#like on the 1 hand how do you think things get reclaimed but on the other hand you're right that the community has not decided that together

[thedandelionresistance]

I think it's also worth mentioning that there is somewhat of a difference between personal and collective reclamation. Collective reclamation is about taking back language at a societal level, taking the teeth out of it so that it can't hurt any of its victims anymore. Collective reclamation involves individual reclamation, but as a concurrent collective effort.

Individual reclamation is about the personal choice of how to approach how a slur has hurt you, and will not have a significant societal impact usually. It can be individually empowering and a helpful reminder that the thing the word was used to insult is not bad. Slur reclamation has personally helped me a lot with my moral OCD about my personal identities, including the r slur and other ableist slurs, as well as undercut a lot of the shame I felt about my cognitive disabilities in a way that made the shame powerless.

Even then, I still avoid using the word around people who are uncomfortable with it as a personal choice, because it's not going to hurt me personally to adjust my speech to make them feel safe, while I can still reclaim it by myself and in groups comfortable with it to have those benefits to my mental health.

There's a lot of nuance to this, but OP you cut right to the heart of it without being reductive. The image is the foundation upon which all nuanced parts grow, and as someone who struggles a lot with communicating concisely, I just want to say I appreciate your ability to so succinctly summarize these ideas and communicate them so well to so many people.

Made a little something on slur reclamation.

[auroralwriting]

clean 1

tfatws! bucky barnes x stark! reader (no use of y/n)

after the fight with john walker, you can tell bucky's arm was bothering him. so, you make a trip to see him.

word count: 1.6k | warnings: strong language, multiple parts, part two

Your suit was practically scarp metal after the fight with John Walker. He had tried his hardest to absolutely obliterate your suit. Thankfully, Tony had done a great job of designing it. With a few hours of repairs, it would be good as new.

The one thing you worried about was Bucky's arm, specifically the metal one. You saw how Walker had thrown Bucky across the room into wiring, causing it to shock Bucky's whole body. It made you uneasy to think about wether or wether not the arm was in tact, that and the fact that if it wasn't, it could very well lead to a lot of pain for Bucky.

So, using Friday, you found Bucky's new address. He'd taken residence in a small apartment in Brooklyn, thankfully, not too far from where you were reclaiming the Stark Tower. One car ride later, and you stood outside Bucky's apartment feeling more nervous than you thought you would be.

While Bucky and you weren't on bad terms, it was fair to say he was still uneasy around you. I mean, he had killed your parents, and your only living relative (minus the small Morgan) was also dead. You'd been a baby when The Winter Soldier killed Howard and Maria, so how could there be any bad blood between you and Bucky? You didn't even know what you had lost. That and you were more down-to-earth than Tony, realizing quickly the guilt and shame Bucky felt for his mind-controlled actions.

Using up the last bit of confidence you had, you knocked on Bucky's door. It took less than a minute, and Bucky's surprised face was staring back at you.

"Uhm, hi," You said awkwardly.

"How'd you know where I live?" Bucky asked, confused.

You held up your phone, Friday's screen appearing. "Just a quick scan of all James Buchanan Barnes in the area. Not very many," Your joke fell flat as you stood awkwardly while Bucky processed what was happening.

"Why're you here?" He asked.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay after the fight with Walker." You replied. "I saw you get thrown into all those wires, I saw all the sparks."

Bucky gave a small shrug, "I'm alright."

You eyed his arm suspiciously, "That arm causing you any pain?"

Both eyes now fell on Bucky's arm. You looked back up to Bucky to see him staring at it still. "It's been better," He sighed, his reply honest.

"I can fix it if you'd like?" You suggested. Bucky's eyes nearly popped out of his head at your words, "Or not!" You quickly added. "I, uh, don't want to make you feel weird..er than you probably already do."

Bucky went to move his arm, and you saw the traces of pain etched into his features. "It'll be alright."

"Our fight isn't over yet, Bucky." You argued. "You should be at your best." You took a deep breath in, finding more confidence from deep within, "I promise I won't judge you if that's what you're worried about. I mean, Tony literally had a hunk of metal plunged in his chest, and he made me clean it out all the time, it was really gross and-"

"Alright, alright," Bucky held his hands up. "I don't wanna hear about Tony's gross chest-hole. Just, come on in." The door opened all the way as Bucky walked inside. You trailed behind, slowly shutting the door behind you as you observed the apartment. It was really empty, just a small couch and a coffee table in front of it. The kitchen looked rather bare, too.

You took a seat on the couch, Bucky sitting next to you. You set your toolbox down in between the both of you, putting some space between your bodies.

"I need to see the connection point, if you don't mind?" You said softly, looking to Bucky's covered shoulder.

"Oh, yeah, yeah," He muttered as he hesitantly slipped off his shirt. You quickly noticed the healing scars on his shoulder, all around the joint, but you made sure to pay no attention to them as you hovered your hand over his arm. "It's fine," He said, watching your hesitantcy.

The metal was cool on your hands as you felt around it, looking for the weak point. Once you found it, you grabbed your tools and began to work at it. You weren't used to working in silence, so you tried to make some conversation.

"Steve, uh, used to tell me a lot about you." You said. Bucky raised a brow at you as you continued. "You were his knight in shining armor, or something of the sorts."

"I guess I was," Bucky gave the smallest hint of a smile. "How'd you learn how to do this anyways?"

You shrugged as you grabbed a new tool, "Tony taught me everything I know. Engineering, chemistry, physics, you name it."

"It must've been hard, just you two." Bucky said softly.

Looking up, you shook your head, "Don't start that," You said.

"But it's my fault-"

"For the last time, Bucky, that was the Winter Soldier, not you. I do not blame you, there's no reason to keep hurting yourself over this." You cut Buck off, voice slightly sharp with intention. Bucky's eyes fell on the other side of the room as you sighed, "Tony would have forgiven you, too. He just needed time."

Bucky scoffed, "He had five years."

"Of which we were gone," You countered. "I forgive you for him and myself, okay?"

“Don’t say that,” Bucky shook his head. “Just.. don’t?”

You set down your tool, staring at him. “Do you want proof?”

This gained Bucky’s interest, “Proof?” He asked, voice laced with doubt. “What proof?”

“Who do you think protected your whereabouts in Wakanda?” You asked, “Steve and Sam were on the run. Of course Tony knew you were there. I remember when he got the call. He just sat there for a while, thinking. When we talked about it, he said he was glad you were getting help.”

“What else did he say?” Bucky said with a knowing look in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, “It’s Tony, Buck. He says anything and everything and means almost none of it.” Bucky didn’t expect you to use his nickname. He liked the sound of it coming from your voice.

“That doesn’t mean he forgave me.” Bucky said.

“Well I do, okay? So stop being such a grump. I’m trying to be your friend, just let me, would you?” You sighed as you began to work on his arm again.

The soldier gave a small sigh, “Stop wasting your time on me when you have a company to run.”

“Stop trying to push me away. Also, Pepper’s helping me run it, so I have all the time in the world.” You argued.

After a brief moment of silence, Bucky spoke again. “I’m still not sure I’m safe to be around,”

The honesty surprised you, making you glance up at him to observe his face. “I’m literally face to face with your arm, tool inside it, and you wanna say you aren’t safe?”

Your comment made Bucky give a small chuckle, “That’s not really what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” You asked.

Bucky gave a shaky breath, “In Madripoor, when I had to take down those guys when I was pretending to be.. him,” Bucky explained, “It’s like I could still feel him trying to break free.”

You set a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, making sure to avoid his scars. “Bucky, Wankanda said you’re a free man. The Winter Soldier’s gone.”

“Maybe I’m just so used to violence now.” Bucky offered, “Maybe it’s who I am.”

“No,” You replied quickly. “You are Bucky Barnes. You’re Steve’s best friend, Sergeant Barnes. You’re Sam’s friend, my friend, and you’re a survivor. You’re one hell of a fighter, you’re a victim who pushed through all his pain and suffering to become a better man, and that’s exactly who you are.” Your words left Bucky feeling like he could cry, but he just looked away. You didn’t know whether what you said was right or wrong.

“Thank you,” Bucky muttered as you began to work on his arm again.

“It’s no problem, Bucky.” You responded. You silently worked, trying to ignore the burning sensation of Bucky’s eyes poring holes into your head.

"This world doesn't deserve you," Bucky muttered as you worked. You simply hummed in reply, making Bucky's forehead crease. "I mean it, Stark. You're one of the best people in this world."

Rolling your eyes, you put away the last of your tools. "Bucky, I'm just being a decent person."

Bucky's eyes burned with a new passion, "No decent person would do all you've done for everyone you've ever come across." Before you could protest, Bucky's metal hand grabbed your chin softly. "Don't even try to argue, I know it can be hard for a Stark but can you hold your tongue?" When you didn't reply, Bucky continued. "You're so humble, so fuckin' sweet. I mean, you came all this way just to fix my arm."

"And to check on you," Your voice came out babbled as Bucky's hold on your chin was still present.

"I don't deserve your kindness," Bucky admitted, "But here you are, giving me all of it." His eyes bore into your own, his own actions betraying his mind as he slammed his lips tightly onto your own. It took you by surprise, but you happily returned the heated kiss as Bucky's hand slithered behind your neck.

"You deserve all of it, the whole world," You mumbled as you pulled away breathlessly. "The world did you dirty, and I'll be the one to wash you of it." With your words, Bucky felt his eyes water as he kissed you passionately again.

Once you pulled apart, Bucky wiped your lips with his thumb, a small smile on his lips. "Does that mean you're gonna stick around?"

"Yeah," you giggled, "I think it does."

[echantedtoon]

YANDERE DEMONS AND BRIDES

Been thinking about this for a while now and I don't know if it counts as yandere but it is how the demons take a bride (or husband for the lady demons unless you also want to imagine that it's a lady.)Yeah. I know old trope but I really like this trope and I wanted to make headcannons for the Upper Moons. I think they'd all have a certain main element fueling that desire for their specific Bride(or Groom for the ladies).

When it comes to the lady demons like Nakime I'll leave Y/n's gender up in the air for anyone to interpret if the ladies also get a wife or if you prefer them to get a husband.

Warnings for yandere-ish (???) themes, kidnapping mentions, possibly death mentioned, mentioned wounds and scars, mentioned illness, mentioned bad vision, etc.

If any of these warnings upset you pls don't read. I will be including Daki/Ume in the line up as part of Gyutaro's part but she will be strictly PLATONIC yandere!! Absolutely NO romance between her and reader!! And her parts will be minor.

KOKUSHIBO:

HARBORMENT

-You have to be a very specific kind of person to attract this man's attention. I think it'd most likely be one of two things that guarantee his bold interest. 1. you are a reincarnation of his wife or 2. you remind him of someone he used to love long ago but never could have especially if you were close to/was with Yoriichi. But whatever the case he finds himself taken by your familiar being.

-He doesn't even know why he bothers with it. But he can't help but watch you from afar. The old feelings resurfacing. He tells himself that it doesn't matter anymore. Most likely you wouldn't remember him even if you were a past lover, and even if you did you'd most likely believe him dead by now or want nothing to do with him.

-He is perfectly content with just watching you live out your life. He's learnt so much about you through just secretly watching. He learns your favorite tea, you love long walks at morning, you work just around the corner at a tailor shop.

-He's content until it no longer becomes enough. He starts to wonder. Do you still smile the way you used to? Do you still wear the same sweet perfume you did back then? He walks into your work one day in disguise. You weren't there being so late, but he ends up buying a Jacket you personally tailored.

-Muzan definitely knows about you. He knew the exact moment Kokushibo saw you. He just doesn't care and sorta lets Kokushibo get away with it being his most loyal demon. He doesn't allow his obsession to interfere with his missions and in turn Muzan is idgaf.

-He is a very traditional man and believes in courting a woman before marriage. In his mind you both are still married/together, he just needs to make you aware of it again. So he starts leaving small gifts for you when you're not around.

-At first you're confused but you think it's just a harmlessly sweet gesture from a secret crush. A few flowers on your doorstep every other night, maybe a small gift of a necklace or hair pin, however your quickly get freaked out when the gifts get TOO personal.

-You came to work one day and was freaked out when your boss handed you a decorative vase an 'admirer' left you for you after he overheard you mentioning it. (You only ever mentioned it once to you boss in private with no one else around.) Your boss is also slightly confused since they also hadn't mentioned that to anyone.

-You freak out more than ever when you come home and find a pair of wedding rings and a shiromuku(wedding kimono) laid out perfectly on your bed.

-Kokushibo sees nothing wrong with his behavior. As in his mind you both are still together, you are still his woman, and he's going to reclaim what is his own. This is just letting you know what he expects. He can't comprehend you'd be against this.

-He's not allowing you to go, especially after he lost you last time to his brother's affections. Whether these affections were platonic friendship or romantic lovers is up to you, but his internalized inferiority, jealousy, obsession, and greed won't allow him to let you go.

-You shriek when you first see him reveal himself. He doesn't understand why you're reacting like this. Don't you recognize your husband? You can't get away. He's holding you to him in an embrace as you freak out.

"Death may have stolen you from me..but I will deny the reaper of his claim to you once again."

DOUMA:

EMOTIONS

-Again you have to be very specific for these men to even consider taking you as a bride. For Douma, it'd be because of the way you make him actually feel things.

-However this ends up happening or when it does is entirely a thing all of its own but for the sake of not making this a mountain of a post, we'll leave that part up to whatever you interpret for now.

-The problem is that he has legit NO idea of what he's even feeling. He's never felt adoration, anger, happiness, etc so how is he supposed to know what this fluttery strange feeling in his chest is?

-So for a long while even he's not aware of his growing obsession with you. He just knows these feelings are not bad. He knows these feelings are coming from you. So somehow he deduced that you are the problem for his new predicaments.

-For this reason he has you looked over by the cults resident healer in case you're using some kind of sickness or chemistry stuff on him. Gets more confused when you are perfectly fine. Nevermind that demons couldn't get sick.

-You become weirded out by how clingy and stalkerish he's suddenly become overnight. He's not even aware he's doing it and if he is he doesn't care really. He just knows you're the cause of the fuzzy warmth in his chest and he's starting to like it.

-The only chance for you to escape is now while he's still confused on what he's feeling. Afterwards it's too late.

-EVERYONE notices his behavior and there's a mixed reaction to it all. Some congratulate you which you're so confused on and some express their happiness to their founder. Douma is just even more confused at it all. Eventually someone notices his confusion and asks him about it, then proceeds to explain what's he's feeling because he's not so sure himself.

-This revolution is mind blowing to him. He's literally the shocked Pikachu meme.

-In his mind as he thinks about it, technically he's been already courting you for nearly a year now. Showering you in affection and gifts and treating you like the goddess you were. So the next logical step would be marriage and that thought actually has him giddy at the thought of you in a shiromuku.

-You've been giving him subtle hints that you're uncomfortable the entire time but he either flat out ignores it or it just flies over his head.

-He randomly wakes you up in the middle of the night and asks if you're not busy the next day.

You blink at the shadowy creepily happy smiling figure too tired to comprehend the gravity of the situation. "I think?"

"Alright." He's silent for a moment. "I made us an appointment with a local priest."

You mumble a nothing response, still on the brink of sleep.

"Just remember to take the day off," he presses. "Hello? Are you there?"

"Uh huh." Your eyes won't even stay open.

"It's settled then. We'll get married tomorrow." He claps happily as he makes his leave. "Go back to sleep now, Lotus blossom."

He leaves and you breathe a sigh of relief as you snuggle into your bed again-

You jolt up. Did he say married?

AKAZA:

FAMILIARITY

-Akaza has never, has not, and never will harm a woman. He himself is unsure of his past where this stems from but he feels a familiarity to something deep but distant when he first meets you.

-You either are dealing with a similar illness Koyuki experienced, or you're a demon slayer whom had to retire due to injuries. Let's go with the second option for this one.

-Akaza had randomly heard recently that a demon slayer had to retire and was currently in the area he was in. He's always looking for a good fight so it's not a no brainer he'd seek you out. What he doesn't know was that this particular retired slayer was a woman. He doesn't realize this even when he first sees you until you horrified and scared seeing a demon in your home confirms that you are indeed the person he's looking for.

-Akaza is shocked. Not at the fact that there's a lady slayer (he's seen plenty of strong lady slayers) but at how you look. He's never seen a woman covered in so many wounds and scars even amongst other slayers. He's so stunned he asks you about it. You're more confused on why he doesn't outright end you, but you answer his question to avoid provoking him. An entire gang of demons has ganged up on you and if it weren't for a Haishira you'd be dead. However your current state left you unable to continue.

-He's angry. About a lot of things. How dare those lowlifes! HE'S obviously not gonna be getting a fight here. There's no way to release this anger- You're stunned as the angry demon just leaves without another word, but he takes it out on some rocks some miles away.

-Akaza ends up swinging by much to your growing horror and worry. He never comes close or makes threatening actions towards you, but you've seen him multiple times staring into your window or you'd see him in the distance barely visible through the darkness. It always freaks you out.

-Akaza doesn't mean to scare you, he just can't help but be curious about you. He finds himself thinking about you and your poor condition a lot. For some reason it pangs his heart seeing you limp about knowing it's permanent to your walking pattern or get angry when he sees people stare at you funny. He even ended a man who insulted your beauty by calling your battle scars unattractive not that you had any idea. He just..feels an odd need to give you care. It feels so... familiar. Second nature.

-He's just so entranced by you. Your smile, your gently nature, your kindness- Despite your losses and bad treatment you still treat everyone so gently. It makes his heart race with something so familiar yet so foreign.

-Reality shatters for him when he hears of your arranged marriage. After returning you had to move back with family who were all horrified to your condition. Their logic was that you needed to get married like a sensible woman and you should be grateful someone was willing to put up with you as a wife.

-In Akaza's view no one would ever treat you like you deserved. He knew he could care for you like he did for-... Someone that makes his head fog. HE CAN'T LET HIM TAINT HER SMILE. If you needed a husband to provide for you then he's happy to step in. Don't be surprised when you wake up to him carrying you out the window.

"Anything that is gold is often buried beneath where everyone's minds skim over without a second thought. You won't have your gold tainted to rust by another."

GYUTARO(+PLATONIC UME/DAKI):

EQUALITY

-Let's be fair. Gyutaro (and Ume/Daki) were never treated as an equal. He was always treated like a piece of garbage (and Ume a pretty doll) so he's gotten used to the fact that he's just destined for that.

-So he's surprised when his sister just starts yapping about another girl in her workplace. It's not out of the ordinary for her to talk about other girls mostly complaining about them or demanding he do something about it. But he's surprised that she's not complaining but gushing about how she made a friend....What?

-Gyutaro.wav is confused af

-She proceeds to proudly gush to her brother about how this girl 'actually knows her place' and 'knows how beautiful Daki is without even needing to know her.'

-Gyutaro.exe is VERY confused af

-She notices his blank stare and scoffs in annoyance. "She's visually impaired you dolt! Honestly it wouldn't be much of a difference if she was actually blind." Oh. Well now he's less confused. Turns out you're new to the house Daki is currently working in and she had originally planned on eating you outta jealousy, however changed her mind when you complimented her voice.

-Daki.wav is now confused. She was used to being complimented on everything from her beauty to her hair to her walking even but her voice? It was then she learnt you weren't blind but you might as well be with how bad your vision actually was seeing everything in colorful blurs. This confuses her. Confused her enough to spare you that night and instead you both just sorta awkwardly talked casually. You politely asked her what it was like to be a famous oiran and if she had any tips for make up as you couldn't see well enough to tell if yours was good.

-You had spoken to her without fear, or condensending, or even any flat out adoration. It was just as if she was another person on the street and not a cannibalistic monster. Honestly it was ..nice. Hella confusing but actually nice for once being treated like another. She decides she will not eat you. After all it wouldn't harm anyone if you couldn't see the red flags in front of you, and you believe her anyways when she said she's beautiful.

-She decides you are her default friend and you now listen to all her problems and tantrums whenever she wants. You gently listen awkwardly sometimes with a frown after you hear she had punished another worker. However there's very little people here nice to you and her reputation alone has kept troublemakers away from you so you decide her friendship is worth more than the cons of not having it.

-She's very territorial over her one friendship. Almost toxically so. If you want something you had BETTER get it within the day or there's hell to pay! If there's a customer you don't particularly like he had BETTER find another girl. No is not an option. Even the house master is scared of her so all complies.

-Gyutaro has legit no idea of what to think of this but his logic is whatever his precious baby sister wants she gets so if you make her happy being her friend then he'll leave you alone and leave her too it. He hasn't met you yet tho. Most of the time he's either out hunting or asleep dormant in Daki's body. Sometimes he heard you two talking but tuned it out as it was mostly boring or his sister complaining to you again. You two completely meet by accident.

-One day he came back from hunting, the two had to split as it'd look suspicious if she suddenly disappeared, so as usual he went to go clean up the mess. The two were just talking when the door suddenly opens and they both freeze as you stand there smiling. Turns out you had just come to say good night to Daki and didn't even see the demon in front of you. However you are barely able to make out a second blurry figure in the darkness. It prompts you to apologize for interrupting her and her customer to which both relax from their tense posture remembering you couldn't actually tell there was a six foot something demon in front of you.

-Daki is prompted to scoff and explain that it wasn't a customer but her brother visiting. In turn Gyutaro is stunned as you genuinely smile his way and greet him like he was another friend. It quickly becomes awkward as he just stares. His brain can't compute a girl(a pretty girl at that) was smiling and talking to him normally. He answers in grunts and quickly leaves the awkward scene.

-Is later shocked weeks later when his sister informs him that you sometimes ask her how her brother is doing. He's not used to having anyone think of him so nicely even as a second thought. The way he reacts gives Daki the idea of making her brother come out to again meet you. (She forces him out and doesn't let him merge until he meets you again.) He's shocked at how you still genuinely are kind to him offering him tea and asking if he'd like to hear you play the shamisen.

-Man becomes fastly smitten by you. With so much touch starvation and affection denial he has it was inevitable. You suspect he might like you by the stutters of his floundering voice but out of respect to your friend you remain casual and never bring it up to either of them when they visit you.

-You've got two demons utterly obsessed with you for both two different reasons. Daki is unwilling to lose her only friend. In her mind NO ONE is allowed to be friends with you! She's the best! So she's your best and only friend! She's very possessive over things she sees as hers and you're no exception. She even was jealous of Gyutaro's affections for you at first but quickly realized it would be easier to share her big brother with you. They share practically everything else anyways. She still gets annoyed when he takes your attention for too long tho. You were her friend first!

-Gyutaro is obsessed with the way you treat him. The way you don't back away from him when he gets close. The way you smile at him. The way you don't treat him like the scum of the earth. He's a very possessive man, even more than his sister. Any visiting customers you have are never seen again. Any present or past he finds out about are quickly taken as his dinner for daring to touch what's his.

-If he doesn't get them then Daki will. She eliminates any threat within the house. Any servant who stares at you with disdain or someone who gets too friendly is swiftly delt with.

-You're hella confused when the house master says he is cursed with many runaway workers.

-Both absolutely FREAK when they return to the house and You're not there anymore. Daki realizes this first when she goes to see you and finds you GONE! All of your belongings are gone and your room is empty. Practically tears the house apart looking for you and calling your name. Her panic wakes up her brother concerned she's in danger but also freaks out when she informs him you're GONE! She goes to the house master after not finding you anywhere else and DEMANDS they tell her where you are with murder in her eyes.

-Turns out a man had bought your marriage contract after watching a show of yours playing the shamisen and singing. You were relieved to be leaving and had left with him after waiting for an hour to say goodbye but your friend never showed up.

-Both are HORRIFIED and ENRAGED!

-Daki ends the house master in a rage as her brother appears. It's not too hard to find you being lead by your soon-to-be husband leading you towards the train station. Had they been ten minutes late then you would've been completely out of the E-District.

-Instead you're quickly absorbed into Daki's belt as her brother violently rips the man apart in a blind rage. You aren't going to leave your best friend behind and he wasn't going to let another man have your hand.

"I'm your friend! Don't you get that?!"

"I'll cut down anyone who tries to hurt my precious sister or take you from me. You're mine."

KAIGAKU:

GREED

-This man and Kokushibo are similar. Both have inferiority issues against younger brothers(Ik technically Zenitsu n him aren't brothers but bare with me) being better than them in swordsmanship one way or another. With Yoriichi and Kokushibo it was more complicated. Between Kaigaku and Zenitsu it was that ONE Thunder Breathing technique he never conquered.

-His inferiority and greed has caused him to make so many bad decisions (if you've read the manga or read his wiki then you know what I mean). He's not one to want to be out done even if he has to resort to underhanded tactics.

-You both met when he was still human and training under Master Jigoro. You were a simple healer often just helping patch him and Zenitsu up after training. He's annoyed and often doesn't give you a second thought that is until Zenitsu starts running his mouth obviously. He asks you to marry him ten minutes after you both just met.

-Kaigaku has known you for a few years longer than Zenitsu because he's older and came to train here before Zenitsu but you both have never been close before. He's short with you when you talk otherwise he's usually quiet. You talk to him anyways even if he never answers back. You're used to it.

-He hates how you just patiently laugh off any and all attempts Zenitsu makes to you. Why are you tolerating that idiot?!(Nevermind you also tolerate him and his stupid attitude.) He gets jealous of your interactions and how Zenitsu is just finding over you before he meets Nezuko. He barely sees you after his final selection and becoming a slayer but his furious mind boils over at the thought of you spending more time ALONE with Zenitsu before he too goes to his Final selection.

-With both Zenitsu and Kaigaku gone, and Jigoro insisting he can take care of himself, you're reassigned to a different residence where multiple slayers pass through. Ironically it's where Kaigaku is. All good and bad feelings punch him at once seeing your smiling face again as you stitch up his most recent wound.

-He likes you so much and how you treat him, but he's internally enraged when you share that kindness with anyone outside of him. Hearing you speaking to him about Zenitsu and your other patients only enrages that boiling point. However it only reaches that point when you inform the ever silent man about your own slayer fiance you met through your patients.

-You're sad when one day Kaigaku stops showing up for a long while. News of his betrayal and Jigoro's death really hadn't reached a lot of people with all the Haishira and slayers training for the final fight in the Infinity Castle. Your slayer fiance included.

-You do however receive news of your fiance's mysterious gruesome death at the hands of a demon. You're more heartbroken when you also hear of Jigoro's death. Devastated and crying your heart out over your loss. However those sobs turn to screams when you're face to face with blackened eyes of death as a sinister smile.

"What are you crying for? It's his own fault."

NAKIME:

SHARED INTEREST

-(Ok. Bare with me. Ive never written for her before and even researching her backstory this is probably not going to be very long and ooc. Take as platonic or romantic.) Let me start by saying that she does not get out much. Like at all. So you two really don't meet face to face.

-She discovers you by accident when she opened a door in a busy street and happened to see you sitting on the side of the road also playing a biwa for money.

-She hasn't seen another fellow biwa player for a while and decided to keep the doorway open for a while to listen.

-You are not very good with the biwa. Your playing isn't bad it's just not the best. Nakime knows this but considering she's never met another person or heard another instrument for a long time she can't help but get interested. Learns quickly that you are a lot better playing the shamisen than the biwa and always opens a small window or doorway on nights she knows you're gonna be sitting on your corner playing.

-She starts to think about teaching you how to play the biwa and doing a duet as you play your shamisen next to her biwa. Starts to really like the idea of permanently having your company in the castle.

-She doesn't really abduct you until after a show a drunk patron steals your instrument and smashes it on the ground laughing at your crying face.

-A loud strum of a biwa is heard as both you AND the drunk man is teleported. You're shocked to suddenly find yourself on a platform with a woman sitting right across from you. The drunk man was also teleported. She teleported him to where she knew a gang of newly turned hungry demons were.

"Apologies for the sudden introductions however it seems you need a change of residence."

GYOKKO:

CREATIVITY

-(I don't like him too much but ik there's a lot of people who do and can't find content for him same as those who like Nakime so I'll include him too for all you Gyokko fans.) Mans is a baby. Very sensitive to his projects being insulted even if they deserve to be called that, most either are 'too dumb to notice his great skills' or always insult him. When in reality his art is so gruesome that people can't help but he horrified by it or insult him. The only one who seems to get him is Douma which is why he gifted him the pot but they aren't really friends.

-He meets you by complete accident. He was out too late and ended up deciding to hide in a pottery worker's shop. He likes to sneak around and spy on other artists anyways. His pot was sun proof and all he had to do was duck inside and wait until night again. However he wasn't counting on being bought.

-You had come in looking for a new vase to decorate your table after your old one accidentally broke. You happened to spot Gyokko's and completely fell in love with how pretty it was! The purest white you've ever seen with beautifully perfectly painted flowers and leafy vines. The pottery worker doesn't even remember making this piece but a paying customer was a paying customer so he sold you Gyokko's vase.

-Gyokko is absolutely offended by the pottery worker claiming his vase as his own and plans to end him later...But he also is very intrigued by the bold compliments you gave so he decides not to end you yet.

-When night comes he sneaks out to find quite a sight. Turns out you are also an artist sorta. You make custom jewelry and clothing for people, and baskets on the side. He's intrigued and extends his body around to look closely at all of the fabrics laid about, and written patterns, and little pieces of jewels ready to be put together for a simple but pretty piece to wear.

-He ends up going from the back of your shop to the front finding a lot of finished pieces of yours displayed and ready for sale. He's very intrigued by the kimonos. All of the patterns are individually sewn on. Cherry blossoms, storks, flowers- All are sewn on thread after thread by hand. It's like a canvas but made of fabric with thread as the paint. He's seen a LOT of kimonos but the attention to detail and precision to the likeness of the real thing was truly remarkable. For a woman.

-He decides since you really hadn't been a nuisance and complimented his work then he'll not end you for taking his pot. Instead of taking his pot with him, he leaves it and teleports to a different pot that way he can still sneak into your home without a problem.

-This goes on for two years. He'll pop in every so while when you sleep and look around for an hour or two before leaving. There was always different dresses displayed with different beautiful scenes sewed into them or he'd see one you were working on on your workshop bench. The needle paused in sewing the stripes of a tiger or the veins of a leaf.

-One day he comes back but hides in the pot because you're working late and tending to a customer who needed a dress for a ceremony. As you both talk the customer compliments 'your pot' and asks why you never put flowers in it. You answer- "I don't want to damage it by filling it with water or having rose thorns scratch it's inside. Besides it's beautiful enough by itself."

-As if this man didn't have enough of a big ego- This happens around the start of the second year and he ends up fond of this fellow artist. He gets the idea of gifting you another case to gage your reaction. This time you find a deep blue pot with waves painted onto it. You're unsure of where it came from but you might up moving it by the first vase mumbling to yourself about how pretty it was! Man's ego skyrockets.

-You are confused when you thank your friends for the pretty gifts only to be told they didn't make any of the ones you have. You get more confused when you start finding pots left on your doorstep two or three times a month. You never see who leaves them but you're so taken by how each one is so pretty that you never complain. Just assuming it was a secret admirer. Gyokko's ego boosts higher when he sees you had gotten two big shelves and placed them up to be displayed. He loves seeing you light up when you look at them excited for when the next one arrives.

-You're happiness seems to be improving your work too as Gyokko ends up find you making full on landscapes on your dresses. He notices you've suddenly become happier and giddier lately and blushing even but he doesn't think it's anything other than your adoration for his craft.

-Confused when one day he finds no new dresses being made except for an absolutely beautiful shiromuku in the process of being made. He assumes you've been paid to make a bride her ceremonial dress. He has absolutely no idea of the real reason behind this behavior until he comes back earlier one night and is shocked to find YOU wearing the dress to try it out as another friend of yours does your makeup testing out what colors would look best with you in the dress.

-Seeing you in your own homemade bridal piece and your face dolled up is like he's looking upon living artwork. He's in awe as you both giddily talk about your wedding-..Wait. Wot? You're telling your friend all about how the pottery maker you had originally bought your first vase from had fallen for you and came forward to be your secret admirer leaving all of the vases as gifts.

W H A T?!

-Gyokko is ENRAGED!! How dare that lowlife claim his precious skills as his own!? More so how dare he use it to trick this beloved artist into letting him marry you?! He was claiming all his hard work!! He's becomes more enraged when you mentioned that your fiance wanted you to retire from your craft and be a stay at home wife after you marry. A mantra of "Oh over his dead body" is repeated over in his head as he temporarily disappears to take care of a problem.

-Soon after your friend leaves you're smiling at yourself in a mirror only to freeze in horror and shriek out as something monstrous comes clawing out of the first ever face you've ever gotten. People are horrified and shocked when they find your fiance dead and you no where to be found.

"Art is a beauty in of itself. However there are few people who can truly appreciate you as such."

Hoo boy that was a lot. I'm gonna do a part 2 with Hantengu since that guy needs to be tackled along with clones on his own post and a part 3 with the lower moons. Hope you all enjoyed this.

[erwinsmithsmissingleftarm]

Draco is the type who get all mushy over you when you are in private. Forget about the arrogant and mocking brat that he usually is, he is like a new man.

He will constantly try to steal you a kiss or hug you when there is nobody around you. His hands are roaming your body as he nuzzles his face into your neck.

"Mhm... why do you smell so good?"

The white-haired boy looks up at you and let out a content sigh. He honestly thinks you are the best thing that could ever happen to him. Please, mess with his hair. Draco absolutely loves when your hands are softly massaging his scalp, making him forget about everything.

He makes 4123539875 comments about how gorgeous you are in that ball dress or how he loves your hairstyle (who took you 1 minute to make because you woke up late for school). He's going to try everything to make you blush and you just need to see the cheeky smile that stretch his lips as he manages to make your cheeks turn red.

He is also surprisingly supportive, helping you with your homeworks without mocking you and trying to calm you down before the exams. Draco will usually grab your chin and make you look up at him before kissing your forehead, muttering something about how amazing you are and how you should stop doubting yourself.

If there is only one thing Draco isn't good for, it is to know how to act when you have your period. Poor boy always manage to make you mad by being too clingy and when it's your turn to reclaim affection, he tries to stay away from you, still scared from your last outburst.

[aethon-recs]

Tomarrymort Starter Pack: 10 Recs for Getting Started in Tomarrymort

I've compiled a list of 10 medium to longfic recs that I think represent a great on-ramp to the Tomarrymort ship, as inspired by @sitp-recs’ Drarry for Beginners rec list. These are the fics that I would use to on-board people to the ship — gorgeous writing, superb characterization, and just as enjoyable on the first read as the 20th reread. 

As always, I am stunned by the talent in this ship! I tried to pick a good mix of different themes/tropes/settings, with a focus on elements that make for a good introductory work: the characters are recognizable; the setting skews more recognizable; both characters in the ship are a meaningful part of the story; the ship is central to the story; and the fics are for the most part complete (or updated within the last year). 

(Standard rec list disclaimers apply: please mind all tags and warnings on AO3 before reading; this blog abides by the age-old fandom axiom of don’t like; don’t read; recs are in alphabetical order by title.)

This is Part 1 of a 3-part series — I also have an Intermediate reading list and Advanced reading list coming up for readers who have been with the ship for a longer time.

For now, please enjoy these 1.3 million words of absolutely brilliant Tomarrymort reads that I hope will keep you hooked until the very last word:

*

Tomarrymort Starter Pack Recs

A Dangerous Game by @cybrid (E, 284k, WIP)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 5 Premise: If Tom’s diary horcrux gains a body at the end of Harry’s 5th year (instead of his 2nd), and then promptly kidnaps Harry and holds him captive over the summer. Lots of smut ensues. Why I rec it: The characterization is truly stunning — Tom Riddle is undoubtedly a psychopath — manipulative, thrill-seeking, kind of an irredeemable shithead — but he’s also dazzlingly charming when he chooses to be, someone whose presence Harry quickly grows addicted to. Their relationship can get incredibly toxic and fucked-up at times, but Harry has top-notch instincts and can hold his own against Tom. The plot is absolutely gripping, with the threat of (the main) Voldemort, who has set his sights on reclaiming his wayward horcrux, looming in the background. 

A Future Without a Face by @dividawrites (E, 115k, complete)

Setting: Time-Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry travels back in time to Tom’s 5th year at Hogwarts, and Tom becomes obsessed with the new transfer student and wants nothing more than to possess him every way. Why I rec it: A 1940s time travel fic told entirely from Tom Riddle POV! Divida absolutely nails psychopath Tom — how he quickly gets singlemindedly focused on Harry, how the idea of possessing Harry consumes him, how he has no compunctions about doing completely fucked-up and destructive things to achieve his goals. There is so much tension between them from the start, so there’s not much of a wait to see some hot Harry & Tom action — and the conflict and tension only continues to build and build in dramatic fashion throughout the rest of the fic.

Either must die at the hand of the other by @metalomagnetic (E, 260k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Voldemort survives the Battle of Hogwarts and is initially kept prisoner in Azkaban, until Harry takes him into Grimmauld Place under house arrest. Why I rec it: This fic is an incredible exploration of Voldemort at his most terrifying. Even if he starts off the fic with his magic temporarily blocked, he is no less powerful without his magic. The force of his personality is powerful enough for him to chip away at Harry’s initial resistance — @metalomagnetic manages to write one of the most charismatic, brilliantly manipulative, and psychologically devastating versions of Voldemort I’ve ever read. Harry ends up in a good place by the end of the fic, but the journey to get there is a roller-coaster of emotions that have permanently imprinted onto my soul.

In Somno Veritas by ladyoflilacs and @lordansketil (M, 158k, complete)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 6 Premise: If Harry starts appearing in Voldemort’s nightly dreams during Book 6, and Voldemort becomes obsessed with Harry after realizing he’s his horcrux. Why I rec it: This is one of the most unique fics I’ve ever read in this ship! Every scene is told in alternating POV between Harry’s POV and Voldemort’s POV, so you get to see how every scene unfolds from both of their perspectives. Voldemort is so intense and just as terrible as he is in canon, so his character is not at all sugarcoated, and Harry has so much compassion and heart and manages to fall in love with Voldemort anyway. The writing style is gorgeous, with richly detailed and emotionally-laden prose. Also, one thing that pleasantly surprised me is how funny their banter is! There were definitely a number of times where I laughed out loud in the middle of an otherwise really intense scene. Bonus content: also comes with a lovely sequel that made me melt.

Inevitabilities by @shadow-of-the-eclipse (T, 103k, complete)

Setting: Same-Age AU Premise: If Harry and Tom attend Hogwarts together and go traveling around the world after they graduate. A betrayal leads to their break-up, but after many years, Harry returns to find Tom in Britain, and the two of them are drawn back together again. Why I rec it: An excellent same-age AU with unhinged dark Harry and just-as-unhinged Tom. Their relationship starts out quite dark and twisted and unhealthy — and only devolves from there. The fic ends with the two of them as equals — utterly devoted to each other — but in an incredibly fucked-up way: “He loves Tom like a forest fire; wild and all-consuming, he wants to devour Tom, to claim him, to mark him, break him.” Isn’t that absolutely breathtaking?

love is touching souls (surely you touched mine) by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger (M, 34k, complete)

Setting: Time-Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry gets thrown back into the mid-1940s and meets Tom Riddle as a young man just graduated from Hogwarts working at Borgin and Burkes. Why I rec it: When Harry accidentally travels back in time and chances upon Tom Riddle as a fresh graduate, he realizes this is his chance to make a difference. While Harry is only in the past for a brief interlude, he leaves enough of an impression to change the trajectory of Tom’s life. The dynamic between Harry and Tom is rife with tension and witty dialogue, and the story is set during Christmastime, which lends a very festive and heartwarming atmosphere for falling in love with each other.

No Glory by @obsidianpen (E, 254k, WIP)

Setting: Voldemort Wins AU  Premise: If Voldemort figures out Harry is his horcrux when Harry surrenders in the Forbidden Forest, and decides to keep Harry instead of killing him.  Why I rec it: This fic showcases the absolute, terrifying genius side of Voldemort, in a universe where he wins the war and captures Harry at the end of book 7. I am stunned at how skillfully @obsidianpen portrays Voldemort as a brilliant political strategist — the courtroom scene where he manipulates the story and the audience so well stands out as a top 10 fanfic moment in my mind. Harry and Voldemort’s relationship is chilling from the very start, and grows even more unhealthy as Voldemort gets addicted to Harry’s touch due to the presence of the horcrux, but Harry later learns to turn that to his advantage.

The Fire, Burning by @parsimmony (E, 35k, complete)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 6 Premise: If Voldemort discovers Harry is his horcrux after Book 6, and kidnaps him to keep him captive by his side in his bed, inside of a lovely greenhouse setting full of friendly snakes on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. Why I rec it: The prose!! I am swooning over the prose! Harry is Voldemort’s captive in this fic, but he is so much more than that — and the emotions that gradually blossom between them have so much richness and depth and are utterly moving that I’m still drowning in the depths of intimacy that were portrayed. Their relationship unfolds in such a gorgeous and unrushed way, and the setting is so unique too — a lush and overgrown greenhouse that’s exploding with exotic plants and friendly snakes around every corner that imbues the fic with a very romantic, dreamy quality.

the pleasure, the privilege by @being-luminous (M, 20k, complete)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 6 Premise: If Voldemort is doused with Amortentia keyed to Harry, and starts sending Harry bizarre and gruesome courting gifts, like the bodies of the Dursleys.  Why I rec it: Breathtaking prose! Voldemort somehow ends up more terrifying when he’s trying to woo Harry than when he’s trying to kill him. Every single sentence had me on the edge of my seat, as Voldemort’s ‘gifts’ become more elaborate and devastatingly dramatic, until Harry basically has no choice but to respond to his overtures. The ending is incredibly clever in how it parallels certain plot elements of book 6, with an added Harrymort twist. 

The Untouchable by @treacleteacups (M, 75k, complete)

Setting: Canon Rewrite (Books 1-7) Premise: If Harry starts out his first year a little bit more suspicious and a little less wide-eyed and guileless, and subsequently gets sorted into Slytherin. He has many of the same encounters with Voldemort along the way as he does in canon, but his interactions with Voldemort will end up leading him down quite a different path. Why I rec it: A snappy, fast-paced full canon rewrite that still manages to fit in all the essential Tomarrymort plot points, between Horcruxes and Hallows and the major events of books 1-7, in a compact 75k words that doesn’t at all feel rushed. It’s a delightful journey following Harry’s character evolution from an overlooked, peculiar child who relies on wishy-washy wish magic to a confident (and still endearingly peculiar) young man who can challenge and hold his own against the great Lord Voldemort. Voldemort’s obsession with Harry deepens with every encounter that they have, as he finds ways to continually insinuate himself in Harry’s life and his mind and his dreams.

*

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 1 part 3

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

so babe, hear me out. we could adopt him. just spitballing here (agatha, probably)

bwahhaha fantasy!billy and his death stare, meanwhile real billy is such a polite baby

if you look closely you can tell Joe Locke is fighting for his life holding down laughter in a lot of his scenes with Katrhyn. he has nerves of steel, couldn't be me

(also, billy telling her she has neither the respect of her peers NOR a fulfilling home life? harsh, but fair.) (at least her wife is trying to fix the home life part)

honey, don't go around kicking grumpy little twinks now! perfectly in character. despite her chaotic exterior, rio is a very lawful person. she is literally the laws of nature!

the Ballad plays faintly in the background when Billy mentions the Road

I love when good actors have to pretend to be bad actors. and I also find it interesting that Agatha cast herself as a good guy. does it make her feel better? is she telling herself that all the atrocities were justified, that it was only survival instinct? (like rio said, she's only lying to herself)

I had to look up the painting, it's Macbeth meeting the three witches (thank you Reddit!) So Macbeth (Agatha) and Banquo (Billy) meeting Lilia, Jen and Alice?

how did I miss Billy sitting on the chair Rio was just on?! amazing lens choices here too

Wanda's death makes her cry again. I honestly, honestly believe she feels awful about what she did to her. but guilt will never be enough to redeem her - especially because she tends to run away from it.

Wanda's magic was so strong that it took at least four things to undo the spell: Wanda dying, Rio's intervention, Billy's counterspell, and Agatha's willpower. It was a group effort, Agatha could have never done it alone. And despite her scorched earth tactics, there are still two people in her life, rio and billy, willing to help out in her hour of need

it's naughty tiiiime

I still really love the curls

can I say iconique?

it's like someone's about to die at the end of this

bwahahahahaah and oh my GAWD all the case files and boxes, where did she GET that stuff, did she rob a precinct, did she make them with the power of arts and crafts

you know what I think? being naked here is a power move. she is being very over the top because she's really uncomfortable, she just woke up and she's in those moments when you stop dreaming and have to relearn what's real and what isn't. she is someone used to calculate and scheme and micromanage every aspect of her life and she is not in control right now. what does Agatha do to reclaim control? she puts on a show. to her, being under the spell was way more like being naked, her insecurities and emotions and past were out in the open for everyone to see. being physically naked could never be nearly as distressing, and this is a nakedness she chose, because it tells people nothing about herself, nothing of what she wants to keep secret and protected. she's got the upper hand, not the other way round

you are all cowards and sheep for not saying Wanda's name, says the lady who would rather hide under a dozen magic layers than face her problems

that is so nice that they brought her groceries actually??? and lol those are the flowers in Agatha's crime scene pictures

that little girl is having a great time

FUCK CLOTHES BUT FUCK THESE CLOTHES SPECIFICALLY!!!!

(wait am I allowed to post butt cheeks? what are the rules right now?)

she turns quiet and emo as soon as she's alone

why doesn't she just - kiss the wiwwle bunny. bury her nose in that big fluffly head. even villains need a cuddle sometimes.

sure, bring señor scratchy. so menacing. that'll show them.

poor boy. trapped in a closet with ralph's bluray collection

aaand I really want to get to the next scene so I'll start on it right away, hopefully it'll be ready later tonight

go to part 4

[armpirate]

RED || Jungkook | Ch. 1

MASTERLIST Previous ||  Next

Pairings: Demon!Jungkook x fem!reader  

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, fantasy, past life

Warnings: Explicit language, mention of death and suicide, demonology, violence, rough sex

Summary: Y/n thought her life couldn't get worse after losing her parents in a tragic accident. Years after, she's aware of everyone moving forward, while she's in the same place, isolated and alone. She struggles to find meaning in a world that seems indifferent to her grief. Desperate for comfort, to feel the deep connection she had been missing, she starts the manifestation, expecting an inoffensive entity to walk with her that rough path. What she doesn't know is that she awoke the mysterious entity tied to an old necklace around her neck.

Jungkook, a mysterious and seductive figure, appears in her life, offering the company she craves. But as his presence grows stronger, so does the unsettling sense that there's more to him -and the necklace- than meets the eye, unfolding all the reasons that took him to that place.

Now, as the past bleeds into the present, Y/n must fight with her growing feelings for the demon who seems familiar yet dangerous. Jungkook is determined to reclaim his power, but in doing so, he may doom Y/n once again. Bound by fate, the two are locked in a dangerous mix of love, redemption, and the looming threat of destruction. 

Will they break the curse that has haunted them both, or will history repeat itself with devastating consequences?

Chapter duration: 11 minutes

When she first came across a video about manifestation through subliminal audios, she was skeptical. More like skeptical, she quite laughed at the idea of people actually believing someone could get something out of that. It was similar to making a wish to a shooting star, with the only difference being that watching those videos made her feel like an idiot.

At first, those videos showed up as advertisements of other videos claiming to know how to attract positive energies, or how you could get whatever you wanted with manifestations. Slowly, they evolved into more specific videos on how the Law of Attraction worked and thousands of videos with that same theme. She wasn't a believer, she certainly didn't think a video on social media could help her overcome her struggles, yet she still believed in those small signs. As if the universe was trying to communicate with her somehow. She still chose to go on with life, hopeful she was just getting crazier.

But after she found herself alone at home, bored on a Saturday night after coming back from work, while her only friends were hanging out with their own friends, suddenly those videos didn't sound as stupid and pathetic as she thought.

She went from one video to the other, too bored to continue, but too intrigued in finding out whether they worked or not to give up. One of her hands sneaked under the blanket, finding a warm place when she pressed her thighs around it, so she could escape the cold in her apartment.

Suddenly, while moving from one video to the other, those videos started turning into "magical entities", things that weren't abstract. Those apparently powerful entities were tangible, with personalities and thoughts, with amazing abilities. And, most importantly, that would wish only good things for those who manifested them.

At first, she ignored it. She didn't have the energy to think of herself playing the Bloody Mary game at such a big age, but then she thought of how she had nothing else to lose. She was already bored. If it didn't work out, she'd have found entertainment for the night. If it did work out, life would probably start looking at her differently.

She had nothing to lose, at that point. The only results would be either non-existent or positive.

With a sigh, she moved in her bed, dragging her body to the middle, legs crossed and hands still holding her phone, earphones on and eyes focused on the screen. Nervously, she played with the necklace around her neck, looking for some reassurance there, before she started speaking.

Her eyes closed, one hand holding her phone, the other hand still playing nervously with the pendant of her necklace.

—By the thread of time, I call to you —she repeated softly, barely audible in a whisper. Her tone was shy, as if someone was hearing her despite living alone—. In silence, I call. In darkness, I find you —one of her eyes opened, trying to check whether something was changing in her surroundings—. From the shadows of what was, come forth into the light of now? Bound by love, freed by pain. Answer me —another sigh, another movement of her head showing off her disappointment—. If someone is there, come to me, please, fill this void.

When saying those last words, her voice cracked, and her eyes watered at the possibility of calling out for her parents. She went quickly from trying to call out that entity to demand her parents to be there with her, right when she needed them.

She dropped her phone, holding onto the necklace that one belonged to her mother, while looking around in the darkness.

—I'll do whatever it takes —her voice was shaky while pronouncing those words—, I don't care about the price, I don't care about the consequences. Please, I need you.

For a brief moment during that chant, she felt something in the air changing. Like the temperature dropping or the hint of an indecipherable whisper falling on her ear... yet she realized it was all coming from her own desperation and not reality.

There was no movement in her apartment, no hints that whatever she did worked. Her tongue moved through her lips, stopping at the corner with an annoyed expression, dropping her head to the front while her hands fell over her lap.

It was the dumbest and most pathetic thing she had ever done in her twenty four years alive. And which made it worse was how hopeful she felt on it working out.

The reverse of her hand moved with anger over her cheekbones, wiping out the tears that kept rolling down. Minutes later, she looked like she hadn't been crying, she looked like she hadn't been hoping for a miracle, plugging her phone and turning the lamp off, so she could lie on the bed on her back again, wrapped on the thick blankets.

Her fingers fidgeted on her belly under the covers, eyes stuck on the ceiling above her, while she kept thinking she didn't do things right. She felt uneasy, unable to get some peaceful sleep before she insisted again.

—Psst —she called out—. Don't take too long to give signs. If you're there, show up with the same desperation I called on you.

She tried, even if it was something that gave her no results.

Y/n found herself standing in the middle of an empty street, her heart pounding in her chest. The world around her seemed old -ancient, even-, but not the European type of old. The characteristics of that street had Asian features, pretty remarkable.

The street was eerily quiet, deserted, and bathed in a redish fog that clung to everything. The uneven stone path beneath her feet was cold, and the sound of her own footsteps echoed unnaturally, amplifying the growing tension inside her. She felt the weight of something unseen pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

The wind was still, and yet there was a gnawing feeling that something was watching her, just out of sight. Each shadow seemed to stretch and bend as if alive, threatening to swallow her whole. Every step she took forward only heightened her anxiety, the oppressive silence ringing in her ears.

The cold air had her hugging herself almost instantly, making her even more confused at the fact that she was still wearing the tank top and shorts she used as her pajamas.

Suddenly, something came at her like a wave, making it difficult to breathe, going from holding her own arms to grabbing her throat as if that gesture would make the air come through more easily.

Her breath came shallow, and in a desperate attempt to escape the suffocating emptiness of the street, she darted into one of the old wooden houses nearby. The door creaked as it swung shut behind her, enclosing her in complete darkness. Inside, it was still, but different -no longer the silent, oppressive void outside. Inside, there was a strange, almost magnetic pull that tugged her forward, guiding her down a dimly lit corridor.

The door clicking behind her echoed the room, making her aware of how big the place was despite not being able to see anything at all. Scared of the dark, she tried to open the door again, but it kept resisting her strength.

As if that action was the only thing she needed to get it all started, some claps stole her attention, freezing her move. With every lamp that was being lit in the corridor, a new clap made all the hairs in her body raise, getting pointier with each loud sound.

It kept getting narrower the further it was from her, and the weak light coming from the curved lamps barely gave her any chance to see properly. Her mind kept telling her to try to open the main door and escape, but her body didn't respond to her own begs. Her feet started moving, slowly but steadily towards the new door away from her, as if there was something else controlling her moves better than she did.

Her steps felt heavy, almost as if her body was being dragged by an external force to the dark red door at the end of the corridor. It was hypnotic, attracting, almost like seeing a distant star in a black sky.

The light grew stronger as she moved, illuminating a single room. Just like the street, with dark tones of red that ended up being pleasing to her sight.

She stepped inside, her heart hammering louder now, the air thick with something she couldn't name. As soon as she crossed the door, the lights went off again. Her eyes were squinted as she tried to see something through the darkness when she found herself trapped again in a different space. But, that time, she didn't attempt to get out, she didn't turn, not a single hair in her body moved. There was a growing sensation that there was something inside she wanted to find.

A sonorous breeze collided with her ears and her body instantly reacted to the sensation. Her skin was burning, her core throbbed with eagerness. There was an urging suffocating need that started to build up and that she couldn't make disappear when pressing her thighs together -it only grew bigger with every slight rub.

Somewhere among the silence, she heard a male chuckle, deep and dark, but so attracting that it almost caused her to moan out loud. Her brain overthought when that laugh got in her system, and her stomach felt funny instantly.

The room lit up, but not completely. For minutes, there was a flicker of light coming and going in different corners of the room, quickly moving in front of her. With every new move, she discovered a new detail of the room that was hidden to her with that darkness, finally allowing her to see what was being kept from her eyesight.

A few centimeters ahead of her, there was a black leather headboard that shined under the light, completely disappearing as the focus kept moving. It lowered down, allowing her to see the burgundy sheets falling over the edge of the bed, heading to its corner and moving back to the center, where she was able to see a pair of athletic thighs, covered with some black slacks, manspreading with a hand falling lazily in the center. She tried to pay attention to the tattoos on the reverse and his fingers, but the light moved before she was able to. It w bent back to the opposite side of the headboard, moving to the right steadily. His eyes were black and fierce, as if he knew he'd be able to do whatever he wanted to her. There wasn't a glimpse of good intentions on the looks he was giving her.

The way he already had his eyes on her, and how he even moved them lower over her body, made Y/n aware that, unlike her, he was indeed able to see her across the darkness. Y/n thought she'd be able to reach the climax merely with the way he was looking at her.

To him, she was his prey, cornered and trapped, and he was the beast ready to jump at her.

The corners of his doe eyes wrinkled for a second, as if he finally thought what he was going to do to her.

Y/n's pulse quickened as she stood frozen, unsure if she should move toward him or run. Each flicker of light illuminated just enough to make her breath catch in her throat, but not enough to see him fully. His figure seemed almost unreal, like a phantom on the edge of her consciousness, tethered to the shadows. Then, just as suddenly as the dream had begun, the light vanished, plunging her back into darkness. The only light in the room disappeared, leaving her lost, momentarily blind.

She was hopeful the light would shine again and would fall on him, that was why her eyes didn't move a centimeter from where she last saw his eyes. But when the light came back, starting to move over the spot where he was sitting, there was no one else anymore. The sheets looked messy, and they had the subtle shape of his lower body, confirming her he was indeed there in front of her and it wasn't made up.

It felt disappointing for her. Because it was all getting started, and the moment she was calming herself down to speak, encouraging herself to make a sound, he vanished without saying a word.

Her body squirmed involuntarily when a warm touch over the side of her tank top, feeling a palm almost cover her ribs.

His breathing was calm, slow, relaxing and warm when falling in her ear, feeling like an enchant that took over her body easily. Her neck fell to the side, and her eyes closed, handing him all the power he wanted to have over her.

—Were you looking for me? —never a voice had sounded so sensual and melodic, yet so deep and masculine at the same time.

The way his warm breathing coated her right ear, while his voice hypnotized her out of her control made her nipples harden under the thin white fabric.

She hadn't seen his face completely, she didn't know his intentions, and she for sure was in a dangerous place, but she was ready to do whatever he asked her to.

His hand expanded to her belly, with his pinky finger ghosting over the elastic of her shorts. He still didn't stop, but his touch was gentle on her, venturing himself lower while giving her time to mentalize what was going to happen, caressing her body as if he had touched it many times before. His finger played with the edge of her shorts, digging lower and directly moving through her underwear. He didn't ask for permission, he didn't need to. It was as if her consent had been agreed beforehand, long before she showed up there, lost in danger.

Her lip was trapped under her teeth when his mouth moved over her sensitive skin, looking for that same reaction he got from her.

—Then you already found me.

His body pressed against her back, while his hand dud lower, digging his fingers to reach her clit.

—Who are you?

But he didn't answer, he twirled his digits around her bundle of nerves, leaving her with a loud gasp escaping her mouth, and that transferred to reality.

She woke up instantly, in the middle of a heavy breath that forced her to sit on the bed. Her heart was pounding against her chest, aiming to break her rib cage while her whole body was craving a touch that wasn't even real, a touch in her dream so vivid that she was sure she'd feel for days.

Y/n looked around in her studio, confused at being there for a few seconds, trying to understand that everything that happened was just a dream. Despite being home, she still had the feeling of being somewhere else just seconds ago. As if she had been able to teleport without knowing it.

That dream felt way too vivid and real to only be part of her imagination.

[foundtherightwords]

Fallen Empires - Chapter 8

Pairing: Geta x OFC

Summary: Having done the unthinkable to secure his throne, Emperor Geta rules with ruthlessness and paranoia. Now, after escaping an assassination attempt, a badly injured Geta is saved by Daphne, a young widow, who takes him back to her remote village without knowing his true identity. As Daphne nurses the former emperor back to health, attraction blooms between them, and Geta discovers a soft side he didn't know he possessed. But can their love survive his thirst for revenge and his desire to reclaim power?

Chapter warnings: some mentions of violence and sexual content, Geta is still a jerk (he has a long way to go!)

Chapter word count: 3.8k

Prologue + Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Geta overslept. He didn't wake until the sun baked the hut into an oven and the heat jolted him out of bed.

The front room was empty. Daphne was nowhere to be seen. She certainly wasn't in the hut, and she wasn't in the garden. Not a breeze stirred outside. The goats were lying down in the shade of the laurel trees, too lethargic even to sneak some bites of the herbs spread out on a clean cloth nearby to dry in the sun. The only things still moving were the bees, busily moving amongst the flowers, oblivious to the heat. The donkey was gone from his usual spot. Had Daphne gone to the village then? But she had just made her rounds the other day... She was probably avoiding him out of shyness. And who wouldn't be shy after a night like that?

His breakfast was on the table as usual, and as he ate, he recalled the night with a smug sense of triumph. So he'd brought her to her knees after all. Or, rather, to her back. And he would have her on her knees before long, he decided, feeling an echo of the fire from the previous night stirring in his loins again.

It wasn't that Daphne was particularly good at bed-sport. He'd had some camp followers in Britannia and Germania that were much better, and as for the whores of the provinces on his travels, especially in Alexandria, well... they could do things that made one's eyes water just to think about. But it was the way she'd come to him, so timid and yet so bold. Oh, he'd had plenty of women who came to him willingly enough, but they had always been so confident in their skills as seductresses. There was something rather sweet in Daphne's gracelessness. It was as if she had been so eager to give herself to him that she didn't care how she did it. It flattered him.

If he was perfectly honest with himself, he would admit that he wouldn't have had the courage to approach her had she not come to him first. But she had. She was just a woman, after all. Under all that lean flesh and hard bones and dour expressions, she was just as soft and warm as any of them. All his fears and doubts about her, thinking of her as a goddess? Nonsense. It was simply the shock of seeing a naked woman again after so long. That and the beauty of the moonlit night had overthrown his senses, it was all.

By Jupiter, but it felt good to lie with a woman again after all these months. It felt good to know his injuries had not robbed him completely of his strength. True, she had left the room in a bit of a huff afterward, when he refused her kiss. But he had never allowed anyone to kiss him, nor had he ever kissed anyone, on the mouth or anywhere else on the body, for that matter. The mouth is noble and sacred, used for talking, commanding, and praying, and so it must be pure and immaculate. In Rome, he had often scoffed at the senators' habit of greeting each other with a kiss. Effete, conniving lot! He much preferred a soldier's straightforward way of greeting, by clasping each other's hand. You greet a person and get the measure of him at the same time.

Geta did some light exercises until it got too hot to move. Daphne didn't come back at lunchtime. He found some cheese and olives and ate them with the last of the bread. It was too hot in the bedroom with its tiny window, so he collapsed on the cot and cooled himself with a fan. The pillow smelled of soapwort, and when he caught himself nuzzling it, he frowned in irritation and flung it away. If the woman didn't see it fit to tell him where she'd gone, then he certainly wouldn't moon after her like some lovesick calf.

When she didn't come back at sunset, his irritation turned to concern. Had there been an emergency in the village? No, he would've heard the bell then. Had she had another run-in with her father?

Geta went out to the top of the path, peering into the twilight. Half of him wanted to look for her, while the other half hesitated, afraid of being seen in the village, afraid of being lost amongst the hills. But if she didn't come back by the next day, he decided, he would have to risk it.

Just as he thought this, a soft bray sounded amongst the rock, and a moment later, Daphne's familiar figure appeared on the path, clad in her usual dark stole, leading the donkey with one hand.

The sight of her sent a great relief through him, and he almost ran down the path to meet her, only he stopped himself in time. It would not do to let her know how much he'd thought of her, how much he'd longed for her. He turned on his heel and returned to the hut, hoping she had not seen him. And thus, when Daphne came in, he was sitting at the table idly examining her jars of herbs and potions, looking for all the world like he'd just had a relaxing day by himself.

"There you are," he said with what he hoped was a cool, uninterested air.

"Are you having trouble with your bowel movements?" Daphne asked.

"What?"

She nodded at the jar he was holding. "That's for softening stools."

Geta reddened and dropped the jar on the table. "I wasn't looking at the jar," he stammered. "I was appraising your penmanship. You still need a lot of practice."

But Daphne was no longer listening. After a quick, frowning glance at him, she unwound her stole and hung it up. He gulped. Underneath she was wearing only a short, sleeveless tunic, loosely belted about her waist. Give her a bow and quiver, and she could pass for the hunting Diana.

No. First Aurora, then Luna, and now Diana? He must stop thinking of her as a goddess. She was nothing. Just a peasant woman.

"You've been to the village?" he asked, for want of something to say.

"Yes. Sorry I'm so late, but I brought dinner."

She unpacked her basket, which contained bread, some grilled meat, and juicy figs, and they sat down to eat. The food was good—it was the first time Geta had had meat and fresh fruits since he came here—but the atmosphere was tense. Their night together stood between them like some enormous thing. It remained lurking for now, but any mention of it would make it spring to life, sucking up the light and air in the room, like a spirit that only came into being when its name was spoken. Neither of them spoke. A heavy silence hung over them.

Several times Geta caught Daphne glancing at him, not with that searching look she'd given him by the cistern, but with sadness and longing. When their eyes met, she quickly looked away again, her cheeks flushed with more than just the heat. He thought of her the night before, not looking at him, her body fluttering under his hands as she guided him to take her clothes off. He thought of her staying away for a whole day, only to come back with a feast—or as close to a feast as she could—for him, and he grinned to himself. She's feeling shy, that's all.

After dinner, Daphne cleared away the plates and brought in the herbs, now as dried as straw. She stood at the table and sorted through them, some to be grounded into decoctions and brews, others tied into bundles. Seated at the doorway of the bedroom, Geta watched her, feasting his eyes on her elegant arms, round shoulders, and shapely calves.

"Come to bed," he called to her. He had quite forgotten his resolve to appear cool and uninterested. He was sure now that Daphne wanted him and was only too shy to act upon it. That husband of hers had died a long time ago; Geta would've gladly bet that he had been an oafish farm boy, unable to give her the true pleasure of marital bliss. Well, Geta was not well versed in marital bliss either, but he knew pleasure, at least his own. He could show her...

"You go to bed," she said without turning around. "I'm busy."

She was the one that sounded cool and uninterested, and doubt crept into his mind. She had been a widow for eight years, and she lived alone, with no male relatives to protect her. Could it be that he had not been the first man since her husband to share her bed? He banished the idea. The way she'd moved the night before wasn't like a woman who had had a lot of experiences. And even if she'd had other lovers, none of them were here, were they? He was.

"I mean, come to bed with me," he said.

"I need to finish up here. And you need your rest."

It wasn't exactly a rejection. She lifted her arm to hang the herbs on the hooks dangling from the rafters. The short hem of the tunic rose, showing a glimpse of her thighs, and he thought he would go mad with want. He got up and walked across the room, slowly, for he was still prone to shortness of breath, until he came up behind her. "Come to bed," he said again. 

She bent over the herbs, patently ignoring him. He reached out and ran the back of his fingers over her arm, his touch light as a feather. Her breath hitched, but she didn't move away. Emboldened, he moved closer, brushed away the tendrils of hair on the nape of her neck, and pressed his nose there. Her very skin seemed to be permeated with the fragrance of soapwort, along with the sweetness of honey and the warm smell of herbs and sunshine, and he breathed in deeply, letting her scent fill his nose until he became quite giddy with it.

Daphne stood still. From the heaving of her shoulders, he could feel her breath coming out in slow, shaky puffs. He moved even closer and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to him, so she could feel how much he wanted her. She leaned back, so his face fitted perfectly into the crook between her neck and her shoulder, and let out a sigh.

When he said "Come to bed" for the third time, she finally turned around to face him.

"Are you married?" she asked.

The question took him by surprise. "Would you not come to bed with me if I am?" he asked.

"Of course."

"That didn't stop you last night," he pointed out.

She blushed a little, looking for a moment so sweet and maidenly that it took all of Geta's willpower not to take her there and then. "That was different," she said.

"How?"

"I didn't know then. I didn't think to ask. I'm asking you now."

"You are aware that I could very well lie to you and you wouldn't know." As I'm already lying to you, he thought.

"Yes. But this gives you a chance to tell the truth. If you did lie, it would be both to me and to your wife. I wouldn't be your knowing accomplice."

Her reasoning was odd, but he couldn't deny that it made a certain amount of sense. And either way, he wouldn't have to lie to her.

"No," he said, relieved to be telling the plain truth for once. "I'm not married."

There had been plans and talks of marriage. But he hadn't paid attention to any of the terrified young girls offered up to him. Though he knew that having an heir would help to secure his throne, he'd been too busy sowing his wild oats, not wanting to be tied up to a wife just yet. And even if he'd had a wife and child, there was no guarantee that they would have been safe from his enemies, so why risk it?

Would Daphne be safe once he was found? He shivered and drew her close, trying to banish such thoughts from his head. She put her arms around him. He undid her belt and tugged at the tunic, pulling it over her head. She let him, giggling quietly as the garment got stuck at her elbows, forcing her to wriggle out of it. After tossing the tunic aside, he buried his nose in her neck again. How smooth her skin was, how soft and cool her body was, as it wrapped around him like the water of the stream that had brought him to her, washing away his dark thoughts. Would that she could wash away his crimes as well...

He tried to pick her up, only he was still too weak. His arms slid from her and his legs crumpled. His face burned up, ashamed at his frailty, but Daphne didn't seem to mind. Smiling, she helped him into the back room, where they collapsed onto the bed.

She drew him down to her, seeking his lips. By reflex, he twisted away from her.

"What's wrong?" she asked, full of concern.

"Nothing," he said, tossing his head to get rid of the gentle hand cradling his jaw. "Just don't do that."

She gazed at him, her green eyes appearing dark gray in the dim room, but he could still see the expression in them—there was curiosity there, and sympathy, and something very close to pity as well. It made him squirm. He, the terror of the barbarians, he who had led the army against the Caledonians, the Alemanni, and the Parthians, he who had plundered the entire city of Alexandria, was now squirming under the gaze of a woman, a near-illiterate peasant. He couldn't have that.

"Turn around," he told her.

Daphne frowned. "What?"

"Turn around. Lie on your belly."

Her eyes widened in understanding. "But I wish to look upon your face," she said.

"I don't. Turn around."

She raised an eyebrow at his gruff tone. "No," she said flatly. "I don't like that."

His embarrassment turned to anger. He seized her arm, gripping it tight, which meant as tight as he could, his hands still not as strong as they used to be. "You will turn around," he said through clenched teeth.

"I will not," she said, her voice hard. "I'm not some camp follower for you to order about. If you can't take no for an answer, then forget this." She pushed him away and got out of bed.

"Get back here!" he shouted.

"Or what?" She whirled around to face him, a cold glint of anger in her eyes. "This is my house! I only let you stay here out of the goodness of my heart. If you try to force me or harm me in any way, I can kill you. It would be much easier than saving you, believe me!" Having uttered that threat, she returned to the front room, leaving him unsettled, unsatisfied.

Damn her. Damn her to Tartarus. He jumped from the bed to chase after her, to press her against the rough mud-brick wall of the hut and show her what happened to those who dared to defy him, but his legs got tangled up in the sheets. By the time he went to the door, Daphne was blocking it on the other side by the bench.

"Open this door," he said.

"Go to Hades!" came Daphne's reply, as she dragged a trunk on the bench.

"Damn you, woman! Am I a child to be locked in my room whenever I misbehave?" His father had used that often, but only when Geta had been very small. Once he was grown enough to cease crying and screaming in the dark—though he never really ceased being afraid of it—his father had moved on to other, more effective forms of punishment.

"I will stop treating you like a child when you stop acting like one!"

Geta pushed at the door. It budged, though only very little, showing him a sliver of the front room. Daphne was standing there with her knife.

"Get back," she said. "Or I'll gut you like a fish." Her face was cold, and the knife glinted in her hand. He had no doubt she meant what she said.

With an enraged scream, Geta threw himself at the door at the same time that Daphne pushed the bench and the trunk back to their place. The door slammed into him with such a force that it knocked the breath clean out of him, and he went sprawling on the floor.

Panting, he picked himself up. His chest was tight again and cold sweat was breaking out on his forehead. He fell back down on the rough linen sheets, trying to catch his breath, raging at his own helplessness.

***

When he managed to fall asleep, he dreamed of his brother.

It started as the same dream of the fiery Phlegethon, the one that had been haunting him since Martialis's attack. The same faceless yet horrifyingly familiar figure rose from the flames of the river and walked toward him across the black sand, while he was pinned to the spot, unable to move, unable to look away. Then the light from the flames shone on the face, and features coalesced and took shape across the slab of skin. Features that Geta knew well. Those of his brother. Caracalla.

He was no longer the ghostly figure of Geta's fevered nightmares, but Caracalla as he had been in life, with his reddish blonde wig, powdered face, and smirking mouth to show off his gold tooth. There had been a time when Geta had looked like that, too, before he changed his image.

Geta had not dreamed of his brother for some time. Back in Rome, he'd dreamed of Caracalla almost nightly. He'd had to rely on poppy juice to ensure a dreamless sleep, though he hated how heavy and sluggish it made him the next day. While marching with his troops, he had purposefully pushed himself to the point of exhaustion, so that when he collapsed into bed, sweet Morpheus would take him in mere heartbeats, leaving no time for dreaming. Ever since he stayed with Daphne, those dreams had stopped, wiped out by the pain of his injuries and physical fatigue. Perhaps Daphne's questions earlier in the evening had brought the memories back, or perhaps his impotent anger had ignited the old rage. Whatever it was, Caracalla appeared in his dream now.

Suddenly Geta found himself able to move. He sprang at Caracalla. His hands were around Caracalla's throat, thumbs on windpipe, squeezing and crushing until Caracalla's eyes bulged and his face turned purple under all the powder and rouge. Caracalla swatted feebly with his arms, unable to push Geta off—

—then it was no longer Caracalla he was strangling, but their mother, and he wasn't strangling her. She was crying and screaming "Why?" over and over, cursing him, sending all the Furies after him, while snot and tears were running down her face. He knew then, that this was a dream, for she hadn't cried at all when he killed Caracalla. He hadn't allowed her to. No one is allowed to mourn a tyrant.

Yet knowing this was a dream did nothing to stop it. The dream continued. And in the dream, his mother slowly advanced upon him, her arms outstretched, and in them was—

—Caracalla again, his eyes blank, his blood-stained lips distorted in a horrible smile. He was dead, quite dead.

—no, he wasn't dead. Because he was whispering, while still smiling that horrible rictus smile, "How does it feel, brother? To be at the receiving end of a knife?" There was a sharp pain between his ribs, and Geta looked down to find the knife embedded in his torso, and it wasn't Caracalla's dead face looking at him, but the face of Martialis, his murderer, twisted in hatred.

He struck at Martialis. His arms got tangled in something, and he was unable to move. They must have captured him, his enemies, and were now torturing him. He struggled against those invisible bonds with a desperate cry.

"Shh," a voice said in his ears. The bonds tightened around him, but somehow they didn't cut into his skin. They were soft, warm, comforting. "Shh, it's all right," the voice continued, and it was soft and warm and comforting as well. "You're all right. I'm here."

Geta fought through the fog of the nightmare and emerged into the waking world. It was someone's arms around him, a woman's. It was a woman's voice speaking to him. Daphne. It was Daphne. She had gotten into bed with him and was now rocking him against her, trying to quiet him.

"You were having a bad dream," she said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with her hand. Her touch was so natural and so reassuring in that very naturalness, as if this was something she did all the time, and he just wanted to sink into that embrace, to forget everything, including himself. "It's all right now."

Her touch cleared the last of the fog from his mind, and he went cold with fear. Had he said something in his dream, something damning, something that gave her a hint of his true identity? No, her manner didn't indicate anything of the sort. Still, he couldn't risk it.

"Leave me," he said, his voice sounding rough and strange even to his own ears. Her arms around him stiffened, but she didn't move. "Go!" he said again, raising his voice.

Without another word, she left the bed and the room, closing the door behind her, leaving only a memory of her soft, cool hand like soothing water over his fevered brow.

Alone again in the dark room, Geta came to a decision. This would not do. It was one thing to rely on Daphne to heal his body; he could even accept relying on her for his sexual needs. But relying on her to soothe his soul, to put his heart into her hands as he'd almost done, was too dangerous. It distracted him. Why, he'd hardly thought about his plan for revenge at all that day, so preoccupied he'd been with her. Before, he'd had no choice but to stay, having been on death's door, but now that he was well—or almost well again—there was no reason to remain. It was time for him to leave.

Chapter 9

Taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92, @justnobodynothingmore, @barcelonaloverf1life, @myotakureprieve, @flawssy-227, @itsrainingbisexualfrogs, @deliciousfestsalad (if you want to be tagged or removed, let me know!)

[genderqueerdykes]

Heyyy so I've very much travelled across several different corners of the queer interwebs and along the way I've seen a lot of different perspectives on controversial topics that have helped me form my own opinions, but theres always been one I never really understood. Is "femboy" offensive?? Like, I've heard from, unfortunately, anyone except trans women that it's offensive to use because of the way it's used against trans woman to misgender them, but I've also heard from a lot of people that people who say that are just chronically online.

It's just bothered me because as a trans guy (one that often gets mistaken to be a trans girl by strangers, might I add) I've been on the end of people using a femboy as an insult by people who know I'm a trans guy and people who thought I was a trans girl and honestly upon further consideration..they're not wrong and I'm perfectly okay with that, but I don't know if it would be a problem to call myself a femboy so I guess I'm just looking for a second opinion. I've heard "rosboy" as an alternative but I think I'd rather punch a wall bare handed than call myself a rosboy, just doesn't feel right.

Sorry if this ask is too rambly or somehow rude :[

i've gotten a few questions about this that i haven't answered due to how divisive people are on this one, but i figured it's probably time to give some feedback on this one since people are. extremely heated about this term. and it's not the hill to die on.

i felt like i didn't have a right to talk about this for a while, but as a transfeminine & transmasculine intersex person, i really need people to understand that queer labels, especially slurs, are way more complicated than that. now i feel like i DO have the right to speak about this, because i actually ended up having to stop being friends with a few people, and even leave my own queer discord server because of this very conversation topic.

believe it or not, this is one of the things that made me fed up with my old server. i was, at the time, friends with someone who kept pushing this narrative and would not stop to listen to anyone who pointed out that this term affects multiple groups of people. at the time, i forced myself to agree with them because they were so adamant, but as time passed i realized it was a bullshit take that was negatively impacting our server members. it is an extremely chronically online take, i agree with you. this mentality was cooked up by people who spend way too much time behind a screen theorizing about hypothetical offended trans people that don't exist.

femboy is an insult and slur that does heavily target trans women, but that does not mean its the only people it's used against. much like how queers other than just gay men qualify as fags in queerphobes' minds, there are many people that they are willing to call effeminate cis men, trans men, intersex people, genderqueer people, and so on femboys. i unfortunately used to hang out with 4channers and i have seen it used to misgender trans women a lot, but i also saw it being used to misgender cis men and trans men, as well. the amount of trans men i was seeing misgendered by this term was 1:1 with the amount of trans women being targeted by it.

it's a strawman argument. who are these hypothetical trans women they're talking about, here? where are they? i'm transfem, and the wild thing to me is, i have a lot of IRL transfem friends and i have never, once, in my life, had the "only transfems can use femboy if anyone else uses it they're transmisogynstic" conversation... ever. like i've literally even had my irl transfem friends ask ME why people are so fucked up over the term femboy. like. my other transfem friends have come to me to ask why people are so riled up over trans men and other queer people using femboy. the very people that folks think are super pissed off have asked me "wait, since when was this a big deal?" of course there will be transfems who believe the term should only be reclaimed by transfems, and i see the logic- but it only makes sense in a vacuum. in practice, the use of the slur is much more varied and complicated.

the thing people don't seem to realize is that someone throwing around a slur does not know how the other person they're targeting identifies. they're not going to sit there and go "oh you're a trans man so i can't call you a femboy. i guess i need to come up with a new insult" like. that is not how slurs work. and i just kinda find it bullshit that for some reason, this one term is special, whereas every other queer slur (save for intersex slurs) can be reclaimed by people of other identities if they're targeted by it. like, for example, butch lesbians, especially butch4butch couples get called fags all the time, and are allowed to reclaim that. why the hell is this one special?

i honestly hate that people forced transmascs to come up with an entirely different word (rosboy) in order to express the basically the exact same identity. honestly all this smacks of is people wanting to shit on trans men and transmascs and police our language. like. the friend i had to part ways with was. really fucking transandrophobic. i actually ended up hating myself for being a trans man for quite a while and tried to stop identifying as one because this person was just. so fucking shitty and rude to the transmascs in our lives, and in the discord server i used to be in. this basically just boils down to people wanting to shit on trans men and finding every excuse to do so. this take was born from people who scrutinize every single little thing trans men do in order to demonize us.

like i do NOT see people getting mad about the idea of an effeminate gay man using femboy... but they always target trans men and tell us we can't use it. why are trans men the ONLY people who are excluded, here? hmm. smells like transandrophobia to me

anyway, you're free to use the term. you shouldn't have to settle for an alternative that feels wrong and doesn't suit you, especially if you've literally been targeted by this slur to misgender you. as a transfeminine person, myself, i don't give a fuck, it's not going to hurt me if you want to reclaim something that you have been targeted by. like. if this is something that you have personally dealt with, you shouldn't have to pretend it didn't happen because some chronically online people decided they make up the rules of the queer community.

this will never be a hill to die on. it's dumb as fuck. it's made up bullshit internet drama that doesn't ever come up outside of internet discourse.

[cienie-isengardu]

Bi-Han & Kenshi

I’m curious - if people think Bi-Han is the scum for breaking centuries old tradition of Lin Kuei’s servitude to Liu Kang and Earthrealm, do they also think Kenshi is a bastard for trying to break out his clan from Yakuza? Both men were raised in clans that supposedly pledged its loyalty to someone - Lin Kuei to Liu Kang/Earthrealm, clan Taira renamed as Takahashi to the Bakuto (Yakuza) and both at some point decided their people deserves better and waged war against their superiors to free their respective clans. 

I’m pretty sure some of fans may be outraged how I could compare Liu Kang to Yakuza but the thing is, so far story mode and tie-in material didn’t show much suggesting Lin Kuei’s relationship with Fire Lord was based on genuine friendship or even mutual respect. There is nothing even remotely close to how Liu Kang addressed Sindel or interacted with Royal Family and his Champions. Bi-Han’s title of Grandmaster is never used by Liu Kang, Tomas is never acknowledged either alongside his brothers (chapter 1) nor as Kuai Liang’s second in command in regard to Shirai Ryu (last chapter). Kuai Liang is not part of the final meeting between Liu Kang and his champions even though he led a major attack on the enemy's forces when Fire Lord was busy with his own task. Literally all story mode the Lin Kuei brothers’ interaction with Liu Kang is about them doing his bidding and nothing more. Considering the implication that

A) Umgadi system was Liu Kang’s own innovation (as stated in Geras vs Tanya intro dialogue) and said system is based on taking away a little girls from their families and indoctrinating them into loyal warriors whose main goal is to uphold Royal Family’s regime over Outworld 

B) Umgadi system and Lin Kuei has a lot pallares to each other, world-building wise

I can see why Bi-Han claims Earthrealm - and by extension Liu Kang, doesn’t deserve his loyalty.

Sindel: With one act, you betrayed two realms. Sub-Zero: Neither deserved my loyalty.

Ironically, from Kenshi and Johnny Cage's talk about history of Taira clan, we can conclude that Kenshi’s forefathers actually benefited from Yakuza, as it was Yakuza that provided them protection when every other noble house wanted them dead:

Johnny: "Four hundred years ago the Taira clan were one of Japan's first families. They lost Sento after getting slaughtered at the Siege of Aomori." Kenshi: "There were survivors. They hid themselves by shedding the name Taira for Takahashi. They joined the Bakuto for its protection." Johnny: The Yakuza's predecessors... From first family to crime family."

What is more, Kenshi’s backstory is not “Yakuza threaten my family and I must act to save them” but he was part of japanese criminal organization (implied by the tattoos on his body) that had a change of heart once he fell in love: 

Scorpion: Who was it that set you on the righteous path? Kenshi: Her name was Suchin.

and who needed to reclaim family ancient sword, Sento, because without it, he did not have full support of his people:

Kenshi (story mode): "I will break us free of the Yakuza's corruption. Reclaim our name and our position. But my clan won't follow me unless I prove that I can lead. That's why I need Sento."

Ironically, at this moment, sources strongly imply Lin Kuei - with exception of Kuai Liang and Tomas - willingly support Bi-Han and the breaking up with Liu Kang/Earthrealm. And like Scorpion suggested in story mode, some members like Sektor and Cyrax would still choose Bi-Han over the him or tradition, even when knowing that Sub-Zero let his own father die. Kenshi, on other hand, needs first to win over his own clan, which may imply that a great number of his family is not willing to either leave the Yakuza or lost its protection.

And sure, we may argue about morality of characters and organizations to which they belonged (Liu Kang’s protectors of Earthrealm and Yakuza), but it won’t change the fact that narrative wise, the story arc of Bi-Han and Kenshi is structurally the same. 

They served someone (Liu Kang/Earthrealm, leaders of Yakuza) to whom their respective clans pledged their loyalty centuries ago until something made them question their life and current political and economic state of their clans. In case of Kenshi, it was Suchin, in case of Bi-Han the reason is unknown yet the growing frustration didn’t come out of nowhere. Both took the first available offer that possibly could advance their cause after the just-meet strangers proved they have means to fulfill their promises (Liu Kang’s showcase of fire power, Shang Tsung presenting Dragon Army). And once they waged the war against their former bosses, none of them is willing to return to things as they were - whatever others approve or not. And as intro dialogues imply, their actions cost people’s lives.

Liu Kang: Your actions cost lives, Bi-Han! Sub-Zero: They were in the Lin Kuei's best interests.

and

Liu Kang: Your war on the underworld is taking innocent lives. Kenshi: Am I to blame for my enemy's wanton violence?

And apparently, both made alliances with people considered as criminal, cruel and/or dangerous to Earthrealm. Like Bi-Han’s alliance with Shang Tsung, General Shao and Nitara while Kenshi, according to intro dialogues, is involved with Black Dragons:

Geras: You have been warned about the Black Dragon. Kenshi: Don't worry. I know what I'm doing.

or

Kenshi: My war on the Yakuza has a new ally. Scorpion: You cannot trust the Black Dragon, Kenshi.

Through intro dialogues, BIO and story mode, we may even notice similar patterns in goals of Bi-Han and Kenshi. As in, them wishing to make their clan independent and finally out of the shadows:

KENSHI:

(story mode): "I will break us free of the Yakuza's corruption. Reclaim our name and our position. 

and

(story mode): "Not dead. Hiding. With Sento in my hands, I'll lead us out of the shadows."

or

BIO: "Once one of ancient Japan's most honored families, the Takahashis were decimated in battle. They lost everything, including the emblem of their power: the revered sword, Sento. Those who survived joined the Bakuto, a predecessor of the Yakuza, for its protection. Five centuries later, Kenshi is raised on the stories of his ancient family's exploits. Detesting his corrupt Yakuza life, he pines to free the Takahashis from the Yakuza's grasp and restore their name. But for his family to follow him, Kenshi must first fight to prove that he can lead. His first battle is to find and retrieve Sento."

Bi-Han

Mortal Kombat 1: "As the Lin Kuei's Grandmaster, Sub-Zero leads his ancient warrior clan in defense of Earthrealm from external threats. For centuries, it has been their solemn task. But Earthrealm hasn't been threatened in generations, and Sub-Zero see no point in limiting his clan to preparing for dangers that may never come. Under his leadership, the Lin Kuei will come out of the shadows and fight for its place as one of Earthrealm's great nations."

and

Sub-Zero: I've gained the Lin Kuei's freedom. Smoke: You've only earned them infamy.

Among other intro dialogues

or

Sub-Zero’s MK1 Ending: "I had broken the Lin Kuei free of Liu Kang's enslavement. We were now masters of our destiny and could take our place among Earthrealm's greatest nations [...]."

Which is why I’m curious - if people judge Bi-Han as “evil” for breaking up with what he considered an enslavement or exploitation of his family and clan, do they see Kenshi in the same light? Or is Kenshi by virtue of siding with Liu Kang the good guy and Sub-Zero is scorned because of his broken relationship with brothers more than anything else?

(Though if to support Bi-Han you need to bash Kuai Liang then please, don’t. If there is one thing that sources proved us about the Lin Kuei brothers is that both are dutiful men who put duty above the bloodties - and sadly their sense of duties isn’t compatible anymore.)

[poisonousquinzel]

we didn't even see Sevika's reaction to Isha dying... she didn't say a damned word since episode 4 from what I remember. like is her being on the council supposed to be a fix all to the shit Piltover's done? It doesn't even look like there's any other Zaunites there it's just her.

Cait and Vi barely even argued before fucking in a prison cell like Caitlyn didn't become a dictator and spent the entire Act 1-2 time skip authorizing and causing terror in the Undercity but there's one comment we saw in the trailer talking about her having Ambessa as her right hand and thats it, as if Caitlyn didn't have anything else to idk apologize for?? Did I miss something??

She smacked Vi with her gun and nearly murdered a child the last time they'd seen each other before episode 6, but nothing of Cait's downward spiral in the first few episodes was addressed outside of just the connection with Ambessa and that was barely! She's a fucking adult and we didn't even hear her say sorry. She doesn't apologize to Vi.

Vi woke up, found out her sister was locked up, fought with her ex who's spent the past like 4 episodes being a full out fascist.

"she wasn't there for my benefit. You didn't trust me to follow through" she says that as if that one dude wouldn't have killed her if Jinx hadn't been there? like baby you wouldn't have followed through because you would be dead!

"can you blame me? How long were you sidled up with that shifty, self serving war pig? She oinked poison in your ear and you just ate it!"

"I know!"

And Caitlyn saying multiple times about not being able to erase our mistakes and good deeds not crossing out our crimes, while just.... going on to not acknowledge the full scope of her own war crimes.

And then after getting locked up by Jinx and being told she's gonna go kill herself in so many words, Vi... acts like that's not what was going on with her? it's not even addressed as an urgent thing it's as if she was just like "no fuck you sis I won't fight for your cause cause I'm an unpredictable rebel" and not implying that she was gonna go off herself.

it's just a moment for Vi to beat herself up more and go on about how Caitlyn was right about how she shouldn't trust Jinx and that she went behind her back, that she chooses wrong every time and that because of her decisions she's lost everyone.

She didn't choose wrong when she stopped Caitlyn from killing Jinx and Isha in episode 3.

but the only response to Vi beating herself up Caitlyn has is to point out she'd moved all the guards to the Hexgates and to say that she's gotten a bit predictable.

and then the sex scene happens. In the jail cell Jinx had spent the entire time skip, one long enough that Vi's hair is grown out, trapped in festering alone thinking about dying.

just wow, what an atmosphere, how romantic

just saw that Amanda has said in a Q&A abt episode 8 that them doing it in the cell was a way of "Vi reclaiming her prison trauma" which is....... a decision. the idea is there but fuck the execution sucked man lmao

VI didn't even react to Ekko being back!

and to have Vi in their ending clip say she's "the dirt under her nails, cupcake. Nothing's gonna clean me out"

what the actual fuck? is that supposed to be cute after all the comments Caitlyn's made about Zaunite being lesser, being animals, saying that it's in her blood? something she doesn't address or grow from or apologize for?

are we supposed to believe that everything that was inflicted on the Undercity by Piltover is just water under the bridge now cause some magic robots fucked shit up for a bit? no acknowledgement of the oppression or using chemical warfare on innocent people or arresting people without cause, or the hundreds of other examples of Piltover lording themselves over the Undercity that happened before the show. The conditions they allowed and thrived off of, the ones that led to Zaun being something needed in the first place.

everything in terms of that foundational conflict feels like it was just completely dropped to focus on the magic plot and Ambessa and it's just... not front lined again. Ambessa did not cause the conditions in Zaun, she made things worse for them, but she wasn't in Piltover for the large majority of this. In the grand scheme of Piltover / Zaun she is an incredibly new player in that fight and came in on the side of the oppressors knowingly and took that to her advantage. Same with Hextech and stuff, this conflict goes so much further back then that and it's wounds cannot be healed by lackluster and minimal effort and a refusal to acknowledge how in the wrong Piltover has been. The pain and suffering caused throughout the decades at the hands of Enforcers, long before Hextech or Ambessa came into the picture.

idk, for me it was just disappointing and a let down ending for a season I was otherwise really enjoying.

[nnight-dances]

...BABY ONE MORE TIME.

pairings: kwon soonyoung x fem!reader tropes: established relationship, drunk soonyoung!!!, teasing, banter, jealousy but it's lighthearted, skinship, some sexual content but not too explicit, idiots in love :] what to expect: There's only one thing you love more than your boyfriend, Kwon Soonyoung. And that was teasing him until you got on his nerves when he's drunk out of his mind. You can't be blamed though, can you? The result is always priceless.

“Baby, is that you?” you call out, stepping outside the bathroom and squint as you struggle to see in the darkness of the bedroom. “Soonyoung?” you ask again.

You’re a second away from freaking yourself out into thinking you’d imagined the voice calling out your name, when a squeak surprises you. There’s rustling and slowly a tall figure rises in the dark. Well, it would’ve been a tall figure if your idiot-shaped boyfriend hadn’t instantly tripped over the carpet in front of the bed where he’d been calling out your name in agony.

You laugh out just as soon as you reach out to switch the lights back on, to finally set your eyes on Soonyoung’s writhing body on the beige carpet. “Babe, they’re attacking me!” he sniffles, tears shining in his eyes. 

Instantly, you’re on your knees and cooing, “Oh, my baby, what happened?” You capture his face in your palms, thumbing away the slight sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. “Who attacked you, huh? Tell me and I’ll bring out the guns!”

For a moment, your boyfriend’s taken aback at your declaration, genuinely sputtering, “You- You have guns?”

You grin cheekily, pulling away to flex your biceps, not caring how stupid you must look posing in the oversized jumper Soonyoung had thrown over you as soon as you’d let slip that it was getting a little too chilly for your liking. “Yeah, ‘m talking about these bad boys.”

Soonyoung looks away with an entertained laugh, propping himself up as he throws you his best heart eyes, “Ahhh, you’re so good to me :( I really don’t deserve you!”

“But you do,” you stop him, palms reclaiming their place on his cheeks and his lips are gathered into a pout in no time. “Anyways, tell me which one of those rascals bothered you this time?”

And by those ‘rascals’ you were referring to the crowd of friends you’d accompanied on a beach trip to celebrate Wonwoo’s birthday, enjoying what felt like the last days of your summer break getting wasted together. So far, it’d been everything you’d needed: light-hearted teasing, lots of drinks, good music and shameless dancing, and now, a clingy Soonyoung. 

Although you probably wouldn’t admit it to him out loud (fearing what he’d do with the information), you love your boyfriend when he’s drunk. Contrary to what Mingyu tells Soonyoung the next morning, you love taking care of him and indulging in his drunken antics. As if a sober Soonyoung wasn’t silly enough for you, the sight of him perched on his knees, diligently confiding in you every single hurtful thing he’s been the victim of– it just made you all soft inside. 

“Gosh, that’s terrible, Soonyoung,” you mumble, brushing a hand through his strands with a hum. He stops mid sentence, mouth twitching and you can almost see the inner conflict he goes through. 

Fine, you’ll admit it, it wasn’t just the taking-care-of-him part that you enjoyed so much. It was also… the teasing. You couldn’t help yourself, honestly, because the sober Soonyoung would probably find a way to up the stakes and get your own ego involved but this inebriated version of him? He was trying so hard to not fall right into trap. 

“Babe, what the fuck.” 

You: 1. Soonyoung: 0.

“Hmm? What the fuck what?” you question innocently, swallowing a giggle. 

“You’re being mean. Again,” his voice cracks a little as he mumbles out the last word and you have to sturdy yourself against the sight of his eyes falling down to his hands. 

But you know better. You’ve been dating Soonyoung for long enough to know he’s been working on mastering the games you play with him. And for a moment, you’re lightheaded, realizing you’re not very sober yourself either but as the sounds of your friends partying outside seeps into the privacy of your shared bedroom, you smirk. 

“Soonyoung, you’re gonna have to do better than that. Explain yourself for me.” In stark contrast to the cold way you’re calling out his full first name is the soft comfort of your tone, all mellow and honeyed. 

His pout is back as he whines, “I’m not that. I’m,” his voice is clipped as he breaks eye contact again, cheeks flushing, “I don’t like it when you call me Soonyoung. At all.”

You breathe out, almost giddy because goddamnit, this man is precious. “Oh, really? And why is that?”

Soonyoung looks back up at you, finally showing you those eyes of his, ears now turning pink. And it’s like the talking stage of your relationship all over again, when Soonyoung would freeze up adorably when you’d peck him on the cheek out of the blue or when he’d sneakily reached out to hold your hand under the covers. Even now, he’s that same shy guy as his fingers find your hand, intertwining them and watching as you let him carefully. 

“Because. I love you. And if we’re dating, the rule is to use nicknames,” when Soonyoung shifts closer to you, you have a moment to wonder if he’s really as drunk as he’s letting on because the spark in his eyes is so intense, “Right, my love?”

Fuck, now you’re flustered. You bite your lip and rack your brain to think of what you could say to that, only to be rudely interrupted by Soonyoung’s arms around you, pulling you into a hug. 

“Soonie?” The name leaves your tongue out of pure habit and you don’t even comprehend you’ve said it until Soonyoung vibrates with a delighted chuckle against you. You feel his lips against your ear, “I love you so much, babe.”

Okay, so maybe he was that drunk, because you’d been half-expecting him to declare that he’d won this self-imagined battle of the wits. But he simply melts into yours arms, pressing loving kisses against your side with you growing redder every passing moment. Helplessly, you press your hands into his back, relishing his warmth. 

You’re about to bring up cuddling as your next plan of action when you see a head pop up behind the door to your room. Seungcheol lets out a loud groan when he spots you tangled around Soonyoung’s limbs, his lips still moving against you despite the intrusion. 

“Fuck you guys for real! Here I was, worrying after you! I thought one of you had slipped and drowned in the ocean while the other was here grieving.” 

“Please tell me you at least suspected Soonie as the one who would be drunk enough to drown?” 

Soonyoung pulls away from you with a gasp, “Y/N!!!!! HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT? I’M YOUR ONLY BOYFRIEND?!!”

His shock only greatens when you join Seungcheol in his amused laughter and soon, he’s standing up (albeit not before he bumps his head against the bed above you). You follow suit quickly, arm around him to steady him, “Soonie, you know I was just–”

“Get your hands off me :( I don’t want to talk to you! Ever!” Your heart lurches a little because he sounds genuinely upset but then you catch a glimpse of the playful pout on his face and you meet Seungcheol’s gaze with a knowing grin. 

“I fear you’ve gone too far this time, comrade,” he remarks with an inappropriate amount of gravity. 

“What punishment do you reckon awaits me?” you cross your arms. Seungcheol hums as if deep in thought and then, “You’re lucky if he lets you talk him into going to bed with you tonight.”

You roll your eyes as you approach the door, fingers brushing the lights back off with a click. 

“You underestimate me.” 

The two you trudge through the sand, with you facing some difficulty thanks to your flimsy sandals and shaky vision. “You’re drunk too, aren’t you?” 

You hate that you can hear the fatherly disappointment in Seungcheol’s voice so you protest, “That’s an unreasonable accusation.” 

“...That’s not what I was asking you.” The rest of your friend group comes into sight now and you’re surprised how fast Soonyoung managed to get away from you. 

“I’m fine,” And then when your eyes land on your boyfriend, you’re quick to add, “At least I’m nowhere as drunk as him.” Seungcheol chuckles and if he makes any further comments, you don’t hear him because your eyes are fixed on the figure of Soonyoung wrapped around Dokyeom like his life depended on it. 

He’d been happily swinging around to the music, a pleased grin plastered to his face until he notices you approaching. Immediately he’s pulling Dokyeom closer, who lets out a terrified groan but protectively steadies the man with a hand on his back. There’s a few other people dancing, with Mingyu pulling an unwilling Wonwoo into an embrace, and a giggly Jeonghan who screams at Seungcheol to hurry up and join them. Sakura is dancing alone while a very red Yunjin watches with a tired smile. You can vaguely make out Jun and Chan crouched near the speakers, possibly fiddling with the playlist that was on. 

Quietly, you join Joshua on the hammock facing the gathered dancing. He shifts to give you some space as he lets out a chuckle, “You have a fight with Soonie? He came in here all pouting and then started clinging to Dokyeom like that. We had to make sure he hadn’t confused Dokyeom with you.”

You laugh, “Not a fight. But I may have teased him a little.”

Joshua lets out a grunt, “God, you’re incorrigible. You never learn, do you?”

Your smile only widens as an idea pops into your head, all while you’re watching your boyfriend lovingly dote on Dokyeom, who he’s feeding a slice of pizza. “How can I, when he’s this fun to mess with? Plus, I don’t get the same reactions out of him when he’s sober.”

“You’re a scary one, man.” Joshua prepares to zone out, probably thinking that’d be the end of your conversation but he frowns when he feels your hand at his elbow. He looks up at you, only to find a spine-chilling evil grin on your face (one that is reminiscent of Soonyoung himself, particularly when he’s accusing Mingyu of being the mafia).

“C’mon, Shua, let’s go dance.”

Joshua groans, “No way! I don’t want to be on Soonyoung’s hit list because I laid a hand on you.” 

“Don’t worry, think of this as doing a favor to him,” you reassure him as you pull him toward the music, bringing his hand to your waist, “And I laid your hand on me.” 

He mutters out one last string of complaints that gets drowned out in the night and you simply chuckle, finally letting the alcohol catch up to your head a little, senses overwhelmed by the loud music.

It's only been over a minute when Joshua goes, “Oh dear, he’s coming this way.”

You only have a moment’s notice before you feel a warm hand at your wrist, forcing you to rip away from Joshua’s hold. “I’m going to kill you,” Soonyoung trains a scowl on the man, a sight that would be more intimidating if he wasn’t slurring half his words. “And you,” his eyes are back on you, hand on wrist tightening.

You raise an eyebrow, “Hm? What’s that, sweet?” As expected, the term of endearment throws Soonyoung who was clearly expecting more of a fight from you. And to make things worse, just as he opens his mouth to speak again, you hear the opening notes of a familiar song playing in the background.

Both of your faces perk up in recognition, slightly comical from a third person perspective. But between the two of you, there’s pure joy when the song starts playing– a song you’d listened to together on repeat for days before. A song you used to mildly like before Soonyoung came around and added to one of your playlists as a recommendation. One day, it’d started playing as the two of you were attempting to bake tiny cupcakes and massively fucking it up. The tensions had been high and you were starting to feel annoyed but when the bluetooth speaker sitting on the kitchen counter played the song, Soonyoung’s frown dissolved into a toothy smile. 

You still have this song, he’d exclaimed and looked at you with eyes full of so much emotion that you could only nod, not having the heart to explain that you hadn’t really had a chance to listen to it fully yet. But it didn’t matter then: you’d found yourself following Soonyoung when he started dancing around, limbs loose and lame, but grin intact. Soon, you had the lyrics memorized better than your own phone number. 

So yeah, when you hear that song now, you can’t help but throw your arms around Soonyoung, wanting nothing more than to feel his heart beat against yours. His strong arms pull you impossibly closer with a satisfied laugh and your heart soars when you feel him singing the song for you in your ear. 

When he slightly goes off-note on one of the high notes though, you pull away with a giggle, “Babe, I’ve told you to lay off the high notes. You’re gonna hurt your throat.” You place a hand on his neck gently. He swallows against your hold. 

“Oh? So now you care if I hurt my throat?” 

You scoff, “You’re mad at me? You’re the one who was slow-dancing with Seokmin like you were a kiss away from marrying each other.” 

“Hey, that’s unfair,” Soonyoung’s fingers creep up your back and under the fabric of his pullover, “I just wanted to make you pay for what you said earlier about… Well, I can’t remember what you said but it wasn’t very nice.” 

You laugh into his chest, finding his face in your hands for the second time that night. Delicately you place a kiss on each of his cheeks, murmuring, “I’m sorry, my tiger, I was just having some fun.” 

You sense a change in Soonyoung’s shoulders at your words, the nickname working wonders when his lips crash into yours clumsily. Your laugh’s lost in the first kiss of many and you can’t find it in you to complain. At one point, you almost topple over because of how much of his weight Soonyoung’s leaning over you. 

“Why don’t we go have some fun back in the room, babe?” Soonyoung’s gaze has long darkened with a small smile. Before you can respond, his arms are around your torso, pulling you into another open-mouthed kiss. This time you hear a disgusted sound by your side. 

It’s Hansol: “Can you guys please go use a room that has a door that has a lock? Please? I’m begging you.” 

If it wasn’t for you pulling away with an apologetic grunt, Soonyoung would’ve kept at it. Now, he throws Hansol a confusing wink and a, “See you tomorrow,” before he’s suddenly pulling you away with him, no doubt in the direction of your room. 

When you pass by a group seated at the hammock, you throw them a rushed wave, “G’night, guys! We’re gonna get some sleep.” Soonyoung’s pulling you too fast for you to hear their responses too well, but distantly you hear a scoff from Seungkwan, “Ten bucks says you’re doing everything but sleeping.” 

A few minutes later, you’re caged against the mattress, a flushed Soonyoung leaving a trail of wet kisses down your body. You mewl against his lips when he returns, “Fuck.”

“Fuck is right,” Soonyoung mumbles into your neck where you’re awaken with a few hickeys tomorrow. When he presses you into his lap, in efforts to mitigate the distance between you, you let out a string of curses when you feel his hard-on press against your shorts. “Shit, Soonie, you’re so hard for me,” you groan, hands helping him get rid of his shirt. 

“I am,” his voice is small and you chuckle as you push down against the pillows. The last thing Soonyoung sees is you straddling, fingers expertly undoing his pants and boxers in a go. “Let me do something about it, baby.” 

–

The next morning, Soonyoung wakes up with a headache of a lifetime, eyelids heavier than rocks when he hauls them open groggily. Even before he’s properly conscious, he’s reaching out for you with an arm to inspect the bed beside him. Much to his displeasure, he feels nothing but the fabric of the sheets surrounding him. 

With a pout, he blinks his eyes open, groaning against the sunlight in the room. As he looks around with a yawn, he calls out for you, “Y/N, my love? Where are you?”

Thankfully, he hears your voice responding from the bathroom, the door to which was half-open. So, Soonyoung drags his hungover ass out of bed, knocking on the door and entering when he hears you say, “Soonie? You awake?”

It looks like you’re freshly showered, running your fingers through your damp hair and a bunch of your skincare and make-up covering the surface of the sink. “Why’re you awake so early?” he whines, instantly wrapping his arms around your waist, chin coming to sit at your shoulder. 

You giggle when he takes a sniff of you with a pleased, “You smell so good, love. You should’ve woken me up earlier. Could’ve showered with you.”

“As much as I would’ve loved to, you were dead asleep,” You meet his eyes in the mirror, “Also, you and I both know that showering with you is impossible. You either end up slipping and hitting your head on the wall or find a way to fuck me.”

He gasps at your accusations but does nothing to deny them, “Okay, well, not my fault you’re hot.” He squeezes your sides as if in emphasis, effectively tickling you. You push him away through the laughter.

“Stop fooling around, babe,” you scold him with a half-serious scowl and hand him his toothbrush, “Go brush and stuff. I’ll go call the others and let them know you’re coming with me to brunch now.” 

“Excuse me???” he screams after you when you quickly disappear out of sight, “Were you seriously going to let me sleep through brunch????”

He chuckles under his breath when he hears your loud laughs across the room, “No!!! I’d have to resort to starving myself to death until you woke up.” 

“You’re such a liar,” Soonyoung tells you, a while later when the two of you are getting ready in comfortable silence. “You know I remember you dancing with Shua last night?”

You simply beam up at him, slipping your hands around him and he welcomes the scent of you. “Really? You remember trying to get into Seokmin’s pants? And then making out with me in front of all our friends? And then pulling me to our bedroom because you could not wait to–”

“All right, all right!! I remember!” Soonyoung exclaims with an embarrassed chuckle, looking away with a blush dusting his cheeks and you think, maybe he’s not so different sober. Then, he distracts you with those eyes of his when he leans in for a kiss. “I love you, by the way,” he reminds you like it might slip your mind. 

You kiss his nose for good measure, “I love you too, Soonyoung. So much.” 

You’re pulling him out the room with a quick yank before he can complain about your use of his government name and he shakes his head knowingly, promising to get you back later. For now, he just kisses your knuckles because when all’s said and done, he’d do anything for you. 

Even if it meant being cast as the character who’d drown themselves accidentally in a drunken stupor. 

ʚ ═══･୨ ꕤ ୧･═══ ɞ ʚ ═══･୨ ʚ ═══･୨ ꕤ

author's note:

OKAY SORRY what if i do love drunk hoshi????!!!!!!??? i am unapologetic about how insane i am for him <3 ... anyways, consider this an official declaration that kwon soonyoung is up there in my bias list, rocking it up with jeonghan and mingyu

speaking of which, someone has got to force me to write a jeonghan fic because i wake up everyday itching to write one but idk what possesses me and i simply cannot :((((( yeah, that's the life update. anyway,,,,

see you, friends and foes

[love2write2626]

Forever In The Shadows of Oz

Summary: Elphaba and Fiyero, no longer fugitives but forever on the run now far away from Oz, live in seclusion, their love unshaken but haunted by loss and sacrifice. Fiyero, transformed into the Scarecrow, hides his struggles behind a smile, while Elphaba obsessively studies the Grimmerie, desperate to undo the spell that altered him. As hope begins to waver, When hope begins to fade, a new spell offers an unexpected opportunity to reclaim what was lost. However, the spell’s outcome is unforeseen—both awaken in their past lives. Now faced with the chance to rewrite history, can they change the past and heal what was once broken?

CHAPTER 2 HERE

Chapter 1

A lot has happened in the past 6 years – it feels like a lifetime. First, I went to Shiz, A dream come true… or so I thought. It was a rough start but then it changed for the better. Getting an Invitation to meet the Wizard, was my lifelong dream, a dream that quickly turned into a nightmare once I learned the truth about The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. He wasn’t wonderful at all he was nothing but a phony. In some ways I am grateful I learned the truth about it, but it led to a long 5 years of being on the run.

In a moment of desperation, tired of running, I returned to the wizard hoping to make amends. Hoping I could convince him to do the right thing… but how wrong I was. He turned out to be worse than I could have ever imagined.

The only good thing that came of that day was him – Fiyero – My Yero. I had secretly had feelings for him when we were at Shiz and part of me hoped he cared for me as well… but I knew it was crazy to even think that way. Why would He want to be with the green bean, it was crazy to think it was even a possibility… until it wasn’t. Until he stood in that room and told everyone he was going with me.

Then came Dorthy – Don’t even get me started on her.

The people of Oz rejoiced when they received the news that a human child had Melted The Wicked Witch of The West. They danced, they sang and cheered. They quickly went on with their lives.

It didn’t hurt when they cheered about my death… the hardest thing was knowing that Fiyero and I will forever be on the run. My heart breaks that… that he is the way he is. It’s my fault. Just like Nessa Rose being unable to walk.

It’s been a year and even though we were able to find a small abandoned cottage far, far, far away from Oz. He says he’s happy, but it breaks my heart into a million pieces every time another attempt to change him fails. The way his face falls only for a second, then he smiles again and pulls me into his arms and whispers

“I love you. I don’t care how I look. As Long As You’re Mine, I’ll always be happy, Scarecrow or not”

I know he is not lying, but it doesn’t stop me from noticing the frustration he faces almost every day when there are things he cannot do.

I cannot tell him that I hear him at night, when he thinks I’m asleep and he talks to me telling me all the things he wishes we could do together. The longing in his voice.

“I wish I could kiss you”

“I wish I could simply hold your hand, and not worry of causing you to get a rash from this damn material”

“I wish I could actually feel you when I hold you in my arms”

“I wish I could make love to you Fae”

I remember the night he had said that and it hit me like a freight train. It terrified me – not because I didn’t want to. But the truth was I never thought I would be in any kind of romantic relationship with anyone so the thought of someone wanting to make love to me is scary. I know Fiyero doesn’t care that my entire body is green. But even with how strong I have had to become I still have my insecurities and doubts.

I sigh deeply, sitting on the ground with the Grimmerie, my fingers tracing over the edges of the book I’ve been studying for the past 6 years… and I still don’t understand anything in it. I wish I could figure out something, something anything to give me answers. But, it seems the words just begin to blur together after a while and I hate to say as the days go on my hope is starting to waver.

“Fae?” I heard Yero call

“In the bedroom” I said back

“Hey” He greeted me, sitting down next to me on the ground

“Where did you go?” I asked

“Went to get you some more firewood… while you were in here ready that dusty old book this poor old scarecrow was dragging wood. Literally” He chuckled. I know he was joking but I looked at the ground

“Oh, Fae. I am sorry I was only kidding. You know I don’t mind being this way” He placed his scratchy hand under my chin and raised it up so I am looking him in the face “I love you so much. I don’t mind being like this”

“Ugh, Yero you keep saying that, but I can see how unhappy you are”

“I’m not unhappy… a little frustrated at times. Never unhappy”

“I should have never let you run off with me. You should have stayed in The Emerald City, married Glinda and”

“Stop!” He said “If I had married Glinda. The I would have been unhappy”

“Fiyero…”

 “Do you know what I thought the moment I met you?”

“Maybe the driver saw green and thought it meant go” I said with a small smile

“I only said that because I was thinking about you in ways I shouldn’t. I was a prince; I had a certain status to keep. So, I always kept my eyes open for women like Glinda… but when I locked eyes with you. Oz Fae, I was already gone. I quickly pushed those thoughts aside because again I’m…. was a prince. It sounds so fucking shallow when I think about it now. If I could re-do it, the day I met you I would have asked you to go with me to the oz dust ballroom… not Galinda. I would have kissed you, and held your hand, and loved you over and over again.”

“Yero” I mumbled

“And I would have never let you get on that oz forsaken train” I walked over and wrapped my arms around him “I love you Fae”

“I love you too Yero my Hero” he chuckled at my nickname for him

“Did you figure anything else out today” He said pointing at the book. I sighed

“I wrote out a new spell… not sure if it will work. Do you want to try it?” he nods and stood up. “Take my hands” I said “I thought maybe physical contact might help” he grabbed them without and hesitation and I took a deep breath before starting the spell.

“Eleka Eleka A Tume Nahmen, A Tum, Eleka Nahmen” I opened my eyes and saw green smoke surrounding us. There was a different feel in the air and suddenly I fell when there was a horrible pain in my chest.

“FAE” I heard Fiyero cry out. He reached for me and then suddenly he collapsed.

“NO” I screamed fighting the feeling in my chest. The burning. I crawled over to him grabbing his hand “Don’t you dare leave me Yero. You can’t” The pain got worse and as hard as I tried I couldn’t fight any longer…

Then the world went black.

CHAPTER 2

[lucky-clover-gazette]

kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 1

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

A hiss of a rock, thrown. Nikandros came up off his knees, drawing his sword. Damen flung out a hand in a motion for halt, stopping Nikandros instantly, his sword showing a half-foot of Akielon steel.

nik. it's a rock. chill the fuck out.

Damianos, prince-killer. His mind, used to battlefield decisions, took in the sweep of the courtyard, and made the commander’s choice: to minimise losses, to limit bloodshed and chaos, and to secure Ravenel. The Veretian guards were beyond his orders, and the Veretian people . . . if these bitter, furious emotions could be soothed among the Veretian people, he was not the one to soothe them. There was only one way to stop what was about to happen, and that was to contain it; to lock it down, to secure this place once and for all. Damen said to Nikandros, ‘Take the fort.’

i like how the book starts immediately with a very clear example of how the status quo has irreversibly changed. damen has no choice but to act as akielion (akielon? whatever) prince/commander, because that’s how everyone sees him now. even if he hasn’t changed at all from how he’d been five minutes ago

Guymar purposefully spat, and for his trouble was backhanded hard across the face with a mailed fist by the Akielon soldier. Damen let it happen, aware of what would have happened if a man had spat on the ground in front of his father.

i think what i said at the end of book 2 holds true here - damen spent prince’s gambit in the romance genre with interruptions from the war/politics genres, but with laurent’s (presumed accidental) outing of him as prince he’s now forced to live in the same world that laurent’s been in for the past two books. like “yep gotta let my former friend and ally get slapped because politics. man if only laurent had known that i was the prince, we could have avoided this :/“

‘We don’t stand together,’ said Guymar. ‘You betrayed our Prince.’ And then, as though he almost couldn’t bear to say it, ‘You had him—’

in all senses of the phrase, laurent very much had damen

Damen said, ‘I made him a promise.’ ‘And when he learns who you are?’ said Jord. ‘When he learns that he is facing Damianos on the field?’ ‘Then he and I meet each other for the first time,’ said Damen. ‘That was also a promise.’

damen reclaiming his princely authority while being so profoundly wrong… embarrassing

He had a sense of holding on, as though if he just held the fort, held these men together long enough to reach Charcy, then what followed— He couldn’t think about what followed, all he could do was keep to his promise.

he is so devoted to laurent that he doesn’t even stop to think that he’s been screwed over. me too damen, as a first-time reader. and even now, on a second read, i'm not sure how much i trust laurent. i've forgotten the intricacies of his plan and i didn't do a close-reading the first time around, so there are certain things i just can't say for sure at this point.

anyway, i actually think d&l have a ton in common in terms of how they express and demonstrate devotion. they both have bleeding hearts, it’s just that laurent’s has had a much longer time to harden. the way he assesses and handles situations is with a detachment he believes is necessary, so he doesn’t lose control, while damen throws himself wholeheartedly into everything he cares about. they have the same fierceness and passion, and while working together they help to balance out their approaches while applying that passion. starting the book out like this, with damen's devotion on full display and laurent's being majorly questioned, is very smart. because they both need to evolve from this point, in order to be good kings and good partners to each other.

like honestly, they both just need to sit the fuck down and tell the truth and accept that they both care about each other and they don’t have to be avoidant freaks about it. not that either of them (mostly laurent, but also damen in a different way) actually wants to do that. and that’s what the first like 1/3 of the book is about, as i recall: their petty divorce drama until they both give in and decide to figure out their shit.

The ghost of his father seemed to prickle over his skin. It was his father’s title, but his father no longer sat on the throne at Ios. Looking at the bowed head of his friend, Damen realised it for the first time. He was no longer the young prince who had roamed the palace halls with Nikandros after a day spent wrestling together on the sawdust. There was no Prince Damianos. The self that he had been striving to return to was gone.

“with real power comes real responsibility, and i don’t want any of that shit” - dennis reynolds, it’s always sunny in philadelphia

Damen took in Nikandros’s familiar, classically Akielon features, his dark hair and brows, his olive face and straight Akielon nose. As children, they had run barefoot together through the palace. When he’d imagined a return to Akielos, he’d imagined greeting Nikandros, embracing him, heedless of the armour, like digging in his fingers and feeling in his fist the earth of his home.

so they've definitely fucked right

Damen thought of the soldiers bursting into his rooms, of being lashed down in the slave baths, of the dark, muffled journey by ship to Vere. He thought of being confined, his face painted, his body drugged and displayed. He thought of opening his eyes in the Veretian palace, and what had happened to him there. ‘You were right about Kastor,’ Damen said. It was all he said.

nice vs. good theme breakthrough!

He heard of his own body, wrapped and taken in the processional through the acropolis, then interred beside his father.

okay so which dead palace employee/slave got to posthumously cosplay as damen’s corpse

He heard Kastor’s claim that he had been killed by his own guard.

copying the regent's homework

To the Kyros of Delpha, Nikandros, from Laurent, Prince of Vere.

"hey girl,"

The letter was old. The writing was old. Laurent must have sent the letter from Arles.

see my previous breakdown from book 2 chapter 21 about how laurent literally failsafed losing the only living person who loves him with this gambit

It made tactical sense, in a horrifying way, for Laurent to have made an alliance with Nikandros. Laurent had always been capable of a kind of ruthless pragmatism. He was able to put emotion aside and do what he had to do to win, with a perfect and nauseating ability to ignore all human feeling.

i mean i think there was feeling there. making the alliance also was a way for laurent to dispose of damen, returning him to his people so the regent couldn’t use him to torture laurent. because at that point i’m not sure if laurent wanted damen dead, but he definitely wanted him gone. and he’d assumed that damen would want that too

In return for aid from Nikandros, the letter said, Laurent would offer proof that Kastor had colluded with the Regent to kill King Theomedes of Akielos.

okay yeah THAT’S GOOD. and it explains how laurent gets himself in his situation in the next chapter, he’s following up on the promise by trying to get the info from govart/guion

The straightforward ease of it left him without words. He had forgotten what home felt like. He had forgotten trust, loyalty, kinship. Friends.

i’m glad nikandros is a real one. but damen please don’t regress so much that you forget straightforwardness and ease =/= truth and loyalty. oh fuck he can’t hear me

‘Your friend [Nikandros, talking about himself] is a fool and courts treason for a keepsake.’

yeah it makes sense that these two are besties

To gain everything and lose everything in the space of a moment. That is the fate of all princes destined for the throne.

this or a kingdom. guess he’ll kingdom

‘Kastor made me a slave. Laurent freed me. He gave me command of his fort and his troops, an act of trust for an Akielon he had no reason to elevate. He doesn’t know who I am.’

oh honey

‘The Prince of Vere freed you,’ said Nikandros. ‘You have been his slave?’ His voice thickened with the words. ‘You have served the Prince of Vere as a slave?’

this isn’t an hr complaint quite yet but it is a “nikandros takes out his phone and bitches on his private twitter moment” moment. which i think should be a tally as well. nikandros private twitter venting moment #1

He knew what they saw—a hundred images of slaves, submitting, bending at the hip, parting their thighs, the casual ease with which these men would have taken slaves in their own households.

back in book 1, when assessing the state of erasmus in torveld’s possession, i recall that damen assumes that veretians think that “there is no honour in submission.” implying that to damen in book 1, and akielons in general, there IS honor in a slave’s submission. but here, when their prince—a person they respect—is revealed to have been made a slave, they definitely don’t perceive it as an honor. so which one is it? whatever submission damen shows/showed laurent is voluntary and honorable by his own moral code. he hasn’t been groomed or brainwashed into submitting his own free will. get on his level or keep your judgment to yourselves, hypocrites

‘Does it shock you? I was a personal gift to the Prince of Vere.’ He had bared his whole forearm. Nikandros turned to Makedon, his voice harsh. ‘You will not speak of this. You will never speak of this outside this room—’ Damen said, ‘No. It can’t be hidden.’ He said it to Makedon.

i think damen can at least subconsciously see the hypocrisy here. and he’s indignant about it >:)

‘You were the Prince’s slave?’ Revulsion was stamped on Makedon’s face, whitening it. ‘Yes.’

'and tbh i’d drop the past tense i had the blacksmith keep this thing on me'

‘You—’ Makedon’s words echoed the unspoken question in Nikandros’s eyes that no man would ever say aloud to his King. Damen’s flush changed in quality. ‘You dare ask that.’ Makedon said, thickly, ‘You are our King. This is an insult to Akielos that cannot be borne.’

and now damen’s piiiiiisssssssed. i think partially because he knows it was the best night of his life and doesn’t want to be shamed for it, lol

‘You will bear it,’ said Damen, holding Makedon’s gaze, ‘as I have borne it. Or do you think yourself above your King?’ Slave, said the resistance in Makedon’s eyes. Makedon certainly had slaves in his own household, and made use of them. What he imagined between Prince and slave stripped it of all the subtleties of surrender. Having been done to his King, it had in some sense been done to him, and his pride revolted at it.

okay yeah damen’s totally ending the institution of slavery once he's king and the gradual development of changing his mind has been both demonstrated effectively and completely earned throughout the past two books. i think this is why some of the cruelest things in book 1 happen to damen in the first place—they had very little to do with the development of his relationship with laurent, and everything to do with this personal arc for damen’s character. moments like this are the payoff to all of that subtle and consistent work. damen’s wake-up call of being treated like a slave and realizing it’s not what he thought, now transferring to his fellow slave-owners like a moral salve (not a typo for slave. like medicine).

The plan he had developed with Laurent was simple,

ARE YOU SURE

Damen’s men were the bait.

damen sees those red flags and just keeps pushing forward

It struck its front hoof on the cobbles, as though seeking to overturn a stone, arching its neck, perhaps sensing, in the manner of all great beasts, that they were on the cusp of war.

do you think damen and laurent’s horses miss each other

But Jord and Huet. Lazar. Scanning their faces, Damen saw who they were. These were the men of the Prince’s Guard, with whom Damen had travelled for months. And there was only one reason why they had been released from confinement. Damen held up a hand, and Jord was allowed through, so that for a moment their horses circled each other. ‘We’ve come to ride with you,’ said Jord. Damen looked at the small clump of blue now gathered before the rows of red in the courtyard. There weren’t many of them, only twenty, and he saw at once that it was Jord who had convinced them, so that they were here, mounted and ready. ‘Then we ride,’ said Damen. ‘For Akielos, and for Vere.’

<3

The uncertain terrain was a valley of doubt, fringed by trees and dangerous slopes.

“the uncertain terrain was a valley of doubt” great line

Damen would never bring men into this kind of disadvantage without a counter plan.

SSFGHYSUDGFYSUDF

If he just did that, just kept to his promise, then after—

now damen’s the one being controlled by his emotions and desperation. oops!

‘If we do that, and your Veretian doesn’t arrive, we’ll all be killed.’ ‘He’ll be here,’ said Damen.

cringe

Laurent had never planned to come. That was what the scout was screaming, right before an arrow took him in the back. ‘This is your Veretian Prince exposed for what he is,’ said Makedon.

so i know that having akielos show up was laurent’s plan, but i forget if laurent had EVER intended to show up at charcy, or if the plan was always to screw damen over. like laurent tells damen that was the plan, after the fact, or at least doesn’t apologize. because he's a petty bitch and mad at damen for lying and doesn't want to talk about the fact that he got tortured. but i still think that laurent could have intended to be there, just with the twist of damen being exposed, if he hadn’t been held up and injured. after all, the akielos allyship plan has been a thing since vere, but the charcy plan was in response to something laurent 100% did not see coming. laurent couldn't have ended the snowball effect of his own gambit by the time he realized he liked and trusted damen, but he could only have planned charcy after they bonded for almost an entire book. they're two different plans, by two slightly different laurents. not that damen can really see that right now.

i don’t know, i always tend to give laurent more grace than he probably deserves. i WANT him to do better than he sometimes does, because he is a character i'm rooting for, and i know that he cares about being honorable in his own messy imperfect way. (me 🤝 damen).

but even if we're just looking at it without any kind of emotional attachment, it simply isn't characteristic of laurent to leave so many of his own people to die, if he can avoid it. so it would make sense for him to at least try to keep his promise of showing up. but then again, when he’s overwhelmed by emotions he does make uncharacteristically stupid choices. and he is pissed at damen, kind of, although i do think he feels much more endeared to him now than he’d been when he sent nikandros the letter from arles. so he must have meant to be there. but then AGAIN, maybe laurent still somehow assumes that damen was just using him as a fuck, especially since damen didn’t tell the truth even when they started having sex. because laurent is an idiot about feelings, and he doesn’t want to see that damen cares, so he convinces himself that damen deserves to be abandoned on the battlefield.

i don't knowwwwww, my heart says one thing and my literary analysis brain tentatively agrees (laurent meant to be there but couldn't make it), but i hate getting things wrong and laurent is a slippery bitch. and again, this is on a SECOND READ. i just don't remember, for sure, if laurent meant to be at charcy. i don't know if it's even ever said, or just meant to be read between the lines. this may seem negligent or shallow, but listen, the first time i read this book was a binge-read. i read it in a night, right after reading a good chunk of prince's gambit in the afternoon. i was paying a lot less attention to the war/plan stuff and just focusing on the dysfunctional gay people. what i didn't realize, in my haste, is that the war/plan stuff adds an entire new dimension to the gay people's dysfunction. which is why i firmly believe that this is a series that needs to be read twice, at least. these are not romance books, they're a fucking psychological experience. they're like an escape room for your brain that just happens to have horny gay people inside.

Damen had no time to think before the situation was on him.

laurent in book 2: “i can’t think”

There was a dark logic to it. Have your slave convince the Akielons to fight. Let your enemies do your fighting for you, the casualties taken by the people you despise, the Regent defeated or weakened, and the armies of Nikandros wiped out.

and if it was laurent of book 1 or early book 2, that would have made perfect sense. but he made the charcy plan at the end of book 2 come onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. it can't be as simple as "laurent fully meant to screw you over," even if he didn't manage to show up as a result of his own plans that nobody else knew about. laurent took two steps forward at the end of book 2, trusting damen enough to emotionally and physically be intimate with him AND making this charcy plan with him. i think it makes sense for him to have taken one step back, in not actually telling damen the full truth about the alliance or laurent's own sidequest that ends up getting him captured and injured, but i just don't think he took TWO entire steps back, by putting damen and his men in a deadly situation with zero intention to help. that's too simple for him, both in an in-universe sense and in a "this is how good storytelling (which pacat can at this point be reasonably trusted to do) works" sense. it has to be something in between, even if damen and laurent assume/claim otherwise.

Damen found himself alongside Jord. ‘If you want to live, ride east.’ White-faced, Jord took one look at his expression and said, ‘He’s not coming.’

jord stays losing

[whumpninja]

This is part one of a two-shot and that’s basically all I know about it. I went into a plot-fueled haze and when I came back to reality I had written this. Enjoy.

Featuring: historical whump, whumper turned whumpee (kind of), held at swordpoint, betrayal, mark of shame, under arrest, pillory, blood, hatred, mentions of execution, stoning, spitting- this isn’t a fun dark comedy piece this is just angst and violence. You know, other kinds of fun!

——————————————————————————

Traitor, Part 1

All he could think was How could this happen to me?

The governor’s son had always seemed like such a wonderful thing to be. Mateo Rivera had never wanted for anything. The entire town respected and feared his family. He had been raised like a prince, with the world at his fingertips.

And it had all fallen down under his feet.

Across the square, several villagers held his parents under arrest. Governor Rivera’s fine scarlet coat, the one he was so proud of, the first thing he had bought when he had become governor, was ruined, the hem ripped and one sleeve nearly torn off. Mateo’s mother Antonia clung to her husband’s arm, her silk skirts dirty and bedraggled.

And Mateo lay in the dust at a stranger’s feet, with the tip of a sword at his throat.

His own sword had landed only a few inches away, but he didn’t make a move for it. He stared up at the man with the sword, the midday sun making him squint.

Mateo remembered him, if only distantly. He didn’t remember the stranger’s name, but he remembered the vicious duel years ago between Governor Rivera and the stranger’s father- a swordfight that the governor had won.

The tables had turned now. Mateo had given it his all, tried his hardest to defeat the newcomer, and he had failed. He had lost.

The townspeople not holding his parents captive stood in a loose, broken ring around the town square, dressed in their festival clothes and what little jewelry they still owned. It had been a festival shortly before, a feast to celebrate Mateo’s birthday. He still wore the beautiful medallion he’d been presented with. He’d danced with Fidelia, and announced his intention to marry her. Everything had been perfect.

And then this stranger had entered, without telling anyone his name, and had stolen her away. Not stolen her- she’d gone willingly, rejecting Mateo for the arms of this unfamiliar man. He’d been angry, and had knocked the stranger’s hat off, revealing his face.

The stranger was the boy his father had exiled to the desert, grown into a man and back from the dead to reclaim the town. He’d fought Governor Rivera first. Mateo’s father was a skilled swordsman, but he was getting old, and he’d been knocked to the ground and divested of his sword. The village women had turned on his mother, dragging both his parents to the edge of the town square and binding them.

So Mateo had challenged the stranger himself. He’d been sure it would go his way- he’d defeat his enemy, free his parents, reclaim Fidelia, and all would go on as it had before.

Oh, how wrong he was.

The stranger stood tall, his hand curled around the hilt of the sword at Mateo’s neck- a sword that had belonged to the man’s father. Mateo didn’t know how he had gotten it. All he knew was that it was poised to cut his throat if he moved. So he didn’t move.

Instead, he looked at the stranger. The man’s jaw was set in determination, the outline of his face hard. But his eyes were uncertain, and Mateo realized: he doesn’t know what to do now.

“Tomás!” A woman’s voice- Fidelia’s. She rushed to them, and the stranger- Mateo remembered his name now, it was Tomás Avila- used his free hand to pull her close against his chest. She clung to him, looking down at Mateo with an expression he couldn’t read. He never had been able to tell what she was thinking.

Tomás turned his head and kissed her, still keeping Mateo at swordpoint. “It’s over,” he announced loudly enough for the villagers to hear. “You’ve lost, Rivera.”

Mateo wasn’t sure whether that was meant for his father or for himself.

The townspeople seemed to pause a moment to let the news sink in. Then they burst into wild cheering, applause- from his spot on the ground Mateo even saw the younger of the de Vea sisters jumping up and down. He had known, of course, that the Riveras were unpopular in the village. But no one had ever been strong enough to challenge them; certainly not to overthrow them. Now, with the governor and his wife under arrest and his son at swordpoint in the dust, they were free to show Mateo’s family just how hated they were. He heard his mother snarl “Peasants!” and saw one of the village women laugh in her face. It made his heart hurt to see the proud Lady Antonia so disrespected.

“What now, Tomás?” one of the townspeople asked. “What do we do with these traitors?”

“You’re the hero of this village,” called another. “Whatever you think is best, we’ll do.”

Governor Rivera scoffed at that. “Some hero. What is he? An ignorant farm boy who happens to know some tricks with a blade.”

“That blade is at your fool son’s throat, governor,” snapped the village priest. “I’d watch my mouth, if I were you.”

“We have rope handy,” suggested one of the farmers. “We could have all three strung up before sundown.”

Mateo saw his mother go pale, though she didn’t let her face change.

Tomás still looked unsure of himself, but at that remark he shook his head. “I am not Governor Rivera,” he said firmly. “There will be justice on the governor and his wife, but not without a fair trial. Is that agreeable to you?”

There was some muttering, but one of the villagers- speaking for them all- said, “We trust you, Tomás”, and the rest murmured their assent.

Tomás nodded. “Good. Then you can take former Governor Rivera and his wife to-“

“Wait a minute!” broke in a storekeeper Mateo had never much liked. “I can wait to watch the ex-governor pay his dues, but the boy tried to steal away Fidelia. He’s drawn your blood, Tomás.” Mateo hadn’t even realized, but there was a gash in Tomás’ arm, leaking darker red onto his crimson sleeve. Fidelia gasped and tore a handkerchief from her dress to hold against the wound. “What about him?” the storekeep continued.

“Yes!” cried one of the women. “Our beautiful Fidelia was nearly forced to be the bride of the governor’s brat. Surely that deserves punishment here and now.”

Mateo resisted the urge to inform the populace that, at least before Tomás had shown his face, Fidelia had seemed quite happy to marry him. He would have been the governor when his father stepped down, and she the governor’s wife. She hadn’t seemed opposed to the idea.

Fidelia stood on her toes to whisper in Tomás’ ear. The young man nodded, and let her go. She stood only a short distance away, her hands planted on her hips and her eyes on her lover.

Tomás’ hand shifted on the sword. His voice changed, became louder, more confident. “Townspeople! The Rivera family has failed you! They had a chance to be good, selfless rulers. Instead they overtaxed you, stole anything of value you possessed, and nearly drove this place into a famine. Were it not for Fidelia’s brave journey into the desert to bring me my father’s sword, this village might have been choked to death in the grip of the Rivera family. They are traitors! And while the former governor and his wife will face their own judgment for their crimes, their son will be marked as a traitor here and now.”

He looked down at Mateo, and now his eyes were as hard as the lines of his face. “Will you struggle?” Tomás asked, half a question and half a warning.

Mateo met his gaze. Held it. “No.”

And he didn’t. He held still as Tomás sliced off his jacket, his shirt, and his new medallion with a single slash of his sword. He held still, gritting his teeth against the pain, as Tomás used the tip of the blade to cut Mateo’s chest- two long, deliberate lines, one horizontal, one vertical, both stinging like fire and drawn deep enough that he knew they would scar. He held still until Tomás bent down, grabbed his arm, and pulled him up. With a flick of Tomás’ wrist, he sent Mateo stumbling out into the circle of people. Mateo’s other hand came up of its own accord to press over the wounds; blood seeped out between his fingertips. It did little good. He knew the entire village could see the bloody T carved into his chest- T for traitor.

Tomás may as well have used a branding iron. Mateo’s face burned with shame. He didn’t dare turn his head to look at his parents; he already knew their reactions. Governor Rivera would have a face wreathed in fury, but for the first time helpless to act on it, unable to lay a finger on the man who had dared humiliate his son. His mother would allow only a scrap of concern to show in the furrow of her brow and the worry in her eyes, but inwardly she would be screaming his name, longing to rush to his side and wrap him in her arms and kiss the injury all better like she had when he was a child.

There would be no making this better. It would scar, just as it was meant to. He would wear a traitor’s mark for the rest of his life.

And from the looks on the faces of the townspeople, that might not be very long.

“What about Fidelia’s honor?” cried another of the women. How many friends did she have? “This snake would have married her!”

They made him sound like some sort of monster, rather than the wealthy and reasonably handsome son of the governor.

Well.

Wealthy, no longer- most of his family’s money had come from the taxes on the people. They would likely take all that back and more.

Handsome, not anymore- not with the mark of a traitor carved into his chest. At the very least it hadn’t been cut into his face, but the symbol was still going to be difficult to conceal. And everyone would know what it meant with one look.

Son of the governor- Governor Rivera no longer was the governor, deposed by a farm boy with a sword.

Mateo had nothing left.

“Tomás spilled the traitor’s blood as payment for the cut on his arm,” called another farmer. “Fidelia, you were the one humiliated by the proposal. The punishment should be decided by you.”

Fidelia looked startled. “Me?”

“Who has the governor and his family hurt the most, if not you and Tomás?” That was the first woman again, the wife of one of the farmers. She spoke almost gently, but her eyes glittered with the chance at revenge. Mateo didn’t remember what for. His father’s fist had come down heavy on all the villagers at one time or another.

Fidelia wet her lips. Mateo knew that gesture. She did it when she was nervous. “I- I trust Tomás’ judgment,” she said, blushing scarlet.

Tomás nodded, his face still set hard like a wooden carving. “The governor and his wife,” he said, and Mateo saw his eyes go straight to Governor Rivera. “Take them to the town jail. If there’s anyone locked up there, release them.”

Neither Governor Rivera or Lady Antonia protested when the villagers, some shoving and some dragging, forced them in the direction of the marketplace. Tomás took Mateo’s other arm and pinned both behind his back, keeping a firm grip but not twisting them or pushing him. He just guided his prisoner in the direction everyone else had gone. Mateo, for his part, kept his head down. His gaze kept straying to the cuts on his chest. They had stopped bleeding so heavily, although sluggish trickles of red still stained his skin.

I must be in some state of shock. He was too well-brought-up to rage and scream at the villagers for what they had stood by and watched be done to him. But he would have expected to feel more anger about it. All he felt was a numb resignation. The balance of power had shifted, him and his family no longer on the highest scale. Anger would be useless. All he could do was wait for whatever else they chose to do to him.

The marketplace was only a short distance from the town square. Beside the church stood the jail- a squat, square clay building with a heavy wooden door. Mateo caught a glimpse of his parents as several villagers roughly escorted them inside. His father had a reddening ring around his eye, and blood trickled from his nose into his greying mustache. His silver-streaked brown hair had fallen out of its careful knot, spilling over the shoulders of his ruined coat.

His mother had fared little better. Her hair had nearly been pulled out of its neat twist at the back of her head. There was a mark on her face that suggested one of the village women had slapped her. Mateo didn’t know which one had dared strike the Lady Antonia, but the very thought of it made him want to scream. A tear glistened on his mother’s cheek, and the way she caught his eyes made him realize that it was for him, not for herself. And then she was pushed through the low doorway and he couldn’t see her anymore.

Distantly Mateo realized that he wasn’t being shoved forward to join his parents in one of the dim, bare cells. It was not a relief. All it did was fill him with apprehension toward whatever was coming next.

Fidelia tossed a glance and a nod to Tomás, hopping in a swirl of skirts onto the raised wooden platform between the jail and the church. Tomás’ grip tightened, just a bit, on Mateo’s wrists, and he gave him a little shove forward.

Mateo didn’t put the pieces together until they were at the edge of the stairs at the side of the platform. Governor Rivera had never been terribly fond of using the jail. He had always preferred the punishments he handed down to the villagers be public. The wooden platform had been deliberately placed in the marketplace- the busiest part of the town. There had been a gallows on top of it once, way back in the town’s history, but at some point it had fallen down and no one had bothered to put it back up.

That suited the governor just fine, because the pillory still stood.

Mateo realized what was happening before they reached the top of the platform. Tomás kept careful hold of his wrists as if he thought Mateo would try to run. I am a Rivera. We do not run from difficult situations. The words in his head sounded scornful, proud. But he couldn’t deny that his hands were shaking, just a little.

If Tomás noticed the trembling, he said nothing about it, and some traitorous little part of Mateo was almost grateful for that. Tomás seemed as though all he wanted was to finish with Mateo so he could return to Fidelia’s side, and the festival the villagers would doubtlessly turn into a celebration of their hero’s return. A stab of betrayal hit Mateo’s heart at that thought, like his new traitor’s mark but on the inside of his skin. This was supposed to be my birthday festival, not a feast for some outlaw.

But what could he do about it? He was helpless, both his parents and himself trapped in the town that had turned on them in moments. His parents, behind bars in the village jail. Himself…

Tomás pushed him again, not hard, just enough to get him moving. It was a few steps to the pillory, but it somehow felt like miles. Fidelia had already unlatched the hinged boards. Mateo hated that she was going to watch. He loved her, even if she preferred her ridiculous outlaw over him. He didn’t want her to see him like this.

The villagers stood below, already shouting and jeering. They’d never done that when it was one of their own. His father had even had to post guards to make sure no one released whatever unfortunate farmer had crossed the governor’s path. Mateo doubted there would be anyone trying to set him free.

They’d reached the thing now. He couldn’t read the look on Fidelia’s face, and he couldn’t see Tomás’ behind him, but the firm grip on his wrists and Fidelia’s cold eyes told him everything he needed to know. He stared into those eyes. Had he really once thought them kind?

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Rivera,” came Tomás’ low warning, and Mateo realized that he had stiffened his spine against what was coming. He’d done it unconsciously, out of pure instinct, and it took tremendous effort to make his bones unlock from their rigid position. He allowed Tomás to bend him forward, fitting his neck into the place carved out for it.

Tomás kept a hand on his back, letting go of first one wrist and then the other, as if he thought Mateo would try to break loose even now. Mateo breathed deeply and tried to focus on something, anything, other than what was happening.

Tomás stepped away, one hand still on Mateo’s back, and it was Fidelia who closed the other board down on him and latched it into place. The rough wood was uncomfortable, but not terribly so- what was uncomfortable was the stooped position he was trapped in. He could either look at the wooden planks beneath his feet, or raise his eyes to look at the crowd below.

Judging from the laughter and shouted insults he heard, Mateo was better off looking at the boards. His cheeks burned hot with shame and anger- but there was also an odd feeling of resignation.

“Mateo,” said Fidelia, and he turned as best he could to look at her, hoping that perhaps she’d changed her mind-

She spat in his face.

Mateo stood stock-still, staring at her in disbelief. For a moment Fidelia looked stricken, as if she herself couldn’t believe what she’d just done. Then she tossed her head proudly and leapt off the platform in a storm of red skirts. Tomás caught her in his arms and met her with a kiss, and the villagers cheered them riotously as he carried her off.

Traitor, Mateo thought viciously. Traitors all. But thinking that only reminded him of the mark on his chest.

He shifted his feet, wincing as the motion scraped his neck against the rough wood. This would not be a pleasant experience. But it could have been worse. He’d heard that it had once been considered entertainment to pelt a criminal standing in the pillory with rotten fruit and vegetables. But the famine in the village had ensured that the townsfolk wouldn’t want to waste their precious few crops on him. He had escaped that aspect of the punishment at the very least.

Mateo lifted his eyes as far as he could without also lifting his head, and saw one of the farmers bend down to the dust. When the man straightened up again, his hand was curled around a rock.

The sun was hammering down hard, but Mateo felt himself go cold regardless.

The stone struck his cheek, and it was sharp enough to cut. Mateo flinched, and the unyielding boards wrenched his neck cruelly in consequence. The farmer was laughing; Mateo could hear him. He dropped his eyes again, not wanting to see if someone else was picking up another stone.

He kept his gaze on the boards at his feet, and watched the blood from the wounds on his face and chest fall, drop by scarlet drop, onto the sun-bleached wood.

All he could think was How could this happen to me?

[cedarbranch]

something that i find interesting re: murder family dynamics is that i think abigail is the only one who would actually prefer using ranged weapons. will's pretty well established his distaste for guns lmao and hannibal is hannibal but i don't think abigail has their desires for intimacy or creativity... what she wants is agency. power. she told will that it felt good to kill nick boyle because she was ending it all. she told him she wanted to kill her father for what he did to those girls, and what he did to her - vengeance, essentially, for his violence and how he tainted her with it. helplessness is an integral part of abigail's character: we see it play out in her interactions with freddie, with hannibal, even with will to an extent. she feels helpless and she will do anything not to be.

the only other thing she wants so badly is to not be like her father - so i think she'd want her kills to be invisible. anonymous, neat. like lightning striking someone down. she will no longer play the lure for her dad: she will be the killer instead, and she will never be seen coming. but she won't kill like him either- she'll fire from a distance and avoid getting her hands dirty, avoid feeling love for a victim the way he did. it's easier to be detached when you can't feel the heat of a body. so where will finds power in proximity to death, in literally taking it into his hands, abigail finds power in distance from it. she can take a life without warning or acknowledgement of their humanity. it's an intense, heady sort of power, the ultimate form of control over herself and others - her way of playing god.

imo this is only reinforced by how we only ever see her using knives under duress in canon. three instances come to mind... 1) gutting the deer (at which point she is clearly thinking about her father doing the same to girls like her, in horror and disgust). 2) nick boyle (an unintentional, messy death, another moment of helplessness in violence rather than power). and 3) her father's corpse. (that one is about reclaiming agency, but i feel like it's even more about releasing her father's influence - it'd be the final time she'd use a knife, not one she'd want to repeat).

in conclusion: abigail's a distance killer. Give Her A Rifle. and introduce her to chiyoh, please.