#like worse off than i described within this chapter even

[kifu]

On her way down the hallway, Rogue heard the front door to the mansion open. Remy’s voice, laced in surprise, greeted the guest. Curiosity getting the better of her, Rogue ambled down the hall to the balcony over the entryway. A young woman, around the same age as the high schoolers that all resided there, shivered before Remy. She wore long sleeves and pants, but no coat. Her blonde hair was done up in braids, but it somehow added to a fearsome air rather than young.

“Dis where you been hidin’ out an’ avoidin’ responsibility, eh?” the woman asked Remy. Her accent nearly matched Remy’s, but it was much thicker. Rogue had to strain her ears and concentrate to make out the words.

“Should’a known one’a yas was gonna find me sooner den later,” Remy replied with resign. Rogue blinked. Suddenly, his accent that she already had a difficult time understanding at times, was just as thick as the guest. He shrugged his coat off his back and wrapped it over the blonde’s shoulders, leaving the sleeves dangle at her sides. “Ya must be cold. Whatchoo t’inkin’, comin’ up nort’ wit’out no coat, ma chere?”

“Came ta get you, sot,” the blonde scoffed. She stepped forward, inches away from him, angling her face to his. “Dat gonna be a problem?”

Remy stared at her, refusing to relinquish his ground. “I ain’ doin’ it, Belle.”

Her expression immediately flashed to one of anger, though it whisked by in an instant. The next thing Rogue knew, her mouth was on Remy’s. She kissed him with furious passion, and Rogue was certain that he kissed back. Rogue threw herself to the floor, her back against the banister. She shoved her fist against her mouth to quiet herself, and then leaned over to continue watching through the balusters.

In the short time Rogue worked through her crisis, the woman had pushed Remy back, slamming his back into the nearby wall. She gripped his wrists and held them tightly against the surface. Remy’s coat remained perched precariously on her shoulders. “I t’ought you love me, Remy,” she mewled. She pressed herself against him, her lips brushing against his face as she spoke. Rogue could barely hear her words.

Either she had some unseen super strength, or Remy didn’t care to fight back against her. His chest rose in a deep breath, and then he let it out in a strong heave. “I can’ keep doin’ it no more. It all a ploy doomed t’ fail. I go back, da bot’a us only gonna have more targets on our backs. Our guilds, dey meant ta stay sep’rate.”

“I ain’ afraid, mon amour. T’gether, I know we make it work. You fight like an assassin an’ you’ll have me by your side.” Rogue’s brows knitted together. She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually seen Remy fight. What did she mean that he fought like an assassin? That sounded like a terrible thing.

“I not afraid, either,” Remy rumbled. “I tired.”

“Dat why you ran away?”

“I di’n’t - ” Remy pursed his lips and held a tight breath. “I left ‘cuz’a somet’in’ completely dif’rent.”

“Like what?” the woman demanded.

Remy’s eyes finally slid away from her and any fight he had left in his posture disappeared. “Needed help. Mah mutant powers, I coul’n’t control dem. Found someone dat could help. Turns out, dat came at a … steep cost.” Rogue leaned into the spindles hard enough to hurt. He had enough history with this woman to be more open with her than anyone else around the mansion. Than with Rogue. How could Remy say that he was serious about them when he seemed to keep everything from her?

“What dat gotta do wit’ N’awleans?”

“Da cost brought me a job – up ‘round here in Nawy’rk.”

“Den why d’in’t ya come back?” she asked with mounting frustration.

Remy didn’t answer, but his breathing became more ragged. Rogue realized in the entire time she knew him, she’d never seen Remy in distress. Even when situations could have called for panic, he managed to stay cool and level-headed.

“Remy?” the blond prompted tersely.

His name was enough to snap him back to regain control of himself. “I join up here,” Remy said noncommittally. While this entire exchange was making Rogue realize that she hardly knew Remy at all, she did understand him enough to know that this was … a lie. Rogue wasn’t sure why, especially since it ultimately did end up being truth, but joining the X-Men was not the reason Remy stayed in New York. She believed him that he didn’t want to go back to his home in New Orleans, but obviously things were a lot more complicated than he made it out to be when he first explained his disappearances.

“So ya jus’ drop everyt’in’ ya had goin’ for ya un’er Jean-Luc. Ya abandon him an’ me. Our marriage an’ da union ‘tween da t’ieves an’ da assassins. An’ you what? Decide ya ain’t t’ief no more? Dat ya better’n us?” Rogue pressed her fist back against her mouth, processioning the accent-garbled words she’d just heard. Marriage? That assassin word again – and thief? Rogue understood none of it. He was married? Tears tickled her chin before she realized she’d begun to cry.

“Nah, ya got it wrong,” Remy sighed. “I ain’t fit da be da prince’a t’ieves. I ain’t Jean-Luc’s protege. I jus’ le Diable Blanc from da streets. I gone back t’ help Jean-Luc here’n den, but I tellin’ ya da plans our guilds had t’ unite ain’t gonna work.” When the majority of the X-Men told Rogue that Remy was sketchy, she didn’t think they’d meant it so literally. Remy as a thief explained so much, but Rogue couldn’t comprehend the extent of it all.

The woman snorted and finally released Remy’s wrists, but she didn’t step back to unpin him from the wall by proxy. “He got plans t’ disown ya or somet’in’? What ain’t ya tellin’ me?”

“Ain’t important,” Remy said with dangerous conviction. “But no. Jean-Luc don’ know. He want me back. Him’n Henri jus’ short’a beggin’ me t’ stay e’ry time I down der, but … ma chere, ma amour, it ain’t home no more.” Rogue’s heart skipped a beat, jarring her entirely. She’d caught the pet name earlier, but he called most girls ��chere”. He was adding possessives with this lady. She was his love? His wife? He really was playing Rogue like a fiddle and she was bending to his every move.

“Da hell it ain’t, Remy LeBeau!” the woman snarled. “We ruled da streets’a N’awleans as kids, an’ we’ll rule da un’erground as rightful guildmasters, cher.”

“Bella Donna, enough,” Remy said, his tone back to level reason. “Da t’ieves, I know dey all stan’ behind me an’ follow me if I ask, but dat ain’t da life I lookin’ for.”

“Why not?” Bella Donna demanded.

“Je t’aime toujours, ma amour,” Remy replied dismissively. “But I beggin’ ya t’ leave dis ‘lone. Me an’ da t’ieves, we been workin’ t’ings out - ”

“It ain’t workin’, Remy,” Bella Donna cut in firmly. “We know da stupid li’l plans you been concoctin’ wit’ Jean-Luc, but short’a you comin’ home, da assassins guild gonna kill your entire family.”

Remy’s posture broke, his head smacking against the wall behind him. Rogue wiped the tears from her eyes and stared at him intently. “Okay,” he said softly after a lengthy pause.

“Okay?” Bella Donna echoed crossly.

“I go home wit’ you. I don’ need der blood on my hands.”

“An’ me? I ain’t somet’in’ in dis?”

Remy peeled himself away from the wall and grabbed her hands in his own. “Ma amoure, don’ you go believin’ somet’in’ silly like dat, hmm? I love you since da day we met an’ stole candy from dat shop owner.” His face was so close to hers, that Rogue felt hot fury burn away the wetness of the tears off her cheeks. He wasn’t the one to initiate the next kiss, but he didn’t push Bella Donna away when she kissed him again.

Rogue had seen enough. She rolled off the banister spindles and crawled back to the hallway she’d come from. She stood once she was sure she was out of eyesight. The tears came freely again, angry sobs threatening to betray her eavesdropping.

“I gotta tell someone I leavin’ first,” she heard Remy say. This came more clearly and loudly to her ears than any of the other bayou words out of their mouths.

“What for?” Bella Donna asked.

“I promised,” Remy explained simply.

“Oh, so dis personal an’ not professional, hein?”

“Yeah. Dis one is.”

He was coming for Rogue, Rogue realized. He’d promised her specifically that he’d make sure to tell her that he was leaving for home when the occasion arose.

She tore down the hall, masking her footsteps as best as she could in her haste. Hiccups interrupted her muffled cries as fury swirled heavily in her chest. He’d been leading Rogue on all along, but he had the audacity to continue playing pretend for when he came back? He’d lied and charmed her the entire time he’d known her. She was a game to him. And for what? He couldn’t touch her. Rogue couldn’t fathom why her, of all people. There was nothing she could give him. Bella Donna was a much better fit.

[waywardsalt]

beating back my own ambitions like look i have a hard enough time reigning in my own ideas dont be pulling this shit

[hellfirenacht]

Crit Happens: Session 1

Fic Summary: You are who’s Dustin’s favorite cousin from out of town who is staying with him for the summer. Eddie finds himself jealous as he’s suddenly been pushed aside as Dustin’s favorite dungeon master. When Dustin insists that Eddie join the campaign, you and Eddie quickly butt heads about how Dungeons and Dragons should be played.

Chapter Summary: You arrive in Hawkins and prepare yourself to start your campaign.

5.1k words

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, Rivals to Lovers, rival dungeon masters, eventual smut, satanic panic, advanced dungeons and dragons, Henderson!Reader, Reader is Dustin’s favorite cousin, no use of y/n, reader is not described, smut in later chapters

Master List (0 1)

Session 1: Stronghold and Followers 

June, 1986

The closer you got to Indiana, the worse the heat got. In the passenger seat beside you, there were a half dozen water bottles sitting empty, as well as a few wrappers of the various snacks that you had picked up from gas stations on your long drive into Hawkins. You spent half the drive cursing yourself for not getting the a/c fixed earlier, your usual guys going on vacation right when you decided to suck it up to spend the money. Go figure. 

It was twilight now, and there was a hazy purple over the horizon as you passed the WELCOME TO HAWKINS sign. Your radio turned to static, having lost whatever signal you had found for that last stretch of the drive and you reached out to fiddle with the dial to find something to listen to that was loud enough to drown out the sound of the wind rushing through your rolled down windows. 

KISS blasted through your speakers after a moment of messing around, the tail end of “I Was Made For Loving You” giving you the push you needed to get to the Henderson house. 

The street lights turned on as you pulled into the quiet neighborhood and a sense of nostalgia washed over you. For two weeks a year from the time you were in 2nd grade up until your last few years of high school, you’d spend time here with Dustin and his friends, playing D&D and riding bikes. His mom had always welcomed you like a daughter, even though you weren’t even related by blood, your mom having remarried when you were barely three years old.

You turned down the radio as you picked out the old house and pulled into the driveway. The yellow lights illuminating the house from within were a stark contrast to the fading light in the sky, and you saw a shadow rush past the window. You peeled yourself off the seat, and stepped out of the car, wondering how it was now cooler outside rather than inside. 

Your name was called from the porch and you saw Dustin running at you and pulling you into a hug. You grunted and laughed. 

“Who in the fresh hell are you?!” you demanded as Dustin pulled back. He was so much taller now, and you saw a hint of metal in his mouth that showed that his teeth were finally growing in. His hair was also longer, the spiral curls nearly reaching his shoulders. 

“You smell like fresh hell!” Dustin said, scrunching his nose. 

“Oh, do I?” you asked and wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him into a headlock. “Do I? Do I really stink? Am I breaking the illusion that girls smell like roses and unicorns all the time?” 

“Jesus, get off of me!” Dustin cackled as he pushed you off. 

“That’s not my name, but on Friday you can call me ‘God’.” you smirked, ruffling his hair. “It’s good to see you again. Now help me get my shit out of the car.” 

It didn’t take long for you two to drag your suitcases and duffle bags into the spare room. It was stale, but nothing that a cracked window and a fan couldn’t fix. 

“Are you staying for the summer or are you moving in completely?” Dustin asked, dropping an oversized tupperware of clothes on the carpeted floor with a heavy thunk. 

“Most of this isn’t my stuff. It’s for my job. They decided instead of paying to have things shipped they can just shove all the costumes in with me on my drive up.” you said, pushing the clothes to a corner of the room. 

“Couldn’t it have stayed in the car then?” Dustin asked. 

“No, don’t wanna risk damage in the heat.”

Without the boxes of costumes, your personal belongings added up to one suitcase, two duffle bags, and a backpack. You unzipped one of the bags and went digging through the mess to find your toiletries. You were going to need at least three showers after that drive. 

Dustin hopped on your bed and watched you unpack. “Everyone’s really excited for the campaign.”

“Yeah?” you smiled as you tossed the toiletry bag on the dresser. “I spent an afternoon on those tickets, so they better remember to bring them.” 

“We almost stapled Mikes’ ticket to his character sheet so he wouldn’t lose it.” 

“Good because I worked too damn hard on this campaign for you all to derail it before it even starts.” You said firmly. “There will be consequences if they don’t remember the ticket.” 

Dustin shifted on your bed and he started picking at the pilling on the pillow next to him. “And what happens if someone doesn’t have a ticket?” 

“Nice try kid, I’m not sharing anything with you.” you snorted, shoving your clothes in the dresser.  

“Not even a hint?” 

“Nope, instead I should be giving you false information for being related to me. You’re lucky I don’t automatically give you disadvantage on all of your rolls just for knowing me, you nepo.” Your box of D&D items was pulled out of the duffel and placed on the bed next to him. 

“That’s not fair!” 

“I know, which is why I’m not doing it. Aren’t I such a benevolent dungeon master?” You bat your eyelashes at him. “Now is there an actual game shop here that I can get minis from? Otherwise you guys are gonna be battling old Sorry! pieces and maybe the Monopoly dog if I need a boss figure.” 

“The closest one is a town over.” Dustin sighed. 

“Damn. Well, I’ll make due for the first session.”

“I can ask Mike or Will if they can loan you some figures.” 

“And that’s why you’re my favorite cousin.” 

“I’m your only cousin” 

“Details.” 

The rest of the evening was filled with catching up with Dustin, having dinner and finally taking a cold shower after a long day of driving. You were a long way from home, but at least you were somewhere familiar. 

It was almost midnight when you finally laid down for the night, the radio beside you was quietly playing some jazz station. The clean sheets felt like heaven against your skin, but it was still a different bed than usual. 

You stared at the popcorn ceiling, making up constellations in the bumps as you pushed away thoughts of your old D&D party. How everything imploded, and you had jumped at the opportunity to run away with your tail between your legs the second this job opportunity popped up. 

It’ll be different this time. You told yourself. It’s Dustin and his friends. Just a couple of kids who just want to play a game, just like you.

As the quiet sounds of the radio lulled you off, there was a small voice in the back of your head that whispered. 

‘Everyone’s confused why you want to go, anyway-’

With your new job not starting for another week, that gave you plenty of time to get ready for the first session. With the tickets you had sent out a few weeks ago, you’d also send all your players a rundown of what this campaign would be about, and what you expected of them at the table, as well as any house rules. Ideally, you preferred to talk about all of that in person but you wanted to jump right into the game as fast as possible. 

Maybe the faster you started the game, the more you’d like it again. 

When you originally called to ask if the Henderson’s would be willing to host you for the summer when this opportunity popped up, Dungeons and Dragons was the last thing on your mind. It had been a few months since the night that everything had fallen apart, but the wounds were no less healed. But then Dustin had hopped on the line and had gone on and on about Hellfire Club and how he missed playing with you and how amazing his new dungeon master was. 

You weren’t sure if it was jealousy or spite that made you offer to run a campaign again for the kids. Maybe you missed being the one to run games, maybe you missed the idea of seeing people consistently, maybe you were just insane and were looking to still hurt. But you ran your mouth and spent the next few days in a nest of comics, Bradbury books, and B movies and emerged with a campaign about a haunted carnival to run. 

You threw yourself into planning the campaign, focusing everything solely on work and this. Nothing else mattered other than getting as far away as possible, be it in reality or fantasy. 

Friday night rolled around, and Dustin grumbled as you kicked him out of his own home. Your aunt had book club tonight, and that gave you time to spend the day getting ready for the first session. 

The living room was decorated with streamers and balloons in neon greens and dark purples. Your old boom box was playing a tape of distorted carnival music, amplified by the busted left speaker. The afternoon was spent cooking up hotdogs and popcorn and other assorted carnival foods to stay on theme. 

To top it off, you rummaged through the boxes of costumes that you had brought and pulled out a ringmasters coat and top hat. 

Go big, or go home. 

And you were a long way from home. 

It was just past 7 when you heard the familiar laughter of Dustin and his friends outside as they all pulled up into the driveway on their bikes. You took a deep breath, and straightened your coat out. 

Almost none of the voices you heard outside sounded familiar, except Dustin's and you had to remind yourself that you really hadn’t seen these kids since they were in middle school. Damn, it really had been a long time since you’d been back here. 

You made your way over to the door and opened it with a flourish before they could let themselves in. 

“Welcome gentlemen to the circus of the strange, the sideshow of the sinister and the theater of the bizarre!” You said dramatically, bowing as you ushered them in. You could see that Dustin couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed or enjoying you hamming it up in front of Mike, Lucas, and Will. 

“Enter a realm of dark wonders to indulge your wickedest dreams. Or, if you dare, explore the shadows of your most diabolical nightmares.” You continued, leading them into the kitchen where you pointed to the food you had made that day. Your hard work for the day was worth it, just to see how Will and Lucas looked around at the decorations that you had put up for the evening.

“Cast your eyes upon cruel the oddities of nature and behold monstrous creatures from the depths of the abyss. Marvel with awe and dismay at unbelievable death-defying acts that teeter on the very brink of doom. Leave the mundane world behind, for those who visit this festival of phantasms are never the same again... Step this way... there is no turning back!” 

The end of your speech was met with laughter and applause. If Dustin had landed on ‘embarrassed’ with your monologue he decided that being fed was worth the show. 

“You really set all this up this afternoon?” he asked, grabbing a handful of popcorn. 

“In a manner of speaking. I’ve been planning this for weeks, setting up was the easy part.” you explained before turning back to his friends. “Why the fuck are you all the way up there, Will?” 

Will laughed, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Growth spurt about a year ago.” 

“God, you’re all tall now.” you said. “How dare you. You’re supposed to stay exactly the same as you were in my memories. Small and in middle school.” 

“We’re going to be sophomores in the fall.” Mike pointed out. 

“Illegal. Not allowed.” you shook your head. “Try again.” 

Your nerves were calming down now that your party was here and being fed. You had overmade the spread for the night, but that just meant that there’d be leftovers for lunch later. As the five of you caught up in the kitchen, you felt yourself relaxing and excited to start the game. You didn’t have to impress them, they knew what to expect with you as the dungeon master. You’d already told them what you expected for this campaign in your notes that you had sent. 

But there was a part of you that wanted to impress them. The small voice in the back of your head that kept whispering that if you ran this campaign well enough, then maybe- well, you weren’t sure what. It wouldn’t change what happened with your last party, but you’d feel better.

Right?

This wasn’t going to be like before. These were good kids, who wouldn’t bring any drama to the table. 

You were going to be okay. 

Once everyone had their fill, you ushered them to the table, where you had set up the game. 

“Before you take your seats, I’ll need to see your tickets.” you said with a wide grin, putting on your best ringleader's voice. “You do have tickets, correct?”

There was a scramble as the boys pulled out the tickets you had worked so hard on to present them to you. 

Lucas was the first to hand his over and you took it, ripped it in half and handed it back, offering him a seat at the table. It pained you to tear up your work, but the look on their faces was worth it. When he took his seat, you reached into a small bag that you had set in the middle of the table and handed over a small set of brand new dice. 

“Holy shit.” Lucas immediately dumped them out and picked up the D20. The dice were purple and green, a custom job from the only person from your last party that you still talked to. 

“Not bad, huh?” you said, feeling proud of the way he looked at his new prize. “I thought they fit the theme of the game.”

Will was next, followed by Mike. Each ticket was ripped and handed back to the boys and you directed them on where to sit. Each ticket came with a brand new set of dice, and the excitement of seeing the boys with their new toys added a bandaid to your bruised heart. 

Then it was Dustin’s turn. 

You looked at him.

He looked at you. 

You held out your hand. “Ticket, please.” 

Dustin laughed nervously. “So, about that...”

“Dustin, you live here!” you gasped, but your smile only grew wider. “You have no ticket? You lost it?!” Despite your scolding, you were giggling maniacally with glee. “My money was on Mike for losing his ticket.”

“Hey!”

“I didn’t lose it!” Dustin said defensively, glaring at his friends who were snickering at him. “I just- I might have uh...”

You clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, there is good news and bad news.” you said. “The good news is that you will still be allowed to play, and you will eventually get your set of dice.”

“And the bad news....?”

“All in good time, Dusty.” you said, and pushed him to his seat. “But no new dice for you. Not yet.” 

Dustin groaned as you made your way to your seat. Your dm screen wasn’t anything especially interesting or fancy, just a few folders taped together with a composition notebook filled with notes for your campaign. 

Just as you started to set the scene, Dustin spoke up. “Wait I- I need to use the bathroom.”

Everyone groaned and looked at Dustin.

“Seriously? You couldn’t go five minutes ago?” Lucas asked. 

“I didn’t need to before!” Dustin got up and quickly ran out of the room and you sighed and paused the music, rewinding it to start over. 

You looked at the clock and took a deep breath. This was fine, he had just thrown you off before you could really start. When Dustin got back, you could just start over and be fine. 

As your party talked amongst themselves, you noticed headlights pulling up outside. That was weird, your aunt wasn’t supposed to be back for at least another hour or two. You heard someone walk up to the door and ring the doorbell. 

Well, that couldn’t be Dustin’s mom. She wouldn’t need to knock for her own home. You got up from the table and started towards the door. 

“I GOT IT I GOT IT I GOT IT I GOT IT!!!” Dustin yelled as he barrelled down the hallway to the living room. 

“What...?” You looked at Dustin confused before opening the door.

You turned to see the person who your cousin was staring at like a deer in the headlights, and for a brief moment, your face mirrored his in a rare moment of family resemblance. 

In the backlight of the porch, you swore for three seconds that Van Halen himself had shown up at the Henderson residence. The man on your porch had long wavy hair and a fringe that almost fell into his round doe eyes. The Dio shirt hung loosely over his frame, and the denim vest on top of that made his shoulders look broad and sturdy. 

He was gorgeous.

You blinked and finally realized that you were staring like a creep. 

“Hi....?” You said. “Can I help you...?”

“Eddie!” Dustin said, which was suddenly echoed by your party as everyone suddenly got up from the table to greet this person. 

Eddie... wait, was this...?

“You made it!” Dustin said. 

“Dude, you invited Eddie to play? Why didn’t you say anything?” Will asked. 

“Yes, Dustin, why didn’t you say anything?” You asked, looking at your cousin as you were all but shoved out of the way as the boys invited Eddie in. You could handle adding an extra player, sure, but Dustin hadn’t warned you about inviting anyone at all, let alone his oh so talented dungeon master from school. 

After spending so much time setting everything up, you weren’t feeling thrilled about the wrench in your evening. 

Dustin looked at you sheepishly, and looked between you and Eddie. By his expression, he hadn’t been warned that you were unaware that he was coming either. 

And now, here you were, surrounded by children who all expected you to allow their old dungeon master to play. A dungeon master who, by all accounts, took the rules seriously. 

Eddie, reached into his pocket and pulled out the ticket that you had crafted for Dustin. 

“Hi, I uh, have a ticket.” he said waving it. 

You snatched the ticket out of his hand, a bit harder than you meant to. It wasn’t his fault, but this did annoy you. 

You looked over the ticket, pretending to examine it, as if trying to decide if it was real or not before looking up at him. 

“And who are you?” you asked. 

“Eddie.” he said, crossing his arms and looking you up and down. 

“No.”

“No?”

“Who are you?” you asked again slower, waving the ticket in the same way that he had. 

You could feel everyone’s eyes on you and Eddie, and despite the anxiety roaring in your stomach you held your ground as you sized him up. It would be a lot easier if he wasn’t taller than you and genuinely looked intimidating. You had never seen such intense brown eyes before.

He seemed to understand what you were asking. “My name is Eddie, and I’m a level five bard who heard about a carnival in town that might be stealing souls. I’ve come to take a look for myself.”

Shit. That was a good answer. 

You offered your name and ripped the ticket in half, handing it back to him. For a split second he looked shocked, and then hurt before you stepped aside and motioned to your table. He looked even more like Van Halen when he smiled at you. 

“So, Henderson, you didn’t warn the dungeon master you were adding a new body to the table?” Eddie asked. 

“It slipped my mind.” Dustin said, looking at you nervously. 

“Oh did it?” you asked. Moving behind your flimsy screen. “So you gave away your ticket and invited someone without asking. You must really be wanting your character to be targeted, huh? Go get the guest a chair.” 

Dustin returned a moment later with an extra chair and everyone adjusted themselves to fit around the small table. It was already cramped before, as it wasn’t like Dustin and his mom needed a lot of space, but now it was nearly shoulder to shoulder. 

You made a mental note to try and find a bigger table for games, or maybe a different place to host. All this set up had just been planned for this one session. You didn’t think you’d have the time when you started up with the job. 

Now, with no more distractions you turned the music back on and took a deep breath. Alright, Dustin didn’t have a ticket. You had planned for that, hoped for that even. Having an extra person at the table wasn’t a big deal either, you had people come in and out of games all the time. You breathed out any annoyance you had for the surprise. It wasn’t like it was Eddie’s fault that you hadn’t been warned and he came prepared with a character and a simple back story. 

With all eyes on you, you set the stage for the campaign. You set them all in a small village where everyone, except Dustin, had been sent an invitation to a carnival. It didn’t take long for the party to realize that the tickets were magic and probably a little bit cursed. 

“As agents of the Department of Occult Research, or DOOR, magic like this isn’t new to you.” you explained. 

“So, we’re some sort of government research department?” Eddie asked, fiddling with one of his dice. “Huh, that’s not exactly the usual fantasy setting I’m used to.”

“If Dustin had tried to do you any favors, he would have also given you the notes about what to expect with this game.” you said, shooting Dustin a look. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fun.” Lucas said, looking over at Eddie. “We’ve played with her before.”

“I want to ask around to see if anyone knows anything about this carnival.” Will said before the conversation became more derailed. 

You guided everyone through the town, allowing them to talk to NPCs and gather information about this mysterious carnival. Once darkness had settled over the village, you took your time describing as a fog rolled into the town and the villagers boarded up their windows and doors. 

Those with tickets were able to enter the fairground easily, but Dustin’s character needed to sneak in, and almost died in the process. It was a nice little bit of karma. 

You described the Midway and gave everyone the chance to play games, and unlock the mystery of the carnival. Once you got into the groove of storytelling, you were finally starting to relax. 

Well, until Will wanted to cast a spell. 

You grabbed your notes and flipped through the handbook to look at the spell in question. “Alright, roll for me.” you said. 

Will dropped the dice on the table. “That’s... 17.”

“Modifiers?” 

He shook his head. 

“Perfect, you manage to cast the spell successfully and-”

“Wait, what about the components?” Eddie asked, messing with his D4. 

You looked over your haphazard DM screen. “What about them?”

Eddie didn’t even look at you, choosing to direct his attention to Will, which kind of pissed you off. “Do you have the components for that spell?” He asked. 

You took a deep breath and tried to remind yourself that Dustin hadn’t given him the rundown of your house rules. Still, you weren’t thrilled how he had ignored you to talk to Will. 

“I don’t run the components rule, Eddie.” you said, saying his name a bit louder to get his attention. He looked at you now as you stood up from behind your screen. “Did anyone bring a copy of the notes I sent?”

When no one had, you sighed and flipped through your notebook that was holding every piece of information about your campaign. Wincing internally, you grabbed the pages that you had carefully written out your house rules and ripped the two pages out. 

“Since Dustin did you a disservice and didn’t give you any warning at all about this, here are the rules we’re playing by.” you said, as he took the pages, his eyes scanning your chicken scratch handwriting. He looked confused as he read everything over, but you just wanted to get back to the game. 

The rest of the evening went by as successfully as you could have hoped. You led the party through a house of mirrors where they fought an evil clown and retrieved more clues about the mysterious carnival. It wasn’t everything you had wanted to do with the session, but with how rusty you were, you weren’t going to complain. 

“Alright, and I’m done.” you said after describing how Lucas had taken down the clown, turning it to dust. “We’ll pick this back up next week.” 

You stood up and stretched, as everyone started gathering their things. Looking at the clock, you had a little bit of time to start cleaning up before your aunt got home. Take down decorations, pack up food, do dishes, and go over notes for next week while it was still fresh. Simple. 

“So, are you coming back next week?” you asked Eddie. Despite the minor hiccups, Eddie had been a passionate player, and had no trouble getting into character. There was that minor issue where he seemed to struggle with the idea that these kids were in your party now. You didn’t hold it against him. You just kept reminding yourself that Eddie had been their DM for almost a year, was clearly more experienced than you were, and the kids did have a strong bond with him. You hadn’t been in town for years and were just getting back on your feet. 

It was fine. Not anyone’s fault. 

Maybe Dustin’s. 

“Do I need another ticket?” Eddie asked, grabbing his dice. 

You shook your head with a small smile. “If I gave you one, would you give it to someone else?” you asked, eyeing Dustin who just groaned. 

“If I did, I’d warn you that I was subbing someone in.” Eddie grabbed the top of Dustin’s head and shook it. 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Dustin said. “I got caught up in everything and forgot!”

“Don’t worry, one day I’ll forgive you and you’ll earn your shiny new dice set.” you teased. 

Grumbling something under his breath, he and his friends grabbed their things and started packing up their backpacks to head home. 

“The rest of the campaign will probably happen on Wednesdays or Thursdays.” you said, grabbing a piece of scrap paper and jotting down the number to the Henderson home. He might have already had the number, but you had no way to know that. Plus, with you spending the rest of the summer here, you weren’t exactly wanting to spend every moment of your free time hanging out with a group of kids that couldn’t drink or drive. Eddie would at least be an age appropriate friend. 

Okay yeah, and he was really fucking attractive and you wanted to give your number to a cute boy. Could anyone really blame you for that? Sure, there had been some points during the game where you and him and butt heads a little, but you were sure that since he had your house rules it would go smoother next week. 

Eddie took the paper and put it in his jacket pocket. “And should I dress up next week to match?” he asked, glancing up at your hat. 

In all the stress and excitement, you had actually forgotten that you were meeting this person dressed up in a cheap Ring Leader costume that had been made specifically for entertaining the children. Blood rushed to your face and you crossed your arms pretending that you weren’t feeling just a tad bit embarrassed. 

“By all means, dress up.” you said with a shrug. “I’m very generous with my players for being creative. I’m not above giving out inspiration to those who impress me. Or bribe me.”  

You liked the way Eddie grinned at you, and there was a look in his eyes that said that he was up to any challenge you’d throw at him. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“I told you I should have brought my robe and wizard hat!” you heard Will say to Mike. 

“Shut up, it would have been dorky!” Mike responded. 

“Do you two not see what she’s wearing right now? If there was a time for you to let yourself be a dork then it would be with her campaign.” Lucas added with a shake of his head. 

“I can hear you all, you know.” You said loudly. “Keep it up and I’ll start making it personal during the game.”

“Dude, let’s go before we piss her off.” Mike said, practically pushing Will and Lucas out the door, Dustin following behind to see his friends off. 

“I’ll take that as my cue to leave.” Eddie said, offering his hand. “Not bad for a first session.”

“Thanks.” you took his hand, and his handshake was surprisingly strong. He wasn’t trying to crush your hand or anything, but you could feel how firm it was. 

With a promise to call you to find out when the next session would be, Eddie turned and left. You followed out to the porch, watching as his van pulled out of the driveway and disappeared down the street. 

Fuck, you were exhausted now. You had forgotten how much mental work went into running the game. You figured you had just enough energy to clean up before passing out and sleeping until noon. 

By the time you finally made it to your bed, you felt braindead. The past few days were catching up to you now. In such a short time you had made the long drive to Hawkins, set up in a new room far from home, realized that the kids you knew were no longer kids, and might have made a new friend. 

That night, your dreams were filled with thoughts of fighting against evil clowns with Eddie Van Halen while Will criticized your battle outfit. 

a/n: I really should be working on the ending to Wing Man, but instead I worked on this lol.

Also, this is Chapter One but there was a prologue posted in the Master List.

No tag list yet but if anyone wants one let me know, or follow the story on AO3.

I'll fix any mistakes in post when I haven't been up since 6 am for work lol

[xreaderbooks]

All I breathe (2)

Pair: Azriel x Vanserra Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: language, violence, mentions of abuse, trauma, and torture

Summary: Could a mission to Y/n’s childhood home, the Autumn Court, spark a friendship between the night courts spymaster and the newest emissary? Or will they let their hatred come between, what could be, a strong bond?

A/N: I made Nuan from ACOWAR heavily OC in this, I haven't read the books in so long so please forgive any reference mistakes. I haven't read ACOSF either so keep that in mind, I did try to do my research for storyline purposes when it comes to the first 4 books. I also do not know how to describe dresses very well lol. Send me a message or comment if you want to be tagged in future parts.

Also available on Wattpad and AO3

Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

An Illyrian bastard! you could not stand him. He was a contemptuous brute as you knew most Illyrians were. Cassian and Rhysand were just fine, if only he turned out more like his brothers. Although the comment the former had made had you reeling. In no world do you see yourself sharing a bed with the Shadowsinger. What was worse was knowing the days to come were going to be filled with hours of what had just occurred. In the safety of your room, you had released the flames that begged for freedom, letting them kindle on your hands, careful not to get too close to the furniture.

The power you and your twin had shared assuming it had come from your mother's distant bloodline. Your mother was another factor that you had thought of constantly during your stay at this new court. While you dealt with your own struggles mentally, you and Lucien had a better life here in Velaris, you were free from all the males who once dominated your life. You couldn’t say the same for your poor mother. She was the one person you looked forward to seeing.

“He’s not right you know?” A smooth casual familiar voice echoed from behind you. Your power jolted, letting out a blast of controlled flames in your hands.

“I could have burned you, you idiot!” You shoved your brother away from you once you recovered from the shock.

“No, you really couldn’t have.” He chuckled. There Lucien stood a few feet behind you, he just left yesterday morning, there was no reason for him to be back so early.

“What are you doing here anyway?” You crossed your arms and shuffled closer to your bed, sitting on the edge.

“I heard Rhysand gave you a tough assignment, with an even tougher partner.”

“Do not call him my partner and he’s weaker than any of you give him credit for,” You snarked back.

Lucien put his hands up in surrender, “Relax I’m just here to ease the tension.”

“Like you ever,” You glared at him playfully.

“He has a way of making you tense so easily, Sister.” Lucien sits beside you on the edge of the end of your bed. “Despite your hatred for him, you need to place your trust in him fully while you’re there.”

“Why can’t you come with me?” You put on your best puppy dog-like pleading eyes, Lucien stopped falling for it once you both came to an age where life was not so easily bought by a sweet smile or those perfect doe eyes you were able to mimic.

“I would if I could, I have business elsewhere” He ruffled your hair pushing your head away lightly when you scowled at him. “Important business in the mortal realms of all places.”

“Oh please, you can feign annoyance all you want but you’ve found an interest there.”

“I don’t have much keeping me here anyway Y/n, better to keep busy.” A sad disposition had formed within him whenever he was near Elain, he couldn’t do more than he was already doing to make Elain comfortable around him.

The words stung, and suddenly the statement Azriel made didn’t seem so far off the truth. You knew you could make yourself useful enough to be of value but what did any of that mean when your own twin couldn’t find your company worthy. Obviously, he did have places to go and people to meet but you did too and if he ever needed you, you would drop everything to be there for him. The scar on your left cheek was a testament to that.

You sat there side-by-side for a couple of minutes, enjoying each other's company in silence. Lucien tapped your knee twice before declaring he walk you out before your journey. He wrapped a loose arm around your shoulders, “I will be here when you get back.” He squeezed you into his side.

Reaching the last step Azriel was there waiting for you, he gave Lucien a nod before looking away to give you and your brother privacy. You squeezed his middle, “You better.”

He gave you a kiss on your forehead, “Stay safe, sister.”

“Goodbye brother,” You whispered back to him before he disappeared into thin air. Cassian came out of the kitchen and nodded for you to come to him.

Once in the kitchen Cassian peeked out of the door and spoke in a hushed tone, “Listen, I know it’s gonna be hard but the only way this plan will work is if you both find a way to set aside your differences and learn how to communicate.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair giving him an exasperated look, you thought he was going to give you some advice or something more useful than a lecture. “Unlike him, I believe I can be civilized. Besides we’re about to have plenty of bonding time.”

You caught him wince at the word bonding, “Let’s hope so.”

“Was that it?” You asked. Cassian hummed in response and with a finger flicked your head up by your chin.

“Remember Y/n, don’t hesitate. Hesitate and you're dead.” The same advice he gave you throughout training, a feat you had consistent trouble with; hesitation. You were decent, despite being out of shape with the lack of training and with what little you knew of combat. Illyrian training was different than what you were used to but it was better and you learned enough to be of use if you were needed. Maybe a little clumsy and lacked some confidence in your skills but in a life-or-death situation you expected your survival instincts would kick in.

He guided you to where Azriel was sitting on the couch, fiddling with his knife.

~~~

Winnowing to the dawn court went smoothly. You and Azriel winnowed separately, neither of you willing to touch each other, opting to travel alone rather than conserve energy to save time. The first big jump had you stopping for a break at the Day Court, you felt your power falter, the surge of fire from earlier draining you a little. The law of your power, where one of your powers is strong the others weaken.

You stopped by a lake for water, careful of your surroundings. A quick minute stop and when you had winnowed away to the point on the other side of the border where you knew to meet Azriel, he had given you an earful.

“Where were you?” His tone was nothing short of accusatory.

“I felt like I needed a short break so I stopped for some water,” You spoke casually so as not to alarm the always-on-edge spymaster. It took a toll on your patience but you needed him to be calm.

His eyes were narrow as he stared you down, “Where?”

“Near Day Court border Azriel, Where else?”

“Specifically where did you stop for water?” He pushed, “Shocking there were no sentries nearby.”

“I assure you whatever your mind conjured up about my whereabouts, is not true.”

“I just find it curious how you were not intercepted,” He crossed his arms and tilted his head “unless there is something that you’re not telling me.”

You were beginning to feel anxious by his interrogation, you didn’t have anything to hide but this felt familiar in the ways your brothers would question you after a night out or worse when you were on your little missions for them. Tamlin would do the same, jealous even though you knew he never truly loved you. Even when he had Feyre.

“I told you all there is to know,” You grit your teeth. “We’re wasting time on this useless topic when we would have been at Dawn already.”

“I don’t trust you.” He begins to walk in the direction of the border of the Dawn Court.

“Oh really?” Your voice is frivolous as you follow him, “I hadn’t gathered that. I can feel your shadows, they are not as obscure as you think they are. Even so, I have nothing to prove to you Shadowsinger.”

His jaw clenches, “You somehow have fooled everyone in my court that you are innocent but I will find a way to break you Firewielder.”

“And you will fail,” You stop walking when you step in front of him, blocking his way. “You think of me as some villain Azriel when I am just someone who is trying to get by in whatever way, whatever place I can. That is all I have been trying to do, all I have ever done. Gods, if your High Lady could forgive me, why can’t you?”

“You have caused my High Lady enough harm,” He says simply and starts to walk again but you block his path. “You do not deserve the forgiveness, Rhysand and Feyre have so graciously granted you.”

“I have paid for my sins just as I’m sure you have and will continue to do so, I do not need a constant reminder of my fuckups any more than you do.” Your words were like venom, you may not know all of what the Shadowsinger was made of but the whispers throughout the world of what he does to people, rumor or no- you knew would haunt him til the end of his days. “You are no better than I am Spymaster, you should do well to remember that next time you sink that knife into someone’s flesh.”

An astonished look featured on his chiseled face, you’d wager no one but his brothers dared to speak to him in such a way. You weren’t one to speak so flippantly, but Azriel brought out a side of you that you had to admit you reveled in. You hadn’t felt as strong as when you let all your anger out on him. Your brothers, your father, and Tamlin had made you cower into yourself so much so that you didn’t dare argue. Azriel lit a fire within you that fueled you to shed the weaker parts of your soul and fight back.

~~~

You were within the walls of the Dawn Court castle only minutes after your discussion with Azriel. Not a word was spoken after you said your peace, you stood next to each other with a generous amount of space between you as you waited for someone to attend to you at the front steps of the palace.

A friendly face appeared from behind the doors urging you both to come inside, the healer of the Dawn Court was a long-time friend of yours. You hadn’t seen or spoken to her in years yet her countenance was still the same. She hugged you in greeting and gave the Shadowsinger a nod.

“The High Lord is otherwise engaged unfortunately but he sends his regards and me of course,” Nuan clutched your arm that was already looped around hers. “I’ll be showing you to your rooms.”

“Thank you,” You smiled. Azriel repeated what you had said and followed close behind you. She guides you through a series of hallways with large pillars framing the view of the mountains.

“It’s not a problem, though I do ask that you join me for dinner tonight.” She pauses in front of a door, she’s still holding your arm so you assume this is Azriels room. “Both of you, it’ll be at that restaurant in town that we used to go to Y/n, you know the one.”

You nodded with pursed lips, “Yes, I do but I’m sure Azriel has other ideas on how he’d like to spend his night.” You tried to hint at her to leave him alone, you needed a break from him and his attitude.

“I’ll be there.” Was all Azriel said before bowing his head at her and closing himself in his room for the night.

Nuan raised her brows at you with a slightly agape mouth, dragging you through the long corridor lined with near-opalescent golden stone pillars. Once she had shown you your room a couple of doors down from Azriels, she shut the door behind her. “I had to give you this room so that I can talk to you without him hearing, Cauldron that male is astonishingly gorgeous.”

You snorted, “For a bat.”

She placed her hands on her hips, “Now I know damn well you have taste, Y/n and I know that you wholeheartedly agree with me.”

“I might have once upon a time, I’ve changed.” You smirked and strolled around the room, taking it all in. Your room had a balcony overlooking one of the many gardens, you would have chosen to stay at the Dawn Court if given the opportunity.

“Surely not because of the husband!” Nuan gasped. She reminded you of the one you were fake married to, Fae cannot lie but when one is desperate, the loopholes you find are wild.

You raised an eyebrow at her dramatics, “No, of course not.”

She walked toward you and reached out with her mechanical hand tracing the scar on your face, “Do you think he is that superficial? I have seen the scars on his hands Y/n, he is beautiful but not completely unmarred.”

“I forget how forward you are Nu,” You stepped out of her reach. “Have you heard the news of the faebane? It’s traveling all across the lands, the reason why we’re here.”

She nodded grimly, “Yes, I have heard but my information is limited. And you’re deflecting but that’s no matter, we shall continue that topic at dinner.”

“For an alchemist, you sure do like to gossip.” You teased, “You should seek out Azriel before dinner to discuss the faebane situation.”

“Why do you think I’m friends with an emissary? you make the most pleasant company for gossip.” She reached for the door handle and slipped out of the room.

~~~

You forgot how free-flowing Dawn Court fashion is, as you dressed you felt yourself grow self-conscious. The dress exposed your thighs, arms, and stomach with shibari-like knots around the torso and neck with layered sheer nude material covering. A huge difference from what you were wearing before. You reminded yourself of the fact that the fae of the Dawn Court were not judgmental people and they made dresses like this for all shapes and sizes and they saw every being as radiant. They were peaceful and kind and as you walked into the restaurant, you and Nuan had found one night, Azriel was sitting there in conversation with the dark-haired beauty.

Her dress was similar to yours, and her upturned eyes and olive-toned skin were complimented by the lavender color she was wearing. Azriel was talking intently, the loud chattering of everyone around you clouded your ability to hear what he was saying. Nuan was right, he was gorgeous. Beautiful in a way you could not compare to a male or female, he was otherwordly.

You scolded yourself mentally, as beautiful as he may be, his personality was not. His calculated, smooth-toned, encapsulating speech- your mind wandered again. You could not catch a break from him. Mentally or physically and you were sick of it. With a huff, you lifted the hem of your dress so that it would not catch onto your heel and strutted over to the table where Azriel was out of his chair and holding it out for you to take his place.

In the time you took to admire him from the entrance, you failed to see that they were sitting at a table for two. There was room for two more but you’d have to steal a chair from another table and he had given his chair to you. Your eyes flickered from the chair to him and hesitantly took a seat, he tucked you into the table, and you didn’t miss the way Nuan’s lips turned up on one side.

He pulled up a chair and sat. A Cheshire grin spread upon Nuan’s face, immediately nerves took over you.

“Now that we’re done exchanging information,” She nodded once to Azriel and directed her attention to you. “Y/n about that husband, how is he?”

Your jaw ticked, “I wouldn’t know, I don’t speak to him.”

She hummed, “Interesting. And your brother is he well?”

“Yes, he is, though I suspect you know that considering he visits you often.”

Her laugh came out in a bark, Azriel's eyes and shadows watched you two in a dance, silently observing your postures and hidden messages. He wouldn’t understand the game you and Nuan played, especially not the one Nuan was playing right now, you were beginning to lose track of yourself.

“So Tamlin is completely out of the picture now?” She went back to her original target. You coughed a little bit of the water you sipped a second before she asked. “No, Nuan.” You cursed. “I live in the night court now, everything's changed.”

“Just curious, Y/n/n-” She said lightheartedly. “Do you live there with him?” She glanced at the male sitting next to you. So this is what she wanted to know.

Azriels eyes widened, “Absolutely not!” You both exclaimed at the same time, creating looks coming from nearby tables.

“Apologies, really I thought you two were together, possibly in secret. I got a sense that you both were involved, please forgive me.” Nuan’s cheeks reddened as she stammered her apology.

You were entirely upset knowing that she was embarrassed by her display. You switch the topic as smoothly as you could, asking about how the faebane works and if there was any way she could create an antidote without knowing the exact ingredients in the newer version. She answered each question with ease, Azriel asked a few of his own and finished up the conversation they were having earlier about the theories on who could have made it. At that time your dinner was cleared, and the three of you lingered to pay for your meal.

“Excuse me, I believe I see a patient of mine who isn’t doing what he’s supposed to-” Nuan rushed out of her seat to an older-looking male.

You caught Azriels stare when you turned back into your chair. He looked pensive as he opened his mouth to speak, “How did you and Nuan…”

“Meet? Under the mountain.” You responded though you weren’t so sure why considering you still wanted to be petty for his interrogation. “She healed and made Lucien's eye, also helped me heal when I got the scar.”

A few moments of silence.

“I’d like to-” He cleared his throat “I’d like to apologize for earlier.”

Your eyes search his in suspicion, he continues. “I should have believed you. My shadows told me that you were speaking the truth and I didn’t believe you.”

“I have had enough overbearing males in my life dictating my life and questioning my every move without you being added to the list.”

“I’m trying Y/n,” He sighed clenching the table napkin.

“By telling me that your shadows tried to plead my case and even then you wouldn’t believe me?”

“When you put it that way.” He breathed out a laugh, the closest one you’ve ever heard from him that was meant for your ears. It was a small gesture, one that did not go unnoticed by you. Around you, he was always so tense.

“What is it then?” You inquire, “Do you hate me or could we call a truce?”

“As if you could hold your tongue for long enough for me not to hate you.”

You allowed yourself a small smile, “You are truly unrelenting, if this is how you are with me I wonder how are with the people you bring to your chamber.”

“You talk of my work with so much ease,” He grimaced. “You wouldn’t be able to actually stomach it.”

The humor that hung in the air was gone, you sensed a challenge. “I can’t do what you do but I am not afraid of you Shadowsinger.”

His hazel eyes beheld yours, exploring them, you weren’t sure what he was searching for but the intensity with which he stared unnerved you. “If you weren’t the sister of the male I despise the most and if you weren’t once married to the one who caused my lady so much grief, I could be inclined to like you.” His smooth low toned voice was hypnotic.

You reached for your glass of wine, the energy too much for you to take sober taking a sip before replying “If you weren’t such an insufferable bastard, I could be inclined to say the same.”

“I still don’t trust you,” Azriel said slyly.

You rolled your eyes, “Do you have mind healers in Velaris? Cause you desperately need one, you all do.”

That brought out a deep laugh from him, you looked at him in awe at the melody that came from his mouth and it was as if you were seeing him for the first time. Your stare fixed upon his smile, bright and angelic made your heart jump. He was suddenly aware of you and the wall he had when he was around you built up again.

Your mind felt the need to know if what he said earlier was true, “Is that really why you hate me?”

“You can’t just let a moment be, can you Firewielder?” He no longer carried that sharp grin that had you melting for a second.

“I am not my brother, Eris I mean, what he’s done. I have no part in it.”

He nodded slowly, “Now tell me why you hate me.”

You picked at your cuticle as you spoke- a nervous human habit that you picked up throughout your years. “I don’t. I don’t particularly like you but you have done nothing but make my life miserable since the moment you rescued us from the ice and every moment after that.”

You were being chased by your brothers along with Feyre and Lucien when Cassian and Azriel had come to Feyre's aid. That was when you had found out that Feyre was the High Lady of the Night Court when you and Lucien had been brought to Velaris and saw the city you’ve grown to love. It was the start of everything. Before and after the war.

You and Lucien were appointed as emissaries to the night court, Lucien had his assignments and you had yours. You served as both emissary and spy (occasionally), while Lucien had to send bi-weekly reports to Azriel, you had to report to him for every single assignment unless specified otherwise by the High Lord. This is the cause of the clash you had with the Spymaster.

That day was the only day you had peace from him, if only because nobody in the inner circle had warmed to your presence yet.

“My whole life I’ve heard of the monstrous fae who served the Night Court, the Court of Nightmares was real to me but I was never afraid of the stories- of you. All you did was prove that the stories were true, like the act you all put on when you go there, is real.”

“You should know that I do not find it easy to be around you Y/n.” You were about to ask him what he meant when Nuan’s figure came into view, pulling a lesser fae male along with her.

“Y/n I’d like you to meet Damian- Damian this is the friend I told you about.” Nuan shoved him your way as you stood, you stumbled into him and he steadied you by your elbows. “I took care of the bill by the way, I told Damian he should walk you to the palace. Azriel and I still have loads to discuss.”

You smiled shyly at the blond-haired guy in front of you and turned your head to where Azriel was once sitting, you were about to protest but Nuan was already dragging Azriel out the door. You appreciated your friend's efforts to set you up with the attractive male that was nothing short of a gentleman as he made easy conversation during the walk to the palace, but after dinner with Azriel, this guy wasn’t going to cut it. It would be too easy for you to bring him up to your room and spend the night with him but you were on a job and you were not going to give Azriel another to scold you. 

~~~

Next Chapter

Taglist: @americancowgirl19 - @feyres-fireheart - @brekkershadowsinger - @marina468

[sweetpascal]

in “just like that” could you briefly describe joel’s background and how his personality is the way it is.

and take your time with the last two chapters. i love your work so much, you are so talented.

could i give joel's character some more depth ?? OH ABSOLUTELY I COULD.

i mainly included hbo joel's personality of "don't talk, just do." the man doesn't take no for an answer. we've seen the way he brutally interrogates anybody that unfortunately winds up in his hands. hbo joel miller shoots first, asks questions later.

now, how does that entail to p!sd!joel ? well, i'm glad you asked. stepdaddy joel always had a certain hardness to him in both ways 👁️👁️. his mouth moves faster than his brain, and it's costed him lots of relationships (which is why his and your mom's relationship is on the rocky side). he's a very impatient and irrational man.

he holds a deep rooted rage within him from childhood. tommy was always in the spotlight, whereas joel was considered "the other one." which then created a need to be bigger, be stronger, be the type of person that commands eyes when he walks into a room. the rough discipline he endured followed him into adulthood. it got worse as he got older. stepdaddy joel always felt the need to wear multiple masks at once depending on the person, so he truly doesn't know who's the real him, which continuously adds on to the irrationality and aggravation he has with newcomers.

so, where do you fit into all of this ? well...

stepdaddy joel knew he had a sickness within in. often watching porn of teachers coercing their perky breasted students in tiny skirts that show off their g-strings and mainly dabbling in the taboo family category. what better way to cure this sickness than to unleash it on the one girl that checks every box ? and that's where you come in.

joel's need to control, to violate, to force. he remembers the cigarette-laced voice of his old man, "if you want something, take it."

so, that's his mentality. whatever he wants, he'll take it, even if it means by force.

[jessequinones]

Hi, I was wondering what are the common problematic tropes that you see in book?

Hey there! Thank you so much for asking this question; the short answer to your question is, I’m not sure ^^”

I’ve written lots of articles about problematic tropes (mainly when it comes to indigenous cultures), and the main one that comes to me is them being “savages”.

This one is straightforward: the main hero discovers a tribe of natives. The natives become hostile, barbaric savages—you get the point. They attack the hero, the hero defends themselves, and the story moves on.

Why is this one so bad in particular? What I just described was Christopher Columfuck's encounter with my people (the Taíno) and his discovery of Native Americans.

Indigenous people throughout history have always been shown as uncivilised. They attack the good people of [INSERT COLONISER COUNTRY HERE], so when we see this pop up in media, it kind of reinforces the stereotypes that all indigenous people are savages.

Now, let’s move on to disability. Disability tropes aren’t my thing, but if you have any disability questions about writing, I’d highly recommend going to the Cy-Cyborg Tumblr page and typing in the hashtag (#Writing disability with Cy Cyborg), as there’ll be several posts about disability tropes.

However, since it’s Disability Pride Month (This article was originally written in July of 2023), let’s talk about the “Being Disabled Is A Fate Worse Than Death” trope. This trope is written in a way that being disabled is so horrible the only thing you can do to escape it is to either kill yourself or let fate have mercy on your poor soul and take your life instead.

Such examples could be found if you watch the movie “Me Before You,” where the entire plot of the film is the main character is a billionaire who’s disabled, despite having all of the money in the world, despite falling in love, he hates being disabled so much he kills himself.

The second example is what happened to Snowkit from the Warriors series.

Snowkit is barely even a character, but it is notable in that it was the first deaf-named character in the series. They died in a single chapter because of their disability after a hawk garbed them. Several characters within the story claimed this was for the best. Keep in mind this is a children's story. If a deaf child saw this, it would send a message they could never be warriors and that they're better off dead.

There are several other problematic tropes in media, like the “Damsels in Distress”, which is pretty bad, or the reverse damsel in distress, where a hot woman kicks ass but is just there for the male gaze. (Think of any Michael Bay movie)

And here’s one that might shock you: “Love at First Sight/True Love Kiss” (Think of any Disney movie). The main character often has never been in a relationship before, finds the partner of their dream, and lives happily ever after. The problem is that love is messy, and the number of people staying with their first partner is so low I don’t think they’ll even appear on a stat board.

This trope teaches people (mainly children and teens) that their first love will be the love for them; it’ll be perfect, and when it doesn’t work, they get depressed, like really depressed. So yeah, in a way, I’ll add this as problematic for giving several teens false hope in their first love.

If you want to know more about any trope or writing question, please let me know, and I’ll do my best to answer it.

[lawomi]

From the Start ch4 - Trans Trafalgar Law x AFAB Mink Reader

Chapter 4 - The Wolf at Sea

You encounter Law during your first night on the Tang. Law reveals to you a side you didn't expect and your feelings for him deepen. Still, as days pass, you begin bonding with everyone else, causing an unintentional rift between you.

MINORS DNI

I created a Wattpad that includes some art from me. Not too much right now, but eventually I might update with more than just the cover lol. Arts been tough for me lately.

Chapter CWs: Nonconsensual touching, jealousy, possessiveness. Voyerism? Sort of.

The next day, you groggily get out of bed, still adjusting to the change in sleep schedule. Moving down from your bed, you see Ikkaku and Robin are still asleep. It must be early, you thought. Walking towards the window, you realize all that could be seen was pitch black ocean. Hair rising, iris shrinking, chills running rampant, you recall the Polar Tang is submerged. How deep? Trying to catch even a sliver of light from the moon, but nothing. You shakily step away from the unknown, moving into the room towards the door. Your night vision worked just fine within the Tang, surely getting out of this claustrophobic room would help. Opening the heavy bolted door you glance down the hall before closing it behind you. Small lanterns lit the walls, helping your vision further.

Your keen ears caught the sounds of not only the cruising motor, but two of the Heart Pirates talking directly above. They were likely steering and keeping watch. Instantly, you feel more at ease, although you were still queasy. The floor still felt as though it would shift under you as you slowly walked down the hall towards a particularly bright light coming from under a door. Thinking back, you recalled the Heart Pirates telling you about their captain.

“The captain? Oh, he loves coffee and onigiri. Despite being a doctor, his diet is dirt poor,” Shachi had laughed. “When we set out to sea food was scarce and once we had a cook, it became easier, but his diet never quite returned to what it was while we lived with Wolf.”

Wolf, you smile, recalling Law had passively mentioned him, too.

“Beside his diet, he can’t catch a wink of sleep, either,” Penguin pitched in to the conversation as though he were Shachi’s twin. “He never sleeps when we do, especially when he has a lot of work to do. We turn in our findings to him each night about the Tang’s condition, plus those monthly exams are tough to get through. He always has a book he’s recording his important findings in and makes sure to study the books he collects along our journey.”

That’s a lot, you think to yourself. He must be stressed out often with so many things to keep track of. Yet he still manages to be a captain, waking early in the morning to instruct them, doesn’t he?

“Oh, yeah,” Bepo laughed brightly, always so happy to gush about his captain, “He gets up early to check how we all slept and to make sure we eat breakfast. He worries about us and he makes sure we don’t overwork ourselves. Not so much himself, though.”

He's kind, Isn’t he? You muse, thinking back to the articles you read describing how callous and calculated a person he was. Yet, the crew had said he would help people – for a fee – island to island. He was keen on studying any disease he came across in hopes of saving people. In the end, the poorest people were treated first and for free. Your heart couldn't help but beat faster, your mind focusing on him as you walked. A sensitive man despite his cold, closed off exterior. He was handsome, he was cool, he was gentle, he was strong. Above all, he loved others. Oh, no. This crush is worse than I thought.

As you reach a conclusion to your thoughts, you reach the room with the light peeking through. You press your ear to the door, assuming you wouldn’t hear much anyway save for the tapping of a pencil. Suddenly, your blood rushes as a blue aura encases the area around and beyond you.

“Shambles!” You catch his voice, but instantly you’re standing in his room. “What are you doing?” Law shrilled. You cover your face, hiding your embarrassment behind your paws. It didn’t help you hadn’t dressed, even if in mink form it was difficult to see the details.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to spy. I’m sorry, sir…”

Clearing his throat, Law stood from his desk chair. “There isn’t hiding much from me on this ship.” He walked towards you with purpose. You didn’t look, too ashamed to remove your hands. He wrapped his hands around your wrists, then pulled your hands from your face. Your snout tilts away, waiting for him to yell. “Wolf mink-ya, I’m not angry,” his voice had softened significantly. He reached up and pet your ear, gently scratching behind it thru your hair. Concentrating on the sensation you try to steady your breathing.

Your eyes finally look up to meet his. He looked very tired, his eye bags more prominent than usual, but his eyebrows were knit together in worry. You finally smile and shake your head, paw spread over his that pressed into your hair. “I’m okay,” you murmur, “I can see in the dark, but when I looked out the window there was no light. I know many areas of the sea are empty, but it scared me anyway.”

Law nodded, “The Polar Tang is a unique experience even for senior pirates. The ocean is one of man’s biggest fears,” his inked hand made its way down now that you had let it go. He pet the fur along your shoulders, arms, down to your paw. He held it as he did your human hands, rubbing circles into your knuckles. His long digits curled to feel the palm of your paw, curious to examine your paw pads that lined them. “Your paws are different than Bepo’s,” he smiled warmly, “They’re just as soft, though.” A blush once again spreads across your face as his other hand touched the rolls of your belly, pleasure bloomed along each squeeze. Slowly, the hand moved up to your sternum. “Did you feel all that?” he asked smoothly.

“Yes,” you felt ashamed saying so. Somehow, this interaction made you feel very strange. You backed up enough to remove his hand from between your breasts.

“Oh,” Law sighed, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t let myself get curious without your consent like that… I wanted to know if you had more than just the two, that’s all. Not to mention, I’m lacking sleep myself.”

“You assumed I wanted your attention regardless if you asked,” you said softly, still allowing him to hold your paw. “That was rude, but, it is a little true…” you grin sheepishly at him. “I didn’t expect you to touch me when I look like this.”

“You’re still Y/N-ya, aren’t you?” He teased, a duchenne smile causing the rooms light to dance along his iris’. “If anything, this is what you originally look like. It would be ridiculous to not think you as a whole person unless you’re human.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him. He was being so honest, you weren’t sure what to make of it. Did he… “Are we just friends?” You ask softly.

“Yes,” he scowled instantly. He let go of your paw and turned away towards his desk. “I don’t mean to confuse you,” he muttered as he sat down.

“It’s okay,” your heart was aching, but it didn’t matter. You walk forward and sit in his guest chair. “Can I accompany you?”

“…,” he stared at you a moment, looked down at his paperwork and sighed. “You’re not to do this again,” he scolded, “You shouldn’t be wandering the halls at night, let alone coming to my office. You can’t stay long, I don’t want the others thinking anything of it.”

You nod, “I will go in five, sir,” you smirk and watch him focus on his paperwork. “You might want to teleport me to the room, though… I am only in my underwear,” you teased, giggling.

He looked you over quickly and nodded, a blush painting his cheeks. “I’m exhausted, but you’re right.”

“In the meantime, you can do whatever you like,” you offer, a sly smirk on your lips.

Law scoffed, “Bad dog,” he teased right back. “I always do as I like,” he rolled his eyes, “and I like organized paperwork.” You laugh, earning a small smile in return.

A long moment of silence passed. You had crossed your arms and rested your head, slowly beginning to drift again before you spotted a book on the desk with no title on the side. Curious, you reach over to check it. Law doesn’t seem to notice, busy taking notes as you open the book. The book was hand written, the first page titled *Autobiography; 13-16*. Turning to the second page where the writing starts, you realize it’s in first person. As you read, you take note that the protagonist of this book lost someone and that they were walking through snow. Law’s slender fingers interrupt you, taking the book away from you.

“You didn’t ask to read that,” his acid tongue was telling, the book was personal to him.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur sleepily. “You lost someone at 13?”

“Yes, Cora-san, my savior.”

“Savior?” You tilt your head, “That’s a big title. I’m glad he saved you.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, “I still haven’t killed his murderer, Doflamingo.”

“Isn’t he in prison?” You recalled the Straw Hats mentioning it during the banquet at the Guardian’s District of Zou.

“Yes, after Mugiwara-ya defeated him,” he seemed okay with this, his demeanor still calm.

“How kind of him. But not quite satisfying for you, hm?” Your eyes brighten a little bit, the conversation shaking you of your sleep.

“No,” Law gripped his pen tightly. “I want his face caved in,” he growled, “but I refuse to kill like that anyway. Cora-san wouldn’t have wanted that. I just can’t stand seeing Cora’s face on that man’s torso.”

“Maybe someday I can help you with that,” you grin wickedly, licking across your teeth. “I enjoy battles that involve plenty of blood.”

“I see I’m not the only morbid one here,” he chuckled darkly, then shook his head. “That’s not how we do things, I’m afraid. He can rot slowly in that prison, unable to escape, watching the world change while he’s helplessly chained. Thank you, though.” He looked back at his work again. Suddenly, tapping the little bear decoration on the end of the pen against the table thoughtfully, he looked back at you. “I suppose you can read the book, if you want.”

You sat up now, surprised, elated. It didn’t feel like a small gesture, surely this was practically a diary to him, right?

“Don’t get too excited,” Law furrowed his eyebrows, “Make sure no one sees you with it and don’t go around talking about it, alright? Only Bepo, Shachi and Penguin have read that.”

“W-why are you letting me, then? Aren’t they your closest friends?”

He looked down and nervously tapped his pen again. “Well, I’ve seen between your legs. That was already personal enough, right?”

A pause.

“Law, you’re a doctor,” you chortle, cupping your nose with your paw.

“Tch. Not for doctor reasons, I didn’t,” a sly grin spread across his face, he rested his cheek on his wrist. Maybe he liked that you called him Law. He averted his gaze and leaned back, pressing his lips together. “You should go to bed now. I’ll do the same.” You frown, disappointed, but nod in response. He can’t help but laugh at you, “There’s no use begging. I am not risking the crew knowing we ever had anything between us. It was meant to have been a one time thing…” he seemed to realize too late it may hurt you to say that. But it is the truth, he thought.

“Yeah,” you agree, although a twinge of pain pokes at your lungs. “I’m the one who wanted to join and I knew there was a chance of a no. I begged you that night knowing it could be our last meeting. I know,” you let out a slow sigh.

Law nodded thoughtfully, thinking hard about what to say. Finally, though, as the silence stretched he said, “Room,” and “I’ll see you later, Omi-ya,” he chuckled, “Remember: Don’t do this again.” Although he had been serious before, he seemed playful this time. “Shambles.” Lifting his fingers, he teleports you and the book back to your bunk. You were stunned a moment, allowing yourself to absorb that you were now sitting at the edge of the bed. You see the women still sleeping, so you lie down - think about this dark broody man over and over - until you too fell asleep again.

You instinctively slap whatever it was that was tapping your face, turning over deeper into the bed. A tug on your wolf ear wakes you completely, you flip over in surprise to find a dismembered hand wiggling its fingers at you. Yelping in surprise you sit up quickly and see Nico Robin down below, laughing at your reaction along with Ikkaku.

“Good morning, Wolfy!” Robin chimed. “It’s wonderful to see you again. Although, I didn’t expect to see you quite so naked.”

You roll your eyes, “Lesser minks need to learn everyone has breasts.” Begrudgingly you slink your way down the bunk bed ladder. “It’s good to finally meet you properly, Ms. Nico. Instead of at a banquet, I mean,” you smile meekly at her. She reminded you of that broody man, but it was only her looks. Her personality was bright and bubbly in contrast. “May I greet you?”

“Greet me? Haven’t you already?” Robin giggled. Ikkaku whispered something to her quickly and she laughed, then nodded. “Yes, of course. You don’t need to ask me, I love affection like that.”

Canine glee filled you. You threw yourself into Robin’s arms, who caught you easily, holding you bridal style. “Garchu!!” You wrap your arms around her neck and press your face into her cheek. Her laughter filled you, your heart raced and your tail wagged enthusiastically. Ikkaku looked on with what only could be described as envy.

Robin, still holding you, walked over to set you on the couch. She used her ability to grab you a set of clothes. “Come on now,” she gently prods your cheek with a dismembered hand’s finger, “Get dressed. I do agree with you about the breasts, but in our custom you can’t be running out like that in front of men—I suppose we are pirates, but it’ll only result in a lot of blood.” You snort at her comment, got dressed, and jumped up back into her arms. She grinned at you, “I suppose I should let you keep some customs, shouldn’t I?” The three of you made your way to the galley, the others just arriving down the hall as well.

“What on earth—Oh, right! She’s a mink,” Shachi nudged Penguin with his elbow.

Penguin ignored him, but he looked troubled by the sight of you with Robin regardless. “Aren’t you supposed to be one of us?” Penguin’s arms were crossed, he was pouting as if Law had assigned him of disposing of the Tang’s waste for a month.

“Someone’s already jealous,” Ikkaku teased, flicking Penguin’s nose as she passed. Penguin chased after her to the table, his signature hat hiding his expression. Shachi followed them, losing his shit over Ikkaku’s slick move.

Robin sighed, “It’s true. If you don’t want me to steal you away, you should probably make them hold you instead,” she beamed cheekily. “How about you get yourself a seat.” Notably, the others were looking at you and Robin, finally tearing their attention from the hooligans that came in screeching. Robin was about to put you down, but stopped short. “Oh, hello, Torao!” She turned her attention to Law, who was staring at you with an odd expression. He seemed to want to forget whatever was just happening, walking forward to his seat. Robin finally places you on your feet and you obediently find your own seat beside her.

“When does Penguin get to hold you,” Shachi was mostly egging Penguin on, his attention and nudging entirely focused on his best friend.

Penguin shoved him toward the table, “Sit down!” He looked a bit pink from what you could see. They both finally sat, especially quickly thanks to Law glaring at them. There were fewer pirates than usual in the galley, indication some either had eaten earlier or avoided breakfast. You wonder what Law usually chose yourself. He looked quite tired; had he slept at all? Bepo brought the coffee pot to pour each person a cup. There was cream and the like on the table for said coffee, so you think ahead to grab what you need as he came around.

“Nico-ya,” Law yawned, “Did you sleep well?” She seemed to be the only Straw Hat besides Franky at the main table this morning.

Robin leaned against her knuckles, a warm expression pleasantly wrinkling the corners of her pretty blue eyes. “Wolfy came back to bed quite late last night,” she was clearly treating Law like a water balloon, trying to poke a hint out of him. His expression remained as stoic and neutral as ever. “Regardless, I slept quite well.” Ikkaku stifled a laugh, not wanting to cause a scene.

Law’s ever cool, piercing eyes landed on you. You sip your coffee, flattening your ears as if it’d make you less of an eyesore. “I see,” he shrugged, “I didn’t hear anything. It's not good for guests to be slinking around my submarine without a guide, though,” his eyes shift to Ikkaku. Ikkaku looked nervous now, it was her responsibility to keep watch of the guests while they were in the women’s quarters after all.

“Don’t worry, I noticed they left. It’s my fault, of course,” Robin’s flirtatious look made Law glance away. “I’ll make sure to keep Wolfy in line.”

“Tsk,” Law smirked, “I do trust you the most among the Straw Hats, Nico-ya, but you shouldn’t try to take responsibility. The crew know what their rolls are. And they know the type of punishments I like to give.”

Robin laughed, “I’m sure for not paying attention, you’d remove their head and leave it displayed in a cage, wouldn’t you?”

Law grinned, clearly appreciating her dark humor. “You’re not too far from the mark.” Ikkaku dared not look in his direction for the moment, feeling his sadistic expression burning a hole in her cheek.

You felt excitement fill you again, playfully leaning on Robin. There was something magnetic about her just as you felt for Law. Apparently, you had a type. A partial forearm and hand sprouted atop your head, scratching you behind the ear. You closed your eyes and hummed, rubbing your cheek into Robin’s shoulder in minkship.

Opening your eyes after a few moments of bliss, you see Penguin looking a tad downcast as he finished his coffee. Shachi stared in your direction, smiling gently when you met his gaze, though you couldn’t see his sly eyes behind his sunglasses. “Speaking of watching Wolfy… We haven’t had a nice mixed bath for months among the Heart Pirates. I bet Ikkaku would be overjoyed to finally join us since she’s not the center of attention no more.” Ikkaku shot him a death glare. “I recall Bepo and Hakugan mentioning one on an island coming up soon,” Shachi nudged Penguin once again, who had perked up, but remained hiding his face behind the brim and flaps of his hat.

You glance towards Law who you realize was staring quite intensely at you, though you couldn’t identify the emotions behind his gaze. “I’m sure everyone could use some socializing,” He said, averting his eyes towards a much happier Penguin. If they want to join us they can. What do you say?” he looked over at Robin who was focused on you. You lock eyes with Robin, grinning broadly and taking her hand. Law cleared his throat to grab your and Robin’s attention.

Franky raised his huge hand from the end of the table instead, “Absolutely, Torao! We’d love to. Sounds SUPER!” He had a huge smile, chuckling at his crewmates clear interest in you. “Robin sure is sweet. Always giving people the attention they deserve when they like her,” he teased you. You look over at him in surprise, a blush dusting your cheeks.

Law eyed you suspiciously, unsure what to make of your and Robin’s affection nor even of Robin’s clear interest in himself. She had flirted with him during her exam, too, but he paid her no mind. She was a respectful woman. She loves to tease people, that’s all that is, Law dismissed the idea she might actually be promiscuous. Of course, even if she was, she had every right to enjoy herself. How could a pirate judge another pirate?

Thank you, Torao. I’m fascinated by this one as well. Robin’s words echoed in his head. Come to think of it, she was an information gatherer. She could sprout an ear anywhere she pleased… He wondered if she had spied on you both during the banquet on Zou. He’d have ample chance to confront her on the island.

Several routine days passed. You had been spending much more time with Robin, openly showering her with cuddles. Ikkaku, too, but she’d get rather flustered by it. You also made sure to give Penguin some affection as he seemed depressed; a nuzzle from you seemed to give him an energy boost. Occasionally, you’d be found snuggling Shachi or anyone else you began to trust. Raizo had showed you his ninja skills and you couldn’t help but fawn. Kine’mon was rather creepy, so you kept away, but Kanjuro was okay. Meanwhile, Zoro was a particular favorite, who didn’t seem to mind your minkshipping despite having rejected plenty a mink before- he was incredibly hot, to boot. Usopp & Franky loved you and gave you bear hugs, sometimes together. Bepo tended to follow you around closely, always wanting to snuggle or show you something cool. So far, it was fun!

Law in the meantime was keeping himself busy in his office, telling the crew what needed to be done daily and gathering as much intel as he could on the Beast Pirates and Wano. Unfortunately, the retainers of Oden only had limited information on how Wano currently was. They had been away from the country for some time in search of Momonosuke. Sometimes, he would appear around the Tang and although you did try and give him an embrace or two, he was always off-putting. He did not want public affection, but even when you caught him alone he was silent and walked away. It made you nervous you’d done something wrong.

Finally, the Polar Tang docks at the next island. The Heart Pirates prepared to restock on supplies and fuel before running off to enjoy themselves. The main three of the Heart Pirates along with Robin, Usopp and Zoro kept you company as you explored the island. It was a rather large town with plenty of shops to look through.

“This is really cool,” said Penguin, having ended up beside you as the others dispersed to different shops. His hand gingerly pushed yours, his fingers occasionally grazing until you confidently took his hand. His face lit up into a cherry red, but he held your hand tightly, his other hand gripping the brim of his hat.

“I appreciate you protecting me, Penguin,” you say in a smooth, loving voice. Penguin does a little skip, nodding vigorously, but staring at the ground. You take his arm and hug it between your breasts, enjoying how he panics and makes the silliest dopey face you’d ever seen. He was so cute.

From afar, Law had come out of a pharmacy and was watching you and Penguin. He sighed gruffly, the bag on his wrist rustling when he adjusted his idling position, hands shuffling some medications he had picked up to recheck the dosages. He swore to himself whatever he felt boiling in his stomach was just him getting sick. It had nothing to do with you or all the minkshipping you were indulging in with other people. When you found him alone or tried to make advances of affection it was just anxiety towards Kaido that made him feel too nervous to your touch. He was just worried about everything, everyone, and about Mugiwara who he doubted kept a low profile against Big Mom in her own territory. He hoped that idiot would survive.

Nothing to do with jealousy. He didn’t even recognize what that felt like. All he could conclude- if he thought about it long enough- was that Robin and Penguin in particular made his skin itch when they showed special interest in you. Something about it made his skin crawl, despite these two people being people he trusted to keep you safe. So why?

He placed the medicines back in the bag, deeming them suitable for his needs, and took out his grocery list to make sure everything was checked off. There were a few more things he needed elsewhere before he would get ready for the bathhouse. He had already booked the mixed baths for his crew and guests.

“Torao!” called a familiar voice. It was Franky. “What’s up my man? I helped Ikkaku grab some equipment for the Polar Tang. I plan to help spiffy things up, aye? The Tang is SUPER sophisticated, I’m obsessed with learning how submarines work better. I could use the information to improve the Sunny Go’s Shark Submerge III!” Franky’s enthusiasm was infectious, Law found himself smiling and nodding, approving of Franky’s help.

Glancing up towards you again, Law sees from far down the road that you were now facing Penguin. A shiver ran down his spine, his eyes grew wide and teeth grit tight as you planted a kiss on Penguin’s cheek, laughing heartily as the man fell to his knees with his arms wrapped around your thighs. His cheeks rested against both your knees, you could feel the heat of his cheeks radiating through your pants. He was too cute, you could tell he was in love with you. What that meant for the both of you, you weren’t sure. To Law however, it was outrageous. Why? He didn’t know! It just was!

“You’re looking a little… hot under the collar,” Franky said to Law, grinning cheekily. “You jealous?”

“NO!” Law hissed, whirling around to stomp to the next location. Franky laughed, following him close behind.

“You can open up to me, Torao! Relationships can be tough, how many have you had?”

Law ignored him, walking into the next shop. He went in to pick up some personal wine for his office. Maybe a pack of cigarettes to relax and talk with Corazon for a while. It didn’t matter, he just needed to clear his mind.

“Hey, now.” Franky insisted, patting Law on the back, “Don’t become an alcoholic over a crush,” he joked.

“It’s not a crush,” Law corrected, leering at him.

“Right,” Franky snickered. “Hate to break it to ya, but you’re down bad.”

Law scoffed, glaring down at a bottle of vodka. “No,” he finally muttered, “I’ve never been in a relationship.”

“Oh, I see.” Franky nodded. “And we’re pirates, so that makes it tougher. Hmm…”

Law rolled his eyes, “I have more important things to worry about.”

“Sure,” Franky shrugged, “But people get lonely, y’know? Robin and I spend time together sometimes, but we aren’t official…”

“I didn’t ask,” he felt that weird clench in his gut again. He walked away, heading for the counter to pay and pick out the cigarettes. Franky, like all the Straw Hats he’s ever interacted with, insistently followed him, paying for him. He sighed, “That wasn’t necessary.”

“It’s fine, we’re friends, buddy,” Franky ruffles Law’s hair. Law groaned.

“You Straw Hats don’t get what a fucking alliance even is, huh?”

Franky laughed loudly, “We’re friends regardless.”

Law’s expression softened. He walked out with Franky. He immediately looked towards where you’d been standing, but you were gone. He bit his lower lip, wondering where Penguin had taken you. Ugh, what does it fucking matter. Her body isn’t mine or something, Law cursed himself.

Franky once again rested a hand on his back, “If you ever need to talk about it I’m around, yeah?”

Law finally redirected his gaze to his list again. “It’s just stress. Nothing more, nothing less.”

It was finally the hour to meet at the bath house. You were excited, taking Penguin’s hand and Bepo’s paw towards the bath house. Your other escorts had reunited with you, too, and followed with beaming faces. They all liked your energy, enthusiasm, and your confidence.

You all enter the bathhouse. At first, it separated by gendered locker rooms. As usual, you chose the women’s lockers as it was quieter anyway. Only Robin and Ikkaku were with you, you saw Ikkaku was looking irritated and Robin looked amused. You had a feeling you were going to walk in on perverts, but there was also Law, and Zoro who would keep them in line. You thought about those two quite a bit, a little too excited to see them on display yourself. I’m kind of a pervert myself, huh. You giggle to yourself.

The three of you headed out, Robin beside you and Ikkaku semi-hiding behind you both. The Straw Hats had already jumped into the gorgeous steaming hot spring, the rocks displayed beautifully and a small waterfall could be heard over the men chattering. They all stopped and looked at you all as the door closed. Zoro walked over to you, a towel around his waist, he had been waiting by the door.

“You all good, ladies and others?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Yes, Zoro,” Robin chimed. She took his arm affectionately. “Thank you for protecting us,” she smiled. Zoro nodded, eyes averting and a light blush touching his cheek as Robin leaned her covered breasts into his upper arm. He guided the three or you into the water, glaring at the twenty plus idiots all gathered to stare.

Penguin fluidly swam over to you, a dopey grin once again gracing his face. He looked quite different without his hat. He had a mop of black hair a bit like Law and his eyes were red, typically associated with Fishmen. You smile warmly at him, accepting an embrace. He moaned ever lightly in your ear. You laugh, holding him close with one hand in his hair.

Shachi protested, jealous he didn’t get a hug and some of his crew followed. You laughed and accepted a few more hugs, although Penguin refused to let go. Law stared from one side of the pool, his arms spread out over the edge of the bath. His face was red from the steam—or so he would say. He wanted to tell his crew to back off, but he dared not out himself like that. Zoro meanwhile was glaring at Kine’mon whom he knew made you uncomfortable. He dared him to make an advance, making Kine’mon shrink into the water from your glare. Momonosuke wasn’t with them, he stayed cooped up in the Tang as he did in Zou.

“Nico-ya,” Law called Robin, only a few steps away. She looked at him with an inviting look. Once close enough, she gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Beautiful tattoos, Torao.”

“Thanks,” he remained indifferent. “I wanted to ask something in private.”

“Oh? What’s that?” she leaned on the side of the pool, resting her elbows on the edge and her head on her laced fingers.

“How did it occur to you I could like that mink?”

Robin giggled. “Well, I can tell. Not necessarily that you like them, but you are attracted, aren’t you?”

Law rolled his eyes. “Sort of.”

“Do you want me to call them ov—”

“—No. I’ll talk to them eventually myself.”

“So what does it matter?” Robin tilted her head a bit.

“Then why do you seem interested in them-- in me-- in Franky or Zoro?”

“You’re very alluring and we are very similar,” she said honestly, her warm expression unchanging. “As for Franky & Zoro, that’s my personal business. I do like Wolfy, they seem fun and I feel loved in their presence. Don’t you think so?”

Law remained silent, staring at you again. Penguin had let you go and the men were all laughing, jabbing him with jokes as he had grown erect and shrunk down into the water covering his still clothed crotch. You seemed pleased with the power you had over him, your eyes sparkled with amusement. Law clenched his jaw again.

“Do you think they don’t like you?” Robin asked, now turned around and watching the scene. “I saw you had a night out with them on Zou, didn’t you?”

So she knew, Law looked back at her. “Don’t tell anyone,” his voice held a hint of acid. Robin simply nodded, unafraid.

“How nice, would you reveal what you both did?” Robin grew closer, making Law tense.

“No,” Law squinted at her. “I had another question.”

Robin raised an eyebrow, “You didn’t respond to mine. Do you think they don’t like you?”

He raised his forearms in irritation. “Well they seem to like everyone else!”

Robin chortled, unable to hold in how funny he was to her. “They are a mink. But your friend seems very interested. Shouldn’t you hurry?”

Law glared at her. “I…” he didn’t know how to finish that. He’d basically just admitted it to himself. “I barely know them,” he concluded, “We have no idea if we’ll survive the next island. I don’t plan to know them. I’m not like Penguin.”

“Understandable,” Robin leaned on him, causing him to tense again. “But it’s good to spend the time we have wisely, isn’t it?”

Law didn’t respond. He watched you splashing at Ikkaku and the others. It had grown noisy. Zoro argued with Shachi about touching you a certain way, Bepo joining Ikkaku to splash, betraying you entirely. Penguin made sure to back you up. Meanwhile others were doing canon balls, cheering, chatting or relaxing. Law suddenly felt a trickle of warmth run down his nose to his chin.

You stood there, having accidentally undone your towel, your breasts were on full display above the water. They all gasped and stared. You sighed, lesser minks were far too sensitive about this. Penguin had dunked himself under water, either on purpose or on accent. You still have it covering your lower bits, you peek under the water to see he was just covering his crimson face.

“Th-They’re like a work of art,” Jean Bart commented from his place beside Franky, the older men were all talking in a circle at the far end. Kine’mon had predictably lost it as did most of the others.

“Now that’s confidence! SU~PER!” Franky posed, proudly sporting his bloody nose.

Law wadded forward and stood in the way of the view, “Come with me,” he demanded, one hand covering his own bloody nose.

You narrow your eyes at him. “What are you doing, Captain?” Penguin asked quickly.

Law lifted your towel to cover you up once he wiped his blood off. “Nothing,” he sneered. “I’ll be back.”

“Hey, now. They aren’t part of your crew,” Zoro sharply remarked, coming between you both. “They aren’t a Straw Hat either, but I ain’t letting you take them to point B, capiche?”

“Well,” Law stared at him intensely, “I’m a captain. And you lot are on my ship. It’s my responsibility to care for everyone. If you have objections, take it up with whomever gave me the responsibility. It was your captain, by the way.”

You felt your excitement escalate. In response, you slink over and hop onto Law’s back like a koala, earning a yelp from Law who hadn’t expected it. Of course, you weren’t heavy to him but he was still shocked. “It’s okay, Zoro~,” you nuzzle your face into Law’s hair. “I can handle it.”

Penguin stared, his red eyes clouding a tad. His shoulders sagged after a moment, Shachi’s own red eyes landed on him and came over to comfort him. Law ignored them, walking passed Zoro even with your weight and the water exhausting fruit users. Zoro had accepted your words, but he watched on skeptically. Robin joined him, leaning on him again.

Law sighed and walked out of the bath, making sure his towel was secure and trusted you were confident with your arms around his neck, your legs hooked around his waist. You used one hand to also make sure your towel covered what you wanted. He brought you into the men’s locker, going over to his locker to fetch something.

“Are you going to keep doing that?” He asked, your breasts were hardening against his back. You blush but tighten your arms. He sighed, “I need to ask you something. It’s bothering me.” He moved to sit on a bench, using a clean towel to dry his hair. It was his turn to blush as your hands slowly felt up his chest as he moved. You bury your nose into his neck.

“What’s the question, Dr. Heart Stealer?” You tease.

“Are you like this with everyone?” he asked bluntly.

“Like what?”

“Flirtatious. Do you fuck everyone?”

“No,” you blushed fiercely, “Only if I really like them.” He dared not ask the next question, but you did it for him. “Do you like me?” you whisper.

“In a sexual context,” he emphasized, “Sure.”

“You seem a little jealous. Maybe possessive,” you grin into his neck.

He thought a moment, gazing at the ground. He shivered when your lips met his skin, kissing along his pulse point. He tilted his head away slightly, giving you more room. You bite him, making him groan.

“Quit it,” he remarked. “They can’t see those. Just, be with me,” he whispered. “Be loyal to me— on my ship.”

“No,” you bit his shoulder.

“Ngh! Why not?” He grit his teeth, gripping your hair in one hand.

“I want life long commitments,” you lick the love bite you left, “And even then, it won’t be one person. Plus, you won’t even make me a Heart Pirate.”

Law’s eyes narrowed, he felt angry and confused. “Well I don’t feel the same,” his husky voice cracked slightly, his eyes water.

“If you change your mind, talk with me,” he felt you slide off his back. He stood quickly to look at you. You smile at him, walking towards the bath again. He could see your eyes trail his body, especially around his chest.

“Wait,” he took your wrist, “Let me show you something.”

You touch his tattoos as he pulls you close, then down to where his hands fumbled. He dropped the towel. It revealed first a womb tattoo, but more importantly a vulva. His hard engorged clit barely covered by the lips and hair. You stare, quite fascinated. You can’t help but reach forward and cup his member. He stomach visibly flinched, his hips bucking into your hand involuntarily.

“I really like you,” Law echoed the words you expressed about people you wanted, “But I hate seeing you with them, too. It’s driving me insane.”

You let go of his dick. He walked closer, touching your hips with both hands, squeezing possessively. “That’s okay, jealousy is normal,” you rest your hands over his, “I want to know you, too. We can be friends with benefits, but not a commitment. You have to get used to me being with others, sir.”

He squinted at you, clearly perturbed. He wasn’t sure how to process this idea. “Right,” he muttered, pouting, “It isn’t a commitment. But I want you first,” he insisted.

You giggled, “Now?”

He glanced down, blushing. “N-no. Let’s go back to the bath.” You watch him crouch to pick up his towel, then to allow you back up onto his back. You grin ear to ear, happy he seemed to enjoy you on his back.

[separatist-apologist]

Buried Alive Inside My Dreams

Summary: An evil enchantress has locked Princess Feyre Archeron in a tower, secluding her from her family and removing her entirely from the outside world. Trapped and alone, Feyre turns her gaze to the stars, dreaming of returning home to her sisters- of finding peace. She's determined to escape before her birthday and the annual starfall that marks the occasion just as soon as she can figure out a way down.

When a thief breaks into her tower, Feyre takes her chances and leaves with him, unaware of who this man is and the price freedom will try and extract from her

Happy @officialfeysandweek2023

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

I am LIMPING over the finish line this week.

Feyre was back in the tower. 

She hadn’t fought it, which was maybe the worst part of being put in. She’d merely taken off the beaded blue dress, leaving it draped over a chair. Amarantha had taken her shoes, her weapons—everything but the clothes on Feyre’s back. And then Feyre had blinked, her world shifting until she was standing in her tower. Amarantha gave her some absurd speech about caring for her and then brushed out Feyre’s hair, stole some of her blood, and left Feyre with a manacle clamped around her ankle. As a safety precaution. She could still move through the tower, but she could go no further than the circular walls. She couldn’t sit on the windowsill, foot dangling over the ledge. Couldn’t jump, ending this all, either. 

Feyre merely sat in silence, staring at the painted walls. She’d been so close to freedom. She’d almost made it. How foolish to pin all her hopes on one man. And yet…and yet Feyre couldn’t find it in herself to regret it. She’d tried. She’d put herself out there, like the women in her books were always doing.

And it wasn’t her fault if Rhys left. The heartbreak was worse than words had ever described, and yet her thudding, dull heart was still beating, right? And she was still alive. Amarantha couldn’t kill her or she would have, and Feyre didn’t think she could keep Feyre manacled to the floor forever, either.

A prince knew about her. He didn’t know what she was exactly, but he knew she was magic, and maybe he’d tell someone. And that someone would come looking, or tell someone else, on and on until the secret was so widespread Amarantha couldn’t keep Feyre hidden. She’d have to unchain her, to move her—and Feyre would be ready.

Feyre wasn’t going to let Rhys rewrite their narrative, though. He’d loved her, cowardly as it had been. She knew he had. And maybe she hadn’t been his true love. Maybe she wasn’t the woman he’d been willing to stake everything on. But he’d loved her all the same and he couldn’t run from that. 

So that night, Feyre pulled out her paints and utilizing the space beside her bed, began sketching out those violet eyes. Maybe one day she’d hate them. But that night, once she’d finished, Feyre rolled to her side and stared at them.

“You left me,” she whispered with a sigh. “And I wouldn’t have left you. Not unless someone forced me.” Feyre felt better having said that, even if he couldn’t hear her. And when she closed her eyes, she could still see him looking at her, kissing her goodbye even if he wouldn’t admit it. Where had he gone, she wondered. Far from Velaris, she bet. Maybe he’d boarded a ship for the continent. Did he miss her?

Feyre liked to believe he did. 

Feyre woke the next morning like she always did. It was shockingly easy to fall back into her old routine. She cleaned and cooked and brushed out her hair. She painted. She stared at Rhys���s eyes and held full conversations with them until she was half-convinced she’d gone insane. Feyre dreamt of them again.

And again.

And again.

By the fifth night, Feyre’s ankle had begun to bleed, dragging around the heavy manacle and she was desperate for a glimpse of the night sky. She wouldn’t quite reach the window. Despair had begun to well within her. No one was coming. No Nesta—that had always been a lie, hadn’t it? But deep down, Feyre had been clinging to some small hope that Rhys would change his mind. That he’d rush to her, having realized leaving her was a mistake and they’d escape together again. 

She sighed, sitting on the floor with her back against the wall nearest the window. From here, she could see a small sliver of the sky, and the twinkling stars overhead. Feyre didn’t have it in her to make a wish this time. Nor did she care when she heard the tell-tale scraping of one the blackguards trying to scare her by dragging his sword against the stone. 

Feyre closed her eyes, drowning the sound out, along with what, frankly, sounded like obscene grunting. There was a way out of this. She wasn’t broken. She could figure it out, could—

“Hello, darling.” Maybe she was broken, if she was hearing Rhysand’s voice so clearly. Feyre peeked open one eye, certain she’d see nothing but open space.

But there he was. Disheveled, and strangely sweaty despite the cool air. His black tunic was the same one he’d been wearing the night he vanished, blotted with dark stains that looked suspiciously like blood. 

“Miss me?” he asked, offering her a lopsided grin that almost hid the apprehension in his eyes.

Feyre was on her feet so fast it made her bones rattle. She didn’t think—just acted. Her frying pan had been taken from her, leaving just the palm of her hand. Feyre slapped it across his cheek so hard Rhys’s neck snapped to the side, eyes wide with surprise or pain or both. 

“Okay,” he breathed, taking a measured step away from her. “I deserved that.”

“You left me!” she whispered, breathing so hard the rest of what she wanted to say got stuck in her throat. Rhys raised his palms in defense.

“Not on purpose. Not because I wanted to. I’ve been trying to get back to you—”

“Is that really true, Prince Rhysand?”

He winced. “I should have told you. Feyre, I—”

“Why are you here?” 

Rhys blinked. “Why—why am I here? Feyre, I’m in love with you. I have been trying to get back to you since I left you.”

“It’s been five days,” she accused as something fragile in her chest began to mend. Don’t shatter it, she begged silently. “You’ve been gone for five days.”

“I was…tied up…for two of them,” he said, his eyes shifting to the manacle around her ankle. Rhys dropped to one knee, a fluid motion that robbed Feyre of the ability to breathe. “My uncle and I had a little unfinished business in the dungeon of my fathers palace. And then I had to tie up some loose ends but Feyre, my only thought, my only goal, was to get back to you as quickly as I could. I came as quickly as I could. I left my throne in the hands of a friend…and for all I know, he might decide to keep it.”

Feyre didn’t know what to say. Rhys’s nimble fingers had pulled a pin from his boot and had begun wiggling it through the lock on her manacle until the iron slipped free. His fingers wrapped around the slim appendage, gently caressing her skin. 

Rhys glanced up at her, like he was waiting for her to ask some obvious question. “I thought you left me,” was all Feyre could think to say.

A smile split his face. “Where would I go? I can’t think of one place that your presence couldn’t improve. I should have told you who I was when we met. And maybe you could have told me who you truly were, too, princess.”

So he knew, then. Feyre wondered if Amarantha had rubbed it in his face the way she’d done to Feyre. Rhys didn’t seem too upset, nor had he risen from his place on the floor. She kept waiting for him to stand. 

“Besides,” he added with a lopsided grin, one side of his face bright red from where she’d slapped him. “You left before I could give you this.”

“Rhys,” she whispered as he pulled that ring from his pocket. 

“It’s always been yours,” he said lightly, catching her hand before she could snatch it away. Sliding it over her finger, Rhys continued, “Sorry it took me so long to realize it.”

“Rhys—”

“I have an army,” he said, his voice pitched softer. There was a desperation edging his words, eyes a little dimmer than before. He was clutching her hand like it was a lifeline. “And gold. I was going to offer it to you before Avalon. I was going to ask…I was going to ask you to be my wife.”

“You didn’t know I was a princess—”

“I never cared about that,” he swore, swallowing hard. “I still don’t. I just…I’m begging, Feyre. Marry me. Come home with me, and I’ll lay the world at your feet.”

“What about your dreams?” she asked him, certain she was going to tell him yes no matter what he said. “Your careful plans?”

“You are my new dream,” he murmured, brushing a kiss over her knuckles.  “Say yes.”

Feyre pulled him to his feet, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss him as her answer. She didn’t think she could get the words out anyway. Rhys groaned, crushing her against his warm, potentially bloodstained body. 

Some part of her still thought it was a dream. “You love me?” she asked him when they broke apart, searching his face for the lie. Rhys nodded, solemn.

“Then take me home, Rhys,” she said, her voice cracking on the word home. She’d never had one of those. Not in her entire life—Ellesmere had never truly been a home, and the tower had been a prison. But Rhys…Rhys was offering her something she’d only ever dreamt of. Freedom, a place her sisters could live in exile if they wanted. A kingdom, an army, a throne…and all of it was home. 

Rhys grinned, eyes suspiciously glassy. “This…way…” his voice trailed off, one hand shoving her behind him. Feyre saw her, standing like a shadow in front of the window, watching the pair of them with those dark, emotionless eyes. Her skin was practically translucent, her red hair dripping like blood around her face.

“Oh, Rhysand,” Amarantha whispered, revealing sharp fangs and a mirthless smile. “When will you learn?”

“Oh, no,” Feyre whispered, clutching his arm. There was no way out—and no way Amarantha was going to let her leave. She was only half corporeal, a faded image against the air. She wasn’t there, Feyre realized. She was merely projecting herself somehow, was going to kill him while giving neither of them a chance to fight back.

Rhys still withdrew the dagger hidden in his sleeve. “You don’t get to touch her,” he said, his voice filled with menace. 

Amarantha’s smile filled Feyre with dread. “Is that so?”

She struck him before either Feyre or Rhys could blink. Sharp as a knife, the air cut through Rhys’s clothes, slamming him to the floor as blood bloomed around him. Amarantha laughed, ignoring how Feyre screamed. She could fix this—she could open up her skin, could force him to drink as she wrapped her hair around him. 

“Don’t touch him!” Amarantha snapped. Rhys looked up at Feyre, wild eyed and ashen. Feyre had one hand to his chest, his tunic wet and dark.

“No,” Rhys breathed. Amarantha reached for Feyre, perhaps to drag her back so she could watch him die. Sitting up, his dagger still in hand, Rhys fisted Feyres hair and with one perfect slice of his blade, cut the strands at her shoulder. 

Amarantha screamed. Screamed like she was in pain, her expression shifting into something inhuman. Something monstrous, with fangs and dead, onyx eyes that belonged to a monster and not a woman. The knife clattered from Rhys’s hand and he slumped back, his breathing shallow and labored. 

Feyre looked again at Amarantha, but she’d vanished with a sickening pop, gone back to wherever she’d been when she interrupted. Somehow, and Feyre didn’t understand it entirely, Rhys cutting her hair had wounded Amarantha. Maybe significantly enough that she could be killed. And if Feyre had been smart, she might have left Rhys to die on the floor of her tower and tracked her down to do exactly that.

“Rhys,” Feyre said instead, palm pressing against that gaping wound. “Rhys, why would you—”

“She can’t hurt you again,” he panted, eyes wild. “You’re safe, now. Go to Velaris. Tell…tell Azriel and Cassian we were married. Show them the ring. It’s yours—all of it is yours.”

“Rhys, I don’t want it. Rhys, look at me! Come back!” Feyre wept, grabbing that knife to cut across her palm. “Don’t leave me. Please.”

With a shaking hand, Rhys cupped her cheek. “You were my new dream,” he said, exhaling softly. Slowly. 

“No!” she cried as dark lashes fluttered shut. A tear slid down the bridge of her nose, splashing against his lips. Feyre didn’t want his kingdom or his crown—she only wanted him. Pressing her face against his now still chest, Feyre let herself sob into his clothes.

“You were my dream, too, Rhys,” she managed, clutching at his clothes. Salt water mingled with the blood, turning the tips of her now short hair crimson. “Come back to me. Please. Please come back.”

Feyre twisted, looking at the night sky and the stars twinkling overhead. Could they hear her? Just this once, she thought to herself, looking at a trio of stars shining brighter than all the rest. “Bring him back. Please,” she pleaded. “I’ll do anything.”

There was so much nothing for so long the silence nearly killed her. Feyre poured all her hope into that one wish, desperate for just once, the world to acknowledge her. Haven’t I given enough, she wanted to scream? Don’t you owe me something? 

Just when she’d been about to give up entirely, to walk away, hunt down Amarantha, and make her truly suffer for everything Feyre had been through, she felt a thud against her palm. Feyre looked down, holding her breath.

Just in time for Rhys to open his eyes.

And smile.

RHYSAND:

He could have been drowning in that ageless dark for centuries. Time felt endless, broken only by the tiniest sliver of starlight. Rhys clawed his way toward it, desperate. Feyre, it’s Feyre. He just had to get back to her, even if that meant defying death itself.

Though in the end, it was Feyre would managed to thwart that old, ancient god. Rhys didn’t know how—only that when he opened his eyes again, she was looking down at him with a bloodied cheek and glassy eyes. 

“There you are,” he managed, his voice raw as though he’d been screaming. “I’ve been looking for you.” Feyre’s laugh turned to a sob quicker than he would have liked. Sitting up, and ignoring the pain radiating in his chest, Rhys wrapped an arm around her and pressed his lips to hers. She was crying, but Rhys was laughing. What else could he do? They couldn’t both cry, and it seemed like Feyre needed to do more of it than he did. 

So Rhys kissed her until there were no more tears, until she was holding his face, body wedged between his legs. He wanted to ask her how she’d managed to do it without her hair and decided he didn’t care. They were together, and that was what mattered to Rhys. 

Though, they were also in the tower Amarantha had just killed him in, and maybe they ought to leave, at least. Retreat for Velaris where it was safe, if nothing else. Rhys pulled himself off her, too sore to do what his cock was demanding of him.

“Darling,” he murmured, stroking tear stained cheeks. “We should go.”

“Yeah,” Feyre agreed, eyes filling with tears again. While Rhys struggled to his feet, Feyre rushed around the tower quickly, gathering a few items she thought they might need which included her frying pan. Rhys merely took his dagger, sliding it back into the sleeve of his ruined tunic. 

They paused at the loose stone he’d pried from the floor, both turning wordlessly to look at the golden brown hair pooled on the floor. Rhys didn’t care for it—as far as he was concerned, that hair might have been the manacle around her ankle, keeping her shackled. 

Feyre reached toward her scalp, raking her fingers through the short strands. “I never realized how heavy it was,” she finally said.

And that was it. She climbed down the musty, dark stairs and Rhys went after her. 

This time, they had a horse. Rhys put Feyre in the saddle, climbed up behind her, and drove that animal as hard as he could without killing it. For two days, he and Feyre stayed out of sight, moving through the woods and the mountains, far from villages and prying eyes. Wherever Amarantha had retreated to, whatever fate had befallen her wasn’t likely to be permanent. She’d come back with a vengeance, and Rhys wanted her to hesitate. He wanted her to feel a little fear as whatever plan she’d clearly meticulously put together began unraveling. 

They did very little talking over those two days. It was as if Feyre couldn’t bring herself to fully acknowledge they were together until he whispered the words, “Welcome to Velaris.”

She cried again, loud, ugly sobs into his disgusting tunic. Rhys held her, twisted in the saddle, her cheek pressed to his chest. 

“You’re safe. We’re home,” he said, repeating the words over and over until the city came into view. The Illryians were there, watching with silent eyes as Rhys strode into his city. He didn’t want to know how many of his uncles' men had died in the week of his absence. Nor did he want to know what it had taken to hold the city without a true king sitting on the throne. 

He had her, now. And they were safe. That was all that had ever mattered to Rhys.

And all that ever would. 

It took another week before Feyre slept through the night unbroken. Another week before he could lift the curfew on the city and welcome back the rest of his court. And a week after that to make her his wife. Her father protested, sending messengers with decrees that Feyre was to return home unharmed and unmarried. 

Rhys married her anyway. He married her under a full sky of stars, married her with a laugh, smiling so hard it made his jaw hurt.

“I love you,” he’d said, holding her face in his hands so she had to look at him. “I love you.” 

“Did you know me on sight?” she’d asked in that soft, mocking way of hers. 

“Yes,” he replied, lips brushing her own. “How else did I end up beneath your frying pan?”

She’d smiled, then. A real smile, broad and unrestrained and so filled with light it made Rhys ache. All he wanted was to see that smile—every day, all day. His thief became his wife, became his Queen. But Feyre had always been his salvation, even if he’d been too stupid to recognize it.

And she wasn’t alone. Six months in Velaris brought word of her elder sister in Avalon, married to one of the Vanserra’s. Rhys knew better than to ask if she’d gone running for help, too. By all accounts—and there were so many letters—it had been a love match borne of another enchanted trick. 

And the eldest, with some kind of horrible, death defying magic, had cheated the last spell Amarantha had ever cast upon the Archeron sisters. Rather than losing her life, she’d merely fallen into an enchanted sleep. Feyre went to the Vanserra’s, pleading for a prince to wake her so they might finally kill the witch once and for all.

And before they left, Rhys pulled Cassian aside. “Spells are precise magic, brother,” he murmured. “True loves kiss—”

“A prince,” Cassian said flatly. “I am neither.”

“A bastard prince,” Rhys reminded him. “Just try. Fuck the Vanserras.”

That made Cassian smile, if only a little. “We’ll see.”

Cassian left, marching a unit of men toward the mountains where the sleeping Archeron lay, hidden behind a wall of thorns and, if the rumors were to be believed, a terrible dragon. He’d convinced Feyre to remain behind, well aware she, too, wanted to lead that charge. Rhys was far too selfish to hand her over—to risk her to Amarantha’s wrath. If Nesta Archeron needed saving, he’d let Cassian handle that. 

“Do you think it’ll be enough?” Feyre asked him, curled in a chair in her art studio. Rhys reclined in the doorframe, watching as he so often did. “Waking Nesta, an Illyrian army…the Vanserras?”

“It’s the most we’ll ever get,” Rhys replied, not bothering to ask how Feyre had known he was there. She was painting herself for once, smiling brightly against a backdrop of falling stars. Rhys intended to ask her for it when she finished. He wanted to hang it in his study, so she could watch him even when she wasn’t around.

“I suppose it’s a start,” Feyre murmured, twisting to look over at him. Tendrils of that shoulder length, golden brown hair fell in pretty waves around her face. Rhys smiled, delighted when she returned it, beckoning for him to join her. 

“You are so bright,” he told her, pulling her up so they could sit together in that small chair, a tangled mass of limbs. Feyre brushed her mouth over his jaw. “My life was perpetual night before you.”

“You’re sentimental for a thief,” she teased, running her finger tip along the bridge of his nose. 

“How about for a man in love?” he replied, mouth ghosting her own.

“Especially so,” she replied.

Rhys only smiled.

There were worse fates, after all. 

[that-darn-clown]

so. thought about Evan in the Rewrite.

so he's the "middle child" of the Aftons. the child prodigy. the kid who was going to go far.

Evan's always described by his siblings and family in general as being distant, especially after the death of their mother, Claire. he was never mean to Cassidy, not for something that wasn't his fault.

after all, it wasn't Cassidy's fault that their mom died giving birth to him.

Evan just stayed out of the way of his father, only doing enough to keep him placated and off of his back, and his older brother Alex. he stayed out of the way of any family drama that might occur, and quietly grieved to himself.

as the years went by, and things kept getting worse, Evan just buried himself in schoolwork. he'd read, preferring to be within the fictional worlds that his books showed him than within his reality; a broken, grieving family, with an emotionally abusive father.

when he was 17 in 1990, he got the chance to go to college early. he jumped at the chance, packing the things he wanted to take with him, asked his father for the money needed to get him a place to stay, and then left.

he went to college a few states over, changed his last name, and never looked back.

he only really kept in touch with Michael, and then showed up to Alex's funeral a few years later.

he started a new life for himself, far from Hurricane, far from his father, and far from any of the pain that made up a majority of his life.

of course, he does go back every now and then to maintain his siblings' graves, he still calls to keep in touch with Michael.

and to tell him to get out of Hurricane. he doesn't have to stay there, he can start his life over just like Evan did. he's got a job now, and some connections; he can get Mike a job if he needs it.

but Mike never takes him up on the offer, staying home. Evan assumes it's out of some obligation to stick around, to stay with the family still. whatever his reason, Evan decides not to press him. hey, if it ain't broke, right?

then...Mike starts getting weird over the phone. he asks "Do you believe in ghosts, Ev?"

he doesn't know how to answer that. metaphorical ghosts of one's past? Evan believes in those; he's haunted by them often. real ghosts? well...it's not that he doesn't believe in them...but he hasn't seen proof of them yet.

what he does know, however, is that whatever happened to Michael, it clearly shook him up.

Evan starts a family. he owns his own bookstore, he's writing a book about his childhood and how it affected him (i think he'd title it something like "Wolf in the Rabbit's Burrow" because. y'know Rabbits. and William's Like That? you get it). sure, is it the best way to finally tell his current family about his past? probably not. but...well, at least in his book, he'd know a place to start.

then the PS fire happens...and now he kinda has to explain to his wife why he's going a few states over for a funeral (Henry's).

she's honestly just more upset that he never told her anything about this, but...considering his circumstances she can't even really blame him for not wanting to get into it.

Evan's the one child who people believe got out of everything relatively unscathed.

but "relatively" doesn't mean "completely," y'know.

(bonus fun fact: he had to add a couple of chapters after Michael explained everything to him. the chapter starts out by basically going "Alright, so some bullshit happened while I was writing this, so now I get to add a few extra chapters where I process this shit, so here we go: My Father's Apparently A Serial Killer Now-")

Evan wearing a Bazinga t-shirt.... I love him.

[saints-who-never-existed]

Rereading The Terror

Chapter Twenty-Six: Goodsir

And here we have it - the tally for it later. This is going to be an extra-long one I think, lads - I made a dozen annotations on the first page alone it's all so heart-breaking.

The chapter begins with one single gut-wrenching sentence: "I am the only one left." And we learn for certain that Peddie and Stanley both perished in the flames while MacDonald survived only to be gunned down accidentally by the Marines as he fled.

Surprisingly, the death toll is in single figures otherwise with only two other men on the list. Lieutenant Fairholme had his ribs crushed and his heart "pulverized" by Tuunbaq - interesting given that it was he who gunned down the polar bear mother and her cub. Retribution, perhaps? Meanwhile, Mr Hornby has an even sadder end than he does in the show - he was on watch most of the evening and arrived to the festivities not even an hour before he was brutally eviscerated.

There are eighteen other major injuries, including Blanky who has finally lost his already-damaged leg to the Tuunbaq but manages to remain upbeat about it like the absolute legend he is. Goodsir agrees: "Mr Blanky remains remarkably chipper for a man who has sustained so much damage in so short a time."

And so we move on to the punishment - Hickey, Manson, and Richard Aylmore (the man in the headless Sir John outfit and the brains behind the trippy Carnivale construction) are to be lashed 50 (50!!!) times each. Interestingly, Hickey and Manson are not being lashed for Insubordination etc. like Aylmore is but for making the bear costume as it is "a violation of all of Captain Crozier's previous orders about not wearing such Heathen Fetishes".

Aylmore and Manson are penitent with heads bowed. Aylmore faints after nine lashes and receives the full 50 (50!!!) while unconscious. Manson just weeps like a child. Hickey, however, holds his head high, takes all his lashes without a sound beyond a gasp just like in the show, and refuses support as he walks out of the room.

Another gut-wrenching detail that I feel the need to mention is the acknowledgement that they would normally throw a pail of water over an unconscious man so he would be awake enough to fully suffer his punishment. What's worse in this instance is the mention that it's so fucking cold they don't have any actual liquid water with which to do even that, hence why they just continue lashing Aylmore while he's passed the fuck out.

Another awful detail still is the fact that Crozier won't let Goodsir leave to attend to Aylmore once his punishment is over - he has to stay to watch Manson and Hickey too even if it means Aylmore bleeds to death in his absence.

Once Goodsir gets in there to treat the men, we see the mask very much start to come off for Hickey. He orders Manson abruptly to stop crying - no soothing, manipulative "loves" for him now apparently - then orders him to dress and leave the Sick Bay immediately. One can only imagine the pain they'd both be in and the force of will needed to dress and leave anyway...

Crozier gives a short speech after and there's a lot to consider. Like the fact that he takes responsibility as the Captain and assures the assembled men that he'll receive his own harsh punishment when he's eventually Court Martialled, while also openly expressing doubt that they'll survive long enough for that to actually happen.

Fitzjames says nothing, despite being the one to more actively oversee the Carnivale preparations. God love him, he's described as "impassive and pale. His gaze...unfocused. His thoughts...elsewhere."

Fitzjames is apparently so bereft and out of sorts that Crozier basically doesn't consider him within the chain of command as the chapter ends and Crozier endeavours to sober up: "The Captain turned over the handling of the ship's and expedition's affairs to Lieutenant Little yesterday - thus quietly but firmly giving command to Little rather than to Captain Fitzjames..." A win for cool, competent Ned! But at what cost?!

[tabitha42]

The Wizard's Apprentice - Chapter 48

Saffron is just a lowly apprentice with barely a successful firebolt to her name. So what chance does she have with the arch mage she's slowly falling in love with?

Gale x Tav, slow burn, eventual smut

Chapter 1 Previous chapter Next chapter

Saff watched with the others as Malitas inspected the magic that hung around them. As there was no room in the inn they’d set up camp nearby, within Isobel’s veil of protection, but even here wisps of the curse lingered.

“It’s even worse than I imagined…” he murmured, gathering a small tendril of the darkness in his hands, before waving it away. “I have seen shadow magic before, but never anything like this.” 

“Quite something, isn’t it?” Gale agreed. “It is even more concentrated beyond the barrier. As fascinating as it is harrowing.”

Malitas looked across at the magical barrier that lay just a few metres away at the edge of the campsite, stroking his chin in contemplation, til he heard an unfamiliar voice. 

“If you’re thinking of going out there, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

He turned with the others to see Jaheira approaching with Halsin in tow. She stopped and folded her arms as she looked at Malitas. 

“I don’t remember seeing you earlier.”

“My name is Malitas. Saffron is my apprentice, I’ve come to help her investigate this curse.”

Jaheira raised an eyebrow slightly. 

“How did you get here?”

“A teleportation spell, from Baldur’s Gate.” 

“Ah, pity you weren’t here earlier, you could have helped Florrick get back to the city. Next time, arrive in a more timely manner.” 

Malitas opened his mouth to object but she’d already moved on and was walking towards Saff. 

“I’m still interested in seeing what you can do, if you’d be willing to give a demonstration?” she asked. Saff’s face lit up and she was only too happy to oblige. 

She headed off with Jaheira and Halsin, and together they found a quiet clearing in the trees. At Halsin’s suggestion she showed Jaheira the dance he’d taught her before, though found it far more difficult to summon the magic that had come so naturally to her last time. Halsin encouraged her on as she struggled to summon any water, until she eventually gave up with a frustrated sigh. 

“I don’t get it. It was so much easier last time…”

“Don’t be disheartened,” Jaheira comforted her. “It is this place. The curse sucks the life from the land, and in turn, it sucks our powers. Only the strongest druids can overcome it. The fact that you were able to summon any druidic magic at all is impressive.”

“Really?” Saff asked in surprise, looking at her hands. 

“Indeed. Halsin tells me you have only started learning druidic magic less than a tenday ago. Is this so?”

Saff glanced at Halsin, who was staying quiet as he let Jaheira take the lead in conversation, then looked back at Jaheira. 

“Well… I’ve been trying to learn it for years, but I could never cast any of it until now.”

Jaheira stroked her chin as she looked thoughtfully at Saff. 

“To suddenly pick it up so quickly…” she murmured, almost to herself, then smiled. “Perhaps together, Halsin and I can help you find your balance in these lands, too.” 

Meanwhile, Gale and Malitas wandered the grounds of the inn as they examined and discussed the curse together. 

“A zombie?” Malitas asked as Gale described Yonas’s fate. 

“Of sorts, yes, yet very different to those created by regular necromancy.”

Malitas hummed as he considered this. 

“Do you know what happens to the victim’s soul if they succumb to the curse?” he asked, but Gale shook his head and shrugged. 

“Not a clue I’m afraid. Why do you ask?” 

“Because, should the worst happen, I may be able to procure a Scroll of Resurrection. But if the soul is consumed or destroyed… then even that won’t be an option.” 

Gale looked down slightly, pondering the scroll that nestled in his pouch. 

“True… unfortunately it is hard to say. The magic here is unprecedented.”

“Everything you all run into seems to be unprecedented,” Malitas said with a sigh. “Unprecedented Illithid tadpoles, unprecedented curses, unprecedented Netherese orbs…” 

He glanced over at Gale as they both paused in front of the water. 

“Did the book I gave you offer any answers?” he asked. 

“Not… as such,” Gale answered, looking out over the dark waters. “Though I am less in need of answers than I was before.” 

Malitas gave him a questioning look. Gale held his gaze on the waters for a long moment, before turning back to Malitas. 

“The orb has been stabilised.” 

“It has?” Malitas asked in surprise, looking quite impressed by the revelation. “How on Toril did you manage that?” 

“I didn’t,” Gale answered with a distant look. “Elminster did.”

“Ah. Well, I am glad to hear it,” Malitas replied. There was a moment of silence between them as he narrowed his eyes slightly at Gale’s demeanour. “I sense there is more to this story.” 

Gale sighed deeply, contemplating for a moment before answering. 

“Elminster stabilised it on Mystra’s order. He gave me a charm to detonate the orb at will, and I am to use it to destroy the heart of the Absolute, when I find it.” 

There was another moment of silence as Malitas’s eyes widened. 

“I’m sorry, she has ordered you to kill yourself??” he asked eventually in disbelief. Gale gave only a nod, curious to see what Malitas made of this before offering any more information. “Gods… I have read about some questionable orders she has given to her Chosen in the past, but none have been so brazen. There must be something about this orb if she is so desperate to be rid of it.”

“Or the Absolute is enough of a threat to warrant such a sacrifice,” Gale countered. “Elminster says it threatens everything - even the very fabric of the universe itself. I’m sure Mystra would see a single death as a worthwhile sacrifice against such a threat.”

“And who do you think told Elminster that?” Malitas challenged, giving Gale a look as he folded his arms. “If she wants you to kill yourself, of course she’ll tell you it’s to save the realm. She’ll say anything to convince you.” 

“You don’t believe it, then?” Gale asked.

“That the Absolute is a threat to the very fabric of the universe? No, of course not. If it were that serious, Ao himself would be getting involved. He certainly wouldn’t be leaving the fate of the universe to one singular god, who in turns leaves it to one singular human. While I don’t doubt the threat is significant, I don’t think we’re on the verge of witnessing the end of reality itself. The universe has a habit of persisting, no matter what befalls it. And if we are the only hope against a universe-ending threat, then my faith in the gods drops even lower, and that was a very low bar to begin with.” 

He shook his head and sighed, then looked at Gale.

“Are you going to do it?” 

“No,” Gale replied firmly. “Mystra offers forgiveness if I do, but I have no interest in her forgiveness. Not anymore.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Malitas replied with a nod. “Then what is your plan?” 

“We follow the trail, head to Moonrise, find out what is behind the Absolute and what its weaknesses are-”

“No,” Malitas interrupted, “I don’t mean for the Absolute. I mean for you. What will you do about the orb?” 

“Now that it’s stabilised, perhaps I need do nothing,” he replied, but Malitas looked unconvinced. 

“Mystra left you to die while it devoured you from the inside out. She then stabilised it only on the promise that you use it to kill yourself, and lied to you to help convince you to do it, knowing that you will do whatever is necessary to save the realms. It seems to me her priority is to be rid of both you and the orb. Should you defy her and rob her of both of these goals, she will need to find another way to achieve them. Whether she will destabilise the orb and return you to the state you were in before, or will find another way, I cannot say. But I am sure she will not do nothing.” 

Gale looked away. He’d convinced himself that, despite everything, Mystra would not want him dead out of spite, and if he were to find another way to destroy the Absolute that would be enough to at least convince Mystra to remove the orb from him. But perhaps Malitas was right… perhaps the destruction of the Absolute was not Mystra’s true goal after all. 

“Then what do you suggest I do?” he asked, looking over at Malitas.

“You must rid yourself of the orb and ensure you pose no threat to Mystra.”

“A threat? I have never posed a threat to her,” he objected defensively. 

“You went snooping through Netherese magic behind her back and are powerful enough to be able to contain that thing within you without dying. Should you learn to control it… well, she certainly would not want another Karsus on her hands.” 

Gale went quiet for a moment, looking away once more as he considered his options. 

“Or you can wait,” Malitas continued after a moment, “and hope Mystra takes pity on you. Personally, I know what I would be doing in your situation.”

He thought on Malitas’s words before responding with a slight shake of his head.

“I hardly have time to worry about the orb right now. There is too much else to deal with. I will cross this bridge when - if - I come to it.”

“I suppose I cannot argue with that logic, the tadpoles do pose a more immediate threat. Still, I will make sure to look out for anything that may prove to you useful during my research.” 

“Thank you,” Gale said quietly. “But don’t let it distract you from the other subjects you are researching.” 

Malitas let out a dry chuckle. 

“Saffron’s curse, the Shadow Curse, the tadpoles… what’s one more thing?” he mused. “Plus, I’m fairly sure Saffron is considering asking me to look into infernal engines next, given the news I heard Karlach received earlier.” “Ah, yes… that,” Gale murmured, staring back out into the murky waters. It was like life was playing a cruel joke on them both, giving them each solutions to their conditions that came with a promise of death. Karlach had refused to think about it and instead opted to spend the night celebrating, and if he was honest, he couldn’t blame her. Sometimes, the only way to keep going was to ignore the inevitable reality that waited on the horizon. 

Eventually the two of them made their way back to camp. Malitas decided to say goodbye to Saff before heading off and followed Gale to find her. The pair found her with Halsin and Jaheira, the three of them sitting in a circle with their eyes closed, each with one hand held out, a shimmering swirl of orange magic pulsing in the centre. Gale and Malitas glanced at each other, making an unspoken decision to leave them to it, until Jaheira spoke. 

“I think our lesson will have to come to an end,” she said, opening her eyes and lowering her hand. “We have company.” 

The ball of magic faded as the other two opened their eyes and looked up at the wizards. 

“My apologies,” Malitas said with a slight bow. “I wished to say goodbye to Saffron before I leave.”

Jaheira watched curiously as Malitas said his goodbyes, then disappeared through a portal. 

“He is your master?” she asked Saff, and she gave a nod. “Can he fight?” 

“Yes, we fought a bulette with him yesterday,” Saff confirmed. 

“Good. We’ll need all the help we can get,” Jaheira decided. “Now go and rest, cub. There is much awaiting you tomorrow.” 

Saff nodded her thanks to Jaheira, then headed off hand in hand with Gale back to the campsite. 

“Curious,” Jaheira commented as the two of them disappeared through the trees, “that she can learn druidic magic so quickly.” 

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Halsin agreed. “I’ve said it before - Silvanus smiles upon her.” 

Jaheira was quiet for a long moment as she stroked her chin in thought. 

“So it seems. I look forward to seeing how far she can go. Now come, I have a bottle of wine at the inn with our names on it.” 

---

She hummed to herself as she tended to the plants that filled Saff’s room. She watered each one, carefully cleaned the leaves, checked the soil, then gasped in delight at the unexpected flash of pink and purple at the next plant she came to.

“Oh, hello there little guy!” she cooed happily, marvelling at the little butterfly that sat on the leaf. “Aren’t you beautiful?” 

She stepped back as the butterfly took flight, fluttering around the room above her. Giggling to herself, she watched as it made its way to the window, before bouncing on the glass as it tried to fly out. 

“Here,” she said, walking over and lifting the window latch, “let me get that for you.” 

She opened the window and watched as it fluttered out, smiling to herself as she rested her arms on the windowsill and leant her head against the frame. How amazing it must be, she thought as she watched it flutter up into the sunlight, to be able to spread your wings and fly. To be able to go anywhere, anytime… simply fly away, nothing holding you down. How beautiful the world must look from up there… 

The door opened and snapped her out of her daydream. She spun with a gasp to see Malitas in the doorway.

“Gods! You scared me,” she said, holding her chest as she caught her breath. 

“Apologies,” he replied, closing the door behind him as he walked in. “Lost in your own world again?” 

She glanced out the window, a distant look on her face. 

“There was a butterfly…” she murmured, then looked back to him, focusing on the present once more. “Did she get to the Shadow Cursed lands alright?”

“Yes. They’ve found a safe haven, protected by a Selûnite cleric, and set up camp there. I still have much work to do, but…” he paused as he reached into his bag, “...I did manage to make one stop on the way home.” 

He took out four books, and her face lit up.

“You got them!” she said happily, running over to him to take the books from his hands. She looked down at the top one - Flora and Fauna of Icewind Dale - and opened the cover. Before she could get very far she felt his hand on her hip as he stepped close to her. 

“Anything for you, my dear,” he said, his thumb tracing small circles in the fabric of her dress. 

Her eyes flicked back to the window for just a moment, before she looked up at him with a smile. 

“I’m going to go put these books in the bedroom,” she said, walking past him, then lingering in the doorway as she looked back at him. 

“You’re welcome to join me.” 

She gave him a playful look, then headed off, knowing he would follow.

[neufhistoires]

Loveless Marriage (FrUK) Chapter 8

Loveless Marriage

Chapter 8

Word count: 4,626

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What a nightmare.

“Oh, come on. I wasn’t expecting you to be the one who has a problem with this… No, shouldn’t you be all ‘I don’t care if I’m marrying you, as long as I get to choose the decorations’ – which I said you could choose, if you don’t recall.”

In the dressing room at a tuxedo shop, Arthur was somehow the one who was trying to convince Francis to go through with the ceremony.

It wasn’t that Arthur wanted to go through with it either, but it was the last thing that their parents had requested of them, wasn’t it? It was something that was sure to help both of their family’s companies, so although the Englishman wasn’t a fan of it, he simply wanted to make it short and sweet, and most importantly, get it over with. Arthur had no idea why Francis was being so difficult…

Francis seemed to be in concerningly low spirits ever since he heard the news about the wedding ceremony, and it was only gradually getting worse. From his point of view, he had already decided that he liked Arthur. He struggled to directly call it love, but… what else could it have been? Regardless, to have a sham wedding with the person he was interested in was more painful than he could’ve imagined.

Since Francis wouldn’t have minded marrying Arthur one day, that was the true root cause of why he didn’t want to follow through with the wedding– Arthur wasn’t interested in him, he didn’t like him. For Arthur, it would’ve just been playing wedding for a day, but for Francis, he was drowning in thoughts of how his love wasn’t requited.

The solution to the problem seemed too simple– he could always tell Arthur how he felt. Then the Englishman would be more understanding of his melancholy, even if he didn’t reciprocate it (how could he?) and that in itself would feel like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. However, no matter how many feelings he had for the other man, Francis still couldn’t convince himself to put his pride on the line like that. He couldn’t take being rejected.

“Why don’t you just choose the decorations? I don’t care,” Francis mumbled, not even looking over at the other man as he continued to absentmindedly adjust his tie. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts.

“What? Did I pass that cold I had onto you?” Arthur questioned, walking over to the other man and placing the back of his hand on his forehead.

Francis’s temperature felt normal, so he had no idea why he was acting so strange. Was it that the thought of marrying Arthur publicly revolted him to the extent that he was in a state of shock?

Instead of replying to that, Francis let out an exhausted sigh and put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, lightly pushing him in the direction of the door.

“Let’s go show them these ones,” Francis said, referring to the tuxedos they had tried on. Their parents were waiting outside the fitting room.

“Wait..! Francis, are you really alright?” Arthur asked, turning to face the other man again as he placed his hand on the doorknob.

“I’m fine,” Francis replied coldly, gesturing towards the door again.

“Liar,” Arthur muttered before he opened the door and walked out in front of their parents, who immediately fawned over the suits they had chosen.

Arthur didn’t bother faking a smile, seeing as both of their parents were well aware of the fact that he didn’t want to follow through with it. Francis, however, forced what could only be described as a sad smile and continued to seem detached from everyone around him, like he was in his own world.

They listened to comments about how handsome they both looked as their parents walked up to them and even shed a few tears, which was strange seeing as it wasn’t a real marriage…

The reason their parents had been so insistent on them having an actual wedding ceremony was because people within their social circles started to speculate why they hadn’t heard anything about Francis and Arthur’s supposed relationship, and why they hadn’t seen the two together since the relationship was announced. Basically, the wedding ceremony was just a publicity stunt to try and convince people that their marriage was more than just a publicity stunt to bring attention to both of their companies. There was no reason to cry over such a thing.

After they chose their tuxedos, which Francis suspiciously had no opinion on whatsoever, they continued their wedding planning, which was somewhat rushed due to the limited amount of time Francis’s parents would be in England. Actually, they only had about a week to put the whole thing together. Fortunately, Arthur’s parents were willing to pay for most of it, which included a wedding planner who took care of making suitable invitations, inviting guests, and the decorations. The only thing they really had to focus on were making decisions for things like what food would be served and what venue it would be at.

Making decisions had turned into both a hassle and something that was much easier than usual. Francis and Arthur tended to have opposing views on what was aesthetically pleasing and what wasn’t, but even though Arthur had agreed to give Francis almost complete control over the decorations and the food, Francis kept giving dismissive, neutral responses to everything.

“Look, I understand that this whole thing doesn’t mean anything to you, and don’t get me wrong, I don’t care about it either– but just pick something..!” Arthur whisper-yelled as he leaned into Francis’s ear.

They were seated across from a professional baker, who was showing them her wedding cake design and flavor choices. There were hundreds of things to choose from, like how many tiers the cake had, the colors for the inside, the colors for the outside, what kind of decorations went on the sides and the tops, and most importantly what flavor the cake itself was. But each time the baker showed them a design or let them sample a flavor, Francis immediately said something along the lines of “that one is fine,” or, “I trust your judgment.”

“At least pretend like you care..!” Arthur leaned in and whispered again before smiling awkwardly at the woman seated across from them.

“It seems that I’m struggling to make a choice because they all sound so délicieux…” Francis started, both surprising and relieving Arthur when he finally started to say something. 

But then, Francis suddenly was halfway across the table, grabbing the woman’s hand. The woman’s cheeks flushed, and Arthur looked like he was going to lose it.

“Surely it’s because they were made by someone so divine, so–”

Arthur stood up and grabbed Francis’s arm, causing Francis to look over at him and release the woman’s hand with a sigh before he casually sat back down as if nothing had happened.

“Have you forgotten why we’re here?” Arthur asked, his eye twitching.

“Non. Let’s go with the strawberry cake filling and design option C,” Francis replied, his tone suddenly cold as he stood up to leave. “And then I suppose we’ve finished this part, so let’s get going,” He added, his gaze not meeting Arthur’s again as he started to leave the room.

“I’m so sorry about that– I think all this wedding planning has him stressed,” Arthur apologized to the woman awkwardly before he ran after Francis.

“What were you thinking, flirting with a woman when we’re supposed to be convincing people that you and I are getting married?!” Arthur yelled once they got out of the store. There was still enough space between them and their parents who had been socializing in the parking lot, so they couldn’t hear their conversation.

“I guess I’m tired of lying,” Francis replied, his tone still cold despite the sad look in his eyes when they met Arthur’s.

“Well, just hold that feeling in for a few more days and we’ll be done with all of this,” Arthur replied with a huff as they eventually rejoined their parents.

If only it were that easy.

The next part was something Francis had forgotten about, and probably what would hurt him the most– they hadn’t gotten wedding rings yet.

Rings were supposed to represent unity, a sacred bond between two people who loved each other more than anything and promised to do so until death, and yet… in this case, it had no meaning. They were simply…

“They’re just rings. I don’t care which one I get. I’ll just wait here in the car,” Francis said, coming across as harsh and cold despite the anguish he was feeling.

Francis’s mother interjected, explaining that he should choose a ring because they thought he would be more opinionated to the point that they even put money back to help pay for one.

Francis felt like his stomach was twisting into a knot and it was only a matter of time until the ever-building pressure became unbearable. He couldn’t go in there and choose a ring.

“I trust that you’ll be able to choose something I like then,” Francis muttered, making no attempt to get out of the vehicle.

Their parents ended up heading into the store ahead of them, saying something about how the two of them seemed to be getting along better, so maybe Arthur could convince Francis to put more effort into choosing a ring.

“Francis– why are you being this way? I know it seems meaningless, but think of it this way– you can go in there and choose the most expensive, fancy ring if you’d like, and you don’t even have to associate it with me..!” Arthur urged, still confused as to why he was begging Francis of all people to have input on what he wanted.

“If it’s meaningless, then go choose one for me,” Francis muttered, looking out the window as he attempted to shoo the other man away from him.

However, then Francis started to ponder that idea more. He remembered when Arthur gave him the room with the best view at his parents house, and of course, how surprisingly well he had decorated it for him. Then there was the time Arthur bought wine and bread for Francis, which once again was surprisingly to his taste.

“I’m sure you’ll choose something that I like. Besides, isn’t that what married people usually do anyway? One person surprises the other with a ring, right? So it’s not really that strange if I don’t come in,” Francis reasoned, secretly pondering whether it would break his heart more or less to have a ring that Arthur had chosen.

“Oh… Well, I suppose that’s true,” Arthur agreed, finally opening the door to get out of the car. “If you really don’t mind, then I’ll do my best to pick out something that you’ll like…” Arthur murmured, his cheeks dusting pink as he closed the car door and went inside the store.

Once the rings were bought, everything for the wedding ceremony had officially been taken care of. The venue that their parents had chosen was a few hours away from where they lived, so they were all staying at a hotel. The only thing that was unfortunate, which they both didn’t dare acknowledge to each other, and especially not to their parents, was that they were staying in separate rooms.

Each night, the two of them awkwardly avoided each other before they left to go to bed, suddenly becoming aware of how strange it was that they essentially cuddled together every night despite their supposed hatred for one another. Fortunately, although for different reasons, they both would’ve died of embarrassment if their parents found out that they had been sleeping in the same bed together, so they both accepted restless nights and didn’t mention their sleepless nights to the other. That was, until the day of the wedding ceremony…

In the morning, in the hotel hallway, Francis and Arthur bumped into each other. They both seemed terribly exhausted with dark circles underneath their eyes as if they hadn’t slept in years. 

“Francis, what’s wrong with you? Haven’t you had time for your beauty sleep?” Arthur teased, letting out a laugh.

Francis scowled and replied, “Look who’s talking..! You have dark circles under your eyes, too!” He pointed his finger at the Englishman accusingly.

Arthur wanted to object, but he couldn’t. They were both well aware of why they looked that way, but it was too embarrassing to talk about it…

“Are you ready for today..?” Arthur asked quietly, seeing as they were in the hallway where other people might’ve heard their conversation.

“Non,” Francis replied softly, his demeanor changing when he thought about the ceremony again.

“I never would’ve guessed that you would be the one who’s more bothered by this whole thing,” Arthur commented, saying his thoughts out loud.

“Well… I am…” Francis replied hesitantly before he impulsively pulled on the other man’s arm and leaned close to his ear. “Why don’t we just leave and call this whole thing off? We can go do something else today– something that’s not stressful, and we can do this marriage thing some other time,” Francis urged.

“No,” Arthur said firmly, pulling away from the Frenchman. “Our parents put a lot of time and effort into making this whole thing seem legit. I know that you’re upset about it, but I don’t want to go through with it anymore than you do, so let’s just fake some smiles and get it over with..!” 

Admittedly, Francis probably would’ve snuck away to the hotel bar and ditched the ceremony if he didn’t think Arthur would still show up and then be embarrassed when the Frenchman didn’t come…

When Francis didn’t reply, Arthur followed up with a “you better show up,” and walked away. 

At that moment, Francis realized he couldn’t avoid the ceremony without jeopardizing his relationship with Arthur any more than he already had, so he decided that he had to go. The twisting feeling in his stomach returned and he leaned his back against the hallway wall, contemplating what he should do in order to get through the rest of the night.

Well, maybe going to the hotel bar was the right thing to do… He just had to make sure he wasn’t too drunk to attend the ceremony afterwards. With that in mind, Francis headed downstairs to the bar. Meanwhile, he was unaware that his parents had been looking for him because everyone else was getting ready for the ceremony.

About a half an hour later, Francis’s parents ended up bumping into Arthur, who was already dressed in his tuxedo for the wedding. They complimented him and then asked him if he knew where Francis was because they couldn’t seem to find him. He immediately jumped to the conclusion that the Frenchman really must’ve left like he had said he wanted to, but he didn’t vocalize that. He simply replied that he would help look for him, too.

Conveniently, as soon as Arthur made his way down to the hotel lobby, he saw the sign for the bar and thought that seemed like an appropriate place to check…

What Arthur found was enough to make his blood boil– Francis passed out drunk at the counter. It wasn’t even noon yet.

Arthur wasn’t even sure if he could yell at the other man because if he was drunk enough to pass out, then he surely wouldn’t be able to understand him.

Arthur’s hands were shaking from a combination of anger and irritation as he slowly placed one of them on Francis’s shoulder. He was tempted to shove him off the stool, but part of him felt bad for the other man and couldn’t bring himself to do that. He opted for lightly shaking his shoulder. 

“Francis–why would you get drunk at a time like this? Everyone is looking for you,” Arthur said, continuing to shake the Frenchman’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to… marry you,” Francis slurred, sounding more like he was asleep rather than drunk. He slowly started to lift his head up, but everything was blurry and he couldn’t seem to focus on anything, not even the man who was only inches away from him.

“I know, I know. I don’t want to marry you either,” Arthur replied as if they were just having a casual conversation.

“I’m going to throw up,” Francis muttered. He had said it so casually that Arthur almost didn’t realize what he said.

“Don’t get it on me– I’m already dressed..!”

Arthur moved behind Francis to hold his hair back (and avoid getting puked on), and then the Frenchman puked up what had to be four bottles of wine onto the counter. The bartender didn’t look too happy…

“How did you manage to drink that much?! I just saw you a half an hour ago!” Arthur yelled in disbelief.

“Hm..? I don’t know, but… it’s all gone now,” Francis muttered, looking utterly exhausted.

“Yes, I know,” Arthur replied sarcastically.

Arthur ended up having to apologize to the bartender and pay him extra, too. It wasn’t that he had to, but it was sort of embarrassing to just walk away with someone after they puked all over the counter…

“I keep having to apologize to everyone because of you,” Arthur muttered, trying to get through the lobby while practically dragging Francis because he was still so dizzy and couldn’t see very well. “I hope you’re proud of yourself,” Arthur continued to scold Francis like an angry parent when he didn’t respond to him right away.

“Well… I do feel a lot better… now that I’m drunk…” Francis slurred, laughing some when he said it.

“Oh, well good. I know I’ll look forward to the rest of the night, too, if I have to walk down the aisle with you like this..!” Arthur replied sarcastically as he pressed the button for the elevator. Thank God for elevators. 

Arthur eventually got Francis to his room and decided that he would be the one who helped the other man get ready. After all, he had already gotten the drunken mess through the lobby and upstairs, so why stop there? He simply messaged his parents that he had found him and he was fine, so he would help him get ready from there. They were once again praised for “getting along so much better than they had before,” but was that really true..?

As soon as Francis sat down on his bed, he immediately lay down.

“What are you doing?! We have to be at the venue in an hour!” Arthur exclaimed, trying to pull the other man back into a sitting position.

“Arthur… I’m so tired. Just let me sleep for a little bit,” Francis whined, lying back down and covering his face with a pillow.

“No! You have to get dressed now,” Arthur insisted, taking the pillow from him and throwing it across the room.

“Fine,” Francis said with a groan as he sat back upright. “Help me?”

Arthur’s eye twitched as he muttered a sarcastic, “oh, yes, of course.” Eventually, Arthur got Francis into his tuxedo. Although, there were multiple times that he really struggled because the Frenchman refused to stand up, or he tried to help by buttoning things himself, but he was too drunk to see that he had buttoned them unevenly. It was truly a nightmare, but they got through it.

Arthur’s cheeks flushed when he saw Francis’s final look. He was secretly a bit jealous that the Frenchman still looked so good even after being passed drunk and throwing up four bottles of wine less than an hour ago…

“We need to get going then,” Arthur urged. “I’ll even make sure to stay away from you for a few days after this since it was so painful for you,” He joked, pulling Francis out of the room with him and locking the door behind them.

Francis let out a small laugh at his joke, but it was more of a sad laugh than a genuine one. How could they misunderstand each other so much that Arthur really thought the reason Francis was upset was because he couldn’t stand him?

The wedding would start soon, so Francis, Arthur, and their parents immediately headed to the venue. Francis really didn’t regret getting drunk before it either because had almost no butterflies in his stomach. He might’ve even been willing to give a speech or something, he had numbed himself so much.

Arthur, on the other hand, did feel his nerves go through the roof once they set foot in the building.

“I guess I can do this now,” Arthur whispered to Francis with a nervous laugh as he linked his arm with the Frenchman’s.

Francis felt warm when Arthur held onto his arm like that, feeling some comfort in it, too. The wedding planner had suggested that they both walked down the aisle together, so what had started as the Englishman clinging to the Frenchman due to anxiety led to the door being opened and them walking down the aisle that way.

It was terribly awkward.

Francis was too drunk to notice how awkward it was, but Arthur was repeating over and over again in his head that he hoped it didn’t look as awkward as he thought it was… Fortunately, Francis was still walking rather slowly due to how much he had drunk before the ceremony, which inadvertently slowed Arthur down, too, so it stopped them from rushing down the aisle to get it over with.

“Maybe I should’ve been like you and gotten drunk… I can’t do this..!” Arthur whispered into Francis’s ear as they continued down the aisle.

“You can’t say that now..! I was listening to you and trying to get this over with!” Francis whispered back, the two of them forcing smiles towards everyone around them as they whisper-fought down the aisle.

Upon reaching the altar, Francis’s nerves finally kicked in because the music stopped and it became uncomfortably silent. It didn’t help that Arthur was staring into his soul because he was too uncomfortable to look anywhere else.

The priest started the ceremony and Francis and Arthur both essentially zoned out, hoping to distract themselves until they had to say something. Eventually though, the priest was staring at them expectantly and they both weren’t sure why, so he had to repeat himself, asking if they had any vows.

“Oh, non. We, uh, are going to do those in private later,” Francis said awkwardly, glancing around to read the room.

The guests were essentially just a few family members and mostly people from companies that their parents had collaborated with. 

“Oh okay. We’ll proceed with the ring exchange then,” the priest replied.

Francis pulled the ring that he had been given out of his pocket, feeling a bit guilty that he hadn’t even looked at it yet, even though Arthur had picked his ring out for him.

“Arthur, I…”

Francis looked over at the priest hesitantly and he gestured for him to take his hand. Letting out a heavy sigh, his nerves finally showing, Francis reached out and gently took Arthur’s hand in his own.

“I give you this ring as a symbol… of my everlasting… love for you,” Francis said, his voice so quiet that it became a whisper towards the end as he placed the ring on Arhur’s finger. 

Francis couldn’t help but smile endearingly at the man in front of him when he realized how much his hands were shaking. Fumbling around with the ring, Arthur pulled it out of his pocket and that was when Francis saw it for the first time.

“I give you this ring… as a symbol of my everlasting love for you,” Arthur said hesitantly, his cheeks so hot he wondered how he didn’t implode then and there. He was so embarrassed. If he was going to confess his love to someone, surely it wouldn’t be in a room full of people like that…

Then Arthur realized that due to his embarrassment, he hadn’t placed the ring on Francis’s finger yet.

“Sorry,” Arthur muttered out nervously as he put the ring on the other man’s finger.

“It’s okay,” Francis whispered, instinctively trying to reassure the Englishman despite the circumstances.

Francis glanced down at the ring on his hand and he felt like someone had a hold of his heart, clenching it with all their might. The ring was beautiful. At that moment, he wasn’t sure if it was that the ring would’ve been his first choice out of any ring he had ever laid eyes on, or if it only felt that way because the man he loved had picked it out just for him.

“Francis?” Arthur called out gently, pulling the Frenchman out of his thoughts. Francis was crying, but he hadn’t even noticed it.

“Oh,” Francis said, letting out a small laugh as he brought a hand up to wipe his eyes.

Arthur would’ve been more concerned, but he thought that it must’ve just been Francis and his incredible acting skills, the same ones that could charm anyone. He was kind of relieved, too, because he had been worried that more people might suspect the whole thing was a sham…

Then, before they knew it, they were officially announced husband and husband and asked to kiss.

Francis didn’t exactly want to kiss Arthur for this fake display of affection that was only put on for the sake of other people, but… it wasn’t like they hadn’t already shared a drunken kiss together that night Arthur went loose on the wine, so…

Arthur instinctively backed up when the priest said they could kiss, which caused some confused glances among the guests, but Francis decided he would just go for it and pulled Arthur into a quick kiss to appease everyone. He wasn’t too sure if it worked though, seeing as the Englishman went as stiff as a board when it happened.

The reception wasn’t too long and felt more like a business party than anything (because that was essentially what it was). Francis spent most of his time walking around with his parents and Arthur did the same with his parents. It was like they weren’t even together.

Francis would glance across the room longingly at Arthur every once and awhile, but not once did he catch him looking back at him. Little did he know that they were always looking at the opposite time…

“Francis– I didn’t get to commend you on your great acting skills yet,” Arthur commented, finally talking to Francis once they were cleaning up after the reception.

“What are you talking about?” Francis asked, exhaustion evident in his tone.

“The crying during the ceremony! I think people really bought it!” Arthur said, patting Francis on the back. He had clearly had a drink or two…

“Oh, right,” Francis replied, looking a bit annoyed.

Before Francis could lose it on the other man and say something he regretted, their parents walked over to them.

“Thank you for agreeing to have the ceremony tonight. We think people really believed that you two are in love,” Arthur’s mom mused.

“Yes, yes. So, in order to thank you two for going through all of this for our company– well, both of our companies– we have a little reward for you,” Arthur’s dad added, handing Francis an envelope (because he was the more sober one at that point).

“Oh, merci..?” Francis replied hesitantly as he opened the envelope, Arthur leaning over his shoulder to see what it was.

“Two tickets to Seychelles?”

“Yes, for your honeymoon!”

[dysphanic-redshift]

@nerdydowntherabbithole fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you /pos

So remember that ask I sent in abt possible Pebbles nightmare. brain screamed at me until I actually wrote it. It’s. Oh boy. I didn’t even know I had that ability of describing horror.

To anyone else finding this: DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE LATEST TLAI CHAPTER. Similarly this mini-work contains graphic descriptions of body horror, mentions of (fake) character death, and general terror/horror/angst. And as a final message: Fuck you Nerdy I love your writing

Pebbles woke up, slow as ever, to find himself decidedly not inside the shelter. Instead he was somewhere in that dreaded swamp with the Rot-lookalikes and murderous fireflies. He stayed still on the ground for a long moment, antenna twitching and swiveling towards any hint of noise. But there was nothing.

Belatedly, he realized his connection with his Overseers was severed. He tried to reach for the link, flinching as he was met with nothing. Not even a phantom feeling. Just like when he was severed from his can. Pebbles shuddered- He wasn't sure what happened. Why was he out here again, why were his Overseers gone?

The Iterator stood up, brushing off his pants from the dirt and shaking his head lightly. Glancing around the swamp, it was... darker. No longer did distant yellow light flit through the trees. Bioluminescent spots that dotted the terrain and creatures was absent. Not a single lizard. Not an idling bug. Nothing. Even more silent than it was beforehand.

Like this, the silence felt as if it was trying to consume him. Pebbles shuddered again. He wanted out, and quickly. He wanted his friends back.

He began walking, slow and careful, stepping over the brush and avoiding the trees and puddles as much as he could, ducking away from looming branches.

Pebbles was remarkably careful, flinching whenever he even thought there was a noise, only to discover nothing in it's place than his own body brushing against some stray leaves or stepping on a flimsy twig. And when something did happen, it was the last thing he wanted.

He found himself tripping over an outstretched tendril of that Rot-lookalike. As quick as he could, Pebbles stamped his foot onto it, causing the thing to fall limp as he backed away, antenna quivering as he stared at it, eyes wide.

Gone was the knotted branch-like thing mottled with green. No, instead it was more bulbous than normal, squirming and squelching, bright blue X marks across it's cysts popping and glowing.

In an instant, the entire swamp lit up. Bright blue and glowing, tendrils of Rot extending from the trees and roots and leaves, reaching for him, grasping at his hands and legs and antenna, it was coming from the water and the sky and the ground it was everywhere.

If Pebbles had the ability to throw up, he was sure he would've. As it were, a sort of robotic gagging noise forced itself from his voice box as he ripped himself away from the disgusting texture and backed away, a high pitched buzz accompanying his stress.

And as if it couldn't get worse, a long tendril of Rot wrapped around his arm and torso, pulling him to the ground with a thump. The dirt under his hands and feet felt like it was corroding, crumbling under every touch, squishy and moist. A glance down confirmed his strangled thought- It too was marked with various X's of all kinds.

Pebbles watched with shaking limbs as a form approached from the shadows, illuminated in blue and pink, the stench of burning and melting flesh meeting him. Peach lay coated in cysts, one of their back legs deformed and mangled, outstretched beyond it's abilities, lifting the large creature up as their tail swayed, black scales parting and cracking under the strain of tumors ever shifting within their body. Their head was dimmed of color, not a single noise or hiss or growl escaping their throat.

And their eyes. Lizard eyes were typically black in color barring a few species, but this? This blackness was dead. He could tell, with just a glance that grew far too prolonged, that they were dead. Dead dead dead, his mind chanted, just like he would be.

Following came Clover, lumbering on all fours, jaw twisted and broken, every joint and bone popping and cracking with movement. Black acidic liquid dripped from their mouth, gurgling and steaming, as the soft shamrock color that typically emitted from Clover's head faded, as did any light behind their eyes.

The buzzing in his voice box grew to a wail as in came Cherry, her normally spikey fur was matted and rippling as cysts shifted underneath, breaking out and leaking pure darkness from her one good eye, staining the white coloring. Her scarred eye had a tumor growing right over where it once was, bright red X's marring her fur. Three tendrils held her up, one having been her tail, now popping and spluttering every few seconds with weak sparks, the smell of gunpowder far from comforting.

Following just behind the red slugcat came Angel and the pups, Angel reverted to the form the group had found her in, albeit more... consumed. The Rot had progressed, sprouting two new tendrils, her scar bubbling with acid. And the pups- One walked nearly the same as they had before, with one leg twisted and broken, dragging behind them, their mouth open in a silent scream. The other was turned over, large pulsating tumors erupted from their chest, right where their heart would've been.

Cream and Sugar, then, just as mangled as the rest. Sugar looked half-mauled on top of the cysts clinging to its side, one ear gone and an arm reduced to nothing but decayed bone. Cream’s head was completely overtaken, not even his dead eyes visible.

Pebbles began struggling, sparking like a tesla coil, thrashing against the Rot that held him down, but it prevailed it didn't burn, why wasn't it dying- Everything felt like it stopped at once. Pebbles looked up, meeting someone's eyes.

Moon. Moon was there, she was there, he began shouting her name, voice so overlayed with static that he wasn't even sure if he was saying the right thing. But she was there, she could save him-

His voice gave out into strangled cries as he realized.

Not Moon. Not alive. Dead, dead, she's dead, she's gone, she's dead, she's not coming back she's not here to save you youkilledheritsyourfault-

He woke with a high-pitched shriek, body still sparking. He looked around hurriedly, reaching for the ties to his Overseers-

Everyone was fine. Cherry, Angel, and Cream were right where they had been before. Clover and Peach were curled up in an odd little lizard ball. The pups were sleeping on Cherry's tail, tiny breaths shifting her fur.

There was no Rot. They were all okay. Moon was probably waiting for Sugar as the rain cycle passed.

It was just a dream.

Pebbles let out a soft sigh, trying to ignore the electronic whining his voice box still insisted on producing as he curled up in the corner, pulling his knees to his forehead.

Just a dream.

[moszeel]

hey so I finished chapter 1 of the SkaSpec Reverse AU fic

It’s not beta read since 1) I’m lazy 2) I’d never publish it cause I’d be trying to get it to be perfect.  maybe I’ll get chapter 2 out in another 6 months. Also I’m uploading this to Ao3 in a bit, so I’ll updated it with link when that happens. Please give me criticism I have no idea what I’m doing 

Rated Teen + Warnings for descriptions of blood and injuries

A vast ocean of stars sway and flicker in and out of Laurentina’s view. At least, she assumes that what they are. That’s what would make the most sense. Hmm, no. That can’t be right. To be seeing stars would mean she was on the surface, but just moments ago the unit was deep within the sea being crushed by waves of seaborn. It would make much more sense for this to be a trick. Perhaps I have died? Well, that was anticlimactic, she mused. Maybe this was her dying brain’s attempt at comfort. At the very least, this limbo made the pain subside. Letting eyelids slip close once again was but a matter of course. What will I tell captain?  how I bravely fought the seaborn till—

         A familiar sound. Waves. Crashing, but not against each other? Blinking out the remaining sea water leaves a dull sting, and the stars greet her once more. Though this time they look less like a painter’s timid splotches. For some reason, and really who is she to judge, she thought they’d look more, impressive. Foreign poets stated it as a gift bestowed from the very heavens. Singers would pour out their heart and soul trying to describe it. Gladdia said it was there. Hah

         Deep aches grip every muscle in her body. Usually in these situations the cold water would be soothing, However just the sea foam is enough to cause shivers. Hypothermia would be an even worse way to go. She lets out a sigh. Sooner or later she would have to check for injuries. Tis a rookie mistake to assume the aches were the worst of it.

           Let’s see if this truly is a dream. Deciding to start with the left wrist, she tries to turn it clockwise. In return, it continues to lay limply on... the sand. So, this is a beach. Well, that explains the water. Brushing this new found knowledge aside, she continues up the arm and up to the elbow. Still nothing. Shoulder, nothing. Strange, at the very least this should’ve healed. Not having the patience to go through the same motions with her arm, she kicks her left leg straight. Unsurprisingly the leg buckles, and pain floods it’s nerves. Although, the attempt on the right leg doesn’t go nearly as bad, as it can swivel without too much trouble.

           The other arm can move somewhat fine, but the limp arm has yet to heal. Go figures. With the usable arm, Laurentina props up onto her elbow, and with whatever remaining conviction, finally looks at the damage.

Two types of blood stain her uniform.

The deep, fleshy blood of both her and her comrades, and the fluorescent, alien blue floating like oil in it. A chuckle escapes

          To no one in particular. With a surprisingly stable hand, the check up has begun. Just a quick brush of the hand confirms that there are open wounds. Fair enough

           A freezing chill rushes down her spine. Ears strain for anything, yet the same crash of waves is all there is. No new scents either. Short glances across the empty beach reveal very little. Perhaps she should’ve checked the area earlier? Now’s not really the time to dwell though, considering the situation. Soon enough her gaze is focused back on the myriad of cuts and gashes. Very few have begun to even scab over, and although most of the bleeding stopped, the feeling of sea salt trying to force its way through opened cuts doesn’t inspire hope.

              Although the excessive re-checks take much longer than usual, it pays off. The injuries include a few fractures, cuts of varying lengths and depths, and a handful of hyperextended joints. Which, really, isn’t the absolute worst state she’s been in. With a short huff, she places her palms onto the grey sand, and begins shifting the weight in her legs. After getting them into the right position, all that’s left is to get up. A quick  push from the left arm gets most of her torso to lurch forward. Maybe a bit too forward, as she can feel herself rock far past her knees.

           The expected feeling of splashing face first into the waves never comes. Instead, she can feel her hands and knees  be tugged at by the receding waves. Dragging a leg up to her chest, and then using both of her wobbling hands, she begins to push the rest of her body back up. At first, the tremors stop for just long enough to prop her legs up without too much pain. Just as quickly do they come back. Couple that with the sudden waves of nausea and it’s nearly impossible to keep going. However, by some miracle, she manages to keep up upright, and takes her first step.

(This was written like 3 months ago but I didn’t know how to end it so yeah.)

[freesia-writes]

Howzer + Aurelia Ch. 19

Howzer stole our hearts when he appeared in TBB, and I wanted to write a bit of a backstory for him. It begins with his newbie days during TCW and stretches to where we last see him in TBB. Enjoy his character arc and some heartwarming romance, action, adventure, yearning, angst, and growth.

Master List of Chapters

Content/Trigger Warnings for Entire Work (individual chapters not labeled): wartime peril, injury, and death; pregnancy, birthing trauma, and infant loss; sexual assault up to kissing; relationship passion up to making out and heavy petting; sexual relationship alluded to but not described (no smut, sorry) ;)

Word Count: 2.3k

19. Rescue

"Remember that time you tried to impress me by getting caught in the rafters of a Coruscant opera house?" Howzer said suddenly, as they were walking across the capitol square after a morning visit to the refinery. He had a bit of a twinkle in his eye, though his jab was so understated that it sounded more like a factual question than an attempt at a dig.

"Okay, it seemed like a good idea at the time," Aurelia cajoled, surprised by the sudden memory. "What, just feeling the need to rub my face in it again?"

He smiled, shaking his head, "No, actually. I wondered if you'd be interested in seeing a little place I've found here that I thought you might like."

She couldn't see his expression behind his helmet, but she felt flattered that he was thinking of her at all. Unable to resist a grin, she nodded as they walked toward her office building. "I'd love to. Where and when?" she asked.

"I'll swing by here when you get off work tonight?" Howzer suggested, as they drew to a halt at the double transparisteel doors to the offices.

"Perfect. Nothing like humiliation to finish the day off," she joked, beaming at him. He gave a little bow of the head, and they parted ways.

The afternoon was spent on tedious entries on her datapad. She wanted the time to go as quickly as possible, so naturally, it felt like it crawled at a painstaking pace. In an attempt to pass the time more quickly, she decided to go for a walk, use the refresher, and change into a more comfortable (and slightly more flattering) outfit in preparation for the evening. It was getting close to the end of her work day, and she couldn't deny the rising eagerness within. But upon her return, Aurelia entered her office to find none other than Moss Gowden, reclining in the chair opposite her desk with a small array of local foods spread across it. The smells were delicious, but his presence somewhat negated the delight.

"Excellent timing, my sweet," he said, brandishing an arm across the desk in a proud display. "I hope you're hungry! I know it's getting late, but we need to go over the final inventory numbers and make sure the import schedule is all lined up. So I figured dinner would make it more bearable. I hope you didn't have plans tonight."

"Oh, umm. Thanks," she said with a small, forced smile, taking her seat opposite him. She did still have some time left on the clock, but not enough for all that work, so she needed to figure out how to get out of this as quickly as possible. He took a large bite of something crunchy, a fried little roll stuffed with some meat and herbs, and she dug in, deciding the food was worth the miserable company. They ate with periodic conversation for a while, and she had finished her bowl of noodles when she reached across for the platter of vegetables. The movement made her head spin a little bit, which seemed odd. She furrowed her brow, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her forehead with her hands.

"Everything alright?" Moss asked, pausing with his fork halfway to his mouth.

"Yeah, I just got dizzy for a second," she answered, returning to lean over her desk. But despite her best efforts to ignore it until it passed, it only grew worse as they finished their meal. She blinked a few times, hard, realizing that her eyes were slightly unfocused as well. But for some reason, it didn't seem to bother her so much anymore. In fact, it was kind of funny.

"Shall we get to those reports?" came Gowden's voice, sounding almost as if they were in a tunnel. Aurelia giggled at the funny tone, and he tilted his head in affectionate confusion.

"Ah, forget the reports," she said, waving an arm in the air. "I think it's time for a nap!" she laughed, leaning back in her chair so far that she almost tipped over backward.

"What has gotten into you?" Gowden asked, laughing a little bit himself. He stood and walked over to take a knee next to her chair, placing a hand on her thigh... "You feeling a little silly tonight?"

"I guess so!" She looked down at him, realizing in that moment just how much his face reminded her of a fat little blurrg baby, and she giggled uncontrollably, pushing his shoulder with a hand and leaning forward. He mirrored her laughter, gently moving his hand up and down her thigh, and rose to his feet.

"Well, maybe the reports can wait til tomorrow," Moss said slowly, extending a hand to her. "I guess it's about time for you to be done anyway. Why don't we just have a little fun instead?"

She took his hand, rising to her feet, and the world rolled around her as though she were in the middle of the Akkadese Maelstrom. She stumbled to the side, laughing despite herself, and he caught her with a gropey sort of side-hug.

"Oh goodness, you're a mess," Gowden chuckled with a wide grin on his face. "Bet you're glad we had this couch put in your office now, eh?" He led her over to it, easing her down and sitting next to her. She felt a sense of alarm, but it was buried deep beneath layers of murky thoughts that bubbled effervescently in her brain. The couch was so soft, and she sunk into it gratefully, sprawling out in a most unladylike fashion.

But Gowden seemed to find it endearing, and he leaned in, tracing one hand up the back of her neck and the other on her thigh. She moved her leg away, but he followed. The warning bells were still ringing, but she felt as though her head were made entirely of clouds and she was on a little speeder bike flying through them without a care in the world.

"Can I help you feel better?" Moss asked, bringing his face close to hers.

"I'm just gonna sleep now if that's okay and do the reports in the morning and you can call me when you come in to work and we can work on them together cause it'll be good to do the work during the day cause now it's time to sleep," Aurelia murmured, head rolling from one side to the other. It was an odd feeling to be simultaneously heavy and fluffy.

"Oh, that doesn't sound like any fun. I have a better idea," Moss responded, using his hand on the back of her neck to bring her head to his, reaching his other hand to grab her by the waist. He brought his lips to hers, smushing them together with greedy lust, pushing his hand further behind her back and pulling her toward him. She attempted to protest, but it was no more than a mumble as he firmly pressed her neck, keeping her face close, and began exploring her mouth with his tongue.

Why can panic and elation feel so similar? Racing heart, adrenaline flooding, thoughts spiraling into chaos and silence at once... Aurelia pushed on his chest with her hands, straining against him, but he persisted, releasing her face to bring his mouth to her neck instead. She opened her mouth to yell, but he clapped a hand over it and only a little squeal escaped.

Just then, her office door slid open and the clone captain entered, taking in the scene through his visor. As Gowden leaned back to look at who it was, Howzer was already in action, taking three quick strides to the couch, picking the disgusting little man up by his shirt, and throwing him against the wall next to the door. Finding the sudden weight she was pushing against to no longer be there, Aurelia fell forward onto the couch, faceplanting in relief and giggly deliriousness.

"What the kriff do you think you're doing?!" Gowden yelled, scrambling to get to his feet. But Howzer was upon him, delivering a swift kick between his legs that produced a gratifying grunt of pain. He bent down, grabbing Gowden by the shoulders, and lifted him up, slamming him into the wall with just enough restraint to avoid knocking him out.

"I'll have you executed!" Gowden screamed again, greasy hair a wild mess, and a slightly spice-induced glaze over his eyes.

"You won't speak a word of this," Howzer growled, his helmeted voice impressively commanding, "And you will never touch nor speak to her again, do you understand me?"

"You have no--" Moss began, but was cut off as Howzer rammed him into the wall again to drive home the point.

"Do you understand me?" The voice was chillingly harsh now.

"Yes!" Moss yelped, and Howzer dropped him to the floor with another thud. "Crazy clone..." Gowden muttered. Howzer took a swing with all his force, straight to the side of Gowden's head, and he passed out cold in a crumpled pile.

Aurelia's face was sideways on the couch, having watched the whole ordeal with heavy-lidded eyes that were glassy and unfocused. She felt as though she were watching an old action holo, and she smiled and gave a little cheer as Howzer turned to her from the unresponsive figure against the wall. He pulled his helmet off, kneeling next to her and placing a gentle hand on her back.

"Are you okay? What did he do to you?" Howzer asked insistently. His eyes were large, eyebrows peaked in the center with evident concern.

"I dunno!" Aurelia slurred, bringing one arm up in a little half-shrug. "I'm just a silly little stargazer tonight!" She got suddenly serious, "But that was scary! Thank you! Not fun at all!"

Howzer furrowed his brow, lip curling in indignation. He had seen people on spice before, and this seemed to line up. Medical attention would create more problems than it would solve, and it was most easily dealt with by the simple remedies of rest and time. He rose to his feet, pulling his helmet back on, and dug through her bag until he found her key card.

"Can I pick you up?" he asked, returning to her. "I'm going to take you home so you can sleep it off."

"I don't know, big boy, can you?" she laughed, pushing herself into a messily seated position.

Without any hint of mirth, Howzer scooped her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning her head against his chest plate, legs dangling past his elbow. Her sense of gravity seemed to be cutting in and out, and his firm grasp was the only constant in her tumultuous experience of reality.

"Whoo!" she said quietly, as he exited her office and headed for the lift.

The walk to her flat felt like a split second. The next thing she knew, the quick beep of the accepted key card reached her ears and the door to her home slid open. The familiar smell was so potent and welcoming, she took a deep, happy breath, nestling a little further into Howzer's neck and shoulder.

"Well this is just the best," she said blissfully, closing her eyes. "I mean, earlier I felt gross. But this is just what the doctor ordered." She giggled again, kicking her feet a little.

"I think he put spice in your food," Howzer said, heading for her bedroom. "You'll feel better in the morning, although you'll probably need a lot of water and a good breakfast." He gently lowered her onto her bed, pushing the covers back with his first free hand and easing her head toward the pillow. She nestled into it with a smile, eyes still closed, and he pulled the fluffy comforter over her legs.

"Wait!" she said, sitting up suddenly with such urgent clarity that it startled him. He took a step back, pulling his helmet off now that his hands were free, and set it on the dresser. She looked around the room quickly, eyes finding him after a moment. "Wait... Listen, you. I've wanted to ravage you against the wall since you teased me to at the opera house. And the way you threw Gowden up against it got me all hot and bothered cause I want that to be me. Er, I want it to be you. And no armor this time, I mean it," she rambled, pointing a finger at him with theatrical accusation.

Now he couldn't resist a smile, he and felt a little flicker in his chest at her intense yet inebriated stare. "Is that so?" he asked, maintaining a safe distance.

"Yes," she mumbled, flopping back onto her pillow and closing her eyes again. "You're the most beautiful clone there ever was."

Howzer laughed, thoroughly enjoying her spice-induced honesty. "Maybe I used to be," he began.

"No! You are! The haircut issss... sssexy!" she slurred, "And I'm gonna kiss every one of those scars on your face."

He felt a sense of desire rising from a deep place within, a stirring that was new and yet felt familiar at the same time. Running a hand through his hair, he took a step closer to give her a polite pat on the shoulder. "Well, I'll look forward to that, but for now you should get some rest."

"Stay?" Aurelia asked, opening her eyes to look at him earnestly. "I'll make it worth your while."

"I'm sure you would," he answered, "But not like this." He started forward, finding the sudden desire to place a kiss on her forehead, but stopped, considering it too risky to bring himself that close to her in the apparently voracious state she was in.

"Goodnight, Aurelia," he said, grabbing his helmet and heading for the door. "Tomorrow will be fun."

Feel free to tag a friend who loves Howzer, or comment to be added to the tag list! <3

@mary-on-the-contrary @doublesunsets @523rdrebel

[amewinterswriting]

🦋 tell us about your current wip

🍄 name a song that represents your mc

My current blurb for Magic's Servant is:

A dark rural fantasy set in modern day Wales, featuring Talli, a teenager who is in way over her head. There's also a talking cat with a secret, shadowy manipulative demons, and immortal figures from Arthurian mythology locked into a vicious stalemate over the centuries.

On a more personal note, the way I approached writing this is a list of my least favorite ways to write anything ever, and as such, this has been a thorn in my side for years. I started off with the idea of a mysterious magic cat and an abandoned church. To explore who the cat was and why he lived in an abandoned church, I pantsed a whole film script over the course of a month (Script Frenzy, NaNoWriMo's forgotten and abandoned sister), which gave me a vague outline of a story, introduced a lot of main elements and scenes but also introduced a lot of loose plot threads, characters and sideplots that didn't really go anywhere. Worse, I really didn't feel like there was anything interesting or notable about my MC (which as we all know is utterly unforgivable in writing).

So over the course of the next few years, I wrote a lot of backstory, sidestory, continuation of the story and notes. I also rewrote some key scenes of the script. Some of which was in first person prose, some of which was also in script format and some of which was in third person. If this already sounds like a mess...well, it was. Which is why I procrastinated on doing anything else with it for years. (To be entirely fair, I still thought about it a lot, and thought about the themes I wanted to explore and other characters in that world and more directions I could take the plot in. But I procrastinated actually getting all my various drafts together into one readable manuscript in a single tense and narrative.) I also developed a lot as a writer, practicing longform fiction on entirely different work and finding a more coherent voice.

The main reason I'm actually working on it now is my wife. I realised while talking with her about it that there were interesting things about the story that I don't want just relegated to a hard drive somewhere, and I want it in a form that other real human people can read. Or as she said: you need to write the thing. So I spent an absolute age on Scrivener importing all the documents I had, even the scripts and notes and scenes I had three different versions of. Then I plotted out a coherent outline - where would it make sense for backstory to be placed between chapters? What backstory would make more impact just implied instead of outright text? What order do things need to happen in? Can I actually fit this subplot in this book or is this going to be better as a sequel? Scrivener was especially useful for the notecard feature - you can write up a quick sentence or two describing the chapter and move it around within the project, so I could play around with placement and get a feel for the flow of the plot. I also love the notes I can make for each chapter - since it can get complicated very quickly. I use them to make a note of what knowledge each character has by the end of a scene - especially because in the earlier drafts, characters (and thus, the reader) learnt far too much, far too quickly, so this refining draft has been about slowing down the rate of information and introducing more emotion. That means I need to know what characters know what information at an glance, since it's usually a lot less than I think it is!

Of course, the most important thing is that I now actually like my main character. I think this is something only time could fix - when I first wrote the first draft, I was an insecure teenager who felt like I wasn't notable or interesting, and I was writing a teenager in a similar situation. With time, I've grown and had life experiences and can also treasure the abnormal that seemed so normal to me at the time. In many ways, this is a collaboration with my teenage self and a love letter to myself.

Which neatly leads to the song that represents Talli, the MC. I have a few, but the one I've settled on is One Day by Kodaline. I think it sums up the experience of undergoing big changes that can seem overwhelming, the awkward self-consciousness of teenage years and not necessarily having the right help and support available to you. As the song asks: "how are you still holding on?" and that feels like a large part of Talli's struggle throughout the plot; barely holding on while powerful beings try to use her for their own convenience.