't fared so well for you after all, it seems old age has made you lose all sense of reality"

The older male narrowed his gaze, darkened eyes igniting with contempt. "You think me a fool, Rhysand? That I wouldn't find a suitable ally outside these winged brutes?" Kallon's stare was seditious, but Keir ignored him and finally met Mor's gaze. "Perhaps, daughter, you would be glad to see another familiar face?"

Mor only raised an unamused brow at him, the sound of approaching footsteps coming from behind the group. Through my mate's eyes I saw Keir's widen as Eris stepped in line beside Tamlin; with the other High Lord's of Prythian he scoffed at only minutes before.

"Sorry about my pretty lies, Keir, but it was just too easy tricking another old male out of his sense of entitlement," Eris remarked, and though I couldn't see him, I could hear the hubris in his voice as he addressed the steward.

The male fumed at Eris's words, refusing to meet Rhysand's gaze as my mate took a step forward. "Surrender now, Keir. It's time to wake up and realize just how futile your efforts have been," Rhys said, the commanding voice of the most powerful High Lord in Prythian returning.

Of course, Keir continued to seethe as he returned a detestable look at Mor before finally facing Rhys again. He took a couple of steps forward, nostrils flaring as he spat, "You think I will yield so easily? I will correct the mistake I made centuries ago with you and murder that monstrosity your mate will bear in its cradle."

As soon as that last word came out of his mouth, everything seemed to move slowly. Blinding, white-hot rage exploded within my mate, but before he could even react, it was Mor that winnowed from his side in a split second to her father. She winnowed in behind him, an Illyrian dagger in hand, and stabbed him straight through the throat—blood splattering on her face as Keir's eyes widened again. He seemed to try and speak before Mor twisted the blade, pushing it further into his flesh. A wet, strangled sound came out of Keir's mouth as it filled with blood, Mor then kicked the back of his legs and sent him to his knees. I saw her mutter something into his ear, but couldn't hear the exact words before his body dropped to the ground in front of her.

As blood pooled from his throat, Mor stood over his body and didn't look up when Kallon shot to the skies, yelling orders to their Illyrian forces; the Darkbringer commander turning and shouting similar orders before drawing a blade aimed at Mor, who in her adrenaline-filled rage quickly pulled out her own and stabbed him through the gut. The last thing I heard was Cassian's own shouts before Rhys pushed me from his mind, sending me back to the Cabin without warning.

I gasped as though I had been holding my breath throughout the entire ordeal, grasping at my chest and stomach simultaneously as I heaved for breaths. Viviane and Elain were already at my side, but I couldn't make out anything they were saying to me as my mind raced from what I had just witnessed. Of the blood that seeped into the grass, of the gurgling sounds Keir made as he lay dying, the sounds of blades being drawn, and orders being yelled. I squeezed my eyes shut as the images kept flashing through my vision, breathing becoming nearly unattainable as I tried to desperately fight them away; reprising memories of my mate lying dead on the ground after the last war beginning to flash along with the others.

No no no no no no no

I couldn't lose him; I couldn't lose any of them.

Rhysand.Rhysand.Rhysand!

Suddenly, I felt a gentle glimmer at my core, followed by the movement of my son stretching inside of me. That glimmer seemed to warm me from the inside out as my panic slowly ebbed away, Viviane and Elain's voices finally coming through.

"Feyre? Can you hear me?" It was Viviane, and I realized then that her hands held my shoulders gently.

I opened my eyes gradually and met with her piercing and concerned blue eyes. My breaths finally regulated as she guided me back into a normal breathing cycle, knowing that I could at last hear her words. I realized then that I was clutching my belly and looked down at it as I felt my son move again. I loosed another slow breath and caressed it instead, closing my eyes as tears slipped down my cheeks.

"Oh Feyre," Elain whispered as she sat beside me, wrapping her arms around me carefully.

I leaned into her embrace, silently crying as I began to relax—this abating moment contrasting with the one I had with Rhys. Viviane rubbed my shoulder gently, and they both waited patiently for me to calm.

"I was there," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "I saw what happened, through Rhysand's eyes."

Viviane frowned, "Are they all right?" She asked.

I paused. "I saw Keir die. Mor stabbed him in the throat, and then they were all shouting. Just as the fighting was about to begin, he sent me back." I said, meeting her worried gaze apologetically.

I felt Elain go rigid as I explained how Keir had been killed, no doubt recalling the gruesome details of how she had done the same with the King of Hybern. I pulled back from her arms slowly, sitting upright with a weary sigh before I went into a full detailed account of everything I had seen—that had been said and done. By the end of it, Viviane's concern seemed to marginalize.

"They'll be all right," she said. "Keir and Kallon were vastly outnumbered, so the fighting won't last for much longer. They'll have no choice but to surrender."

I nodded, though a kernel of doubt still lingered. I looked down at my stomach again, rubbing the expanse of it as my son continued to stretch and kick at his leisure. The glimmering reminder that was him had brought me back to reality, from the edge of my panic. I closed my eyes as I felt him move, feeling another flutter in response as I continued to stroke my belly.

Thank you, baby.

XXX

Hours passed and there was still no word from the others. I tried reaching down the bond on a few occasions, only to be met with my mate's impenetrable black adamant. As time went on, Eira was a welcome distraction. She awoke from her nap in good spirits, cooing and smiling at Viviane and Elain as they fussed over her. I watched from my seat with a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes as I idly brushed my fingers along my stomach, thoughts still on my mate and the others as I wondered what held them for so long.

There was no doubt our numbers outweighed theirs; so, while we had hoped fighting wouldn't ensue, now that it had, it should've been settled quickly—a slaughter. I did my best to focus on Eira, picturing what my own future with Sebastian would be in a few short months, but every few minutes or so my thoughts returned to Rhysand and the others. I thought of Mor and how aptly she took out her father and his commander, what possible ramifications would come from her impulses, though I couldn't blame her for it. I wondered if Nesta and Amren had been able to keep a safe distance once the fighting began; if Azriel or Cassian would be hurt while taking down their own kind, though I knew the latter would feel more of a burden than the former.

Finally, a knock came at the door before it opened, Rhys striding inside with Azriel and Kallias following closely behind.

"Oh, thank the Cauldron!" Viviane exclaimed, gathering Eira to her breast as she quickly stood.

Kallias had his daughter and mate wrapped in his arms only seconds later, but I was too distracted with my own overwhelming relief as I saw my mate. I choked on a sob as those star-flecked violet eyes met mine, and as I struggled to push myself upright, Rhysand quickly pulled me into an embrace as he dropped to his knees before me. I slid forward, meeting his knees with mine as I landed on the ground, kissing his face and brushing back the loose strands of his hair as he did the same.

Tell me you're alright. I pleaded

I am, Feyre. Everything's alright

Though the three of them were dirty and bloodied, their faces showing the exhaustion of battle, they were here in one piece. They were alive and safe.

Rhysand's hands held my stomach gently as our brows touched, his eyes lined with silver as he stroked it gently, solace washing over him as well.

Is he...?

He's fine, we both are.

His shoulders went slack as one hand held my hip firmly. "The others…?" I asked aloud, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Fine," he said as he pressed a kiss to my brow and pulled away from me.

He helped me back onto the sofa as we faced the others. Kallias had an arm slid behind Viviane's back, and from the corner of my eye I saw Elain quickly pull her hands away from Azriel's when Rhys rose to his feet. There were still tears welled in her eyes, and I saw the shadowsinger curl his scarred fists closed once Elain's delicate ones left his touch.

"The bastards managed to hold their own for a while, but with hardly any leadership in the wake of Keir's death, we had them overrun after an hour or so," Rhys explained to us.

"Kallon's novice knowledge as a warrior showed. He stood no chance against Cassian's direction and tactics," Azriel added.

"Is he dead too?" I asked.

"Not yet. Cassian got a hold of him and knocked him unconscious. Probably would've killed him, if Rhysand hadn't insisted they take him prisoner," Kallias answered.

A quick nod at Azriel, "We have plans for him and the other camp lords that went against us." Rhys said.

"But Keir is dead? Mor killed him?" Viviane asked.

"Yes, him and about a dozen other Darkbringers. Outside of that, there weren't many casualties," Kallias replied.

"We spent the rest of the time rounding up the rest of their army as they surrendered, stationing prisoner camps that Cassian, Azriel and Devlon will oversee as we plan our next steps," Rhys went on. "As for the Darkbringers, Mor and Amren are taking them back to the Hewn City."

I gulped as I recalled Mor's rage and thought of how she would handle the army of traitors her father raised. I sighed shakily and motioned for Rhys as my relief was replaced by a wave of nausea. Taking note of my illness, he helped me to my feet without another word and I quickly crossed over to the nearest bathing room—making it to the toilet just in time as I vomited. I could barely hear the sound of the voices talking in the other room over the sound of my retching, but only a minute later Rhys entered the bathing room with me, holding my hair and rubbing my back until the nausea passed.

Resting my back against the hard planes of his chest, I closed my eyes as he flushed away the mess and summoned a cool washcloth to place on my forehead. He then lifted me in his arms easily, carrying me down the hallway and towards the small bedroom.

"They left?" I asked after I noticed how quiet it was.

Rhys nodded as he sat me on the bed, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "Feel better?" he asked.

I sighed heavily with a slight nod, removing the damp cloth from my head. "Yes...I think everything just hit me," I said tiredly, truly feeling the weight of it all lifting.

Is Mor okay?

"She's been waiting for that moment for centuries. Today she finally had enough," Rhys replied aloud—exhaustion as clear in his voice as it was in his eyes.

I nodded in acknowledgment and squeezed his hand, taking note of the blood that still coated his fingers. "It's over…" I whispered.

Rhys squeezed my hand back, the bed giving way as he sat beside me. "Yes, it is."

"There's still so much to do," I said, mind beginning to race.

"There is," he confirmed, a strong hand returning to the apex of my belly. "But we still have time before he comes."

My eyes stung as my sense of relief returned and I let out a wet laugh as he stroked my stomach. "He'll be safe," I said with a quiet sob.

His eyes stayed on my stomach, those beautiful eyes going distant. "He would have never been in danger if I wasn't the male that I am. If you hadn't accepted our bond, or married me, then-"

"I wouldn't be here right now if you weren't the male you are, Rhysand. He wouldn't exist without you, and I...I wouldn't either," I interrupted as I took his face in my hands again, forcing him to meet my fierce gaze.

Those violet eyes shattered at my words and a second later his arms were wrapped around me once again, pulling me onto his lap as I enveloped my arms around him in return and held him just as closely. I shook with a sob as I buried my face in his hair as his lips brushed against my neck and breathed in my scent. With this burden lifted from both of our shoulders, we no longer had to pretend to enjoy whatever short-lived peace we had been afforded during this ordeal. We now had a peace that had the potential to last for a great deal longer; a peace that our son would be born into and thrive.

[ujuro]

as it is halfway through the year i have decided to do my  fave songs so far (i wanted ten but ehhhhhhhhh fuck that)

in no particular order:

Apink-Eung Eung: i was wondering if their concept change followup would be as strong as im so sick and wouldya look at that this song is good AND hella interesting. im still not down with the disrespect ifans give apinks past songs but im becoming more and more happy that a 2nd gen gg is successfully creating a new life for itself

Dreamcatcher-Piri: every new dreamcatcher title track has dethroned the last one as my fave so even though rn im like THIS IS AMAZING AND NOTHING WILL EVER TOP IT EVER ill probably eat my words pretty soon. Anyway this is amazing and nothing will top it ever. shout out to diamond and atwnol as well duh

(g)i-dle- Senorita: while i was originally pretty pissed at this song for the drawn-out end section that doesnt use the great chorus, this song is still greatly replayable and has wormed its way into my heart. i listen to it all the time

dia-woowa: the fact that this song wasnt a massive hit is a CRIME. an x-treme gameshow bop, and who knows how many times ive played it. i dont even know how to explain my love for this song other than it just bangs REAL hard

clc- no and me: i dont think i can really rank these two songs apart from each other. just two really solid hard-hitting songs that work with the ideas of “girl crush” and “empowerment” without falling into the annoying and grating parts that those songs often have. the styling, choreography, and execution is way above groups that are much bigger, and i just love clc

wjsn- 12 o’clock: it is blasphemous to say that i like this song more than cantabile and you got? maybe. Does not change my opinion tho. its just so...bouncy. i love it. this entire mini is amazing though.

Monsta x: stealer: ITS SO DRAMATIC. shout out to mx for being the only bg that is consistently wack and interesting i love them so much.

everglow- bon bon chocolat: this song still goes just as hard as it did when it came out. the truest banger released this year. with this and moon (also a fave), i cant wait for more.

im-scent: admittedly i do not listen to horizon pretty much at all but scent is just so good. a perfect melancholy little creation. and NO im not just saying that cause im biased i just really like this song

oh my girl: the fifth season: like many others, during the first verse of this song i was like this is it? really? but then that bomb of a chorus drops and this song becomes next level. it speaks for itself really. this album is also really good, though ive been in the mood for hype songs lately so checkmate speaks to me the most of the b-sides lol

bund-i mean bvndit- dramatic: i really liked hocus pocus as well but this song has a slight edge to it that made me really interested in the group. despite being a pretty standard trop house-style song, it just flows so well

favorite-loca: for me, the spanish trend is pretty hit-or-miss (as in i mean i only like it when ggs do it lol). but this song also has an amazing chorus that carries it

momoland- im so hot: this song is fun as hell fite me. sucks that momoland is in such a load of shit with members not appearing tho cause i love and would die for my girls. mld ent and the wack brigade of stan twitter momoland haters can fite me too. 

fromis_9- love rum pum pum: im so predictable. retro pop sound=i love it. fun is nice but its a bit much ya know.

cherry bullet’s entire love adventure single: i really like really really despite it being kinda generic and something that i should scoff at, but ruddy and ping pong are even better? i didnt expect to like this groups music so much but their songs so far are charming i love my girls. 

wjsn- lets dance: IM PREDICTABLE AND LOVE BANGERS’

hong jinyoung-rain of tears: SHUT UP I LOVE THIS SAD TROT BALLAD

twice- hot and breakthrough: new concept twice can kill me and id say thank you

yunho and boa- swing: im so glad that i force myself to listen to as many releases as possible because i probably woulda skipped over yunhos solo album but then i woulda missed this song and holy fuckin shit yall its another banger i love

red velvet-sunny side up: well duh

also the entire fuckin mini i made mini by idle and no1 by clc cause this is long but i just realized id have to list all of the bsides on them too fuck

shout out to my sexy girls girl crush and camila. In fact shout out in general to every sexy dance team and gg that gets more fancam views than your faves. Ive grown way attached to all of them honestly lmao

i feel bad not listing songs by them as like a TOP fave because theyre both my ult groups but despite being good overall the only standouts i really like from loona and izones minis are colors and highlight. butterfly really grew on me, but i often wake up at night in a cold sweat thinking about how loona as a group may never put out a song i like more than egoist or eclipse or love cherry motion or oecs mini

also shout out to moonlight by geegu because im just shocked they came back at all and only lost 3/9 members too. same with leggo by wannab though that song isnt as good. tmi by hot place as well for eurodance wack. 

if you have made it this far you can now know the real song i have been listening to the most over the past week or so and that is time bomb by icia. i could go into detail and try to explain myself but i shall not. i love this fuckin song. in fact ive been more into ultra nugus than my faves lately. thank god for ultra nugus. 

the end