#like worse off than i described within this chapter even

[grimoireofhayley]

Shackles

Leon S. Kennedy x TF141!Reader

Inspired by both events of Modern Warfare 2, Resident Evil (Games & Animated Movies) and the Song Shackles by Steven Rodriguez

Shackles Master List

Warnings: Smut (Eventually), Swearing, Blood & Gore, Flirting, BDSM (Eventually), Implied Mental Health Struggles, Alcoholism, Trauma, Torture, Eventual Kidnapping , Age Gap (Leon is 48 and reader is 25), Enemies to Lovers, Leon is an absolute ass at first, Slight Ghost x Reader x Soap if you squint, Abuse, Masochism

A/n: I apologize if reader seems like a Mary-sue… I couldn’t help it, I wanted the reader to seem more badass/Independent… I’m not very good at describing it, however, I hope you enjoy. 😊 Also, this song inspired the way this chapter played out lol. Listen to it as you read, you won’t regret it.

Chapter 4:

Price, Soap, Ghost and Gaz were standing to the side, having watched the events unfold in front of them. They were trying to contain their amusement, but the entire situation was just too good to be true.

Soap slapped his knee, bursting out into laughter. “That was bloody brilliant.”

Price shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. “That’s one hell of a woman,” he chuckled, “Thank god she’s on our team.”

Ghost let out a low whistle, still in shock at what he had just witnessed. “I don’t know if I’m more surprised or impressed. That was some serious power she had over him.”

Soap chuckled again, “She’s got ‘em right where she wants him.”

Price nodded in agreement, “Seems that way. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so rattled before, even when I held him at gun point…”

The four men continued to watch, all of them amused and entertained by the situation. They knew Leon wouldn’t recover from this.

Leon stood up, dusting himself off, as he looked over at the four, a look of embarrassment on his face. He could hear the sound of their laughter, it was annoying.

He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. He knew he had been humbled for maybe the first time in his life, and it was by a woman no less.

And a woman that he can’t get out of his head.

Soap snickered, “Look at his face. I dinnae think I’ve ever seen him look so defeated.”

Gaz smirked, “The look of a man who’s been put in his place, isn’t it beautiful?”

Ghost chuckled, “Looks like he finally got what he deserved. Cocky ‘lil bastard.”

All the men laughed again, clearly enjoying Leon’s current state.

Leon watched as (Y/n) brushed past him, her eyes avoiding his gaze. He wanted to call out to her, to say something, anything, but the words refused to come.

He felt a mix of humiliation and desire warring within him, and he didn’t know how to handle it. He could hear the laughs and taunts of the others in the background, mocking him for his current state, and it only made things worse.

Leon continued to watch her, her scent lingering in the air, his eyes following her every movement. He couldn’t believe what had just happened.

He was so used to being in control, but she had completely turned the tables, and he was struggling to process it.

He turned to look at Price, Soap, Ghost and Gaz, all still laughing at his expense. He scowled, “Piss off, all of you…”

“What’s the matter, Kennedy? Can’t take a little humiliation?” Soap taunted, still chuckling.

Ghost joined in, “Looks like someone can’t ‘andle a strong independent woman.”

Price had a smirk on his face, enjoying this more than the others. “I don’t know what’s funnier, you being put in your place like that, or the fact that you were practically drooling over our lil’ lass…”

Leon’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as the rest of (Y/n)’s teammates continued to laugh at him. He knew they would never let him live this down.

He took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “She just took me by surprise, that’s all,” he muttered.

Soap chuckled. “If by surprise you mean ‘completely knocked off yer feet’, then yeah, sure.”

Ghost raised an eyebrow, a smug expression behind the fabric of his mask, “You seemed to be enjoyin’ it, a ‘lil too much if you ask me…”

Leon rolled his eyes. “Like you’d fare any better in my position.”

Soap’s smirk widened. “Oh, I dunno about that. I think I could handle her.”

Ghost grunted, “You’d be on your ass in ten seconds flat.” His London-cockney accent deepening with each word he spoke.

Leon felt a pang of jealousy at the thought of Soap trying to hit on (Y/n). Something about the idea annoyed the hell out of him.

He clenched his jaw, trying to keep his expression neutral. “You wouldn’t stand a chance.”

She scoffed, her hands tightening around her weapon. “Enough, the lot of you.” She snivelled, “I am not a bet, or some whore you bed during missions..” (Y/n) groaned, “Just because I have tits and an ass does not mean you can treat me like a toy or act as if I am not here.” She brought her rifle up, pointing it to the ceiling again, leaning on one foot, “And besides, neither of you can handle me.” She barked, trudging past the males ahead of her.

Soap and the others fell silent, stunned by (Y/n)'s sharp response. They hadn't expected such a vehement reaction from her, at least, not to her own comrades… She knew they were kidding, right? Usually she’d be in on it, joking around with them, or maybe it was because Leon had gotten inside her head? Yeah, that had to be the case. Fuckin’ bastard.

Leon, however, felt a strange mixture of admiration and arousal as he watched her storm past them. Her confidence was both attractive and intimidating, and he found himself wanting to see more of it.

Gaz spoke up, his tone apologetic, "We didn't mean anything by it, lass."

“I know you didn’t…” She softly spoke, walking towards Captain Price. “Can we focus on the mission?” Her tone was neutral.

Price nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “O’ course.”

The team regained their composure, refocusing their attention on the task at hand. Leon couldn't help but steal glances at her as they prepared for their next move. Despite her earlier outburst, he found himself more intrigued by her than ever even if she did humiliate him.

__

The groans and moans of the undead were heard like an orchestra of gurgling, loitering about outside of the Raccoon City Police Station, ramming into the doors, windows and walls trying to get in. No doubt from the commotion inside, especially when (Y/n) riddled the ceiling with bullets earlier - the noise brought unwanted attention.

Leon and the TF141 were swarmed and the things outside… were hungry.

The team prepared their weapons, getting ready for the imminent onslaught of undead. Leon checked his gear, securing his pistol and ammo. He looked to the others, nodding in readiness.

Gaz looked out through the window, “They’re practically pounding on the door. We can’t stay in here for much longer…”

Soap scanned the area, “Looks like our only option is to fight our way out?” He said more of a question than anything, feeling the unease set in from the mission.

“Fuck no.” Price spoke, “We need to come up with another plan first and fast.”

(Y/n) sighed, placing her weapon behind her, securely strapping it over her shoulder.

She had her own plan and it was only going to work if the idiots in front of her stayed distracted, or else they wouldn’t let her go out there on her own; they’d fight her against it.

(Y/n) had eyed a vehicle near by that was behind the horde, noise was the only thing that could get them to bugger off and away from the building, it’s the only way any of them have a chance to escape and get to the hospital - point B.

(Y/n) tiptoed around the men, heading to the exit door that was nearest to the car, she was on high alert, but she was determined, the plan had to work.

Crouching, she rested her hand above her switchblade, ready to pull it out in case a stray zombie spotted her as she opened the exit door.

__

Making her way to the car, she opened the hood of it.

Yes, this was going to work. There’s no way it won’t.

Bending over, (Y/n) smirked to herself, severing the wire to the car alarm. She closed the hood just as the summer breeze picked up, ridden with plague, as it blew her hair all over the place.

She pulled her leather glove tighter on her hand using her teeth, then made a fist, punching the glass to the drivers side, reaching her hand to the tab that locked the car, unlocking it.

__

Leon, Soap, Ghost and Gaz were still in the main room, discussing their strategy. They were oblivious to (Y/n)’s absence, focused on their own conversation.

Leon ran a hand through his brunette hair, deep in thought. "We need to be careful. If we alert the horde to our presence, we'll be overrun in seconds."

Soap nodded in agreement, "Aye, we need to find a way to distract them."

Ghost only looked ahead of him, watching as the dead continued to throw themselves at the building, gripping his weapon.

Captain Price was silent, deep in thought as his eyes flickered; something, or someone was missing…

Leon continued to strategize with the others, his mind occupied with figuring out the best approach. He noticed Captain Price was distracted, his eyes darting around the room, as if searching for something. Suddenly, he realized it, "Wait a minute...where's (Y/n)?”

__

(Y/n) opened the car door, closing it, adrenaline pumping through her.

She rummaged around, highjacking the car’s engine to get it to start, “C’mon…” She spoke quietly, trying to get a spark. “You can do it, baby..” She grunted, finally getting a reaction from the vehicle. She silently cheered as the headlights turned on, directing the soft glow to the Police Station where the others were.

__

Leon, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz turned towards the headlights, their eyes narrowing as the car engine roared to life.

Gaz's eyes widened, "Is she...?"

Soap smirked, "Looks like the lass has a plan of her own."

Ghost sniffled, "Reckless, but it just might work."

Captain Price raised an eyebrow, a hint of admiration in his eyes.

Leon now felt a mix of worry and pride as he watched (Y/n).

He turned to the others, “Is she out of her goddamn mind? She's going to get herself killed.”

Soap chuckled, clearly enjoying the situation. “Looks like she's got things under control.”

Gaz rolled his eyes, "Or she's about to get herself killed. You know how she is, bloody woman has a death wish.”

__

(Y/n) gripped the steering wheel, revving the engine, gaining some attention from the walkers, she quickly turned the radio on with a flick of her wrist and Hollywood Undead’s song ‘Riot’ started to play…

“I've been searching for an answer, but I ain't found one, I've been known to tear shit up and go off like a gun. I've been drinking way too much, but now I think I'm done…” The lyrics echoed loudly, alerting any, if not, all dead nearby.

“Okay, new plan…” She chuckled, revving the engine again and the tires skidded as she drove.

The men watched in astonishment as (Y/n) floored the gas pedal, heading straight for the horde of undead.

Soap whistled, "Bloody hell, she's doing it."

Ghost's eyes widened, "Is she nuts?"

"Apparently so," Gaz muttered.

Captain Price chuckled, "Can't say I'm surprised."

Leon couldn't believe what he was seeing. (Y/n), the woman who had just put him in his place, was now driving headfirst into a horde of zombies. It was both madness and impressive.

He shook his head, "She's going to get herself killed." He repeated.

Gaz smirked, "Or she's just being the badass we all know she is."

Ghost chuckled, "Aye, that's our (Y/n) for ya.."

The car plowed through the undead, sending them flying in every direction. (Y/n) expertly maneuvered the vehicle, narrowly avoiding the grasping hands of the zombies.

Soap, Ghost and Gaz were in awe, watching the spectacle unfold. Leon was still in shock, torn between admiration and concern.

The team could barely believe what (Y/n) was doing. Driving straight through a horde of undead was impressive enough, but to then reverse into the police station with only one hand on the wheel…it was downright crazy.

Soap groaned, “She's got balls.”

Gaz shook his head, "I'll never doubt the lass again."

Ghost just chuckled, unable to hide his smirk. Even Captain Price had a hint of a smile on his face, they had trained her well.

She poked her head out of the shattered window, waving her arm at them, her other hand still gripping the wheel. “Well, what are you dumbasses waitin’ for? Get in!” She ordered, turning the music off.

The team snapped out of their shock, quickly following (Y/n)’s command. They hurried to the car, climbing into the backseat and piling in, Leon found himself sitting in the passenger seat, their shoulders brushing against one another. He tried to ignore the flicker of electricity he felt at the contact, but eventually gave in to it as he sucked in a shaky breath.

Leon closed the door, "You're absolutely batshit." he said, unable to hide the admiration in his voice.

(Y/n) only shot him a wink.

Gaz, Soap, Ghost and Price were squished in the backseat, trying to find room to breathe. Ghost was particularly uncomfortable, grumbling about the lack of space, “Aye, you couldna find a bigger vehicle?”

(Y/n) laughed as she noticed Ghost's discomfort. "Sorry, mate, but beggars can't be choosers in a zombie apocalypse." She glanced in the rearview mirror at the team squished in the backseat. "Sorry lads, this was the best I could do."

Gaz tried to readjust himself, his elbow bumping into Soap's side. "Yeah, I can feel that."

Soap winced, but couldn’t resist adding a tease, "At least it's a bit cozy back here, eh?"

Ghost grumbled, trying his best to shoot Soap a glare, “If by cozy, you mean claustrophobic, then sure, it’s fuckin’ cozy.”

Captain Price just chuckled at their banter. "Stop squabbling and just be glad we're not being eaten alive right about now."

Leon leaned back in his seat, still in awe at (Y/n)’s driving. "You really are something else, you know that?"

(Y/n) shot him a playful smirk, "I know."

Gaz and Soap snickered in the back, knowing full well how much Leon liked that smirk.

Ghost groaned, growing more and more irritated by the cramped space. "Can we get movin’? I'm being crushed over here."

“Yes, sir.” (Y/n) mock saluted Ghost, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Hold on tight boys.” She purred, getting ready to move.

The team braced themselves for the impending speed, grabbing onto whatever they could to steady themselves.

Soap, as always, had a quip ready, "Well, this is just like a roller-coaster, innit?"

Gaz, who was smushed between Soap and Ghost, tried to find a stable position. "Aye, a roller-coaster with no safety bar."

Ghost grumbled, "I'd rather be chased by the undead than stuck in this car any longer." He attempted to adjust his long legs, but to no avail, he couldn’t budge.

Captain Price just chuckled at their banter. "You lads need to lighten up, it's not so bad."

Leon couldn't help but grin at the interaction.

(Y/n) leaned forward, quickly turning the music back on. “Aye, this is going to be a bumpy ride.” She warned.

The car screeched as (Y/n) slammed the pedal to the floor, the team holding on for dear life in the backseat.

Soap chuckled, "Bloody hell, she's a maniac behind the wheel."

Ghost gritted his teeth, "I think 'maniac' is being kind."

Gaz had to hold back a grin, clearly enjoying the thrill of the ride.

<— Previous Next —>

[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

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, military themes, suggestive themes

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Part Twenty-Nine of Ink & Needle

Simon and Price have a discussion next to your hospital bed after rescuing you from Walsh. Simon brings you back to the MacTavish farm and proposes a promising future.

Chapter Twenty-Eight // Epilogue

ao3 // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Then

“You’ll pull a muscle in your neck sleeping like that.”

Like a dog on a chain, Simon is yanked from sleep. The world tilts, and then becomes laser-focused. Inhaling deep, Simon silently tells his nerves to fucking knock it off. The danger has passed. You are safe, and this is a friend.

Captain John Price lingers at the end of your hospital bed, hat off and tucked under his arm. There is a sympathetic quality to his expression that Simon can only describe as pity. If he weren’t so concerned about you, Simon might consider it a blow to his ego.

“I’ve slept on worse,” replies Simon.

Price nods. “I know.”

And it’s true. He does. They’ve been through hell together, seen and done so much awful shit that their present, past, and future are forever tangled.

A monitor beeps, and Simon’s attention shifts to you slumbering in your hospital bed.

“I’m not waking her up,” says Simon, not taking his gaze away from you.

“Didn’t ask,” murmurs Price. “Not why I’m here.”

This time, Simon glances away, curiosity pulling at the folds of his brain, wanting to absorb whatever it is Price has come here to say.

“Can I sit?” asks Price.

With a nod, Simon indicates an unoccupied chair near the window. Price goes to it, bringing it within distance of Simon. Setting it down silently, Price eases onto the cushion, sighing as he relaxes. While Price lounges, he remains quiet, observing you in your slumbering state.

“Captain,” prompts Simon as a gnarling fist of tension grips his stomach.

Price shifts slightly, clasping his hands together, and resting them over his stomach. “We did a sweep of the house. Nothing.”

Simon grunts. “Hardly expected more.”

“But we’re not empty handed.”

“You found something?”

Price nods. “Walsh didn’t come alone.”

Simon sits up slightly. “There was someone else in the house?”

“Not when you were there. But he had help. Moving…” Price’s gaze shifts away from Simon and lands on you.

There is no further explanation needed.

“You found that fucker, didn’t you?”

“Traffic stop of all things,” says Price. “Damn lucky.”

Simon’s voice is cold with violent intent. “I want to talk to him. Just a few minutes alone. That’s all I need.”

Price is silent for a few beats, understanding that Simon isn’t interested in talking at all. “You’ll have it.”

The confirmation siphons the tension away, leaving only a pleased sense of fulfillment. Simon has always followed Price’s orders, made sure to execute each mission with extreme precision. Rarely does he deal out vengeance or justice in the way he sees fit. But Price will allow it here, and Simon is grateful.

This is not what Simon imagined for himself in retirement. Though he felt wronged in the way that SAS forced him out, he found new purpose with 141 Ink. Even when you first appeared before him like a phantom, Simon never expected this.

“But that’s not what I came to talk to you about, Simon.”

“You came to talk about Walsh.” Price inclines his head and Simon shrugs. “What about?”

“How it’s all connected. Walsh’s intentions. What he was after.”

Simon’s hand forms a fist, some of that tension returning. He quietly counts to ten and releases the fist. “Walsh was after me.”

“Yes,” agrees Price. “But I’m talking about Archibald Williams. Why Walsh put a hit on him.”

Simon frowns. “It’s politics. Nothing more to be said.”

Price smirks, but there’s little humor in it. “Partially. Goes deeper than that. Worse than you think.”

“He’s dead, Price. What more is there to say about him?”

“It’s a family matter,” says Price.

Simon goes cold, his veins freezing over. “What about the family?” he asks, because Simon might not know much, but he knows enough. The argument Simon had with you after the pub, how he had seen you with another man thinking you weren’t interested in him, but you were only trying to protect your friend.

Price inhales and then leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, lowering his voice to a mere whisper. “Remember the man you got into it with at the pub?”

“Adam,” growls Simon.

How could he forget? The man had groped your thigh without invitation and then called you a whore after. In the moment, Simon only saw blood. If Price, Kyle, and Johnny hadn’t been there, Simon might have mauled the man.

“Archie’s brother,” adds Price.

“He’s involved?”

Price’s mouth forms a thin line. “He ordered the hit.”

“You’re lying,” says Simon, almost laughing at the idea. That man was nothing more than dirt under Simon’s shoe. A wanker. A loser. “Walsh takes orders from no one but himself.”

“Unless they’re a generous donor.”

Simon shakes his head. “Walsh doesn’t do charity.”

“It’s not charity,” says Price. “It’s a business deal.” The man sighs and sits back. “Do you know what Adam Williams does for a living? What industry he works in?”

Simon snorts. “Thinking you’re about to tell me.”

Price inclines his head. “Weapons manufacturing. Private and public sector. Government contracts across multiple nations. And…others. More discreet dealings.”

“And the war machine keeps turning,” mutters Simon.

“Always,” agrees Price. “War means profit for people like Adam Williams. Like Kit Walsh.”

“Power,” adds Simon. “Advantage.” Behind the balaclava, Simon’s jaw clenches. “So why the hit on his own brother?”

Price’s face falls, his gaze turning to you for a moment before returning to Simon. “Archie met with a few members of Parliament. They planned on meeting privately with the Defense Secretary. Have him testify at a committee hearing. He knew what his brother was up to with Walsh. Had damning evidence.”

“And Adam found out.”

“He did. Told Walsh. And Walsh took Archie out.”

“What about the evidence?” asks Simon. “Why didn’t Parliament continue with the committee?”

“They only had copies of what was exchanged between Archie and those few members of Parliament. Archie planned on bringing the rest during the meeting with the Defense Secretary.”

“So it’s lost?” asks Simon.

“Partially. As far as I’m aware, it’s being recovered as we speak.”

“Fucking hell,” sighs Simon, shaking his head.

“It gets worse, Simon. It gets personal.”

A sinking feeling develops in Simon’s stomach, weighing him down.

“There’s Adam and Walsh’s business agreement which is why Archie attempted to expose his brother in the first place.”

“I don’t need the details,” growls Simon.

“But you’ll want to listen to what I say next.” Price runs his hand over his face as if he hasn’t slept in ages. “Adam Williams is the one who set Walsh on your tail.”

“Price—”

He holds up a hand. “Not directly. He wanted Walsh to go after the wife, Evelyn. Take her out too in case she knew anything. But Walsh didn’t. Never touched her. Why is that?”

The revelation is like a punch to the face. “Me,” says Simon. “Walsh must have seen me.”

Price nods. “I think so, too. Saw you. Decided to stalk instead of kill.”

“To get revenge for what I did to him.”

Price’s expression is grim but leans in the affirmative. “When we came to seek your help about Walsh, the information I was given was because of Archie. Didn’t know it at the time. But he saved us from a massive national security threat.”

“And where is Williams?” asks Simon. “In custody?”

This time, Price smiles. “Just waiting on the judge drafting the warrants.”

Simon leans forward. “You fucking get him. You hear me? You do this for me, Price.” He glances at you asleep in your hospital bed. “And for her.”

“That I can promise.”

Now

It’s Christmas in April.

Simon has one arm draped over the back of your chair, watching with an amused expression as Johnny’s mother putters about, fussing over him.

“You’ve put on weight,” she mutters, frowning over her glasses.

“I��ve put on muscle,” corrects Johnny.

She gives him a quick once over, and then squeezes his bicep. “Could use you on the farm. It would be a huge help to your father.”

Johnny’s cheeks go pink. The woman’s been trying to get him to leave SAS for years, insisting that Soap return to run the family farm.

Simon brings his glass up to his lips, smiling around the rim. Johnny’s shoots him a look for help that Simon blatantly ignores. Shifting in his chair, Simon leans toward you, lowering his head.

“All good, love?”

You nod. “Just a little overwhelmed.”

“Need to leave?”

“No,” you reply softly, placing your hand on Simon’s thigh. “I’m excited to be here. It’s just…a lot.”

Simon presses his lips to your forehead, lingering there just so he can inhale your scent and savor your nearness.

Four months.

Four months and still, part of Simon thinks you’ll disappear, that Walsh will somehow manage to return, and drag you off again just to spite him. But Walsh is dead. Simon knows this. Not because he was told but because Price showed him the corpse. At least that version of Walsh wasn’t burnt up and unrecognizable.

And it’s Christmas. In April.

Simon planned on inviting you here in December, to meet the only family he has, but Walsh got to you first. He never had the chance. Yet this gathering isn’t Simon’s idea at all. Johnny’s mother insisted because she was so eager to meet you, to make you part of the family.

Inside, it’s set up the exact way it is when Simon comes to visit for Christmas. The tree is lit up in the corner, a real one grown and felled on MacTavish land. The dining table is packed with so much food that Simon can hardly see the dark wood beneath, and music plays from an old record player.

This is how it’s supposed to be. What Simon has always wanted with you.

Plates are filled. Conversation is had. And for a while, Simon forgets about everything, living only in the moment, reaching out to you on occasion to make sure you’re still there—that you’re real.

After, you and Simon cuddle on the sofa by the fire. Johnny’s father snores in his recliner as the muted television shows the weather. Johnny is in the kitchen with his mother, cleaning dishes and putting them away for her as she badgers him about still being single. Your eyes are closed, cheek resting on Simon’s shoulder, but you’re not asleep.

Simon whispers your name, and you snuggle closer, sighing softly before opening your eyes.

“You never answered by question,” murmurs Simon.

“What question?”

“About you staying here. Permanently. With me.”

Your eyes widen slightly, and then you’re smiling, an illumination of love that Simon wants to wrap himself up in.

“Are you proposing to me?” you giggle.

“No,” answers Simon, and it only makes you laugh harder.

“You are,” you reply, stifling your giggles by turning into his shoulder.

Simon shrugs. “Maybe.”

In a small gesture, you offer your hand, palm upward. Simon instinctually reaches for you, entwining your fingers with his. Lifting your clasped hands, Simon places kisses across your knuckles and then the back of your palm.

The two of you enjoy the silence, nestled together until you yawn. Simon offers up goodbyes, whisking you away to that little cottage on the edge of the property for the night.

“I can see myself staying here,” you murmur as Simon removes his coat and yours. “With you.”

“In England?”

“Yes.”

“In London?”

“Yes, Simon.”

He hangs the coats on the hooks by the door and takes a step toward you. “In my flat, or with Evie and Amelia?”

You pause a moment. Lick your lips. “Your flat.”

Simon’s stomach flips. His heart lurches. This time you match his forward movement, meeting him equally until the two of you are staring into each other’s eyes.

“You want to be with me? Only me? Forever?”

Your hand comes up to rest against his stomach. It slides upward over his chest only to come to a stop at his neck. With a gentle tug, Simon surrenders to you, closing the distance. The contact is electric and warm, and Simon cannot help wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against him as he takes what he desires.

“Do you remember this place?” he asks. You nod, lips puffy from his attention. Simon goes in for one more kiss. “What we did here.” Another kiss. “In that bed.” Another. “On the table.”

“Simon,” you whimper as his hands descend to grasp and squeeze.

“Do you remember?” Again, you nod. “Say it.”

“I do.”

His lips brush over yours. “I want to recreate it. To have you like that again.”

The offer is open, and all you need to do is take. Simon desperately wants you to take it.

“I’m yours, Simon.”

This time, Simon gives in to his urges, to feed that hunger, to settle in and finally make a home with the one person he cares for the most. Cradling your face in his hands, Simon shows you his passion, reveals it openly and without barriers. He wants you to see all of him, to know his desperation, his fears, and how much he craves you. You answer in kind, and that is enough for him.

It is everything.

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[helenofsparta2]

Percy did nothing wrong in Battle of the Labyrinth

Buckle up, this is going to be a very, very long post.

I’ve already made two posts about Percy getting blamed for things he had little to no control over, or some criticism just being extremely unfair towards him, but I’ve never really talked about battle of the labyrinth.

Especially on sides like tiktok, people really drag Percy for how he acted in this book, and I have never really understood why, so since Percy is my favourite RR character, I’ve finally decided to make a post trying to untangle this whole mess.

Generally I’ve seen three main criticisms against him in this book. If you know of others, please let me know.

Him & Calypso

His relationship with Annabeth

The situation with Rachel

Calypso

The criticism I’ve seen here is mostly based on these three topics:  

He didn’t immediately go back to Camp Half-blood

He forgot about Annabeth and his friends while spending time being happy with Calypso

He hesitated when Hephaestus told him he could go back & called Calypso his biggest what if

Let’s tackle these one by one.

He didn’t immediately go back to Camp Half-blood after waking up

Well, he … couldn’t.

Shortly before arriving on Ogygia, Percy had gotten burned alive with lava. A feeling he described as a pain “worse than anything he’d ever felt” (194) .  And He’d blown up a volcano, an action so powerful, the mortal authorities were forced to evacuate almost half a million people, which made ash fall as far as Lake Tahoe in Vancouver and closed off the Mount st. Helens area within a hundred-mile radius.  

Just a quick reminder of Percy’s physical state after all of that:

“I was really weak. I couldn’t stay on my feet more than a few hours. Whatever I’d done in Mount St. Helens had drained me like nothing else I’d ever experienced.” (203)

I woke up feeling like I was still on fire. My skin stung. My throat felt as dry as sand. (196)

I tried to sit up. My muscles felt like they were melting. (196)

I looked as if I’d lost ten kilos I couldn’t afford to lose.” (198)

My knees buckled, and I would’ve landed face-first in the grovel if Calypso hadn’t caught me. (200)

Maybe I was just really weak and thin (200)

Even after a few days/ weeks his legs were still stiff, and he was still getting dizzy from standing up for too long (203)

I hadn’t been in control of myself in that mountain. I’d released so much energy I’d almost vaporized myself, drained all the life out of me.

So, he was not able to physically leave, despite very much wanting to.

2. He forgot about Annabeth and his friends, while enjoying his time with Calypso

Also pretty easy to defend, because, again, he didn’t.

He never stopped thinking about Annabeth, and his other friends. Not once.

Even before waking up, Percy said their names in his sleep so often that Calypso knew them when he woke up (p. 199)

His first reaction to Calypso telling him that he could heal in safety was:  

“But my friends-“

“Annabeth”, she said. “And Grover and Tyson.”

“Yes!” I said. “I have to get back to them. They’re in danger.” (199)

He tried to use his empathy link with Grover several times on Ogygia to find out if he, Tyson and Annabeth were okay, but couldn’t make any contact (P. 203)

“I thought about Annabeth, Grover and Tyson constantly.” (P. 204)

The first thing he does after Hephaestus arrives on Ogygia is asking him about Annabeth’s well-being (207)

3. He hesitated when Hephaestut told him he could go back

This is the first time, the sentiment is somehow connected to the text, because Percy did hesitate for a little bit:

“I wanted to say yes. Of course I would. But the words were stuck in my throat. I found myself looking out at the lake, and suddenly the idea of leaving seemed very hard. (209)

Afterwards, he walked along the beach for several hours, thinking of what to do next (210)

But if you actually read the chapter, you very easily understand that Percy never really, seriously considered staying:

When Hephaestus insinuated, he might not return to camp half-blood he immediately said: “What do you mean? Of course I’m coming back.”

The first thing he says, after Calypso offered him to stay forever on Ogygia was: “But… my friends.” (211)

His immediate verbal response after Calypso admitted she was in love with him was to say: “I can’t. I would never do anything to hurt you, but my friends need me. I know how to help them now. I have to get back.” (212)

We also need to consider his reasons for hesitating in the first place. He did not hesitate because he was in love with Calypso. Yes, he thought she was cute when she laughed, thought she was more beautiful than Aphrodite, and didn’t want to make her feel sad, but she is not the reason he hesitated. His biggest what if is not Calypso herself. His biggest what if is what she represents: Peace, Happiness, and a way to avoid the responsibility of the prophecy.

Through Stolen Chariot, we know that Percy’s biggest fear is making the wrong decision and dooming everyone he cares about:  

“I stood paralyzed. This was the moment I had always dreaded: the prophecy that was supposed to come about when I was sixteen. I would make a choice that would either save or destroy Olympus. Now the moment was here, and I had no idea what to do. The camp was burning. My friends looked at me, begging for help. My heart pounded. I couldn’t move. What if I did the wrong thing? (The Stolen Chariot)

The first thing Calypso says to convince him to stay is: “You could leave the fight to others, Percy Jackson. You could escape your prophecy.”(211)

He also considered the possibility that it might be best for his friends if they believed him to be dead:

“Now I found out I’d nearly destroyed the Northwest US and almost woken the most horrible monster ever imprisoned by the gods. Maybe I was too dangerous. Maybe it was safer for my friends to think I was dead. (208)” She was cute when she laughed.

 

And even if he did develop a little crush on her, which I don’t even believe, I just think he really liked her and felt bad for her, how would that be his fault or something we could blame him for????  Since when can people control who they have or don’t have a crush on???

And the most important thing is: he left. As soon as he knew how to, as soon as he was healthy enough, he left. He went back to his friends, missing out on a peaceful and probably very happy life, shouldered the prophecy once again, and left.

His relationship with Annabeth

I can not say enough how much Percy actually supported Annabeth during the course of battle of the labyrinth

He reassured her constantly, that she would do a good job in leading this quest, when she doubted herself: (“You’re doing great. Besides, we never know what we’re doing. It always works out. Remember Circe’s Island?” She snorted. (P. 120))

He hugged her when she needed a hug: Then she did something that really surprised me. She blinked back tears and put out her arms. I stepped forward and hugged her. (Chapter 4, P. 76)

He trusted her; despite knowing she didn’t tell him the entirety of her prophecy

There are only three points in which they have some kind of conflict in. One of them is the whole thing with Calypso, but I’ve already dealt with that. The other two are the scene after Kronos overtook Luke’s body and then the whole situation with Rachel.

The scene after Kronos overtook Luke’s body

One of the main criticisms people have of Percy here is that he didn’t comfort Annabeth immediately after that scene. While that criticism is somewhat true, it's important to note that he didn’t act out of any malicious intent. After Annabeth collapsed, sobbing with her head between her knees, he didn’t rush to her side—but this was not because he meant to hurt her.

Percy himself was shocked and traumatized by the experience

After she asked him what happened, Percy was as gentle as he could be when he told her: “He gave himself over to Kronos,” I said. “I’m sorry Annabeth, but Luke is gone.” (291)

He only snaps at her, when she continues to defend Luke and accuses Percy of wanting him to be evil: “You want him to be evil, is that it?” Annabeth yelled. “You didn’t know him before, Percy. I did!”  “What is it with you?” I snapped. “Why do you keep defending him?” (292)

If we’re being honest, there is nothing Percy could have said to her, which would have helped her, and with the history he has with Luke, I personally can’t blame him for not being able to comfort her about his death or being annoyed that she still defends him after everything

As a reminder, at this point in time, Luke had tried to kill Percy multiple times, told him that he should have died in Tartarus, tortured Annabeth and was completely okay with killing every single kid in camp half-blood

He still wanted to comfort her after that, but he simply didn’t know how to: I wanted to comfort her, but I didn’t know how. I still felt stunned, like Kronos’s time-slowing effect had affected my brain. I just couldn’t comprehend what I’d seen. Kronos was alive. He was armed. And the end of the world was probably close at hand. (292)

Avoiding an argument might have actually been the smartest thing he could have done after that

When it was time to continue on their way, he still treated Annabeth gently “I knelt next to Annabeth. “Hey, I’m sorry. We need to move.” (292)

Did Annabeth need someone to talk to? Yes, obviously. Was Percy snapping back at her unnecessary and the last thing she needed in the moment? Also yes. This girl has suffered an unimaginable lot in this book and all the previous ones, especially because of Luke.  I’m not blaming her here for the way she acted. She loved Luke, and this might be one of the worst fates imaginable for a loved one. Everyone would have cracked in one way or another.

But is it also insane to criticize a 14-year-old boy, because he did not properly comfort his friend, who grieved the death of a guy, who tried to kill that 14-year old boy for the last two years? Also, yes.

They were two traumatized teenagers with the weight of the world on their shoulders, in a very shitty situation, and I think blaming either of them for how they reacted in this moment is entirely unfair.

Overtaking her quest, by asking Rachel for help

So, I hope we all realize, that this is a stupid argument, and I don’t need to elaborate on why, right? Like, they needed Rachel’s help. Obviously, it’s shitty for Annabeth that she had to rely on a mortal girl, especially a girl with a crush on Percy, but that doesn’t change the fact that they didn’t have another choice. Rachel was vital for the success of their quest,

Percy also sometimes told Annabeth to lay off Rachel, but, like, Annabeth was acting mean towards her, and Percy is a nice person, who knows that Rachel didn’t deserve this treatment.

I think these are all of the criticisms I have seen, and as a really huge fan of Percy, I’m getting so tired of seeing all of them. Please inform me if I have overlooked any!!!

[daughterofapollo-official]

Leo Valdez Fan theory.

OK, I have two really strong, but really dark head cannons about Leo Valdez.

1) he’s got wrapped up in crimes really really in life

2) he’s anorexic.

First, I want to establish that anorexia isn’t necessarily the need to be as skinny as possible.

Can develop and form at age for multitude of reasons the most popular being: constant needed to lose weight, strong need of control, or self harm/punishment.

I feel like Leo is either need for control or the need for self punishment.

I have a lot of thoughts about this, but in order to do this correctly, I wanted to start with the very first appearance Leo has in the Percy Jackson universe.

His very first line is a response to Jason saying “I don’t belong here.”

Stating “you’re right! We’ve all been framed. I didn’t run away six times and Piper didn’t steel convertible.”

How is running away even comparable to stealing a car?

This makes me believe that Leo did something far worse than just run away either he did something and that’s why he ran away or he ran away to do something.

Or he ran away and did something.

But comparing running away a few times and stealing a car and then giving them the exact same consequence scenes unreasonable to me I think Leo probably did something a lot darker but because this is a kids book it’s not mentioned.

Shortly after being introduced to Leo in the form of this first statement, Jason’s in her monologue goes on to describe Leo as this mischievous, looking boy that the second he looked at him and looked in his eyes. He could tell that he couldn’t trust him with matches and sharp objects.

No one could see this as for shadowing for Leo’s godly parent, being the god of forge and fire.

But I see this as a sign that despite his physique Leo Valdez has this aura of danger.

“crash course for the amnesiac: we go to the wilderness school. Which means we’re bad kids. Your family, or the court, or whoever. Decided you were to much trouble so they sent you off to this lovely prison. Sorry, boarding school.”

The words in the statement from Leo Valdez in chapter 1, give us a valuable clues on the type of environment. Leo Piper and Jason are inside. 

As if the further emphasize the point that these kids have committed crimes, Jason’s inter monologue says that none of these kids look like a “hard criminals” and he wonders what they could have done to be “sentenced to school for delinquents.”

And again, these are actual lines from the book Leo Valdez canonically is classified legally as a delinquent.

And knowing Leo does not have any family it’s clear that Leo received this as a sentence from a courtroom.

As he himself stated, as we just saw you can be sent to this place not just by parents who think you need a strict or lifestyle, but by the court.

“ he had survived and tough neighborhoods, tough schools, touch foster homes, by using his wits, he was the class clown, the court jester. Because he learned early that if you crack jokes and pretend not to be scared you usually didn’t get beat up. Even the baddest, gangster kids will tolerate you. Keep you around for laughs.”

This quote from the novel also is a clear clue that Leo a dark skinned kid in the United States, grew up, hanging out with delinquents hanging out with kids that were in gangs he literally said gangsters.

Which means he probably got into school fight, street fights, and substance use.

Because that’s what teenagers do in those social groups.

Crimes canonically mentioned that Leo committed:

• truancy; this is when so, and skip school so much that it becomes legal issue.

Ask yourself in United States, with xenophobia and racism, if a Latino 11 to 14 year old boy, who doesn’t have parental supervision is skipping school. What do you think he’s doing?

It’s only mentioned that he committed truancy, which isn’t it hard crime but knowing reality, it’s very probable that Leo has experimented within this timeframe within running away and being arrested for truancy he also committed underage use of substances.

So let’s take a break from the crime dive. Because I’m pretty sure for the rest of Leo’s appearances in the universe it’s not hinted out or mentioned anymore. I think that’s all I have to say, but I might revisit this later.

This is the first inkling of anorexia:

As I mentioned in the beginning of this post anorexia can manifest at any point of someone’s life for a multitude of reasons.

It is usually during development either late childhood to any point in adolescence.

Although it can form adulthood, it’s more common for it to start in developmental stages.

Anorexia is a cycle and for whatever reason you start starving yourself this little bit and then you lose your appetite and your stomach shrinks and you feel less hunger so you eat less and then you struggle to eat a healthy amount.

You may be thinking there’s no way Leo is anorexic because he is self-conscious of how skinny he is.

True.

But I don’t think him himself because he wants to be skinny. I think he does it for one of two reasons and maybe it’s a mix of both maybe they’re both correct or maybe it’s just just one I don’t know.

1- control.

2- punishment.

In chapter 5, we have a chapter from the point of view of Leos for the very first time, and this is when we first learned about how Leo’s mom died he died tragically in the housefire that he started, and even as a 15 year-old, he blames himself, and he sees himself as the person responsible for his mother’s death.

His mother died when he was eight years old obvious this is going to have severe psychological trauma on him, I believe that Leo stopped eating.

Maybe at first he just didn’t wanna eat anything because he was in grief and he couldn’t eat, maybe it was because he didn’t eat his mom didn’t cook Mexican culture love cooking and he just lost the person. He loved the most in life and he couldn’t imagine eating.

But I think he stopped eating as a way to punish himself for killing his mother, and then it spiraled and snowball and got out of control to the point where he’s severely underweight as a fifteen year old.

As for control, we know that he didn’t have control over where he lived, or who took care of him or what school he went too.

His life was flipped upside down as it went into the foster system and he felt powerless. He felt like he had no control and one way of his for dealing with that was running away, but I also feel like he just wouldn’t eat because if maybe if he could control his weight and he can control what he eats then at least he had control over one thing in his life. He didn’t have control over anything else, but at least he had control over what he ate and then that’s snow bolt into the point he got underweight as a teenager.

It’s one of these reasons or a mix of both of these reasons.

I think Leo is somewhat muscular.

He’s always lift up heavy pieces of metal he uses hammers. He knows how to forage. This requires a lot of muscle mass in the arm and abdomen at least but I feel like the reason he gives the scrawny description is because he doesn’t eat enough.

Even at the end of the war with the Giants, eat enough and he was just like oh he doesn’t work out then he would have a lot more muscle mass and he would not be seen as scrawny as we seen with Percy was seen as little kid in the beginning and now he’s very physically muscular because of the war he went through, but that didn’t happen with Leo because I think he’s already muscular. He just never eats therefore he’s not healthy looking.

Chapter 30, Yet another example of Leo allowing himself to be put at the risk of death without hesitation.

Man for Jason to take Piper and fly away from Festus as the dragon Falls, Leo would stay on his dragon and try to fix it. Then he said he couldn’t fix it he would die.

The first time I read this I didn’t think much of it didn’t even remember this thing happened because it seems like just natural reaction to trying to save the ship sacrifice yourself, knowing how the giant war ends and he did kill himself. I think it’s a reasonable assumption that just does not have enough regards for personal safety and probably not taking care of himself.

During the lost hero indicated that part of the reason how Piper Leo invasion survive the quest was that whenever they were hungry, Leo would cook for them.

But did anyone other than me notice that hyper had to ask for Leo to cook every single single time because he never remembered he was never hungry and he would only eat if they were hungry if they told him they were hungry and asked him to cook.

I didn’t find the scene again because I was only reading chapters in Leo’s point of view, but I think it’s in Pipers and this for me the first time I read it was like the first indication that Leo doesn’t have a healthy relationship with food.

Mark of Athena.

The very first time Leo met Hazel first thing he noticed was that she paid a lot of attention to him. And he didn’t like it you can argue that this is because he was so used to not be center of attention, but we all know that Leo craves attention so that wouldn’t make sense. He says that the reason he feels uncomfortable is that she was staring at him through looking at his body, and it made him feel self-conscious.

House of Hades

“ you haven’t eaten in a few days.” Calypso told Leo. And Leo didn’t even notice.

Wikipedia Page.

I read the entire page. Yes. The whole thing.

I never do that.

But I wanted to see if there was any other extra evidence for my theory.

In the early life section there’s a paragraph about the day of the dead, where Leo’s aunt and his cousin who would bully him went to the cemetery. To clean their relatives graves and bring offerings.

I found this quote “Rosa would force him to stay for the picnic, as if eating with dead people would fix his appetite.”

So his family was aware he wasn’t eating.

“Leo woke up in an ambulance, and the paramedic was kind to him, saying that the warehouse had burned down and his mom hadn't made it out. Leo felt hollow, and realized he had lost control like his mom had warned him about.“

This supports my theory that Leo feels a lack of control in his life, which is why he’d result to controlling his food intake.

“He thought her death was his fault” this quote supports my second theory of what triggered his anorexia. Self punishment. In his very core. He believes he was responsible for the person he loved most in life being dead.

“The police wondered what kind of child would've started a fire. His neighbors in the apartment complex gossiped about him, saying they always knew something was wrong with him.” So already at 8 years old he called the attention of the cops and his community as dangerous. And once you’re labeled as dangerous, and dark skinned… there’s only a matter of time until you do and up being caught in the wrong groups.

Something we know from the books, at Leo’s mention of gangs and a school for delinquents… he did exactly that.

“He even had an abusive foster mom, Teresa.” Another common trigger for eating disordered behavior, abusive parental figures. Usually parental figures can say very nasty comments about the child’s body psychologically parents tend to reflect their insecurities and their life and their body onto the bodies of their children. This is very common with biological kids, but I assume it could be possible for a foster child as well.

Your abusive foster parent also means he probably had a strong distrust between him and the foster mom.

Meaning, if he was caught up in a gang while living with her, you would not tell her he could not confide in her.

Having an Abusive mother figure, hold onto the money issues he had from his mother dying. This strongly explains why he stayed in a relationship with fucking calypso!!!

That woman treated him like every second of the relationship and he was fine with it because she was an older woman, and he was treated like shit by women.

Side tangent that does not have to do with anorexia or his crime history.

Did anyone else notice how every single girl Leo’s tempo was much older than him in the entire books series?

• Hazel

• the ice goddess

• calypso

• Thalia

Two out of four of those were mean to him!! Yes mommy issues really bad mommy issues that turned into a mommy kink. He even calls Calypso Mamacita!!!

And he will stay in an abusive relationship as long as he has an older woman who he is as attractive and more dominant

Another paragraph I found was full of little nuggets I found:

“Maenads from Demigod Diaries, indicating that Leo is quite good-looking despite not finding himself attractive” so just further proof that Leo is a pretty boy but has dysmorphia and low self esteem. “Leo has been called 'cute in a scrawny way' by nymphs”

“a diminutive stature with a slim and relatively scrawny build.” Of course we all remember Leo is skinny, hell that’s what this whole theory is about. But I want to point out the word Relatively. Which reminds me of my assumption that since Leo works with heavy metal he has muscle definition but not enough body fat, making him skinny.

“Leo wears a pair of Georgina's overalls during her absence, so they are probably around the same size.”

Oh that probably doesn’t seem like a big deal to you— GEORGINA IS AN EIGHT YEAF OLD LITTLE GIRL AND HE IS A SIXTEEN YEAF OLD BOY!!!!

They should not be the same size!!!!

“He is said to be sensitive about his size and occasionally makes self-deprecating jokes about it.” Dysmorphia, I’ve been telling you guys over and over! He has dysmorphia.

“Superhuman Strength : Being a demigod, Leo is stronger than a regular mortal. However, Leo has many times labeled himself as weak because of his small stature, and is definitely the weakest male demigod of the Seven, indicating that Leo is pretty weak for a demigod. Leo also is extremely skinny and short and doesn't look very strong. However, Leo has been shown to be quite a bit stronger than he looks as he used two silver-tipped blacksmith hammers to smash full-grown monsters that got in his way”

So even though logic would suggest the opposite Leo always thinks of himself, of his body negatively.

There’s so many other examples but I’m tired.

[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.

[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

[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. 

[phoxxes]

the sunshine court book review

0.5/5 stars

the female author’s barely disguised fetish for young gay boys getting raped and tortured continues.

at least in the first books both the leads were equally deranged enough there was some amount of entertainment to be found in just the general experience of “wtf am i reading”. that’s lost in this one. this time, we’ve got the trauma ridden black cat trope character with hardly half an ounce of personality left within him and the canon described “sunshine captain” golden retriever hero type who’s so wholesome and perfect he says things like “that’s a mite bit hecked up” and “it’s hecka fun”, etc, instead of ever daring to sully his good character with a justified “fuck” or similar. because nobody but an absolute saint could ever love somebody as damaged as jean, of course.

the general writing of the book is bad. it reads like a teenager’s fanfiction, which makes sense as the author is churning these 3-400k word novels out in a matter of months and has no real editor outside a couple proofreaders made up of her own personal friends. moreover, she goes back and rewrites specific events from the first books, adding in content that was otherwise missed in the initial narrative. this could be excused if neil was unreliable a narrator enough to pick and choose what he wanted to include in his story, but he’s not, and much of the events that occur in the overlap between the two series are important and directly involving neil himself enough he really should have taken note. but he didn’t, because nora never even planned on writing this book until very recently. poor planning, even worse execution.

into the details, this book brings the introduction of a token they/them who is getting somewhat involved in a polyamorous throuple. these books are set in the late 90s, early 2000s. the amount of issues people would have with a nonbinary person and polyamory situation would be absolutely insane, but it’s completely glossed over and accepted as normal even by jean, an uptight french boy who has spent his entire life holed up in a literal dungeon getting the shit beat out of him every time he so much as sneezed out of line. he stumbles over a few english words at times, like egregious, so you cannot tell me he would be fine and have no issues with addressing somebody neutrally like that. he would at least question it. the token they/them is also riddled with stereotypes, from being the shortest and fattest of the team to sporting ten million different piercings.

additionally, nora brings in the fascinating biphobic trope of the bisexual man being a whore who sleeps around with everything that moves. she excuses it as he didn’t actually want to and was being forced into statutory raping himself, over and over and over again. which actually funnily enough does not really make it any much better.

the women are two dimensional and lacking, clearly just props for jeremy and jean. the two with any amount of actual relative plot significance are in a very open lesbian relationship entirely out of touch for the time period it is set in. they’re also clearly just there to be the lesbians the gay boys can lean on and use for their own personal development and exploration.

renee, the single only character of any real interest in this series, is quickly and cleanly written off in pretty much the very first chapter. this was a real disappointment for me, as i was hoping this spin off would prioritize her as a character and explore more of both her past and her future. i’m not sure what i was expecting, honestly, because of course nora couldn’t have a woman be a main character and also an actual romantic interest for her male lead. and so she is dismissed and clears the way for more of nora’s favored cis white twink yaoi.

the first books i could have excused as the result of a young woman’s unbalanced fanfiction phase. the addition of this one, more than ten years past the release date of the original series, just damns nora beyond saving. she knows one singular plot, and that is excessive graphic trauma porn of young, attractive, white gay boys by the evil japanese mafia. it is shockingly racist, especially coming from somebody who supposedly claims to hold a great deal of interest and respect for japanese culture, and unpleasantly fetishized.

i give the original books 1-2 stars each depending on how objectively entertaining the batshit insane plot is. i could not justify giving this installment even one singular whole star. while the original series was so unhinged it at least held the same sort of morbid fascination that watching a train derail or a high speed car crash provides, this book just felt like standing in the corner and watching nora rub one out to violent gay rape porn.

[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

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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.