#need a tag for oc lore that isn’t /reader .

[mothiir]

since it was an open invitation to ask about ocs. I’m curious about why taleath joined a craftworld! any particular reason? what was he like when he was a kabalite?

so sorry it took me ages to get to this! always happy to answer questions about the boys, especially my baby eldar:

So, quick primer on drukhari lore: they live in a warp-city called Commoragh. Most live for tens of thousands of years, sustaining themselves on the pain and suffering of others. Babies are born either via artificial wombs (vat-born) or the traditional way (trueborn). Because drukhari society is so treacherous and bloodthirsty, it is a sign of immense privilege to be able to incapacitate yourself for the process of pregnancy and childbirth; thus, only the drukhari women with the status and political sway to protect themselves have children. Trueborn nobles consider themselves superior to vat-born because of course they do.

Taleath is vat-born. He has no clue who his biological parents actually are, only that they donated some genetic material as payment for services rendered by his adoptive mother, Quinathra, the leader of a haemonculi coven. She wanted a child, for purposes she never really explained, and — he suspects — that she forgot about between requesting the genetic material and Taleath’s birth. Like many of her kindred, Quinathra is batshit insane, though hers is a bright-edged madness, capable of brief insights of stunning brilliance. She raised Taleath in her coven, and if you know anything about haemonculi you know precisely what sort of things he grew up with. She seemed to care for him, in her own very twisted way, and often told him that his destiny lay far away in the stars. The full name she gave him — which he very rarely uses in its entirety, since it’s a mouthful even by Aeldari standards — translates as ‘far from this place I will go, to stand on a field of blue grass, under the auspices of a golden son, where I will bring fire and bloodshed and agony to the lost children of dead men’. It is only after he meets Roboute Guilliman, clad in splendid blue and gold raiment, that he realises that perhaps she wasn’t quite as mad as he used to think. Perhaps the dreams she had were not all drug-induced hallucinations. Perhaps.

Anyway: when he reached adulthood, she told him that he may be a skilled assistant, but his heart wasn’t full of the joy of scientific discovery and therefore he could never be a good haemonculi. He had to find a kabal. Or she could peel off his flesh and make him into a very fetching wall decoration. He chose to join a kabal. His connections to his mother’s coven served him well; she may not have wanted him as a colleague, but she was happy to help him with his political goals. Within a few centuries, he was happily in place as the third in command of the Crimson Talon. He learned that it was good to be near power, close enough to whisper in its ear, but not so close that people got ideas about assassinating you.

His kabal was part of the group that swanned into save the craftworld Iyanden. Iyanden had been forced to muster the spirits of their ancestors to fend off a Tyranid hive fleet; yanking spirit stones from the Infinity Circuit, destroying their eternal rest. And yet it did not seem enough — necromancy would not save them. And yet at a time when all seemed lost, the drukhari rallied behind their kindred to send the bugs fleeing. Was it out of the kindness of their hearts? Absolutely not. They thought it was funny that the Iyanden aeldari had been forced to break their final taboo. And because they found it amusing to imagine their cousins forced to live with the knowledge that they had shattered the respite of their resident ghosts, they saved them.

While in Iyanden, Taleath was mortally wounded by a tyranid termagaunt. His guts spilled out over his hands, his blood choking his breath, and his last thoughts were dreams of revenge — but he did not die. A young Aeldari warrior (“barely off the teat, they were recruiting babies —“ Taleath would later say) found him, and stemmed the bleeding, before half-dragging him to safety. He stayed beside the drukhari, tending to his wounds when no one else would. The boy had lost his entire family to the tyranid invasion. All he wanted to do was to save one soul, no matter how lost.

Taleath’s kabal gave him up for dead, because of course they did. He did not expect anyone to come for him. And so his initial plan was to manipulate the boy, to play the reformed monster — ending up with the inevitable gory betrayal that drukhari so like to inflict on those who make the mistake of trusting them. However, months turned to years turned to decades, and Taleath couldn’t pinpoint the moment when he eventually started genuinely caring. He just…did. He detoxed from his terrible grinding soul-hunger, because there was no way to effectively feed aboard the craftworld, and found his head clearer than he could remember it ever being. He saw how the boy was doted on by his parents, and thought of his own mad hag of a mother. He changed.

One day, he heard a rumour of Yvraine — the crazy death-worshipping bitch — making nice with the humans. He paid the rumours little mind, until they could no longer be ignored. Through a series of complicated and lengthy campaigns, he found himself fighting on the same side as the Primarch, destroying the legion that called itself the World Bearer’s. At a break in the fighting, looking up at the brilliant bronzed figure of Roboute Guilliman, Taleath laughed breathlessly to himself, attracting some strange looks. “Killing the lost children of a dead man,” he said, with his off-kilter grin. “Under the auspices of a golden son.”

[brisquad-unit-4402]

crimzon ruze dating an artist

i’m gonna be real the hate mail stream changed me as a person

yhis one is about ruze and a reader that likes to make visual art, but if this gets some reception might be interested in writing more headcanons for writers, musicians, programmers, dancers…

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, headcanons

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

let’s get it out of the way: ruze isn’t just a viciously violent mercenary menace, he’s also a viciously violent mercenary menace that ✨ loves creativity ✨

he respects people that can use their imagination, like inventing new horrific ways to kill a corruption beast, or making someone’s day worse in a way that can’t be replicated

so naturally he gravitates to people who put their imagination to use through their own art medium. he has a type for creators

one of the best feelings ever is being able to watch an artist in their element, focused on their vision

there’s always so much to admire. their hands wrapped around the pencil, the way they squint and stare at the lines… he could go on

if he’s really lucky maybe the artist will move around while drawing a character, just so they can use their own body as reference. it’s so cute seeing them lift a hand and compare it to the one they were drawing, even the pout they do when they erase the last few strokes, all frustrated but ready to try again. especially the pout

he doesn’t do the whole “talking about your feelings” thing so when he sees a well-done drawing, well, that just makes admitting it all the more redundant. who needs words when a picture is worth a thousand of them?

ruze himself isn’t exactly an artist, but he’s tried before. it’s tough work. anyone that can control their pen that well deserves respect

if you’re an artist and your love language is quality time then dating ruze is a dream. he’ll do work in the same room as you while you’re preoccupied with your latest piece

it’s just the right amount of togetherness, but you’re able to do your own thing, and so is he. this feeling gets even better with banter, music, anything

he doesn’t mention it often but ruze also likes to work with his hands too. his favorite is papercrafting

you’re the only one in the world that knows he has a diy scrapbook full of photos and embellishments and, yes, some of your doodles and scrapped art you let him keep

always wants to display your art in some way. it’s personal and makes him feel like his house is a little livelier

if you need more space or expensive supplies for your art like a firing kiln, large canvases, pressure pots, or other equipment, then he’ll drop off the face of the earth for, like, a week, then come back with a bounty collected and a cut of it for your art fund

ruze likes the challenge of hunting down and fighting a fearsome monster, and how you brighten up as you plan a visit to a local craft store

he likes to ask questions about what you’re working on. this can be anything from art history to oc lore to symbolism to techniques

it makes especially good conversation at night when he’s about to go to bed with you

…there have definitely been times ruze was the first to sleep because you got hit with inspiration at 1 am though

it would be hypocritical if he were to make you rest, but just don’t overdo it and wake up cranky past your alarm, alright?

and do some stretches, including your hands, and your back. you’re literally dating someone who uses his muscle to make money. you better be treating your body nicely while you’re making art

you should be getting accidental paper cuts, not carpal tunnel because SOMEONE didn’t stick their arms straight out and bend their wrists back while keeping their fingers straight for 10 seconds, then bend their wrists down to the floor for another 10 seconds. not naming names

the type of mf that will sneak up and make some form of sudden physical contact (a kiss? bite? lick? annoying poke to your side?) so your back straightens and then tells you to keep it straight instead of giving you more affection

would NEVER respond to someone talking about their art with “can you draw me?”

that’s probably his greenest flag actually

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi

[fawnforgold]

| Heaven and Earth | 

Pairing: Albedo x OC!Juniper

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, This is NOT an x reader, Soulmate AU, Reincarnation AU, Selfship/Self Insert, Death, Heavy Angst, Implied/Alluding to Suicide, He/Him Pronouns for Albedo, She/Her for Juniper, Juniper and Albedo have a kid, Panic Attacks, Mental Breakdowns, Toxicity/Toxic Relationship (my selfship isn’t technically toxic but for this fic it might come off a little unsavory at parts), Albedo is implied to have PTSD, Trauma, 4.9k words.

A/n: Hi this fic was inspired by the conversation where me and @/auphelia bounced ideas about my selfship lore hehe so enjoy guys <3

Summary: Albedo and Juniper are victims of the archon's fascination and are reincarnated in many lifetimes. The problem is that only Albedo remembers anything from those past lives and thus must prove himself worthy to Juniper in every lifetime. 

Tagging: @auphelia @suyacho @themovingcastlez @tighnarly @fleur-de-leap

Heaven and Earth Playlist

“Oh my god, Mr. Albedo you’re a genius!” Sucrose exclaims.

She held up a vial to her colleague with pure excitement. She thought she’d get the same reaction in return, but what she witnessed instead frightened her. Albedo turned to her slowly and with eyes as empty as ever, he replied coldly.

“Don’t ever call me that.” 

His voice sent shivers down her spine. She tried to ignore it but even Sucrose knew better than to chalk this up to simply nothing. Sucrose saw how Albedo was slowly descending into madness. Some moments she wondered if this was inevitable, but then quickly snapped herself out of it. Reassuring herself that her friend was not like that. Unfortunately, there was only so much she could do, especially in that moment. So, she kept a watchful eye and confided in Kaeya about moments like this, moments where Sucrose could slowly see Albedo drowning underneath the weight of it all. She tried to reassure him that he could talk to her if ever he felt the need, but it wasn’t as simple as that. 

Albedo couldn’t just tell Sucrose what happened and what has been happening over and over and over again. He couldn’t tell anyone. Who would believe him? Genius or not, it would ruin what little reputation he had left. There was always that voice in his head that told him that talking about it with someone wouldn’t hurt, it wouldn’t go as badly as he thought, but that was before one of the worst memorable moments of his lives had happened. Before he spilled his heart and soul to Juniper, and became utterly distraught from his feeble attempts at trying to save her. Albedo didn’t remember much from that day except for the parts that stung like hell. Like when he told her all about the reincarnations and how he was the only one who remembered anything, and that she would die in many ways he could never predict. 

It started  calm and collected, his words moving carefully and cautiously, but somewhere down along the line it transformed into something frantic, drenched with guilt and regret. He watched as her face went from concern to fright. He wasn’t quite sure why he was scaring his wife, and even when the answers were right in front of him, he just couldn’t control himself. The words spilled and poured past his lips like a damning prayer. Albedo didn’t remember much but what he did remember was the way her eyes lit up in terror. That expression of hers would be forever branded into his brain.

He remembers the way he clawed at the bottom of her skirt. Her skirt, so graceful and free, which had been trapped in his hands which were balled into fists. Albedo’s nails carved at the fabric of her clothing, ripping holes into something beautiful he had made for her and turning it into something ugly. You looked down at his expression in absolute horror, his face red and wet from his desperation and tears. His face was twisted into a horrific expression, one that bore the pain of many, many people. Maybe he was telling the truth? Juniper thought to herself. Maybe, I had died in a past life with him. Maybe when he wept, clinging to her for dear life and begging for her to trust and believe in his words, perhaps he was telling the truth. 

“Please.. You.. you have to believe me.” He cried out, pulling her closer to him by the hem of her skirt.

But she didn’t believe him. There was simply no way to believe in him. That sort of thing didn’t happen, right? In her anxiousness she pulled away from him, enough that he would tighten his grip only to loosen it in just a few seconds. It couldn’t be helped, she was scared. She had a right to react the way she did. Didn’t she?

“Bedo you’re… you’re scaring me.” She whispered, too frightened to raise her voice an octave higher. 

This time she pulled completely out of his grasp, no lingering touches grazing her or her clothing. He stared up at Juniper with tear-filled eyes. There were heavy bags underneath his eyes, darker than she’d ever seen anyone's look before, and his mouth fell slightly open as his tears dripped down to his lips. The taste of his sorrow was more sour than the day he lost her, and all he wanted was the sweetness of her love again. It was tragic really, that a man who was destined to be with his soulmate in every lifetime was forced to fail in every single one. Albedo had been gifted gold and had managed to tarnish it in almost every life he had lived. 

So, he watched helplessly as she walked out on him, frantically tripping over her own feet as she ran out the door like a scared house cat. As Albedo fell apart, melting into the wooden floors they had both walked on in those past years, he swore to himself this would be the last time he initiated contact with her. No longer would he go out of his way to befriend her, woo her, love and cherish her, only for his love to die right before his very eyes in every lifetime. It was then that he decided to do the most sane thing he’d ever do, leave. He left, so that when and if she returned, which she most certainly did, she would be left with absolutely nothing but his memory. He would never be there to witness the pure panic she endured as she realized, nor watch the way Juniper and Kaeya searched for decades all across Teyvat just looking for him. 

Albedo would never see how it absolutely destroyed her. When he left to put a bandaid over a self-inflicted gash, she continued to wither and die slowly until all that anguish finally caught up with her. It infected her until what only remained was an extremely sad memory. She wondered as she died if things would’ve been different had she listened to him, and as her heart began to slow she couldn’t help but hear his words ring true in her ears which had barely heard much of anything those days. As you took your final breaths your hand twitched, slowly reaching out for the hand of a long lost lover. She died warm in the bed he’d made her, Kaeya was kneeling on the floor, holding her hand gently as he watched the light finally leave her eyes. People said she lost her life to old age, but both Kaeya and Albedo knew better than that. 

So, as that life eventually took her , and Albedo eventually found his own way out of this one, he once again was reborn into another lifetime. A life where all he would worry about was seeing her again, and it would prove to be one of the many curses bestowed upon him. He tried his best to avoid her, but fate had a way of mocking him. It was when he had taken a spontaneous walk that his unluckiness would catch up to him. He locked eyes with her figure from afar, and quickly hid behind a nearby tree. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, panic enveloped him while his worst fear slowly crept behind him. He just had to keep still and hidden, he convinced himself. Sadly, his reassurances did nothing to ease the fear he felt. Especially when a hand placed itself on his shoulder and a soft voice of concern followed soon after. 

He couldn’t possibly face her like this, not in this awful state. Her eyes looked at him with nothing but compassion and worry, and all he could do not to fall apart was remain completely still. Visions of what if scenarios haunted his mind and so he remained completely frozen, refusing to move even an inch until he was sure he could act with complete control. He sat there crumbling onto the grassy ground as she rubbed his back and soothed him through his attack, and for some magical reason it worked. Before he knew it his breathing had slowed, and his heart rested at a rate that was somewhat normal. Letting himself be still with her, even if for a moment was healing in a way he’d almost forgotten about. 

Still, as sentimental as this moment was it did not erase the damage he had done nor the madness that stirred within his body. He shared some of this life with her. Yes, he had allowed himself to know the joys of her laughter and feel the tender touch of her skin against his, but never did he forget the damage he had caused. As he lived in a house with her that was nearly identical to the homes they shared in other lifetimes, he didn’t once forget how her eyes looked at him on that day. He could never erase the memory of her wrinkled hand in his as she gave him one last smile. Albedo could never forget all the memories he shared with Juniper, and even though he was staring at her, healthy and full of life, he would never forget the image of his beautiful wife disappearing right in front of his eyes. 

It was a fresh new hell with every life he lived, and to be doomed to never die of old age was just one of the worst aspects of it. Being a homunculus had its benefits, but dying was not one of them. While you could continue to die of old age or any natural cause, Albedo had to resort to more drastic measures to die. Unless some unfortunate circumstance had happened to end his life, Albedo oftentimes had to take matters into his own hands. Thankfully, this was not something he thought twice about, making no hesitation when he had to take the blade to his throat to stop whatever it took to keep him alive underneath all that skin and bone. He was thankful for the times where someone did the job for him, dying with a smile on his face as he watched the world darken around him. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t take long before he was opening his eyes to the sight of his master, again. She wasn’t as pleasant company to have as Juniper would’ve been, but he was grateful just to have something or someone distract him from the madness that brewed within him. 

Sadly, this “bliss” only lasted for so long and soon, he was left all alone in Teyvat. A few centuries had passed before he crossed paths with you again. He had some time to recover from the agony of her, only to be reintroduced to it all over again. Albedo wasn’t too sure why he did what he did next. Perhaps he wondered how this life fared for the both of them. Maybe he started to finally heal from the damage that had been done, or maybe he was simply homesick. Whatever the reason, he had convinced himself that this time would be different, that this time he would enjoy this life with Juniper no matter how it ended.

At first he remained true to his words, making a life for himself with his wife and child in the cool meadows in Mondstadt, but then something happened, or should I say someone. Albedo hadn’t noticed it in the previous lives but eventually he caught on to this stranger's presence lurking in the shadows. At first he thought nothing of it. After all, he’d become quite paranoid due to the lives he lived, but he soon realized that it wasn’t paranoia and instead was a worry that was much warranted. 

It happened first when Juniper and him were celebrating their first anniversary, they’d taken themselves out to a nice picnic in a nearby meadow. Everything was peaceful and the kindness of Juniper’s voice soothed his forever aching heart. Albedo’s heart was full as he heard you inquire about some experiment he was currently working on. Sadly, the moment was brought to a cold halt as he saw a familiar stranger out in the distance. The figure did nothing but stand there and glare down at him, and in a matter of moments he vanished. This visual would be something that would continue to haunt Albedo no matter what life he lived. In the ones that came before he hadn’t thought twice about it and now he wished he had. 

He tried his best to ignore it, truly he did try, but even his best wasn’t enough. The man showed up even in his sleep, dreams turned to nightmares and nightmares soon became night terrors. Waking up in a cold sweat he’d sit upright, hyperventilating as his wife tried her best to calm him down. No matter what had happened in his sleep the man always showed up, the one constant theme being the mysterious man and his intentions. Albedo had his theories but never anything solid, that was until that night when the stranger spoke to him in his night terrors.

“I know what you’ve done.” 

There was something incredibly bone chilling about those words,it felt like a threat to Albedo and all he cherished. Then the madness started to slither its way back into his life. Many nights were spent sleeplessly working on his research, thinking back to his past lives and what the appearance of this daunting figure meant. This continued on for about a decade or so before Albedo’s research came to a slowed halt. He hadn’t seen this figure in quite some time and foolishly thought with hope in his heart that this man had given up. At the very least he hoped this was someone who he could easily get rid of, but fate had a peculiar way of baring its fangs. 

The next time he would see the man would be much farther in the future, long enough that Albedo almost forgot about him. Almost. It was summertime when the three of them, their child included, made their way into Mondstadt City. Albedo was holding his daughter, talking to her about the many flowers at Flora’s stand when his eyes locked with another pair. As his wife was paying for the gorgeous flowers she’d planned to decorate the house with, Albedo was preoccupied with a tall, blonde man’s eyes piercing straight into his. His immediate instinct was to take out his sword and protect what was precious to him, but he forced that urge down as hard as he could. That would only bring more trouble, he thought to himself. 

He thought at best the stranger would leave him and his family alone, but he was sorely mistaken. After the man made a point of glaring at him and his daughter, he started to approach him. Albedo had no clue what he should do in a moment like this and he had no proof to tell the knights of favonius that he was a threat. So, instead he chose to remain exactly where he was. Albedo watched the stranger extra closely as he closed the distance between them, his hand twitching at his side as he readied to strike at any moment. It wasn’t until the man was standing right in front of him that he could truly get a good look.

He stood before him, tall with a threatening aura that followed, staring down at him and his child. There was a fire burning in his eyes, a dangerous hatred that threatened to tear him limb from limb, but before Albedo could say anything he turned to Juniper who had since bumped into the unfamiliar man by accident. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there. You.. are?” She questioned with a look of confusion. 

He moved out of the way and smiled at Juniper with a look that was most unsettling. He said nothing and did nothing, just stood there, remaining frozen until his daughter, Rose, had reached out a hand towards the man. Quickly Albedo pulled her arm back against her body, holding her in a protective hold. Albedo stood his ground, now staring down the unfamiliar man who he knew now more than ever was a threat to his family. 

“Nobody important, I was just on my way anyway. You.. have a good evening.” The man said as he walked past albedo, now bumping into him by mistake. 

Although, one could hardly call what he did an accident. Juniper watched as the stranger floated away, vanishing among the crowd while Albedo focused on his daughter, refusing to give her up to even his wife. It seemed that Juniper had forgotten about what just happened and offered to carry Rose, but Albedo shook his head, reassuring her that he had it handled, but she wasn’t too sure about that.

The three of them walked home together in silence. That was until Juniper finally confronted Albedo. “Albedo?”

“Hmm?” He tilted his head to look at her briefly before returning his gaze to the road in front of him. 

“What was that about? Do you know that man?” She pushed.

Albedo stayed silent. Not sure if he should be truthful or lie. He knew what would happen if he was truthful with Juniper, but he hated the idea of making a fool out of her. Sadly, Albedo did what he thought was best, even if Juniper saw right through him. 

“No, I don’t know who that was today.” He said.

She turned to face him as her expression became angry. “You’re lying to me. Why are you lying to me, Albedo?”

“Let’s not discuss this here.” He tried his best to calm Juniper down, worried it would wake the baby, or at the very least that’s the excuse he gave her to keep her distracted.

Juniper was silent up until the moment the three of them returned home and tucked Rose into bed, but she did not forget about the man or Albedo’s suspicious questions. So, the very minute she had the chance she cornered Albedo in an attempt to force some answers out of him, but still he barely budged. 

“What’s going on, Albedo? This isn’t like you.” She questioned him, desperate for answers.

Still, Albedo wouldn’t give in. He wasn’t trying to ignore Juniper but he was at a loss for words. He wasn’t exactly sure how he could tell Juniper that he had seen this many times before for such a long time, and that he had some less than savory theories about the stranger, as well. To put it simply, there was no way he could be truly honest with his wife. Not without things going awry that is. 

Juniper stood in front of Albedo and grabbed both of his hands, holding them against her cheek. “Albedo, talk to me. Please?” She continued to push him all while he remained absolutely silent. “Can you at least tell me if he’s dangerous?” She asked in a hushed tone, her voice barely audible. 

Albedo kissed her hands and then sighed. “I think so, yes.”

She pulled away slightly to give him a look. “You think?”

He sighed again and replied. “I have my theories of who he is and why he’s here, but that’s all I can say for now.” 

The both of them sat in silence for a moment, neither of knowing exactly what to say. Albedo thought about the man and the many theories he had about them, and Juniper wondered about the stranger and Albedo’s theories. In a way their minds were connected in a very distorted and unorganized way. Thinking on the same wavelength but in opposite tempos. At some point the two of them decided nothing would be properly handled or solved with a mind and body that lacked sleep, and thus chose to end the conversation there for the night. Juniper slept soundly through the night while Albedo remained restless. 

If there was any chance of Albedo getting any sleep it was long gone once he heard footsteps outside the window of their room. At first he wondered if he heard correctly but as the footsteps approached the room where Rose was located, he wasted no more time wondering and jumped out of bed. Carefully and cautiously he crept to the side of the room where Rose was, pushing the door slightly open to peek into the room to check in on his daughter. Once he was reassured of her safety he made quick work of finding his sword and gripping it close to his hips. He took a peek out a nearby window before opening the front door and closing it behind him softly. 

Looking around him he held his sword at ready until he laid eyes on the source of the noise. It was him. Albedo felt rage course through his veins as he rushed towards the familiar man. 

Reaching him he pointed the tip of his sword at his neck and spoke quietly. “Who are you?”

The man scoffed. “You can call me Dainsleif.”

Dainsleif held the demeanor of someone who had already won, the look in his eyes assuring Albedo that he would always be one step ahead of him. That was only one aspect of him that gave Albedo a bad feeling. Albedo took one step forward, holding the handle of his sword extra tight. He would not hesitate to swing his blade if he felt necessary, but for the sake of his family he restrained himself. He poked Dainsleif’s adam's apple with the tip of the blade, serving as an unspoken warning. 

“What are you doing here, Dainsleif?” Albedo’s voice was thick with venom. 

Dainsleif stood there motionless, not moving a muscle. Then he turned his attention to the house, eyeing the window that belonged to Rose’s room. This motion did not go unmissed by Albedo and immediately questioned the strange man. What could he possibly want with an innocent child? 

“Why are you here?” Albedo spat in reply. Growing more impatient with every passing second.

“I’ve been watching you for a very long time, Albedo.” Dainsleif admitted. 

That’s when Albedo lowered his sword momentarily, too stunned to speak just yet. What could he possibly want with me? With my family? Albedo asked himself. Although, an answer is what he sought, an answer would not return to him. 

“This is not the first time we’ve met and nor will it be the last.” He continued. 

Albedo’s head began to spin and spin until he ultimately fell to the ground onto his knees, sword now laying beside him. “You know.. Don’t you?” He asked

Dainsleif looked down on Albedo and then to the house, again before replying. “I’ve always known.” 

Albedo dug his nails into the cloth of his shorts, praying that this hell would stop, but he knew better than to be hopeful at a time like this. Sadly, he remained hopeful with childlike wonder, having an idea that he was so sure would bring him relief. He hesitated for only a moment until ultimately deciding to do it, going against the bad feeling that ruminated in his gut. 

“Do you.. Do you know how I can save her? Is there a way to save her?” Albedo asked weakly, his voice broken and strained.

Dainsleif looked down on Albedo with a cold glare. “What makes you think I’d ever help you?”

Everything was starting to unravel before his eyes. Albedo was beginning to see for the very first time in any of his lifetimes. He was doomed from the very start. As fate would have it Albedo would never see the good in his continuous lives as long as the archons looked down on all of Teyvat. As long as Albedo lived to see the daylight and die underneath the moon’s cold embrace, so would destiny let its hands do its cruel bidding. 

“Please.. There must be something that I can do in return? Anything?!” Albedo begged, but again, Dainsleif refused.

Shaking his head and walking further from Albedo who was currently on the ground groveling, he replied. “You’re dangerous. I cannot trust you with this invaluable information.” 

Albedo reached out a hand to Dainsleif but before he could even graze his body he had vanished into thin air. The strange man had cast upon his judgment and before Albedo could even defend himself he had left. Albedo remained on the ground for quite some time, hours passed by while he cried and prayed to the archons for forgiveness. That, whatever would come to pass, would be most merciful to him, but his prayers would grow unanswered. He wept and yelled to the skies, cursing them for being born with such an unforgiving face. Although his voice was loud it did not carry along with the wind. Some things could not be helped, a prisoner will always feel tied down even in a land as free as the wind. 

At some point he must’ve carried himself back to bed to Juniper. He hoped this would all be some nightmare that would soon pass and be just one big miserable memory. Sadly, though this was just one hellish day, it would eventually come to haunt him in the future. For when Albedo’s time with Juniper in this lifetime ended, another life would follow with an even more nightmarish revelation to follow, too.

The same usual moments would happen, still, but it was when he took that fateful walk by a familiar hill that would damn him to heartbreak eternally. Eternity is a thing of the past, but the way Juniper looked at him would forever be etched into his mind. He didn’t even notice the presence of a certain man standing beside her until he looked away from her cruel expression. She wore the same one Dainsleif had that night, frozen and unsympathetic. There was no escaping his fate, the worst had truly come. 

Looking back at that night which happened so many years ago, Albedo couldn’t help but feel that man was nothing but one brutal omen. He wondered if he had ignored him would he still be in the same situation? Would he not still be damned to suffer just as all mortal men are? Their eyes locked onto him, etching into his skin the sins of man. Although Albedo was nothing close to human, there was something about being lumped in with any other human made him feel insane. 

Albedo thought that surely there must be a way to free himself of this torment? But there wasn’t. Not in this lifetime, the next, or any that would follow. Still, he tried to fix what was never broken to begin with. He tried and tried to connect with Juniper, build something out of nothing, but each time she would scowl at him and look at him in disgust, immediately shutting down any and all words he had to say. Still like a mad man he continued this pointless mission that would end in defeat every single time.

At one point Albedo had managed to convince himself that this was only his fate in that lifetime, but oh what a sad realization he had waiting for him in his remaining lifetimes. As time went on Juniper looked at him with an expression that grew crueler with every glance she gave him, as if to say “I remember”. Not only did she resent him with every reincarnation, but bit by bit she started to become more like the man that had always lingered around her. Never letting her out of his line of sight, something that truly sickened the alchemist. 

Eventually Albedo had no choice but to accept this destiny of his and hid himself in a much better place than Dragonspine. Although no place would be far enough when in regards to his love for Juniper, wherever he was headed was a damn good place to start. He focused on his studies for some time, avoiding all social contact of any kind. Keeping himself holed up in a secret location that none knew about (that he made sure of) until he forgot how she looked. Sadly that day would never come in that life or the next. Her face haunted him from sunup to sundown. A horrific reminder carved into his psyche until the day that the archons would cast mercy upon him, but that day never came. 

The only thing that would remain constant for Albedo was the anguish and the ever maddening silence which surrounded him. Death was not an ending for Albedo but instead was the gasoline which ignited the fire. Even as he crafts something on his trusty alchemy table, somewhere far from any livable life form, he could still hear her voice and feel her cold eyes burning into the back of his neck. An eternal reminder of the selfishness of mankind.

[rensworddump]

welcome to ren’s writing blog <3

➥ 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 ; 〔 r e n 〕

» this is my blog where i like to write when i have the motivation for it, and i hope you enjoy your stay here! my account is a safe space for anyone, including— but not limited to— those who are transgender, gay, neurodivergent, systems, and more. feel free to take a look at my main ( @kyrenn ) or if you like art check out ( @renrenditions ) my art blog!

p.s. while this account is for those who are 15+ to enjoy, i still ask that minors DNI with smut i’ve written. i know it’s probably a pointless request that a handful of you won’t listen to, but at least keep it to yourself as i will block you. this is for my comfort and your safety. smut will have a large MDNI message and a cut off so the writing itself is not visible.

➥ 𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙘 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙤

✰ 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 ; kyren / moth

✰ 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 ; ren / puppy / tiny / mothy

✰ 𝚊𝚐𝚎 ; 21 years old

✰ 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 ; nonbinary, masc-leaning + xenogenders

✰ 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜 ; they / it + xenopronouns

✰ 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 ; bisexual / biromantic / polyamorous

✰ 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊 ; i’ve been writing on wattpad ( which is here ) since i was in middle school, but keep in mind that my writing is better reflected in more recent uploads on there and things i post here.

➥ 𝙚𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙖 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙤

✰ 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚜 ; fluff, smut, char x reader, horror(/gore?), char x char, char x oc

✰ 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚜 ; soulmate AUs + second-chance romance

✰ 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 ; this is a list of experience as i’ll write most anything as long as it doesn’t go against my limits

creepypasta // Jeff the Killer, Laughing Jack, Ticci Toby

call of duty // Ghost, Soap

youtube // Jacksepticeye, PewDiePie, Markiplier (haven’t wrote for them in years, may be rusty)

as well as non-fandom related one shots

✰ 𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚜 ; besides not writing about the usual gross things (NFSW for underage chars, animals, etc.), i will not write…

- for complex AUs i don’t know well, such as ones with heavy lore/rules to do with the AU (once i learn them i’ll offer to take the request later!!)

- abusive relationships of any type. angst is cool, delicious in fact, but there are other ways to have angst without glorifying types of abuse.

- anything other than gore/torture for Offenderman. Offenderman simps please leave.

- family-esque (found family, actual family, etc.) oneshots as i don’t think i could do a good delivery with them and i’d rather not disappoint knowing where my weak spots are

- smut for Price (Call of Duty) for personal reasons.

- smut for those who are under 18 (if you don’t have an age listed, i trust you not to lie to me when i ask about this. if at anytime i feel like you’re not being honest about your age i will not do the request)

- smut for certain kinks as they make me uncomfortable

scat

watersports

vomit

AB/DL

CG/L and variants

AgeRe (this isn’t a kink, please stop using agere in smut)

will be updated as needed…

» thank you for stopping by <3 have a wonderful day and drink some water, friend. all my writing will go under the tag #renswords.txt

[sunmoonjune]

masterlist

an updated collection of the works of sunmoonjune. all works belong to sunmoonjune. do not copy, translate, or repost any of my works. I will no longer be updating the previous masterlist! I just needed a chance of pace to get back on track :))

*please regard the warnings at the beginning of each fic! they are very important - please remember that you curate your own internet experience, so take heed to any and all warnings*

previous masterlist

petrichor

a stray kids and ateez supernatural universe! 

choose your own adventure masterlist

in this masterlist, you’ll be guided to pick your first adventure: through the door of rising suns and rays of light or the door of starry skies and a midnight moon? 

once you pick your door, there will be links to the fics in each universe in the masterpost of the specific kingdom: the kingdom of dawn (ateez) and the kingdom of night (stray kids) 

there is lots of lore for each universe in these pieces! 

stray kids

oneshots

primordial: poly!ot8 stray kids x fem!reader [sea gods au, soulmate au]

[preview]

synopsis: “Oh no,” the deep voice spoke hushedly, “we cannot destroy something that has loved us so beautifully.” 

warnings: suggestive content! minors dni!! mentions of death, drowning injury, blood, poly relationships including member x member, swearing

rating: mature [due to suggestive content]

word count: 12.3k 

storm clouds at midnight: poly!ot8 stray kids x fem! reader [werewolf au, soulmate au]

synopsis: moving to a little woodside town, you discover a deep bond that connects you to eight wolves who reside in the forest aside your cottage. soon after your first meeting, you give into the enchanting magical connection and accept the pack leader’s challenge: if any of the wolves can catch you, you'll accept the mating bond (a silly proposal, considering you have long since accepted the connection)

warnings: intense suggestive content (not explicit smut, but damn well close) [minors dni!!], predator/prey, chasing, blood, injury, vulgar language, cursing, biting, choking 

rating: extremely mature! [minors pls do not interact!]

word count: 26.3k

↳ untitled drabble: poly!ot8 stray kids x fem!reader [storm clouds! universe] 

hyunjin, minho, chan, felix based 

synopsis: musings about hyunjin and his hair-tie stealing tendencies 

warnings: gets a little raunchy -- minors please dni! suggestive content and cursing 

↳ moonlit inferno: poly! ot8 stray kids x fem!reader [storm clouds! universe] 

synopsis: the wolf pack muses upon the mating chases that have occurred since your courting process finished. one resulted in your favor, the other in their own. while planning their tactic to win the next, they’re interrupted by your call with someone they had not expected. 

warnings: suggestive content!! predator/prey, chasing, cursing, vulgar language, choking, teasing, biting, minors please do not interact with this piece (you will get blocked!)

rating: mature! [minors dni]

word count: 10k 

ateez

series

like the moon: poly!ot8 ateez x fem! oc!reader

*disclaimer: I tag the reader as an /oc/ just in case, but the reader here isn’t really an oc - she has a nickname and a backstory (as well as family figures), but she does not have any distinguishing features besides her scars and enough hair to tie rings into -- anything else is not mentioned so it’s still a reader insert, I just wanted to clarify for anyone who is confused! * 

one: the trial

two: a familiar face

three: puncture

four: honey

five: hatred

six: an anchor in storming seas

seven: angel

eight: reconciliation

nine: common ground

ten: new start

eleven: too slow

twelve: gone

thirteen: flames relit

fourteen: home 

fifteen: safe

sixteen: my hongjoong

seventeen: magpies

synopsis: it’s finally the day of your trial. you’ve been waiting for this day for years. will you succeed and become a warrior your clan can finally be proud of? or will you fail, and be banished from the village forever? 

warnings: graphic depictions of past torture, past abuse, gore, injury, death, threats, fighting, reader is nonverbal for much of this fic, previous familial abuse [this fic can be considered triggering in many aspects, pls be cautious and heed the warnings at the beginning of each chapter!]

rating: mature

word count: 160k 

status: in progress

↳ extra lore! some extra detail on her mask 

↳ extra lore! the semiotics of a long bow: a glimpse into the symbols seonghwa carves into his longbow

↳ spring tides: a like the moon oneshot

synopsis: the ateez clan celebrate your birthday <3 

warnings: vague mentions of eating disorder, death and torture, scars, ptsd, very fluffy! a lot of comfort! not so dark this time xD I did not proofread this :D 

rating: teen 

word count: 14.1k 

oneshots

dewdrops at dawn: poly!ot8 ateez x fem! reader [demon au, soulmate au] [petrichor! universe]

synopsis: you’ve never really believed in angels, or anything of the sort, but in a last ditch effort to escape a grave situation – you find yourself to praying for someone - anyone - to come help you. 

“wow, you would not believe how fast angels are! I had to fight like six of them to answer your call!” 

warnings: creepy men, implied chubby!reader, social anxiety, implied neurodivergency, cursing, being followed, drunk assholes, blood, death, minor gore, intense sexual themes [minors dni!!], heavy suggestive content 

rating: mature [minors dni!]

word count: 17.2k

mist at daybreak: poly!ot8 ateez x fem! reader [demon au, soulmate au] [petrichor! universe]

[preview]

synopsis: a one shot to continue dewdrops at dawn. 

as you officially settle into life in Hell, a few problems arise. the first comes in the form of nightmares - or memories, you suppose - memories of your death. images of blood and tears, the sight of your grieving mates, and the weak plea of a promise are all you can see. 

“forever, angel.” he promises, voice weak as tears muddle his vision. “forever. I promise.” 

warnings: blood, death, cursing, mourning, suggestive content, mentions of vomit

rating: mature [minors dni]

word count: 5.7k [preview] 

jujutsu kaisen

series

house-elves & moondew: poly!satosugu x fem!reader [hogwarts au] 

chapter one

synopsis: “you must be some wizard,” Suguru huffs softly, a warm smile gracing his features as his dark eyes drift over you. his chest sings with a giddy lightness, feeling the butterflies in his stomach turn when a little grin pulls at your features. 

when you tilt your head in confusion, Satoru continues for his partner. “You’ve bewitched us,” he murmurs softly, voice warm and husky as he leans close, “body and soul - without even uttering a single spell.” 

warnings: social anxiety, reader has implied trauma, violence, injury, blood, death, death eaters, heavy suggestive content [minors dni!!], cursing

rating: mature [minors dni!]

word count: 15k

status: ongoing

oneshots

in their loving hands: poly!satosugu x fem!reader [mafia au, kindergarten teacher au]

synopsis: you’re a hard working kindergarten teacher, just trying to earn enough money to move out of your run-down apartment. everything is normal, or as much as it can be, until two men drop their daughters off in your kindergarten classroom. Nanako and Mimiko quickly become two of your favorite students, and their unreasonably attractive fathers have nothing to do with it - you promise! 

warnings: blood, death, cursing, mentions of cheating, insecurity, being followed/chased, being attacked, mentions of sexual content! 

rating: mature 

word count: 18.8k

gods and monsters: poly!satosugu x fem!reader [pacific rim au]

synopsis: six years after you lose your jaeger co-pilot, the Marshall finds you working on the coastal wall; he’s adamant you return to your station, but you can’t imagine piloting a jaeger with anyone who isn’t your brother. when you’re talked into returning to base, you’re met with the world’s two best jaeger pilots. 

warnings: blood, death, gore, cursing, mounters, past trauma, reader has a brother, fighting, angst, heavy suggestive content [minors dni!] 

rating: mature [minors dni!]

word count: 27.6k

raspberry leaves: poly!satosugu x fem!reader [jjk au] [family!au]

synopsis: reader has severe period cramps in the middle of the night and hides in the bathroom to try to deal with her agony. geto wakes to your figure missing in bed and worries. how can he help your pain? 

warnings: periods, severe cramp, painkillers, fainting, mentions of vomiting, cursing, fathers!gojo and geto, megumi tsumiki nanako and mimiko are your kids :D 

rating: teen 

word count: 12.5k 

works in progress 

*these are works that are currently being drafted - fics will only be added to this list if they have portions written!* 

kpop groups

mist at daybreak: poly!ot8 ateez x fem!reader [dewdrops at dawn universe]

thunder at twilight: poly!ot8 stray kids x fem!reader [stormclouds at midnight universe]

planned

all of my stars: poly!satosugu x fem!reader [jujutsu universe, geto doesn’t defect, happy!au lol] 

our own constellations: poly!ot8 stray kids x fem!reader [primordial universe] 

[crackinglamb]

Hi! I hope it isn’t too much trouble, but I’d like to ask how or why you decided to write Twist? And then also how and why you decided to write Wicked Games a little bit after. Did you wanna explore different relationships with characters when having a different personality in your ‘Modern Girl’ or different goals, because Carly talked Solas down and guided him into a different path, while Imogen seems to want him to go through with his plans with her help and a large dose of “what the heck is the canon timeline?” I love both of the stories, I might reread them again to help with the Modern Girl in Thedas withdrawals.

I ask because I’ve been reading “Modern Girl/Person in Thedas” stories and really wanna try my hand at them, I just feel like I am only writing it for little one shot type interactions between characters, and don’t really know why I’d actually have a “Modern Girl” be sent to Thedas, how and why, and what they would do, If your willing to give insight I’d love to hear it. I just hope I’m not a bother.

Oh no, you're not a bother at all! Thank you so much for this ask!! I love to talk about how I fell down this rabbit hole! I hope you're ready for a dissertation, because this got really long. 💕💕💕

I came to Dragon Age backwards. I didn't know anything about the series other than a lot of people liked it and had very strong opinions about it. Then a fellow writer began to write a Varric/Hawke story and I read it because I wanted to support her return to posting.

And I fell in love with a world I'd never seen.

I realized that, due to its age, I actually did know more about the games than I thought I did. I knew the ending already, and who this bald dude was that had the fandom so divided. A classic villain, right? Wrong. Some people think he's just terrible and some people defend him to the death. Some people think he's terrible but don't let that stop them from defending him to the death. So what was the real deal?

I did some research (because at that point I was writing my own Varric/Hawke fic and I'll still die on that ship hill. Anyways...moving on). I discovered that everything I thought I knew about Solas was skewed by fandom interpretation. Which is valid. I mean, all our opinions end up that way when it comes to fandom, right? All interpretation is subjective. But the fact remains that Solas interprets the world around him through the eyes of the Inquisitor and how they treat him. And that is player based. Low approval proves his opinion that this is a world not fit to live it. High approval shows him that his decision is going to destroy something beautiful, but he still feels he needs to do it.

I got to thinking about what it would take to stop him. Through the course of watching his romance, reading a lot of meta and lore posts and listening to his companion banter, I had a headcannon emerge: Solas could only be stopped by someone who knew what he was doing from the start.

But that's not gonna happen in canon. He already allegedly killed the only person who knew. (Seriously, #saveFelassan) So who else would make him rethink it?

The answer that came to me was a person he needed, so he couldn't risk eliminating them. The Inquisitor who bears his mark. I then went a step further, and decided that someone who knew all his secrets and plans, and who could possibly help him shift them, would have to be from our world. Enter the Modern Girl in Thedas, because I love a good romance, and I wanted a happy ending to this otherwise tragic love story.

And Carly was born. A modern gamer girl, sucked through to a fictional world because the universe is vast and unknowable (and certain wisps of certain Evanuris like to nudge). I'd read a bunch of fic by the time I started writing Twist, including some self-insert types. None of them told him flat out from the beginning. So I determined that she would. She'd tell him what she knew and try to persuade him that his plans were awful and that if he wanted to claim he wasn't a monster, then he'd have to find another way.

I knew from the start that I wanted her to save the orb, because losing that is what tips the scales for Solas. Losing that means he has to find power from somewhere else and sets him on his path of death. Saving the orb meant his plans, while derailed, weren't ruined. Yes, I know in Trespasser he'll tell the Inquisitor that the world would have burned in raw chaos while he rewrote it, but considering the nature of magic and reality on Thedas, I think that's more due to human reaction than any actual destruction simply based on the lifting of the Veil. Demons are real and represent emotion. Humans look down on elves and do everything they possibly can to oppress them. Like the colonizers they are. Of course they'd react to an elven demigod rewriting the world to give his people back their strength poorly.

And then covid hit. Twist rapidly became a beacon of fluffy stability to my readers. It was an escape from the literal dumpster fire that my country was, so I was highly motivated to keep writing it. To keep it light and happy and epic in a way that felt satisfying to everyone. So that's what I did.

But...

I still hadn't played Inquisition when I started (and I still need to play the other two). I was missing so much of the nuance of the world. In the end, Twist wasn't the story I really wanted to tell. I mean, I'm proud of it, and I love it. I am deeply humbled and gratified to know how many people look at Carly with love and admiration. I love hearing how many times a reader has opened it up and binged it. That kind of feedback is the lifeblood of a writer, as I always say.

Wicked Game is the story I wanted to write. A little grittier, a little more plausible in keeping with the lore. Having Imogen be human gave her the power to call out other humans on their bigotry. And to show Solas that he's not the only one who can see how damaged the world is and want to fix it. Having her be a scientist gives me a chance to explore how magic works, and what the Veil really is after a year of immersing myself in this world. Yeeting canon so thoroughly came from thinking about the major plot points and what could be changed about them from the POV of a character who knows how this is all 'supposed' to happen...and the resultant fallout from her decisions.

Imogen can see the forest for the trees. Her outsider perspective gives her all sorts of insights on her companions and the world at large. The fact that she falls ass over teakettle for the Dread Wolf against her own better judgment is just a good trope. Having him do the same is my clapback against his racially locked romance. (Here's where I'm gonna throw out my own extra kudos to writers who also portray Solas as bisexual, because dammit, he should be. Immortal beings would not bend to any heteronormative conventions.)

Carly and Imogen have rather similar motivations behind them: they want to save the world and not lose him. They often go about it in similar ways too. I guess the biggest difference between them is that now I know what I'm doing and I have more confidence in my storytelling ability. Neither of them is a self-insert. Plenty of people do that and that's totally valid. I'm just not really a fan of it myself. These two characters are no different to me than any other OC starting out at the beginning of the game. They just have slightly more backstory than the average Inquisitor.

Now, in regards to you writing your own and feeling like all you have are oneshot ideas. Go for it. Doesn't matter if they're oneshots. A story doesn't have to be hundreds of thousands of words to be awesome or complete. Write what YOU want to read. The best reason to make a character be a certain way, like being MCIT, is because you want them to be. No other justification is necessary. The only rules in storytelling are grammar ones, and even those are iffy at best. The only courtesy if you decide to go ahead and share it is don't plagiarize and tag it properly. That's it. The sky's the limit and up for grabs. Go forth and be bold.

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 21)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

CHAPTER 20.1

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Bearing the child from a man who promised was sterile gave more anxiety as you lived in their world, knowing that Geralt will resent as the offspring was forged by a cursed spirit that held her own reasons and consequences. Your fate becoming more complicated as each day pass by with a dreading feeling that you surely have no idea about.

Warnings: The usual blasphemy. Lore about the Djinn. (I've made it up) Matka means 'mother'. Ingrith is an OC of mine so she ain't real in the witcher story. Hehehe. (Surprise! Guess Geralt knew Ingrith after all. HE LIED. LMAO. 😂😅🤣) Panicking reader. Pregnancy. 

Words: 5.4k

A/N: Is this a boring chapter? I dunno. But, it will provide everyone the lore they need for some of your questions to be answered. I forgot to actually edit this because I was too focused on ranking up in Free Fire. Hahahahah. 😂 Had to edit this a day before I actually publish it in Tumblr. (I usually take 2 days because everybody loves to disturb me in my house. Also I need to manually tag people in taglists, check my grammar and typos. Oof. It makes me squint my eyes too hard on the screen because of how small the letters can be) 

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! I apologize for errors!

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be. I only own my original characters in this fanfic. 

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

"Geralt of Rivia,"

Vicious and cunning as she may seem, her tone was utterly redolent. Familiar faces finally met in such a fate that not any fortune teller may assume would happen. Loved ones being involve in adversities that has been unflattering for the witcher who stood before the queen's long associate in the castle of Kaedwen, a victorious smirk warping her sharp-edge face that Geralt has not reciprocated. Twisted in a smile that tells she was hopeful over her plans being moved into the right places.

"---I knew you would come," Ingrith spoke as a matter of fact.

The witcher knew that this encounter was inevitable for the second time. Their previous meeting lingering inside his head---being the reason why he chose to live in the outskirts of Kaedwen which eventually made him tarry a bit over going to Kaer Morhen after receiving no answer from her. Receiving much of an answer he needed through Cuthbert, his neighbor who happened to heard rumors about 'her' whereabouts more than from the sorceress he'd decided to talk with.

He'd finally knew where Yennefer has been travelling when you've arrived, his search being an easy one as Geralt discovered her location after trying not to seek for the sorceress he has been looking for years---ending up knowing her area when he gave up finding the sorceress after a month or so.

"Where is she?" he beseech his avows, the scowl stern and never fading as he was eager to see you since the moment he step foot in the castle.

"Yen or your futile human? Oh, it wouldn't be that cursed princess you've butchered in Blaviken because she's already dead, Geralt."

The cunning sorceress tutted before him as they stood at the foot of the abandoned round tower, no guards being publicly seen because of the fact that they were too much of a milksop. Ingrith, Tybalt and Eanraig---the ones who had cabbalistic abilities were the only people who tries to take care of the prince. His own parents and siblings never giving bother about checking how he was doing despite of being harmless in daylight.

"---You've disappointed me---I knew you had a penchant for sorceresses or women whom you could consider as your kind---strong, discerning....and even whores paid to entertain you through your pitiful solitude,"

Ingrith went on with her vouching, leaning her head to the side with a knowing gaze inside her eyes; a forewarning that she was dismayed from his foolish decisions that she finds, continuously mocking his settlements, "---But, you've chosen a useless woman who could not defend herself even by telling the queen that she was not the thief who has stolen her precious necklace,"

The butcher barred his teeth, jutting his jaw forward as he felt his back turn tense and rigid from how he was turning furious as each second passes by with the sorceress he'd regretted to seek for help before---not knowing she would also be the person to afflict pain for his midget in the future.

"You've told the queen that she stole her jewelry when you know it wasn't her, not a canny persuasion made, Ingrith."

Her grin turned bigger, finding his anger satisfying and entertaining in her perspective. Ingrith could disguise as a devil and nobody would notice because of how wicked she'd been turning herself into; a wretch that Geralt have seen from her with the sacrilegious intentions living inside her mind.

"I've expected more from you than to choose and defend a mortal, Witcher."

"---I've remember the night we first met," she continued to ran her mouth, sardonic as she gladly hinted. Ingrith could see the blaze in his golden eyes, how he wanted to unsheathe his sword that was carried behind his back to show her his indignation for everything---from leaving her niece in the hands of her father who detested her due to deformity.

Hence, she has left young Yennefer with no guilt in her eyes despite knowing everything---leaving the past behind and acting like it never happened, taking the initiative to ignore her whereabouts and look the other way from how she grew into a strong woman.

"You were asking Yennefer of Vengerberg from me," she stepped a foot closer towards the witcher, making Geralt deeply breathe through his nose from his pique and lack of personal space that she was trying to bombard him with.

Ingrith couldn't help but let her grin fall when Geralt took a step back, steering clear from her suggestive gestures as he gave her a low hiss and rumble of his chest when he added words to complete her sentence, "---and you had other plans,"

"I've had better plans for us, Geralt."

"I do not wish to be involved by those treacherous plans of yours. You want power---you wanted to become stronger. Settling yourself in the castle to do what you want. Even planning to extirpate your own niece because she is more powerful than you,"

The sorceress scoffed to herself, exasperated from how he blocked her advances. His amber filled with fury as it has still not yet died down after going the deep end. Her trials involving on discouraging his faith for a mere mortal like you. Her ears felt like it was being rattled from the inside, triggering her pride and ego over being told that she was below of her niece in terms of strength and magic, "Yennefer of Vengerberg? She is not powerful as you may seem, Witcher."

"You've left her alone with people who do not care for her,"

"Sorceresses don't die easily than mortals. It's in her blood; our blood, Elven blood. You know this."

Geralt couldn't help but give her a snicker, the small curl of his lip raising in disbelief for her intentions over you and being involved in his god-forsaken life that he didn't want you to be a part with, "You want my mortal to die,---" he gruffly muttered, the words tasting bitter on the ends of his tongue for the idea of you dying in his arms.

"---I won't let that happen, not until I'm alive, Ingrith."

The witcher continued to brood like how people described him to be; his mood turning sour for not seeing you yet and not knowing what was happening to you as it kept his chest bothered and heavy. Ingrith's features warped into a twist, her nose scrunched from how distasteful she found his protection over your vulnerable, weakened self; how pathetic he was caring for a mortal that could die easily especially having the curse, you were more impuisant than any other woman in the continent because a curse had effects and consequences.

His safeguarding would be useless because of the inevitable juncture that would give him sorrow and Geralt had no idea what he was in when he was trying hard to shelter you out of harms way.

Ingrith crossed her arms, shaking her head at his determination, "She'll eventually die, witcher. It's her fate in the continent. Humans like her reach their demise with misery and regret because they're nugatory, serving no purpose but to be insignificant over us,"

The latter turned his back away from her, ending the discussion with his perseverance being unyielding, shaking his head for her estimated fortune telling that he believed was a lie; understanding that she was only saying it because you didn't belong to their world and you were at high risk over danger for the chaos living in the continent.

"She won't die nor will you have the opportunity of doing so,"

"Her existence would bring more despair; more sorrow for your fate. She's just a nuisance value of human kind!" Ingrith loudly exclaimed from behind, watching him courageously push the doors to the round tower where the cursed prince has been living. Disregarding her warnings like the wind passing through.

He heard her but didn't give any acknowledge over her words. Whether it was true or not, the witcher may never know unless the day that Ingrith has been foretelling has actually been damned after all.

The fairly large throne room was filled in luxury, themed in gold and red. Such color that simply tells how their bloodline lived around the hierarchy that they highly take care of. Blood and coins. It says all. Their ornaments and artifacts spent with coins seeming to be conceived in detail for their palace rather than for the people who deserved it better living in Kaedwen.

Queen Makeda tapped her fingers along the arms of her throne, her gaze sharp and pondering over Geralt and Tybalt who stood in the middle of the room. Both having an obvious lour; deepening when she started to give orders about what was to be expected over the hunt, any hints as to where the witch has been rumored to be last seen or any more information that must be shared before Geralt takes off.

"Tybalt shall be coming in search for the witch with the witcher,"

Prince Markith, he was the queen's younger son before Prince Althalos. A lot more younger than the cursed man, immature as the maids say so. He stood beside his seated mother, wearing a simple doublet over his black breeches. The fading freckles on his cheeks stretching when a giggle escaped his lips; an obvious space between his two front teeth shown as his laugh echoed around the throne room that has gotten Geralt to give a gander.

"Witch. Witcher. Witchest." the teenager playfully mumbled beneath his breath, finding amusement over the whole thing going on with his family especially seeing the white haired witcher all brooding and silent, subtly mocking his kind in the least offending way as possible.

The queen immediately given him a sharp warning of her gaze, cocking her head to the side and seeing her son continuously chuckling from his own joke, having his own world that he always manages to live in. Seeming to be like he had imaginary friends rather than real ones that his parents seclude him amongst children because Markith should be remained untouched from the filth that people had.

"Markith, that is not a proper attitude of a prince," she lowly scolded in the midst of talking, the child's interruption obviously irking her temper.

Markith raise a brow, the child's tone utterly sardonic as he spoke, "But, I'm not the crown prince. Brother is. But, if brother dies then---"

She cut him off with a brusque hiss, "He will not die from our hands! He will live and rule the future of Kaedwen,"

"Does this kingdom even have a future when it is ruled by your hands?"

Quietude filled the throne room after her son's sarcastic retort. The silence was frothing; bubbling from her expected aggravation over the younger prince's shameless answer. Much to her chagrin, she has never received an apology nor an explanation as to why Markith suddenly blurted it out in the open for Geralt to hear.

Upon hearing those words coming from a child, the witcher couldn't help but stood nonplussed. His expressions coming off as emotionless with his brooding charm jumping off the four corners of the room. In which has received a glower from the vampire who also stood beside him, his eyes seeming to be taking Geralt much more of his attention when they were both called to stay beside each other.

Queen Makeda raised a finger, ushering one knight to march his way up the numbered stairs under the lavish canopy where the king and queen's throne sits.

"Bartley, bring him back to his chambers," she roughly ordered, her teeth barred as she glared at Markith who was also feral for disregarding his opinions over their corrupted reigning throughout their kingdom. Bartley gave a courteous bow for the queen before walking to where her son stood, forcefully grabbing onto his shoulders as he gently pushed him around to leave.

"But, Mother---"

The queen never takes no for an answer. Hence, one loud yell was all the child has taken before being thrown out, his gaze lingering longer at the witcher whom he has heard tales about; having quite the eagerness to see if the tales were true to their words. Yet, his mother decided to lock him up in his room again for being curious and playing around.

"Now!"

Geralt stood completely still. The scowl never changing as he gave a heavy sigh, seeming like the world was carried on his burly, armored shoulders. His sour mood being the result of your prior, quick separation before he even walked to the throne room. Your pained words ringing inside his head for a thousand times like a plague that he had finally not been immune for.

He shouldn't have left you in that condition especially when you were physically injured. Geralt actually just proved to you how much of a witcher he was; cantankerous, blunt and emotionless even though you've had this strong faith for him that you believed being the opposite of it.

But, he just needed to fuck it up by leaving you without a word and also calling you pathetic in such ways.

The butcher continued eating his own heart out by staring at the queen with brooding eyes, waiting for the go signal for his hunt. He wanted to get this over with; planning to do his job right and find the witch, bring her in the castle to reverse the spell then off you go with him. Leaving all of these behind as a past that you would never forget or decide to forget forever if you wanted to.

Tybalt audibly scoffed for Geralt to give him his regard, taking the side-eye from the witcher as he publicly stated his cavils, "Why am I traveling with him now, yer' majesty? to be his guard? Hilarious!"

One familiar hum was heard; gruff and utterly sarcastic once Geralt began to frankly acknowledge. His hostility over the vampire obvious when he has opened his mouth, "I work better alone and away from blood sucking monsters." a feigned curl of his lips appearing to be a smile has been received towards the queen, her quick understanding seeing that it was a forced one that Geralt was trying hard to perceive over his altercations.

"---I'm a witcher. I slaughter beasts. Monsters of any kind."

In the spur of the moment, Geralt turned his head to let Tybalt see the mocking flicker inside his golden eyes.

Tybalt knew he was pertaining to his kind. Vampires. He couldn't help but clench his fists on his sides, his nostrils flared while the witcher was trying to get on his nerves---or he just basically hated the higher vampire to send his animosity by being forthright, "What ye' lookin at, Weccan?" he sneered back at Geralt with barred teeth while the white wolf had the end of his lip curled into a leer, irked by his smug pillorying in the presence of the queen like he didn't give a fuck.

He really didn't especially when he wanted to behead everyone in his way.

Geralt's presence was already making Tybalt's hackles rise without even trying to nettle his temper. The image of his newly bathed hair was already narking him without even seeing his face and the feeling was mutual for both enemies.

Tybalt began forming his own ridicules, seeing the witcher become the object of his scorn.

"Your skin is as pale as your tresses. I doubt you still have any amount of blood in ye'!"

"The joke's too old. I'll assume you've asked me if I do bleed." the white wolf was nonchalant as he quipped. Displaying to be quite blase from his attempts of hurling more anger out of him when he was too furious from the start to even begin with.

"---Witcher, do you bleed?"

Geralt couldn't help the most jaded expression he could ever muster upon hearing the most asked question, uttering out a grumble of his insouciant timbre of his voice that has gotten Tybalt bellowing from his remark.

"My blood's not tasty enough for you. Don't bother."

"This feckin' arse!"

They've both sent each other deep growls against their chests, a low rumbling sound that was bouncing off the castle walls that everyone who was inside the throne room could notice as they stood side by side, giving each other glares and their derisive taunting.

Queen Makeda had a finger supporting her head from falling. Her arm folded and leaning against her throne whilst sighing over their random twits. Foot tapping along the stoned floors as she gave them both her enervated attention.

Tybalt's fixated gaze has been cut short when he'd knelt on the ground with one knee, bowing his head to pay his respects for the queen---probably, seeking support over not letting him travel with the witcher who must have a difficult time finding the witch that couldn't be found at all; not wanting to share his time with Geralt because their personalities were clashing against each other like rusty, acidic metal, "---Your highness, If you're worried about him dying in the middle of saving yer' witch whom can lift Prince Althalos' curse, I can assure you, he will not die. Legend says witchers die from monsters they hunt. The witch obviously isn't---"

The queen has raised her palm to cease his comments, completely unimpressed by how privileged he was being when it was her decision whether he would let him go or not.

"I can see how you both despise each other," she plainly stated, sounding nasally like she was too disappointed by Tybalt's actions.

At the mere exclamation of that, both men spoke in the same time. Their antipathy colliding even with their words sounding exactly what they felt for one another.

"Hate him." Geralt and Tybalt both snarled with such rancor, glaring for one more time before partially giving their whole attention to the queen who sat before the throne.

They've seen her mouth turn into frown, turning a blind eye towards the higher vampire who was left sulking for his sudden hunt. His plans with his sorceress coming to a stop for the queen's orders, intending to guard all your whereabouts in the palace as Ingrith tries to formulate a scheme to have you suffer without raising their hands on you nor using magic that will eventually fail because you were protected by a djinn.

"Tybalt. Be with the witcher. I want you guarding him until he finds the witch. The witcher shan't go back empty handed."

Tybalt couldn't help but curse beneath his breath, subtly rolling his eyes as he stood on both feet, adjusting his fur coat resting along his shoulders, "Oh, feckin' bullocks." before shaking his head as he forced a nod and approval out of him to gesture at the queen of Kaedwen.

Geralt calmly tried his best to exhale in a relaxing demeanor, his facial features twisting in utmost pique from the idea that he would be spending five days with the vampire he had a fight with back in the marketplace.

"Fuck." he lowly snarled to himself, momentarily shutting his eyes to breathe in disappointment. His head cocked to the side. Geralt felt Tybalt grip onto his armored shoulder, giving him a shallow pat to state his indignation with the whole ordeal. He turned on his heels, marching out of the throne room to fetch and pack his belongings for the journey ahead, quickly jogging out of the throne room that was making him want to curse as every second passes by with the witcher.

Queen Makeda can't help the snicker on her face, a smile forming wrinkles on the apples of her cheeks as she stated her false promises.

"You have my word about your little woman, Witcher. We will not touch her again."

Though, Geralt knew deep inside that it was all just a lie.

You've been receiving lots of personal questions from the druid. One of his queries was about the idea of wholeheartedly accepting a child from Geralt which you explained an approval if it was given in the future---or if he was even capable of giving you one. You strongly believed he can't.

Though, in the back of your head, you couldn't help but think how your child would look like with his genetics. Will she or he have white hair too? you gotta' have a child with beautiful genes somehow. An echo of hopeful, deranged voices filled your thoughts, quickly disregarding the thought in the back of your crazed head whilst hearing Eanraig bombard another question of his that kept you aware of how zealous he sounded.

"Do you love Geralt?"

"Woah. Hold your horses, Eanraig."

Subtly swallowing the anxiety away from hearing such question, you've warily cleared your throat. Your mouth wincing from the pungent taste of your after-retch. The inconspicious nullify of the subject taken heed by the scholar when you've avoided his eyes.

In-denial of the truth. Eanraig thought silently to himself while he brought his hand down, away from patting your back, "You will be giving the witcher a miracle," he lightly convinced you and decided that particulars shall be provided for the mother of the miraculous child growing inside; delaying the details with the father that would surely bring him into a shock and red-light from the witcher himself because of how having a pickney in the midst of his life will only bring his descendant danger.

"---From the night of the full moon, between a man and woman who had nature take its course, a child shall be produced,"

Mentioning that in a hot second, you were quick enough to counter the lie you ought to believe in. Trusting Geralt and his words more than ever because he knew himself better than anyone else especially in 'that' department. Thorough objection was promptly written all over your shocked, disapproving expressions; brows furrowed in worry with lips turning ajar for such sensible responsibility being given to your head like a crown fitting for you.

Was Geralt lying and he actually just wanted to get you pregnant? If so, then he was certainly a wacko for even doing it---in your world he could be arrested for lying.

"Geralt's infertile! What are you even---?!?!" you couldn't finish your sentence as the responsibility for having your lechery take over you a few nights ago was worth enough to blame. How did Eanraig knew when it hasn't reached a month after a tangle of passionate desires with the witcher? did everyone knew about it but not you both? was it why you were being hated by Ingrith because she knew you were bearing Geralt's child?

A ton rounds of bulleted questions rang inside your head after one query hasn't been answered. One by one it was hopping like rabbits chasing a baited carrot because on the other side of your head, it knew answers for your disputes within yourself.

Panic and fear over an unborn child was beginning to take a toll as you grabbed onto your roots, frustratingly tugging on them while you listened to Geralt's old friend.

"Infertile or not. As long as the other is human who possesses no magic---or better yet, both humans who possesses no magic shall receive results beyond their expectations. I have never told Geralt about this because he will never believe me. A Witcher does not take that kind of news too well---might be even saying that he would take his child as a bait to be eaten by monsters than to bring them to this world,"

You've pursed your lips, finding how true it was to hear those words from the witcher knowing that you were pregnant by his child. Was this a hoax? a dream that God wanted you to never wake up from?

Being transported to their dimension; loving a mutated human you never expected to and eventually baring a child from him when he knew he could never bore a child at all. Was this your destiny for him? giving him miracles---a child that he certainly didn't expected and needed because accepting his child of surprise was already difficult for him to undertake.

"I can totally hear him saying that." you uttered completely defeated and benumbed from the breaking news that made you forget how upset you were by Geralt's prior actions.

"You are having his child, my dear. You're carrying his scion that has been forged by the Djinn." Eanraig started his elucidation about the serious topic at hand, educating you about the accelerated gestation that the Djinn's curse may come between. Earlier telling you about the expected development because you might be seeing changes over your body than how a normal woman will be expecting.

"---The process is faster. Three times hastier than a normal pregnancy---Though, never fear for the child not to be normal."

With sangfroid, the breath that you've been holding has been puffed out with your eyes drooping closed; letting the calmness sink in without having the panic rise through your head for a hundred times because of the thought that the child would turn out different in which she may suffer in the end.

Until Eanraig decided to continue his statements that has given you whiplash.

"---Because that child is beyond normal. She'll inherit the Djinn's powers because it is a part of Matka's three wishes."

"She?" you've managed to feebly and shakily mutter beneath your soft breath, feeling the coldness wrap around you for knowing more about the child that you were currently bearing---keeping you in a constant disorient that had you staring onto your twitching fingers laid upon your thighs.

"I'll assume that the Djinn you have gotten was a Matka. The cursed Djinn who lovers try to find in order to bore an heir if they cannot create their own offspring. Matka was created to give her own powers to a progeny that would inherit her abilities---believing that her existence will help the world from lessening the bedlam within the lore of monsters and humanity,"

"You're telling me I'm really pregnant with a girl? with...with Geralt's child? This child is also...owning such power that is making me hyperventilate right now?! Is it a vampire?! What if it eats my insides just like how Edward's baby did?!" your back was still utterly stiff from the nervousness that this news has given you, the mere fact of taking care of a powerful baby pouring ice buckets on your head---the dread hitting your core from the stupefaction and fear raising a child of your own.

Your modern references has given Eanraig a nonchalant stare from him, never knowing to laugh or smile over your panicky state.

"Is the witcher a vampire?" he hesitatingly spoke, his throat sounding dry before Eanraig cleared his throat when he'd lately realized.

"No."

"Then, it shall not have any vampire blood."

Skin felt tingling as your heart couldn't stop the beating so fast, throwing you into a swivet, "I'm not prepared to be a mother, Eanraig!"

You couldn't help but reach a hand to clasp around your tightening throat, further listening to Eanraig. His expositions making you want to give him a bark of laughter due to the disbelief over what reality that destiny started giving you when the Djinn happened.

"The continent has its own supernatural contingencies that nobody may ever explain---which has given you a child of yours with the witcher. Your kingdom knows no magic based on your reactions, correct?" the druid raised a brow and grabbed both of your shoulders, firmly letting you look into his grey eyes that continued inspiriting your devastated self.

You've tentatively shook your head to give an answer. The dread gripping your heart so tight that you started breathing heavily, your fingers suddenly grabbing onto your stomach because of the sudden memory that the castle guards have placed a kick to your gut. The worry for your unborn baby bringing you into utter distress for her condition.

A loud gasp left your lips, "Wait, I've been---I've been abused---hurt---what about my child, Eanraig? If---If Geralt knows about this now, he wouldn't want my child, would he?"

"I...may never know what he thinks, little woman. He hardly speaks. Only to you, the bard and his surprise child, I assume."

"Then, should I keep this from him?"

"I doubt his mutations can keep your pregnancy as a secret,"

Panicking more than ever, you've felt your eyes well up with warmth. Signalling tears threatening to come out of it as both of your palms were on either side of your head. Quiet whining were heard in the back of your throat for the future that was bound for you especially by being thrown on the face by a brick, the brick being fate moving mountains for the witcher and his ill-fate infertility---that has been surprisingly controlled by the power of magic; black magic.

"Then, what do I do?! I don't want to raise a child on my own when I'm not even prepared to be a mother?!" Eanraig heard the sobs from you and he'd quickly gathered all of the comfort he could give by patting you on the back, calming down that tough anxiety you have.

"Cease the tears," he continued to pat, "---It'll be bad for you and the child,"

"I have a witcher baby! What do I do?!" you ranted and raved, sniffing in the same time as your fingers spread across your chest, feeling it tighten a lot more because of this serious matter. Time stood still for you, imagining what Geralt would say or tell when he couldn't even accept your love; when he was still secretive over things he wasn't comfortable about telling.

Would he be fine to have a child with a woman who was in love with him when he doesn't even know his true feelings for you until now?

"I don't know how to tell, Geralt! I don't wanna let this child grow without a father---what if I leave this world all of a sudden without him? Eanraig, what if he dies out there right now and this child grows up without a father?"

You knew, he would refuse the child you were having because of how he had a long time accepting Cirilla. A child who has already been taken care of by another---what more for a baby that he certainly had no experience of having nor wished to have?

The druid welcomed all your rants over such an important and surprising incident that existed in the white wolf's life. Completely knowing for it to be an unexpected route in his path that Eanraig could never see for him. He gave one last comforting pat on your back, nodding to you as if he was trying to let his words seep inside your head---your apprehension that he solely hoped to be the maturity of your mind.

"Let fate decide what will happen. You'll eventually need to tell the father of your child---and the witcher will know about it soon,"

Little did you know, there was already a tiny beat of a heart that seem to be inaudible for a mortal; but not for a witcher who had sensitive hearing created to catch onto the tiniest rustle of leaves till the quietest thumps of every heart.

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means your blog can’t be tagged. Please check your settings, bb’s! Thank you.) @alyxkbrl​​ @himarisolace​​ @barkingbullfrog​​ @ayamenimthiriel​​ @hellodevilslittlesister​ @turkish276​​ @spookypeachx​ @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us​​ @nympeth​​ @amirahiddleston​​ @gabethelobster​​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​ @uncoolcloudyhead​​ @melaninstylezz​​ @psychosupernaturalhero​​ @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer​​ @marvelousell​​ @kingniazx​​ @angelias134​​ @tapismyforte​​ @chook007​​ @covid-donotenter​​ @deadlydemon​ @cheesecakeisapie​ @angelofthor​​ @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum, @stuckupstucky​, @shesthelastjedi​, @a--1--1--3​, @gutfucks​, @raynosaurus-rex​, @britty443​, @suhke3​, @shadowclawstudio88​, @ruthoakenshield​, @just-a-sad-donut​, @gxrdenr0se, @singeramg​

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza​, @crazybutconfidentaf​

General taglist: @agniavateira​, @iloveyouyen​, @rahdaleigh​, @silverkitten547​, @henrythickcavill​, @kaatelyyynn​, @marvelousell​, @madelinelina​, @summersong69​, @raynosaurus-rex​, @fckdeusername​, @evansislife​

[infcstissumam]

Seeing as I’ve recently become active again, I thought I should post an update to my rules and guidelines!

💀 INFCSTISSUMAM GUIDELINES (CIRCA. 2021) :

General Rules for Interacting

THIS BLOG IS 18+, not because I’m trying to discriminate but simply because THERE IS A LOT OF NSFW CONTENT POSTED HERE. 

It is all tagged, with the tags: // NSFW or NSFW //

I go by SHE/HER pronouns and would prefer you address me with them, though I am fine with THEY/THEM & HE/HIM pronouns. 

I am very forgetful, so never be afraid to pop in and ask about your request, once or twice will do the job, because tumblr is an awful website and sometimes messages will be eaten/fail to deliver.

I would love to be your friend, no joke. I know some people run accounts that are very strict and ‘no getting off topic’ but I don’t run my account like that, I love to hear from anons and mutuals. Tell me about your day & pets! 

If you want to communicate through anons instead of by account, please sign your asks with a symbol so I know who you are! For instance ‘- 🐦 ‘ or ‘- bird anon’ would work wonders!

Please keep in mind that I’m an ameteur. This is my hobby, I don’t charge for a reason and that reason is that I’m not very good at this, so please, cut me a little slack. I encourage constructive criticism but just telling me to kys and to give up writing isn’t appreciated. 

Please don’t be gross - I have no doubts you’re all lovely people, but unprompted nudes and suggestive asks (outside of requests) are never appreciated. Please talk to me like I’m your friend, not an object or spouse. 

No homophobia, no racism and no ableism. You’d think it’d be common sense but I’ve noticed some, well, unsavory people have joined the fandom through the metal scene and I want to make it very clear that we don’t do that here!

NO MEANS NO, I as the only writer and admin on this blog reserve the right to deny service. Please respect this, Failure to do so by means of incessant badgering, insulting, etc. will result in a block. (which I really don’t want to have to do!)

That’s it for rules though! It’s really basic! Don’t be mean, don’t worry about bothering me and don’t misgender me, just come in and have fun! I promise you I’m more afraid of you than the other way around. 

Things I write:

Reader x Ghost character and characters from ghost lore, including non frontmen and band ghouls, such as Sister Imperator, Nihil, Special Ghoul, etc. 

Individual matchups for characters based on a description of the sender, 

for instance ‘Hi, can I get a ghoul relationship matchup? I go by she/her, I’m bi, leaning towards male, and a Taurus. I think I’m a good listener and I can start conversations easily, however, I am also really stubborn and impulsive. I am, though shy towards other people but when it comes to my closest friends, I’m one of the loudest in the group! I also really like to bake, skateboard and play different music instruments. I want my partner to give great advice to me, but they would also like to have fun and let loose. Thanks! <3′

Content for Selfships & OCs (though for the latter I’ll need a description of the oc in question and the ship)

Headcanons and small drabbles about any of the above characters or scenarios!

Both NSFW and SFW content

Most ‘tame’ kinks, I write for daddy/mommy name calling, degradation, gangbangs, heat/rut cycles, knotting, bondage, pet play, consensual somnophillia, etc. etc. The kind of extreme but not really, in addition to, of course, vanilla smut! 

Things I won’t write:

General squicks, including bathroom play, gore, incest, vore, ddlg/ddlb, ageplay, MASSIVE age gaps (including Papa I and, like, an 18yr old reader) THE WHOLE SHEBANG, it’s all a no from me dawg!

Pedophillia

Race, gender, sexuality, etc degradation kinks. I know some people get off on it, but it’s too familiar to racism, sexism/misogyny & homophobia for my tastes. 

[snarky-badger]

Author Interview

I was tagged by @mordinette! Thanks! (sorry this is so late, Real Life has gotten in the way lately!)

I’ll tag: @squigglysquidd​ @praise-kink-anon​ @phaticserpent​ (I haven’t been on tumblr in a bit, I don’t know who’s active *headdesk*)

1.     Name

SnarkyBadger

2.     Fandoms

Ohh boy. I write for Marvel (Ultron MCU and Venom (movie and the older comics)), and sometimes Mass Effect (Shakarian of course!).

3.     Where you post

AO3. I used to post on Fanfiction.net but I haven’t updated there in a while. I also post updates to my tumblr.

4.     Most popular oneshot

Oneshot. Um... That would be my short Shakarian Mass Effect fic “Puppies”.

It’s rare that I write oneshots because my brain keeps adding things to them, and they tend to grow.

5.     Most popular multichapter

"Prompts Full of Venom” - as the title says, it’s a collection of Venom prompts that I used to write. I have plans to add more in the future, there are prompts that need filling. I just need Real Life to calm down. Like, a lot.

6.     Actual worst part of writing

Finding the time to write! And Writer’s Block. I have ideas, but either no energy or no time to write them down.

7.     Favorite story you wrote

"It’s the End of the World as We Know It” - still in progress. Ultron x Female OC. (Honestly all my favs are Ultron stories *cough*)

8.     Story you were nervous to post

My Shakarian ones. The one-shots. Mostly because there are so many talented Mass Effect Shakarian writers out there that I worry that I don’t hold up to scrutiny.

9.     How you choose your titles

Titles are the hardest things for me to figure out. Mostly I get inspiration from music/song titles. Sometimes I just... wing it. (Not helpful I know, but it’s what I do!)

10.  Complete works

Currently, ‘Prompts full of Venom’, ‘Tales of an AI’, ‘Is This The End?’, ‘Puppies’, and ‘Blue Eyes’ (All on AO3)

11.  Incomplete works

*Cough* ‘It’s the End of the World as We Know It’, “Smooth Criminal’, “Phantom of the Best Buy’, ‘Don’t Let Me Get Me’, ‘Turning Point’, ‘I Just Want You To Know Who I Am’.

(.... and now I really need time to write because I feel bad)

12.  Do you outline?

If you count obsessing over a possible story idea until I have characters set up in my brain, doing massive research and daydreaming ‘outlining’, then yes. Lol.

13.  Coming soon ideas, maybe? Wouldn't that be nice?

I have at least 6 stories I wish I could write. But I want to focus on the stories I have going now. It’s only fair to my readers.

(But if you’re curious, Halo (Arbiter|Thel’Vadam x Female!OC), Resident Alien, Predator (two ideas), and two more Ultron fics (those are Praise-Kink-Anon’s fault.) )

14.  Ask me anything

Am I asking myself, or saying that I appreciate people asking me things about my fics?

As for the latter - always! I have ideas and stories and lore in my brain for lots of fandoms. I’m always open to people talking to me or even just squeeing in my general direction.

If I’m asking myself something, um. Hey self, why don’t you update more?

Well, I’m a caretaker for my mother, currently also taking care of my father who broke his foot, am fighting numerous health problems that cause me lots of pain, and in general wish there was some sort of gadget that would just allow me to brain vomit my fics onto the internet.

15.  Best writing traits

I have been constantly praised on my ability to write dialogue, and stay true to the characters I write, especially Ultron.

And people also like the smut I write *winkwonk*

16.  Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write

OMG if I were to start another new story without working on the ones I have in progress I think some people would reach through the internet to shake me. LMAO.

But once I get my butt in gear and find some time, I hope to start working seriously on my Halo fic and one of the Predator ones. And maybe a short Ultron fic.

17.  Spicy Tangential Opinion

I have several: Canon isn’t set in stone. You can twist it or ignore it at will. Always be kind to new writers - many are scared/worried/anxious about posting their first fics. Fanfiction is just as valid as Original Fiction.

[sugarandspice-games]

Okay, so I finally got through Saeran's good ending, I might go back and play the normal and other bad endings later if I feel like it, but as that was an emotional rollercoaster, I need some time to recover. But I'm going to put my full review under the cut.

Will I be releasing my rewrite outline at this point (though not really a rewrite, since I made it before the AE was ever released when I was drunk and salty at the lack of news)? I'm not sure. I wasn't 100% satisfied, but we'll call it a good 65% as I feel like there was more I liked than I hated. I'll leave that decision up to my dear readers, whether or not they want to see it. (Though there are only like... 8 of you here and I know you're probably here for Obey Me content and not MysMess)

I do plan on playing the Jumin Bad End DLC, but I may not liveblog it as I haven't really heard good things. This seems like another ploy for fanservice, but I do want to get more lore about Jumin's backstory, and honestly... I'm gay and want to see those sexy CGs. That being said... this is the last I will discuss the canon material on this blog, and it may be the last time I engage with the canon material (as I believe cheritz has announced that this is the finale anyway, and will no longer update the game). I will most likely continue to create fan content for it, as Sugar and I have our own sort of... fanfic thing going on with the characters and our OCs. But this is a personal and huge special interest of mine, and rather than go through everything and pick it apart for the rest of my days... I want to leave the game and the characters I love so much with only my happiest memories. They'll live on in my heart.

But I digress... here is my semi-condensed review. Sugar may talk about it as well, though I do not speak for them. THIS SHOULDN'T NEED TO BE SAID BUT HERE THERE BE SPOILERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU DID NOT COMPLETE THE GOOD END OF RAY'S AE.

The Good:

Saeran. Saeran was the best thing about this route. His character development was beautiful, and every time I saw him, I felt my heart swell with pride and love. His new sprites are so adorable as well as his beautiful CGs, and he looks healthier and happier in a lot of them. He's grown to be such a loving, gorgeous, wonderful man despite everything that happened in his painful life, and his story is nothing short of inspirational. I have a lot of love for Saeran, I have from the moment I saw him but this route really drove it home for me. He will have a special place in my heart among my fictional loves that can never be replaced.

Jumin Jumin Jumin! Jumin was one of the absolute MVPs this route, he was doing the most and boy... I just want to hug him. Even though he was in horrendous pain he was doing the absolute best he could to help everyone. He's been a love of mine for a long time, and that love only grew in this route. I was also glad to meet Driver Kim and see the interaction between him and Daddy Han Sr. (Because obviously Juju is the junior Daddy Han lol)-- even though I have mixed feelings about the Chairman, it makes me happy to see Jumin getting the caring he deserves from his father. And the fact that he even turned his back to let Jumin express his emotions without feeling embarrassed... Fucking killed me.

They did Rika right this go around. Yes, she got off to a really rough start, but she was very human and bearable here... and complete with her realizing her wrongdoings and working to right them in the end. It was a gorgeous arc, I'm so happy for her. I have a love hate relationship with her character, as she used to be a very badly written villain IMO... but one of the good things about Another Story in general is that it gave her depth that she didn't have before. And if they wanted to redeem her, they 100% did it right here, even if she had a rough beginning and had to make mistakes to get to where she was. I thought it was very human. Good on you, cheritz.

Vanderwood got a lot of good interactions here, and I'm really happy they gave us more Van content. Even if we're not getting a route for him, it's enough to me to finally see him expressing the affection we all know that he holds for Saeyoung, and working to help him.

The twins finally get to be happy! Need I say more?

Everyone doing well in their lives made me really happy too... most of the other routes had this problem where if one person got to be happy, someone else would have to suffer in exchange. I'm so glad that everyone got a happy ending.

The new chats made me extra emotional... I'm not sure why, to be honest, I think I'm just happy to see everyone again. It had been such a long time since I played Mystic Messenger, and talking to everyone again just like old times felt like returning to a childhood home (though I was 19 when I discovered this game initially, haha). I cried a lot, which is extra weird for me since I don't tend to cry in general.

Yoosung loves Saeran soooo much... in fact, everyone does. It made me happy, bc I was initially worried that he wouldn't have made friends with the RFA or that it would be awkward, but seeing everyone loving him and him being sweet back to them was adorable. Jumin also loves him and you can't change my mind (though maybe that's my wishful thinking of being in a Jumin & Saeran sandwich talking...)

So many good messages in this AE, and they hit very personally. I came to the same realization last year, that in the end, nothing in life matters except love, since you can't take anything else with you when you die. I shan't elaborate more!

Everyone's voice acting was so good! It was so beautiful and emotional, I could feel it through their voices. I usually skip the voice lines since I read so fast, but I'm happy I didn't.

The Bad:

Oh Jihyun... what have they done to you? I know I said he wasn't OOC and I stand by that, but it really feels like the writers hated him this AE. Even his sprite looked so awful and blurry. And he didn't get any good realization that he deserved better or anything, the literal cult leader and prime fucking minister got to be redeemed when he didn't. What the actual fuck. Sugar will definitely have more to say about it, and probably in a more articulate way, but let it be known that I don't like it either.

Furthermore, even if it's not OOC, it's structurally sloppy for him to come to some realization only to stay the exact same as he's always been. And same with Rika too. As I said in a previous post, having them both go through these realizations only to make them the villains again really felt like beating a dead horse. What can I say except AAAAAAAAA. WHAT THE FUCK?

Again, I must reiterate... why'd they make it so you have to be a bitch to Rika to get the good ending? I get that it's probably wish fulfillment for some people in the fandom, but it isn't for me. I really don't have any desire to berate or insult her bc in the end she needs serious help (even if I wanted to throw hands with her sometimes), and if the point was to call her on her misbehavior... some of it went too far (looking @ the "Don't stab Saeran's eyes out!" choice. I didn't like that at all, especially since it felt like you were making fun of Jihyun's trauma.) It especially made the end of her arc fall flat when she's like "Thank you for being kind and trying to understand me..." like, gurl... the game didn't let me do that without making me bad end! Jeez.

Also, literally why was it necessary to redeem the prime minister? He's a monster who tried to murder his own children. It's okay if they needed that scene where Saeran and you tried to understand him, but having him actually come around made no sense... why would he want to listen to you or Saeran when we've seen time and time again that there isn't really any good in him? He's just not a good person. And no, I'm not saying this because I wanted him to die or anything! ...Okay, maybe I did. Fuck that guy. I hate him. (Also the whole "you're only this way because you're lonely!" was so corny, I didn't choose those options but gjkgkgkfk)

The Ugly:

Have y'all heard about how much I hate the agency Boss? I hate him so much... I want to drown him in the toilet. I want to feed him taco bell laced with laxatives. I want to-- anyway, I digress. Not classifying this under bad because cheritz did their job by making him hateable and oh boy, did I hate him. He made me want to barf. I also commend his voice actor for somehow making me feel greasy through the screen. Seriously, dude, hats off to you. You are a genius.

That's about all I have to say for now... you can peruse my talk tag if you want to see any of my other thoughts on this game, but they don't tie into the good and bad. Despite the flaws, I enjoyed myself this route and I'm happy I played it. Even though there will always be things to improve upon in this game... I'm happy I picked it up, and I'm happy I met everyone. I would write them all letters or something but that'd be kinda corny since they're just game characters and won't see it anyway, and I know I'm not the only nor am I the most attractive MC out there... so this is Spice, signing out! Byebye, Mystic Messenger. You'll always have a special place in my heart.

All of the... weird horniness between Rika and Saeran made me feel grossed out. Her having him in a collar with a leash, and the game options that insinuate she has a thing for him... ew ew ew. Please stop it. That shit is so disgusting and I'm going to puke.

@ Both Saeyoung and Saeran: stop fucking trying to die all the time! Seriously! Let me love you and want to save you, when will you get it through your thick skulls that one gay ass MC who loves you very very dearly would NEVER be happy if you died? AAAAAAAA

[angelanimedesaray]

Animal Instincts (Part 2 of The Investment)

AN:  yeeeaaahhhh this became a series.  Not a super big ambitious one like Through The Looking Glass, but...there’s a few parts.  Not sure if I can call it a mini-series, so right now I’ll just say series.  Also this is officially a nitty-gritty series compared to some of my other stuff/ideas.  I just feel like Vampire stuff should be like that, Y’know???  Also, yes, I’m a monster, believe me, I know, I was thinking that as I wrote some of these scenes...

AN On Character:  Before ANYONE can call me out for this...if Levi seems too emotional...In my little Vampire Lore World, emotions are AMPLIFIED for Vampires.  Happiness becomes joy, sadness becomes despair, (emotional) pain becomes agony, grief becomes devastation, etc etc.

Characters:  Vampire!Levi, Reader, Hange, Erwin (Mentioned), many unnamed background OCs

Pairing:  Still not sure if I can be labeling this Levi x Reader, esssspecially for this chapter...

Warnings:  Language, Biting, Blood, Violence, Threats of Violence, Gore, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Heavy Angst, Bad Bad BAD Decisions.  *Spoilery Tag* here comes some serious ‘Hurt Them to Protect Them’ Logic

Word Count:  11037

<---Previous Part    Next Part--->

*Levi’s POV*

“You’re having far too much fun poking at me, Four-Eyes.”

“You can’t complain, Levi--you consented!”

“I made the mistake of assuming you’d have some form of restraint considering the situation.”

“Oh, come on, Levi, don’t be like that--don’t you find all this exciting?”

“No.”

“Just think of all we’re learning, though!  Isn’t it fun?”

“None of this is my idea of fun.”

“That’s just because you’re too busy sulking to appreciate how fascinating this all is.”

“Tch.”

Levi sat next to Hange’s desk in her cluttered office, idly wiping a stray strand of blood from the fresh cut on his arm as she swiftly moved to study her new blood samples under the microscope.  The curtains were drawn in consideration for Levi, the light in the room provided by the kerosene lamp on her desk.  It was the morning after Levi had fed, and Hange was wanting to see if she could see any differences in his blood after his hunger had been satisfied.  Ever since seeing how his blood had been able to bring Y/N back from the brink of death, Hange had been...rather obsessed.  It was impressive how she managed to juggle her excited prodding of Eren as well as her smaller-scale experiments on Levi behind closed doors, though Levi was starting to wonder if she was even sleeping between it all.

“It’s amazing, but so unfair!  We know your blood is different, that it has these extraordinary properties, and yet, comparing it with some of my own, there’s no visible difference I can see, even after you’ve fed--it appears to be the same as the sample of normal blood!” Hange said, her voice dipping in frustrated disappointment before swinging back upwards in excitement over and over again as she spoke.

Levi wiped the small smear of blood on his fingers away with his handkerchief and started to roll his sleeve back down.  “Nothing about you is normal, Hange,” he deadpanned.  “Eight seconds.”

“Oh?” Hange asked, perking up from the microscope to glance at where the minor injury had been, not a trace of blood left behind and smooth skin where the cut had been disappearing under his white sleeve.  “That’s faster than last time by...five, six seconds?  Does this mean that you heal faster the better fed you are?” Hange mused.

“It’s one theory,” Levi murmured, thinking back to when he’d given Y/N his blood.  He had just, just fed off of her, yet the wound on his wrist then had taken a minute or more to heal up.  Maybe there was some kind of focus or willpower involved, too.  Right now, he didn’t need or want the wound to linger, and it didn’t, while then he’d need and wanted it to.

Just another theory to add to Hange’s growing pile.

Hange turned her attention back to the microscope, trying--most likely in vain--to see some kind of difference in his blood in case her first observation was wrong.  “Speaking of feeding…”

“No, Hange,” Levi said in a quick, hard tone before she could continue her leading statement.

“Levi-iii, why not?” she whined.  His irritation flared--how many times did he have to tell her no?

“I don’t have control when the hunger takes over like that--it’d be too dangerous.  There’s no telling what could happen, and I can’t guarantee your safety.”

“It can’t be any different from poking at titans, which, need I remind you, I did with non-intelligent titans before we started the experiments with Eren.”

“This is different,” Levi said coldly.  “Besides.  It’s not something you want to see.  Not really.”

“Except I do.”

Levi didn’t even bother to answer her this time.  He’d already told her no, and since no one knew the Underground as well as him and he now had his inhuman speed, it wasn’t like she could follow him down into the Underground to try and spy on him.  He had the final say, and he’d already said no.

Hange grumbled nonsense at his silence, Levi’s sensitive hearing not even able to pick up two words that could be strung together.  “You’ve been more...short tempered, recently.”

“I wonder why.”

Hange ignored his sarcastic jab and kept talking.

“With all your senses and abilities being amplified, do you think its possible your personality has been, too?  Your emotions?” Hange asked, growing curiosity in her voice as the theory formed.

Levi actually paused to consider it.  He was annoyed easier recently.  Sometimes he found it hard to get a grip on himself with emotions that went to extremes far faster than normal, or he clamped down so harshly on an impulse or emotion that he didn’t feel anything.  He constantly felt like he was trying to do a balancing act blindfolded between the two extremes, trying to get back to his normal.  Even he was aware that he wasn’t himself recently--besides the obvious.  Though he’d written it off as just dealing with everything that had happened.  What if this was going to be his normal if he couldn’t find that balance?

“I’m going to take your thoughtful silence as a yes,” Hange said, already reaching over to scribble down notes.  “I feel sorry for the cadets.”

Levi scowled.  What, did she think he had no self-control?  He wasn’t taking all this craziness out on anyone, and he wasn’t about to start now.

“Don’t you have to go poke at Eren instead of me this morning?” he asked, giving Hange a steady look.

“Yes, but when I’m done, I’ll try to snag you for a few more tests I want to try today.”

“Wonderful…” Levi grumbled, already getting to his feet.

“Before you leave, just a few more questions!”

Levi paused, eyebrows raised, waiting for her to speak only a step away from the door.

“How’s the filtering with your hearing coming?  Have you tried anything to help with the overpowering smells?  Is the sunlight still bothering you the same way?  What about those urges when you’re around people?”

Levi turned and leaned his back against the door, expanding his explanation for Hange’s sake so she could take her notes.  “Sunlight’s still irritating.  Tolerable, but in short bursts, not long periods.  The best I can do for scent is to not breathe through my nose when something’s too strong.  I’m getting better at focusing on specific sounds to block out the excess, but if there’s something sudden or sharp it all floods in again.”  Levi paused, hesitating to go into details about his bloodlust issues.  But Hange and Erwin needed to know what his limits were if they were going to keep others safe from him.  They needed to be aware what made him more likely to bite someone.  He’d already had a few close calls, and they all knew it.  “It’s still...hard, when someone’s bleeding near me, even if I’ve fed recently.  But being well fed--blood or regular food--helps...but only so much.  When I’m around people, if I can block out their pulse by focusing on something else--even if its just different breaths or a person’s voice--I’ll be just fine.  If I don’t, or I get...distracted by the sound of someone’s pulse, that desire returns.”

“Do you think it’s getting easier with time?” Hange asked, her voice soft in consideration with the subject Levi was far more sensitive about.

“No.  Not yet, anyway.”

“Do you think you need to eat more?”

Levi shook his head.  “No.  There’s a difference between the desire and the hunger.  And usually I take the first chance I have to slip away when I feel that shift.”

“I’ll see if I can come up with some ideas on what might help.  There’s still plenty we don’t know, so maybe we just need to spend a bit more time exploring.”

“Another time,” Levi said flatly, straightening up and turning to leave.  He paused with his hand hovering over the doorknob, the sound of a new heartbeat from just on the other side of the door and a familiar scent wafting towards him causing him to stiffen before he turned to face Hange with a hiss.  “Did you know she was coming?”

While Erwin had agreed to Levi’s request that Y/N be kept away from Levi as much as possible, Hange had openly disagreed with Levi’s tactic and had even tried to talk him out of it once.  It was already hard enough to dodge Y/N daily while the persistent woman kept trying to corner him to make him talk to her.  If Hange had started actively taking Y/N’s side and trying to get the two to bump into one another, staying away from her was going to become nearly impossible.

Hange held up her hands defensively.  “I’m innocent this time, Levi, I swear.”

He didn’t believe her.

Levi’s teeth ground together as he backed away from the door, a knock sounding a few seconds later.  Levi jerked his head towards the door to tell Hange to open it herself, his body taunt as he waited for the brief window he would have.  Hange sighed dramatically to show her displeasure at the events around her, as always, but Levi simply ignored it, eyes still on the door.

As soon as the door had opened wide enough for Levi to slip through, he bolted, using his new speed to pass by Y/N with little more than a soft gust of air, maybe the briefest glimpse of Levi inside Hange’s office that would have been brief enough to pass off as a hopeful illusion.  He didn’t stop until he reached an empty hall far enough away he couldn’t hear her heartbeat anymore.  Once there, he leaned against the wall for a brief moment, eyes closed as he pushed any rising thoughts about her as far down as he could and reoriented himself.

He straightened just in time for another scout to round the corner, subconsciously putting on the façade of favoring his left leg as he continued down the hall.  They didn’t have an excuse for why an injury that was supposed to sideline him for months would abruptly be so completely healed, so he had to keep moving around like he was out of commission even though he was even stronger physically than he’d been before.  Plus, it gave Hange plenty of time to poke and prod while Levi was still only doing the non-physical half of his duties.

...or plenty of time to try and orchestrate forcing Levi into a situation where he had to talk to Y/N.  He’d have to be on guard against Hange’s sneakier methods the more desperate she became to make it happen.

*Reader’s POV*

If anyone could rival you in stubbornness, it was Levi.  Once that man settled on something, really put his mind to it and committed, nothing was going to change it except some kind of earth-shaking event.  This particular quality of his was becoming more and more apparent with every passing day the Captain went so far out of his way to avoid you.

It had already been blatantly obvious the kind of lengths he was willing to go to try and push you out of his life entirely when, during your recovery, he didn’t even sleep in his office while you were recovering.  He’d retreated to another side of the castle entirely, and stubbornly stayed there until his door was fixed and lockable again, and you had recovered and been moved back to where you usually slept.  Now, you were lucky to catch glimpses of him from a distance.  He started supervising training at different times--specifically ones where you were busy elsewhere--and was in and out of the mess hall for his food either long before you arrived or too quickly to give you a chance to corner him, not that the mess hall was the place to be having the kind of conversation the two of you needed.  If you tried to find him in his office, he never answered--somehow he always seemed to know that it was you on the other side of the door, even if someone else did the knocking and talking for you.  Once, when you had decided to just walk in, you’d even heard the lock click as your hand touched the doorknob.  That one had hurt.

Still, you understood what he was doing.  From the moment you’d woken up and had that brief exchange with him, Levi’s intentions had been obvious.  Afraid that you would get hurt, Levi was trying to put as much distance between the two of you so nothing similar could happen again.

Had you been hurt?  Yes.  Had he almost killed you?  Definitely.  Had you been afraid?  Hell yes, even if your surprisingly level-headed approach to the situation had suggested differently.  But after waking up bed-ridden with a decently lengthy recovery period ahead of you, you’d had plenty of time to really think about what happened and what you understood of it.  Almost being killed by someone wasn’t an easy thing to overcome.  When you’d first woken up, you’d admittedly still been in a sort of shock about what had happened, the events hadn’t really sunk in yet.  But your recovery had given you the time you needed to struggle, shake, cry a little, and work through it all.

What Levi had done, while terrifying and deadly for you, had been unintentional, and fueled by a hunger he wasn’t used to, a hunger that had probably been amplified by his near-death state and that much harder for him to control.  He’d lost all sense of himself, you’d seen it in his eyes the brief moment before he’d bitten into your neck.  You couldn’t imagine what he’d felt when he did come back to himself.  Hange had said that he’d been desperate, that she’d never seen him the way he was while trying to save your life.  And now, seeing the lengths he was going to in order to protect you from himself, seeing how afraid he was that he was going to hurt you again...how could you not be willing to forgive him?

If you could just catch him and get the stubborn, stoic man to talk to you already.

You couldn’t let the conversation be postponed any longer.  This was something the two of you needed to talk about, so you could fully forgive him, maybe he could start to forgive himself, and both of you could move forward.  It would also be helpful for Levi to get assistance with whatever this was he was going through, but right now you were focused on the basics.

And because you still couldn’t catch Levi, even with a heads up from Hange allowing you to briefly glimpse him in the woman’s office, you were pushed to the drastic and admittedly stupid actions.

You had to catch him when he went to the Underground to feed.

Knowing what was happening to him, it wasn’t hard to piece together how he’d been feeding recently when no cases of dead bodies drained of blood popped up within the walls on the surface or among the Scouts.  You also knew he wasn’t feeding on any willing participants yet--he was afraid of losing control, and with the three people who were aware of his situation being people he didn’t want to accidentally kill, he wouldn’t be drinking from anyone in the Scouts.  Where would he go if he was looking for people who would disappear without causing ripples if he lost control?  The Underground, as depressing as the truth of it was.

Except he had started to catch attention.  Not directly, obviously, but rumors were starting to bubble, rumors about a shadowy figure that snatched the filth of the Underground into the darkness and left mangled bloodless corpses behind as the only evidence it had ever been there.  Only a couple bodies had been found, but if Levi had to feed as frequently as his nightly excursions suggested, there were more.

You’d been keeping an eye out for him nightly, trying to figure out his feeding pattern since you’d been driven to this point, which was how you knew.  It was how you were able to figure out the rough window of when he’d need to feed again, how you were able to catch sight of him slipping out of Headquarters when everyone should have been asleep, and how you knew where you needed to go in order to follow him into the depths of the Underground.

Though you weren’t entirely sure if it could necessarily be called following.  With his speed, Levi was impossible to keep in sight.  You knew which entrance to the Underground he used, and you could rationalize that he would be looking for unsavory elements in the back alleys of the Underground, but that was all you had to go off of.  You’d have to hope that you could find Levi down there, in a place he knew far better than you, in the short span of time it took him to find someone, feed, and then return to headquarters.  If you missed him completely, you’d be stuck wandering the Underground until morning or later, considering there wouldn’t be any sun to tell you morning had broke.

But this was the only option you had left.  It wasn’t your best idea, and you found yourself jumping at shadows as you plunged deeper and deeper below ground, but you had to try.

He wasn’t going to do it, so you had to try.

You had to resist the urge to cover your nose with your hand in a feeble attempt to block out the smell as you started weaving your way through the dark streets of the Underground.  You couldn’t imagine how Levi tolerated it even if he had lived down here once, considering his enhanced senses.

Feeling eyes on you, you shook off the idle thoughts, reminding yourself this was the worst place inside the walls to be alone, even with military training, and you clearly stood out down here.  You couldn’t afford to get lost in thoughts right now, especially since you knew Levi was prowling through these dark streets somewhere looking for someone to feed on.

Even though you hadn’t thought it could, the further into the winding, dark back streets, the worse the conditions were.  Abandoned houses rotted away, and the occasional body was shoved aside off the main path so people could keep walking.  Occasionally something would move in the dark, and you could see dim eyes watching you from huddled masses curled up next to walls or trash heaps for some form of shelter.  You did your best not to disturb them, stepping carefully and trying to keep pity from rising into your expression.  You were here for one person right now, and you were on a time limit.  There wasn’t time to spend feeling bad for locals you couldn’t help.

It was while you were stepping around one of these locals that you hadn’t seen curled up at the corner because they’d been so indistinguishable from the trash pile they’d been sleeping in that you momentarily lost sense of your larger surroundings a moment too long.  Taking care to step around the corner and not on the person you’d almost tripped over, you initially missed the sight of a group of five men that had almost reached the neck of the alley you were stepping into.  Registering movement in your peripherals, your head snapped up to take in the sight of the small group of large men, body tensing at the light you saw spark in their eyes when you saw each other.

Your first thought was not to go down that alley, then it was to not turn your back on them.  It was a T intersection, though.  You couldn’t turn around because there was too much ground to cover still, and you didn’t really want to make some kind of awkward shimmy down the alley in the same direction they seemed to be heading.

You didn’t get much time to think about it.  They were too close for comfort, so you turned and continued down the alley, your steps faster, body tensed and limbs ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.  You could feel them behind you, heard the whistles and jeers about a pretty little surfacer wandering into the slums.

This wasn’t going to end well.  Especially if you took a wrong turn into a dead end like you were in some kind of cliché horror story.

You turned your head just enough to get a look at them, noting with unease that the fifth seemed to have broken away from the group.  No doubt to try and cut you off--you weren’t stupid, and you were in the Scouts, of course you’d be able to figure out that much.

Best not to keep going in a straight line down the alley, then.  Maybe, if you were lucky, you could lose them in the winding back alleys.  They might have the home field advantage, but at least you wouldn’t make it easy for them if they did manage to corner you between the five of them.

The next time you saw a narrow alley on your right, you took a sudden, sharp turn, breaking into a run as soon as you were out of the immediate sight of the group.  You heard them holler behind you just past the halfway point in the alley, the four also breaking into a run a few seconds before you made another right turn, a left, straight, another left, a right…

Maybe you should try to double back and get back to the surface.  You’d stumbled into trouble, you were going to have to spend time shaking them, most likely Levi would have fed and would be leaving by the time you managed to go back to searching for him again.  It was best to cut your losses and head back above ground, try to corner him again another time, another way.  This hadn’t been a smart idea from the beginning, but now it was much, much worse.

You could hear that group still pursuing you, more spread out now as they used their numbers to their advantage, just as you’d expected them to.  And it seemed they’d sent the fastest ahead to try and cut you off, because as you turned the corner for another right turn, you could see one of them pop out of an alley a few ahead of you, already heading for you as you bolted into another side alley.

They were getting too close for comfort.  And this one was staying on your ass like an abnormal in an open field.

Halfway down an annoyingly long and slightly wider alley, that one man still on your tail, a second appeared at the other end of the alley.  He grinned when he saw you running straight for him, ripping one of the boards off the window of the abandoned house in the alley and holding it like a club.

You didn’t slow down, already taking in his form, mind going through the many disarming motions you’d been taught, some by Levi himself after you’d shown some promise in training.  The smile diminished when you didn’t falter, but the second man stood his ground, waiting for you to get within reach.

You were waiting for the same moment.

As he pulled back to swing, you shifted to the side, grabbing at his arm with a pull, a twist upwards, a knee into his gut before you came down on his leg, shoving him aside with your upper body to send him staggering into the wall with a pained cry.  His board clattered to the ground as the one who had been right behind you suddenly tackled you to the ground, your knees coming up to your chest in the fall so you could push him up and over your head once your back hit the stone.  You all got back to your feet at roughly the same time, the two now between you and the mouth of the alley, and you knew there had to be about three somewhere behind you, so you needed to go forward, through these two assholes.

You put your hands up and fell into an at-the-ready stance.

Back to training, then.

You could practically feel Levi’s eyes on you on the training field, one of the only recruits who didn’t say a word of complaint about being taught to handle armed opponents even past basic training, when the Scouts were supposed to be fighting Titans, not humans.  You took it seriously, actually put in the effort, actively listened to instructions and critiques, and didn’t utter a word of complaint.

Why the hell would you complain about being taught to protect yourself?

Now it seemed it was a good thing that had been the attitude you’d approached those lessons with, because you were going to need them.

One of them threw themselves at you with a shout and you side-stepped, pushing him past you with the help of his own momentum so you could focus on the guy who was trying to bring a fist down on your head, you leaned back just out of its path, stepped forward with your left, and brought your own fist in for a quick overhand punch with your right that connected with the man’s jaw.  The first came in from behind you again, an arm slipping around your neck--you’d thought you had another few seconds before you’d have to face him again, hoping he’d fallen on his face.  You leaned forward as much as you could and dropping one shoulder, sending the slim runner over your shoulder with his momentum to grab you from behind, stepping back and to the side with your other foot as he tumbled over you.  Your arms came back up just in time to block another punch from the other guy with your arm, your other hand flashing out to nail him in the nose with enough force to hear a satisfying crack before you jumped back.

Another ripping sound similar to when the bigger guy of the two you were facing had ripped off a board came from the end of the alley you had entered behind you, and you turned long enough to see a third guy pulling off a smaller board with a little more effort.

Three on one in a back alley, now.  You needed to get out of here, fast, before the rest could catch up.

Not wanting someone behind you again, you shifted, standing at the ready with your back to the wall between the two on the one end and the one on the other, coiled and ready to see who would come at you first.  The one with the board charged you, prompting you to turn enough to face him, eyeing the board that was held high and swinging towards you as he came within range.

You caught the board, cutting your thumb open on a jagged edge in the process but keeping your grip firm as the force caused your arms to fold against your chest.  With the man now within range, you pulled back just enough to give yourself enough room to kick him in the stomach, giving a push against the board at the same time to make sure he was send backwards.  Knowing the other two would be trying to grab you from behind, you turned swiftly, bending your arm and swinging around sharply with your elbow connecting with whichever one had reached you first.  You didn’t get the chance to see who it was before a shot suddenly rang out, shocking you enough you hesitated and were grabbed by the arm by the larger of your original two opponents.

Looking towards the other side of the alley you could see the other two members of the group had caught up, with one handing the still-smoking one shot pistol to the other, who was also giving him a second you were sure was already loaded and ready.  It was probably safe to assume the one who had fired a shot into the air was the leader, and he was now approaching slowly, the other man hanging back to reload the little pistol.

What the hell kind of a job and black market deal did these guys have to pull off to get their hands on two pistols?

You tried to twist out of the hold on your arm, but even in the dark of the alley you could see the glint of the loaded pistol well enough to tell you it was leveled directly at your head, making you still.  Another one of your original three attackers grabbed your other arm, the large man kicking the back of your leg to force you into a kneeling position.

“You’re quite the scrapper, aren’t you?  Almost more trouble than you’re worth,” the leader mused, coming to stand directly in front of you.  You tensed, pulling against the firm hands that held your arms and shoulders to force you into your kneeling position.  As you struggled, the leader brought the barrel of the gun to hover directly and unmistakably in front of your face, causing you to still again.  “I don’t like wasting bullets, so if you don’t want to die messy, I suggest you stay still in case I decide to just shoot you.”

“Boss, the whole point of chasing her down was to have a little fun with her!” the one who’d managed to stay on your ass during the chase complained.  He sounded winded.

“At first, but after seeing all that?  She might be able to overpower us if we keep her alive.  You want to risk her breaking free long enough to kill you, idiot?”  When no one made another complaint, the leader pressed the barrel of the gun against your forehead.  “Such a waste, too.  Sorry, Swee--”

Hands wrapped around the leader’s throat and one of his shoulders, so suddenly you weren’t sure you’d really seen it.  However, the fact that he was suddenly yanked into the shadows without a warning let you know you had seen them.  There was a visceral snapping sound a split second after the man had been grabbed, and before anyone could react, he was spat back out of the shadows as swiftly as they’d claimed him, thrown to the ground within sight of everyone, his neck snapped and body crumpled like a fallen handkerchief.

A feral snarl sounded from the darkness, and chaos erupted all around you.

*Levi’s POV*

Levi’s fingers threaded through the hair of tonight’s prey in a relentless grip, pressing their head down and into the ground while his other hand pulled their shoulder aside, leaving their neck stretched and exposed for him to sink his teeth into with little resistance.  They had stopped struggling long ago, the kicks and futile punches and pushed now absent, the trembling beneath him slowing to a complete stop.  He was able to drink deeply and undisturbed, hidden in the dark shadows of a dead end alley, the only sounds the occasional soft hum of pleasure and the sound of his teeth sinking deeper into flesh as he drank.  He focused on the sounds to drown out the rest of the Underworld, the pulse he'd originally listened to long gone.

He was starting to consciously enjoy it when he fed...and even picking the scum of the Underground to prey on, he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

A loud sharp, familiar sound broke through Levi's filter, causing him to jerk back, head looking up towards the ceiling and tilted in the direction he'd heard the gunshot.  A rush of sounds and smells suddenly rushed towards him again now that he'd been abruptly jostled out of his feed, overwhelming him while he wiped some of the blood from his face and tried to sort through the sensory mess once more and find the source of a gunshot, head pounding.  The only people who were going to have guns down here were military and a lucky criminal who'd scored rather big--not ODM gear big, but still.

As he was trying to filter out the sound, the faintest whiff of a strong, familiar scent reached him.  After being bathed in it the night he'd transformed, he would never mistake that scent for anything else.  Y/N's blood.  And it had to have been spilled if he was able to smell her through the stench of the Underground.

What the hell was she doing down here?

Focusing on that scent and trying to hear what was near her at the same time, Levi slowly rose to his feet, eyes closed as he focused.  He could smell gunpowder in the air as well, could hear a concentration of heartbeats, most pounding from exertion, but one that possessed the familiar scent pounding faster from exertion and fear.  Then came the distant voices.

"...don’t want to die messy, I suggest you stay still in case I decide to just shoot you."

Dammit.

Levi was moving before he could finish putting together what was happening, focused on closing the distance between where he'd been and where Y/N was in danger before another gunshot could be fired.  The man who’d fired the shot was still talking with someone, making it easier for Levi to narrow down where they were.  He stayed in the shadows even with his speed, making sure that he kept the element of surprise so that he could be sure to kill whoever had the gun first, before they had the chance to shoot again.

He could smell her blood, too.  Did that mean she’d already been shot?  How bad was her wound?  If he got too close, could he resist?

He’d worry about that when he got there.

As soon as the scene of five men gathered around Y/N came into view, with one of them pressing the barrel of a pistol against her forehead, Levi’s blood boiled into a blind rage.  The shadows around him blurred as he rushed forward, grabbing the man with the gun and pulling him into the shadows.  He noticed there was a second man reloading the pistol that must have made the first shot, so he made his kill quick, snapping the man’s neck and pushing the body away without a second thought.  The other armed man wildly swung around with the gun when he saw the dead body, a snarl ripping past Levi’s lips as he barreled into the armed man, sending him flying and colliding with the wall of once of the buildings he heard bones snapping as he was sent through the wall.  Instincts taking over, including his newly acquired, monstrous ones, Levi went after one of the two men restraining Y/N next, moving too fast for the group of five to have even hope to react in defense.

Pulling the large man into the shadows and away from Y/N, effectively breaking his grip on her, Levi sank his teeth into the man’s neck, blood flowing free and unrestrained as he tore into the man’s throat with the intent to kill.  He was able to drink quite a bit in the process, only because he didn’t let go until the man’s pulse started to stutter beneath his lips and he was sure the blood loss alone would kill him.

Looking at the two remaining, Y/N had taken the chance with their stunned state and the fact she only had one person holding onto her now to attack the other man restraining her.  She didn’t look hurt in the slightest as she pulled her restrainer towards her and kneed him in the gut, but he could still smell the blood she’d spilled at some point.

At the moment, however, his attention was drawn to the second still standing man who was now trying to attack Y/N from behind while she was busy with her restrainer.  Levi rushed the second man as well, not bothering to hide in the shadows now as he ripped into the slender man’s throat just as he’d done to Y/N’s other restrainer, waiting until the pulse stuttered and the blood loss turned fatal before he dropped the body to the ground and turned to face the last man.

Y/N had knocked him to the ground by now, the man staring in horror at Levi.  He must have been quite the sight.  When he’d fed before this mess, he’d only had blood on his face, neck, and around his collar, since he was gradually improving with how messy he was when he fed.  Now, however, after ripping out two throats, the blood stained his front as well.  His eyes glowed a vivid crimson and pierced through the dark of the alley, fangs flashing as he licked away a thicker trail of blood while he approached the last man.  Levi grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, picking him up with ease and pinning him against the wall.

“Demon--” the man hardly managed to squeak out.  Something in Levi burned at the accusation, his grip on the man’s shirt tightening.

No witnesses, no loose ends.  Unless he wanted his situation public legend or knowledge, depending on how much people were willing to believe.

Without a word, Levi sank his teeth into the man’s throat, covering the man’s mouth with his hand to muffle the screams even though they didn’t last long.  As he drank and the pulse below his lips eventually slowed to a stop, Levi listened and thought about what he would do next.

The only other sounds in the alley came from behind him, from Y/N.  She hadn’t moved, was hardly breathing, her heartbeat wild from adrenaline and a sense of fear, and it only seemed to be beating faster as she watched him drain the life from her last attacker.

What the hell had possessed her to make her think that following Levi into the Underground when he came here to feed was a good idea?  The Underground was already dangerous, especially at night, especially with something like him lurking in the darkness looking for a meal.  Her foolhardy determination to blow past his insistence they not be anywhere near one another was going to get her killed--it nearly had.

Levi felt his blood chill, even if he was still drinking in fresh warm blood.  What would happen next?  How many more reckless ideas would she get, how much farther was she going to push?  Was she really willing to push her luck until she died while he was trying to keep her safe from him?  What did he have to do to make her back off, for her to realize how serious this was, that she couldn’t be anywhere near him, that she couldn’t follow after him like this?  Did he have to scare her off?  At this rate, it was the only thing he could think of that might actually work.  But how far was he willing to go to scare her enough to protect her?  At the moment, she already had some fear lingering in her.  If he didn’t wait too long, he could work with it; there might be a chance that he wouldn’t have to do too much if she was already afraid.  He just had to scare her a little one time to make her leave him alone.

He was a little dizzy at the moment, feeling almost drunk on the sheer volume of blood he’d just consumed in such a short span of time.  He could muscle through it, though.  Ride the high just long enough to do what he had to.

Steeling his resolve, Levi released the now limp body in his arms, rushing Y/N and pinning her against the wall with a hand around her throat.  His fangs were bared, eyes still glowing crimson, fresh blood still smeared across his face and front as he snarled.  His thumb was placed strategically on her pulse point, able to feel as her heartbeat doubled its speed.  He was trying to subtly watch her reaction to know when he’d done enough, his thumb tracing lightly along the vein on her neck, but not biting yet.  She was tense, holding her breath, heartbeat racing wildly, and yet...after the first few seconds…

She let out a slow, shaking breath, her heartbeat starting to gradually and slightly calm down.

“You’re just trying to scare me.  It’s not going to work, Levi.”

He didn’t answer.  Instead, he let his fingers tilt her neck to the side, well aware that he was pushing his limits, playing a dangerous game in his attempt to convince her that if she didn’t stay away from him, he’d kill her.  His lips brushed against her neck, his fangs feeling like they were aching in desperation to sink into her neck.  He could remember what she tasted like--he hadn’t had anything better, since.  Only the scum of the Underground that left a chemically, filthy aftertaste in his mouth.  But her…

He struggled against those thoughts, willing himself not to give into them.  He didn’t want to bite her, not really.  He just wanted to scare her.

They were both perfectly still, neither of them even breathing loudly or heavily, just tense, each waiting for the other to make a move.  What was she thinking?  Was she trying to call his bluff?  Did she believe he wouldn’t bite her?  Was she thinking of last time she’d bet on his restraint, how it had been thrown back in her face when he almost killed her?  Was she trying to figure out how far he’d go to make her stay away?  Was she trying to decide if he would really bite her again to make her run?

He was wondering the same thing.  He’d pretty much sworn that he wouldn’t bite her again for any reason, and yet, he found himself in a position where a warning bite seemed like an option, just enough to make her realize he was serious, just enough to scare her off...but he didn’t trust his control once he started drinking from her.  Especially now, smelling the heady aroma of her blood again, so much better than what he’d been feeding on down here in the Underground for a while now.  But did the risk really outweigh the possible result?  He had just drained four fairly big men of their blood, maybe he’d had enough it wouldn’t be too hard to stop...maybe.  Did he really want to take that risk, to hurt her once again even if it was only a little, for the chance he might finally make her run away from him instead of towards him, so she’d be safe?

He waited a moment too long.  Without warning, Y/N suddenly pushed him back, and Levi gave easily against the action, backing away a few steps and looking away.  He had hardly put any of his strength into the motion, only meaning to scare, not harm her, wanting her to be able to push him away and bolt when he finally scared her enough to make her run.  Clearly, she’d seen right through his actions and to his true intention.

His fangs retracted, the crimson in his eyes fading to a simple red glint, and he was suddenly quite conscious of the fact that he was covered in blood.  Knowing it wouldn’t do him much good but wanting to make the attempt anyway, he tried wiping some of the blood from his face, refusing to look at Y/N as he did so.

He could run, but it wouldn’t do him any good.  This talk was apparently inevitable, even if he deemed it inconsequential, pointless.  She wasn’t going to change his mind.  He’d already decided to cut her out--it was better for both of them if he did, rather than drag her down any further into this...mess.

“If you’re thinking of making a run for it, don’t,” she warned, as if she could read him as easily as a book.  The fact he chose to look down the dark alley instead of at her probably gave the idle thought he’d had away.

“Why the hell are you down here?” he growled instead of addressing her accusation.

“It’s your fault I am!  How else was I supposed to try and catch you to talk with you running from me like a kid instead of a grown ass man--”

“I’m not running from you, I told you to stay away from me from the start.  You’re the one who apparently didn’t get the message,” Levi returned in a low tone.

“Oh, I heard you, I just chose to ignore it because you’re being--”

“If you end that sentence with what I think you’re about to--”

“What?  What are you going to do, Levi?  Just because you don’t like hearing what I have to say, because you know its true?”

Anger was bubbling up inside him with rapidly multiplying strength.  He was trying to push it down, to clamp down on it for both their sakes, but it was a struggle he was losing the longer this argument went on.  He could tell she was frustrated even though he still hadn’t looked at her, that she was hurt, that it was bubbling up as well and that was why she was so aggressive at the moment, but he didn’t care.  Every word she threw at him, no matter how cutting, only stoked that anger right now.

“--damn it, Levi, look at me, will you?”

She flinched back from the anger in his eyes when he finally met her gaze, the red glint in his eyes growing stronger.  He took the chance to throw in a few sharp words of his own.

“You’re the one acting worse than a child.  At least a child’s ignorant when they stick their hand in the fire.  You’re the dumbass that tries to jump feet first to see if its hot no matter how many times you’ve been burned before.  A fucking incompetant idiot with a death wish is what you are!”

He’d never called her incompetant or incapable in any way before.  Before all this happened, she hadn’t been, he hadn’t been worried about her being able to handle herself, hadn’t thought that it would be a stupid decision or a hasty, rash action that got her killed.  Now, he was afraid her pigheadedness was going to lead to her getting killed because of him, directly or, after tonight, indirectly.

That was the other emotion swirling inside him under all the anger.  Fear.

She stuck out her chin in defiance, though he saw a flash of pain in her eyes at his words that were spoken with a harsh tone that let her know it wasn’t just his gruff exterior talking.  “Trying to shove me out isn’t going to work when I know that’s what you’re doing, Levi.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Levi snapped.  “What part of ‘stay away from me or you’ll get hurt again’ did you not understand?  What about me almost killing you the other night didn’t get through your head and trigger some common sense?  How could you not understand the words I will kill you?  I don’t want you anywhere near me, Y/N--”

“I already have been hurt, Levi!  I’m already a part of this, and I want to help, what part of that don’t you understand?”

“The part where you suddenly became so intent to fucking die!” he snarled.

Even more infuriatingly, she ignored that exclamation and tried to switch to her version of cold facts.  “You’re still not in control,” she said flatly, and Levi turned his back on her, already starting to walk away.  She simply followed, still talking.  “You’re not!  You’re coming down here and ripping people to shreds, past recognition.  You still don’t know how to control your bloodlust when you feed!  What happens when someone gets wounded on an expedition and they’re bleeding all over the place in front of you?  What happens if for some reason you lose control and you bite the wrong person?  What are you going to do, Levi?  Can you say that you’re going to stop, really?  With the bodies you’ve been leaving that’s already getting you a shadowy reputation below and above ground?  No!”

“None of this has anything to do with you.  It’s not about you, its not effecting you, its not your problem, Y/N.  You’re just desperately trying to insert yourself to feel important,” he spat out.  He didn’t believe the last part, but he just wanted her to go away, to leave him alone like he’d asked.  His hands were clenched into fists to hide the tremble, teeth clenched--

“I’m trying to help you because I want to.  Its not that hard to understand, Levi.  You need help, like it or not.  You can’t keep attracting attention by feeding like this.  You need to find someone who’s willing so you don’t have to keep feeding like this and to help you learn control, and you already know I--”

He blocked her out after that.  Stopping in the middle of his angry prowl through the dark alleys, body rigid, hands flexing in and out of fists.  His mind called back the intoxicating nature of her blood, how easy it had been to lose himself, the blood all over himself and the bed and drained from her body, how close she came to dying before a wild guess and a futile prayer managed to be just enough to bring her back from the brink.  She wanted that to happen again?  To offer her blood just for him to lose himself and drain her dry?  He couldn’t remember how she’d struggled or plead with him because it was a euphoric haze in his mind, but he’d felt his prey down here struggle for their lives, heard them plead before he cut off or muffled their cries.  His stomach lurched, threatening to send him forwards as his mind fabricated the vivid image of Y/N struggling in his grasp and gasping for him to stop as he drained her dry, too far gone to even flinch in reaction to her dying moments.  He wouldn’t let it happen.  He wouldn’t.  He refused, and no matter what he had to do, he wasn’t going to let it become reality, he wasn’t going to set up her pointless death by giving in.  He had to make her run from him now and never look back, had to make her see that he could and would hurt her--kill her--if she kept going down this path.  Now.  While he was still so gorged on blood he could stop himself out of raw satisfaction with all he’d drank.

“You’re so desperate for me to feed off of you again,” he said in a steady tone, interrupting whatever she’d been saying after he’d blocked her out.  “Fine.”

Once more, Levi pinned her against the wall.  Except this time he wasn’t gentle about it, and this time his grip didn’t give her even a hair’s breath of space to move.  His hand was firmly on her throat and angling her head upwards, the crimson in his eyes blazing once again with enough infuriated intensity he could see the glint of their glow reflected in her wide eyes.

“Let me remind you what you’re in for.”

Before he could second guess, before doubts could encroach, before he even had the chance to weigh the consequences, Levi bit down on her collar.  Hard.  She cried out in pain, the sound cut off when he squeezed her throat just enough to make her quiet.  The blood didn’t come nearly as easily as it would have if he’d bitten her neck, but that was part of the reason he’d bitten here instead.  Still, even after drinking from four people minutes ago, her blood tasted divine compared to the blood he’d been drinking in the Underground, the euphoria from last time starting to return.

Without the need for blood, Levi’s struggle to ignore the euphoria was a little easier, and no matter how much it hurt, Levi focused on every other part of Y/N to try and stave off the haze long enough.

She was trying to push him off--not that it was doing anything to stop him.  He could feel her pulse rapidly picking up pace, his grip almost bruising and keeping her firmly pinned against the wall.  She kept telling him to stop, to get off, called his name.  He heard every word.  It cut like shards of glass burrowing into his heart and lungs, blood still flowing past his lips with his teeth sinking relentlessly into her flesh.  He didn’t stop.

The commands turned to pleas.  The shoves turned to blows that wouldn’t even bruise him.  He kept her pinned against the wall, eyes burning but closed, teeth embedded in her collar, his grip tight both to hold her in place but also because of the coiling tension inside him listening to her plead with him to let her go.  He still didn’t stop.

Then he tasted it.  Felt it in her pulse and her posture, in the hot tears that fell on his face and neck.  Heard it in her voice.  True fear.  Normally, in a twisted way, it made blood taste better, somehow richer.  Now, it was almost acidic, leaving a nasty aftertaste as Levi finally, instantly let her go.  The abrupt motion made her crumple to the ground with a sob…

But by the time she’d have enough cognitive thought to look up, he would already be gone.  As soon as he let her go he walked away.  He didn’t have a destination in mind, didn’t pick a direction to head to eventually get back to the surface.  He simply walked, wiping the blood from his face again with trembling hands, eyes unseeing the paths he followed even if he was subconsciously using his other senses to guide him away from anyone who was still out in the streets this late at night.  It was like he was in a daze, walking without thinking, without seeing, without any sense of direction.  The longer he didn’t think, the better, because if he started thinking again, if he thought about it, if he thought, if he…

Where was he even going?  Where was he now?  He was alone, at least...completely.

His body shuddered, as if in anticipation as the daze started to pass, some part of him getting him to whisper a soft ‘shit’ before the thoughts started to rush towards him.  He tried to stave them off a few moments longer.

I had to do it.

I had to.

I had to, for her sake.

For her sake, I...

He kept trying to repeat the thought enough to convince himself.  His hand reached out to steady himself against the nearest wall.  His shaking hands clenched into fists.

I had to do it, I had to, I had to.

His face was wet.  Not just with blood--he could see pinkish drops of hot tears escape from the tip of his nose and the edge of his jaw and chin.  His teeth ground painfully together, jaw feeling like it would snap from the pressure as he leaned against the wall his fist had been pressed against, feeling his shoulder start to slowly slide downwards in halting bursts.

I...I had...

It felt like someone had gutted him.  Now, as he started to come out of his haze, he felt hollow, as if an amature had gutted him with a dull blade and simply took everything.  Everything except a suddenly overwhelming self-hatred that pierced and burned through him from the inside out, causing short gasps to burst past his lips despite the instinctual effort to keep it all in.

I made the wrong choice.

I made the wrong choice.

He shouldn’t have done it, but he did.  He’d really sunk this low, and he hated himself all the more because of it.  He should never have let himself make that choice.  He knew it was wrong, that was why it had gutted him even as he’d done it, he knew, but he did it anyway.

Why?  Why?

Am I really that desperate?

If I’m really this desperate, was she really wr--

No.

No...no, he’d made his choice.  It was done, it was over.  He’d knowingly hurt her to make her afraid of him, to make her leave, and she wasn’t ever going to look at him the same way again.  Just like he’d wanted so desperately to do in the moment.

The damage was done.

He had to accept it.

He had to live with it now, no matter how much it hurt him.

He’d done it to himself.

He’d done it to them.

And he couldn’t take it back.

It was far too late for that.

*Reader’s POV*

Nights had become a ritual of terror for you.

Every night, without fail, this very thing happened.

The lights were out, like they were supposed to be, so there wasn’t a fire, so occupants could sleep, because it was night.  Yet you stood frozen in place in the dark, the heat of the lamp dissipating the longer you stood frozen in place, staring into the darkness around you.  It was your room, but it felt like something sinister was watching you in the shadows.  And as soon as that thought crossed your mind, they were there.  Vivid and crimson, glowing from the shadows, freezing you in place as the demonic eyes pierced fear straight to your core.  Your chest tightened, breaths coming in shallow, painful bursts as your gaze locked with them.

You knew, logically, they weren’t there, but that didn’t change the fact that you saw them, didn’t change the sweat that dampened your skin, the chill that wouldn’t leave you, the struggle to breath, the inability to move, the unbridled fear they caused.

Lighting lamps to try and cast out the darkness for a little while was the obvious first choice, but it only made things worse.  They couldn’t light every corner, the dim light making the shadows longer and the darkness more prominent where the light couldn’t reach it.  Every time you let one of those shadowy corners slip into your peripherals it looked like there was someone right behind you, looming to attack.  And the lamps couldn’t stay on all night.

The only thing left was to blow out the lights so a fire couldn’t start, hiding under the covers like some frightened child before the fear could paralyze you.  The blanket was pulled over your head, your trembling yet rigidly tense body curled into a fetal position with your eyes squeezed shut.  Your mind relentlessly conjured up the image of fangs flashing towards you, those red eyes burning as they grew closer and closer to where you were huddled helplessly under a sheet in complete darkness.

But opening your eyes was worse.  Opening your eyes you’d have to face the darkness, and your mind whispered that once you opened them, your nightmares would be real, that you’d see the dark figure with the red eyes and the bloody fangs right in front of you, and as soon as you saw them, they’d attack.  With your eyes closed you could feel them there, but they still hadn’t touched you.  If you opened your eyes, it was over.  You couldn’t stand staring at the open dark of your room, without knowing what was hiding within.

And this wasn’t just your nightly ritual.  Even in the day you saw the eyes in your peripherals, in the shadowy places, glimpsed in passing and making you jump at shadows.

And if you did manage to fall asleep at night...the nightmares came.  Nightmares where you could feel it all again, could see just those damn crimson eyes, could feel the teeth sinking repeatedly into your flesh until you woke with strangled screams and muffled sobs, futility struggling to recover some sense of composure.

What made it worse was you didn’t have the comfort of being told it was just a dream, just your mind playing tricks on you, that none of it was real.

Your nightmares had already been real once.  Who was to say they wouldn’t become real again?

*Levi’s POV*

Headquarters was perfectly quiet.  The only sound was the occasional snore, soft, steady heartbeats, and breathing of most people in the building fast asleep.  The sounds he made in the kitchen as he went about making a cup of tea seemed loud in comparison, even if he knew for a fact that he was the only one who could hear them.

His insomnia had been relentless for days now, only able to catch snippets of uneasy rest in bursts that didn’t even amount to an hour on their own.  It was why he was down here now, water starting to bubble in a kettle, the mixture for a chamomile tea at the ready.  If he didn’t find a way to sleep, soon, he’d have to ask Hange to help him--he was that desperate for a solution.

Not that she would want to help him.

Hange opened and shut the door with a resounding slam that made cadets in the hall freeze as she stormed into Levi’s office, glasses propped atop her head to clearly display the unbridled anger in her eyes.  ”What the hell did you do?”

He knew why he couldn’t sleep, but he didn’t know what else to do.

“I treated the bite, Levi.  I know what happened.”

Once he heard the water bubbling in the kettle, Levi went about slowly pouring the water into his cup, eyes unfocused as his thoughts came back to plague him in the silence of the kitchen.

”She followed me into the Underground, Hange.  I just gave her a scare so she would finally stay away like I told her to.”

“Oh, you did more than that.”

“...What are you talking about?”

“Shit,” he cursed, yanking his hand back as he spilled some of the hot water onto his hand, setting the kettle down a little too roughly, trying to clean up the mess and ignore the burning in his hand.

“Have you seen Y/N lately?”

“No, and I don’t expect to, if she finally listened.”

“Keep up that attitude, Levi, and I’ll skewer you; I know you’ll heal.  You went too far, Levi.”

He’d been picking up the too-full tea cup, and as Hange’s words from the memory pierced him far deeper with his recently acquired knowledge, his grip tightened, and the cup shattered under his hand.  Flesh burning from the hot tea, herbs smearing against the now fresh wounds in his hands, crimson blending into the only temporarily yellowish orange liquid as the blood spilled down his hands, and bits of the cup stuck in his hand, while the rest lay shattered on the floor.

”She forgave you for the first one, and for good reason.  But this?”

--Late at night, just beyond the stone of the wall, behind two simple wooden doors, Levi could hear the only other occupant in the castle that was awake right now.  Her heartbeat was erratic with unbridled terror and emotional pain.  It had been her strangled scream that only Levi could hear that had pierced the quiet of Headquarters, the scream now reduced to muffled, body wracking sobs into a pillow or a blanket.--

Levi kneeled down in front of his mess, still-injured hands reaching out to try to pick up the shattered cup, to gather up the broken pieces, to clean up his mess.  He kept cutting his hands again, though.  He didn’t know how, he knew how to be careful, knew how to be gentle so he didn’t cut himself, didn’t break anything further.  But right now, he kept drawing more blood, kept inflicting fresh wounds on his hands and watching the small ones heal almost too fast to even notice they were there while the garish pieces sticking out of his hand and openly bleeding still showed, glaring at him in the dim lighting.

”Erwin’s already mentioned he might have to dismiss her as unfit for duty.  We both know she didn’t have anything else besides the Scouts before, and now...”

The damn cup was broken.  He didn’t even know why he was trying to recover each little piece, like he was actually going to try and reassemble it, like he could somehow fix it.  The cup was broken and he couldn’t fix it.

It’s broken, and he can’t fix it.

Broken, and he can’t fix it.

Broken, and can’t fix it.

Broken…

Broken...

”Levi, stop, please!”

--He was alone in the hall.  His lips were parted, but no sound came out, eyes half lidded, but glinting bright and wet in the moonlight with unrestrained pain, head leaning back against the stone with his chin tilted upwards towards the sky.  The sobs continued through the stone behind him, and he let out a slow, shaking breath before he slowly pushed away from the wall--

“Fuck!” Levi suddenly shouted, hand slamming against the mess in front of him, hand slicing open even further as more shards of the cup found its way into his hand or shattered even further from the force of the blow.  Blood dripped steadily onto his mess, painting everything that same, garish color, staining everything he touched.

He grabbed at the wrist of his injured hand, only then realizing his hands had been shaking the entire time.

”Levi, please!”

--he ducked his head low and tried not to hear the sobs that were already resounding mercilessly in his head, blending into the darkness with ease while his hand trailed absently along the stone as he walked away.

Next Part--->

Levi Tags:  @humanitys-hottestsoldier @clary-quinn @sunny-flo

Investment Series Tags:  @regalillegal​ @cecldcecld​

Vampire Levi Tags:  @mysteriousmagicx @thesilencebeforeastorm​ @super-peace-fangirl​ @psychiccvampire

[roselightfairy]

Chapters: 45/45 Fandom: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Legolas Greenleaf & Original Female Character(s), Thranduil/Thranduil's Wife Characters: Original Elf Characters, Thranduil (Tolkien), Legolas Greenleaf, Oropher (Tolkien), Gandalf | Mithrandir Additional Tags: Mirkwood, Romance, War, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Sexual Content, OC life story, Taking OCs Out of the Refrigerator, Extends through canon and beyond, Probably Incorrect Silmarillion Lore, Very minor Legolas/Gimli, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Elf Culture & Customs, Thranduil's A+ Parenting, (in both senses of the tag actually), Dysfunctional Family, Shaky grasp on Middle-Earth geography, depictions of violence, Blood and Injury, Depression, Illness, Pregnancy, Child Legolas, siege, Spiders, Partings, Reunions, Fire, Family Series: Part 16 of Finding a Voice Summary:

“Love among elves is not a craft,” she said, “not something to be created and finished and left on a shelf or put to use. Our love is a vine that grows along with us: ever changing, ever climbing. Our hearts seek out those whose lives will twine with our own, who will weather the storms when they come and blossom come springtime – who will change with us into whatever shapes our lives end up taking.”

In all the years that an elf might live, she might experience triumphs and sorrows uncountable by mortal thoughts and still have more to learn, more to become. Laerwen Thranduiliel has spent all her childhood being shaped into a perfect princess, but she will learn that there is much more to the role - and to life - than she ever knew to expect. Siril, on the other hand, has never been ambitious, but when she at last heeds the urgings of her heart, she finds herself swept unexpectedly into the royal family of the Greenwood - and proves to be exactly what it needs.

The life and love story of the Princess of the Greenwood, from the late Second Age to beyond the Fourth, as she and her wife journey through love and war, darkness and loss and unexpected joy, and learn who they are - together or apart.

...

It is done! I’m giving this story a fancy post for the last chapter, in honor of the year and a half-ish that I’ve spent working on it, and the even longer that it must have been quietly brewing. This really became the origin story for my entire ‘verse, and it’s the biggest and most cohesive creative project I’ve ever wrangled.  There are, of course, some things I wish I’d done differently or elements I wish I’d included, but ultimately I’m very proud of how it turned out.

I know that OC-driven stuff isn’t what most people come to fanfic for, but if you do end up reading and enjoying this, I would be absolutely thrilled if you’d drop by and leave me a comment to let me know. I crave reader engagement. :)

And even if you don’t read it, but you’ve patiently put up with me whining about it for over a year - thank you, too, for being in this lovely fandom that has made me so happy.

[midnight-marimba]

Mar’s DQXI Fic OCs

It’s Dragon Quest OC And NPC Week, and I’m going to approach it from the other direction than what’s described in the event proposal, because I rarely end up inventing a detailed character without context, but I often find a specific need for a character in a piece of fanfiction and build them up out of that prompt into something better than a footnote. So I’m going to take the opportunity to talk about some of my fics and the original characters and NPCs who wandered into them and made themselves interesting enough that I’m eager to share a little extra detail or commentary about them.  (Under the cut)

Hair Tie That Binds

A comedic story about Hendrik recruiting Erik for a heist to help fix his own mistake. (9k words)

I needed a minor villain, so I invented Lady Druzy (named off of an obscure corner of a gem list, so as to suit a minor Heliodoran noble).  She is petty, spiteful, vengeful, and apparently my favorite archetype of OC to write.  She is awful and I loved writing her.

After Rain, The Sun Will Shine

A Sylv/Hendrik one-shot involving Hendrik’s memories of Sylv’s mother. (8k words)

When I wrote this, I had not yet heard the detail from the voice drama (please somebody translate the whole thing?? <3) that Sylv's mom's given name was Gerbera and her stage name was Sylvia (that is, exactly the same stage name Sylv took in the Japanese version of the game).  I had only heard a broader rumor about the drama and Sylv choosing a stage name in honor of their mother.

So when I went to write a story about her, I looked at a list of Dutch names (to match Arnout and Hendrik — Zwaardsrust is Dutch) and hunted for one a name with a "Syl" sound.  I landed on Silke, which is also satisfying from a word association perspective (since it looks like "silk" which sounds highly appropriate for a "famous Zwaardsrustian beauty" — one of the few canon details we get for her).

I tried to make her stubborn and determined, inspiring and willfully optimistic for the sake of the people she had under her leadership.  Sylv-like, but with a slightly more intense philosophical flavor than canon Sylv, as she’s walking out of an arguably even greater tragedy (or at least more personal at a larger scale?)

Silk and Swagger

Faris/Reader, from the point of view of a Heliodor guard. (1.7k words)

The guard is nameless and the fic is relatively short, but my goodness it was fun inventing someone who is instantly smitten with Faris and believes the best of him at all times.

When Home Isn't Marked on the Map

A Sylv/Erik longfic set a couple years after the end of the game, in which Erik is coming out of a period of self-imposed isolation after a disastrous attempt at confessing his one-sided romantic feelings for the Luminary, and he begins by going looking for Sylv, the one old companion he dares hope won’t yell at him for his absence.  (74k words)

Since the ultimate seed of the idea behind this fic was "Erik would be protective towards orphans and Sylv would like that about him" I needed some kids to put in the story.  There are two sets of four that I named and included. 

First is the group from the rural area near Puerto Valor, and thus they have Spanish names: Isabella, Serafito, Paz, Ana.  I'm pretty sure I named the younger ones with shorter names to help myself keep them straight.  In my head, they have a darker complexion than the rest of the kids in the story, since I always wish the DQ world was a little more diverse on that front, but I fear that I forgot to actually write that detail in.  (Room for improvement...)

The second group is an expansion of the four child NPCs you can find playing hide-and-seek in downtown Heliodor.  I could only find a canon name for Cammo (the King of Hide-and-Seek) so I gave the rest of them stone related names, figuring the pattern from Cobblestone might extend around Heliodor into the poorer and less formal areas of the kingdom (Ruby the innkeeper notwithstanding). So they are Flint, Crystal, and Mica.

There are so many of them that it was tough to give all of them a lot of characterization, but I tried to distinguish each of them at least a little.  Isabella, the leader of her group, blunt in a way that reminds Erik of Mia and Veronica.  Serafito, a little bit of a self-sacrificing caretaker. Paz, young but outgoing, and Ana, even younger and a little shy.  Flint, the canny, cautious, and slightly manipulative leader of the Heliodor gang.  Cammo, sneaky and adventurous and clever.  Crystal, strong and brave and protective.  Mica unfortunately ended up being most notable for the ordeals he goes through.

My favorite among them ended up being Crystal, from the instant she decided she was after Hendrik's job.

Diamond

A Sylv/Serena and Sylv/Dave fic, from Serena’s point of view.  Set after Act 3 as Serena chooses a mission to research and perform healing around the world, travels alongside Sylv’s new circus troupe, and they both get to pursue some missing character development.  (118k words, technically 1 chapter short of an intended ending but may not be continued.)

Mind the tags and content advisory if you go into the fic itself, because (1) for reasons of 2020, a story about a doctor-hero was simply not an ideal story to begin in the year 2019, and (2) it is NOT a utopian style world — many characters have prejudices, others are closeted in some major ways, and not all of that is gone by the end of the story.  I 100% understand many folks not wanting to go roll around in that kind of fiction, and while there’s a discussion about Representation I could shoehorn in here, I’m going to set it aside for the sake of on-topic rambling about fun OC development.

For this fic, I wanted Sylv and Serena to be traveling the world together.  Serena was to be motivated in part by the allure of getting to meet more new people, and also, I think it’s useful for her personal growth to spend a little time away from her blood family and most of the people from whom she would naturally take direction.  I also wanted to explore Sylv as a leader in a way that’s not so easy within the canon party, and in general, I imagine Sylv both being friendly to every stranger and also having old friends pop up everywhere he goes.

Between the two of them, I ended up needing to plop in OC's left and right, both for Sylv’s new Act 3 circus troupe, and in every town they visited.  Because I’m a nerd, I expanded lore for some of the regions too, and I will mention some of those details here with the characters.

Sylv’s troupe:

Chill, a contortionist from Sniflheim, where people get kind of uncomfy about magic, especially when it looks too close to evil witchery.  Like, say, Zing.

Samir, a short, round bard from Gallopolis who can do amazing things with a variety of instruments, and his partner Grey, once a guard from Heliodor until he decided that job was even more bland than his name, and he ran off to Gallopolis to join the circus.

Maria and Mateo, a couple of quiet, short and slender dancers from Puerto Valor (in my head, Mateo is about 5 feet and Maria’s a couple inches shorter, though I keep gravitating away from talking in Modern Earth units of measurement when writing for this fandom).  Their kids, teenaged Leo and toddler Lena, aren’t (yet) performers, but are present because I thought it was interesting to plug some kids into a story about a traveling circus troupe, and because I wanted to give Sylv an excuse to interact with kids.

Francine. A classically beautiful acrobat from Octagonia, where the only work she could find was being a bunny girl handing out flyers.  She’s had a crush on Sylv, which didn’t work out, and in the aftermath she’s a little bitter and is predisposed to dislike anyone else getting too close to Sylv.  She is rude and spiteful when she does not like someone (though she may do so in an overly-sweet tone), and she awkwardly overcompensates when she wants to prove she’s moved on from something, and she ended up being my favorite OC here.

Some other notable OCs in the world:

In Sniflheim: Healer Heather, the doctor who would really rather not have any magic in her house, so she doesn’t get a mob coming after her next time the tide of public opinion turns against witches.

In Lonalulu: Nohea, the charming and handsome hula dancer who isn’t quite as nice as he seems, and Pika, the shy, plain, and clumsy but kind-hearted net weaver.  Both are there as potential love interests for Serena (and for contrast against Sylv, of course).

In the Inner Sea: Coral the mermaid, a singer.  She's here for advancing Serena's character development, but it was fun to have other OCs react to a mermaid, and trying to write plot-advancing mermaid dialogue raised my respect for the localization team 1000%.

In Gallopolis: Doctor Zel, who is very scientific and good at her job, never makes eye contact, and lacks a comforting bedside presence.  (Happily they have Faris to help with public relations during a health crisis…?)

This is only about half of the OCs and NPCs named in the story, but they’re most of the ones with the most screen time, and most of the ones that stand out in my mind.  But the outgoing and friendly Sylv and Serena I was trying to write, both of whom wanted to engage with the people of the world at large, just spawned new characters around them as they went.  You know those stories about mythical people where flowers bloom after them everywhere they go?  This pair was like that, only with OC’s instead of flowers.

[fatebreaking-a]

Tagged by : I am a thief. ( Stolen from @starthieve​ ) Tagging : steal it from me.

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

( I will not, I will pick all my muses, how dare- I’ll leave everything except this blog + my other Sona blog out, for length’s sake.) long post, so it’s under the cut.

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES-ish / NO. ( people who like her like her, and people who don’t... really don’t. )

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

Are they underrated?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO / MAYBE ?

Were they relevant for the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO / MAYBE ?

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL.

How strictly do you follow canon?  — lol. I take inspiration from canon, let’s put it that way.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  —  Your local patron saint of lost causes, a heroic entity who has overcome betrayal and judgement to become an existence that can save the world. Also she’s tall and strong and hot and nice, what more could you want? Huh? You want more than being hugged by a 6′4″ lady??? Sona can also be in various countries, and can participate very easily in fluff, angst, and all sorts of other types of threads.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  —  Lots of angst and drama, a bit of a loner with a distant vibe. Having no etwahl and not playing music kills the interest and ‘usual interactions’ for a lot of people, and being mute & not jumping to telepathy can make threads dry and slow. Being a ‘sexy boob lady’ ( u g h ) also has painted her in a certain light - I’ll never forget that someone said that ‘ofc everyone ships with Sona, she’s the village bicycle.’ I’ve made her exceptionally strong ( almost overpowered ), and that doesn’t jive with people sometimes - shoving in all these themes that I personally like and crafting an interesting story of a divine / demonic seer witch who doesn’t know what to do with herself, is finally ‘too strong’, and finds power distasteful... The themes can be a little depressing and cold, even when she acts nice. And seeing “Even though she feels nothing, she still acts nice” in character can feel... tiring. A mute is not an easy person to write with, and I don’t shy away from trying to give the impression that ‘waiting for Sona to communicate can be tiring’ - because I want my readers and mutuals to feel the kinds of things she goes through everyday. While I try to make the blog accessible, Sona has a speech disability, and that can be tiring.

Also that she doesn’t act like a fancy noble... I don’t know. I feel like the way that I write her is very, very different to the fandom’s impression of her, and that leaves people disillusioned. “This isn’t what I expected or signed up for.” She’s just not that person... And because she doesn’t speak, a lot of prompts are off limits. I’ve also recently reset because I wanted to emphasize that she is patient, grim, and secretive while still being kind. I’ve toned down her tendency for mischief a lot, she used to be an absolute gremlin.

A lot of these things also apply to my other Sona blog ( @virtuous-dignity​ ), where she is extremely structured and self-confident and a bit of a recluse, so while she’s much much nicer, she’s also a complete hardass. It’s rough stuff, especially since I make sure to point out, “hey this Sona practices music over 8 hours every day.” “Hey this Sona finds it morally wrong to play music for small audiences.” There are certain traits that just cut ideas in the bud.

What inspired you to rp your muse?  —  I played Sona a lot in bot lane. Multiple years of sexist remarks, shitty writing, and bad characterization made me frustrated. A lot of things were left unexplained and the etwahl felt like too much of a focus that I could not answer, “who is Sona besides a musician with a fancy instrument”. She has to be someone, right? But we never get to that in the story ( nor in the apparent upcoming lore rework either... ). She has to be someone, her being a famous musician is not everything. So I forcibly tossed aside the music part, especially to also prevent accidentally being pulled into ‘your music is so pretty’ plots. Plus: I wanted to write a character with an internal conflict who was going through some things but wanted to be nice anyway - I believe in that idea a lot. And I wanted to write a character that, tbh, could ship and flirt and just... be flirty and easy going more ( hah! didn’t work out so great now! ). My first canon characters were a ‘left by the void Malz’ dealing with his sins and Ori, who I talk about below, and neither were really great for getting that flirty vibe out. I also really wanted to emphasize that... Well, to be blunt, that if I wrote Sona as sexually promiscuous, that wasn’t a bad thing. That ‘being sexy’ and ‘sex positive’ did not equal ‘objectified tiddy witch’ and ‘perfect candidate for oppai mouse pad’ and other things I’ve heard directed at me in my league experience. Many, many things. Ugh. It kind of did end up turning into a thing where Sona herself draws an interesting line between ‘haha I can tell everyone’s looking at me with those eyes and it’s the fucking worst’ and ‘ok but I trust you and am in bed with you, so I want you to grab me’ - but that’s getting more into ns/fw topics so I’ll leave it there. 

What keeps your inspiration going?  —  All my characters tend to be expressions of myself, as well as answering important thematic questions, like “What does it mean to be rejected by your home and no longer have a place”, and some other stuff. I usually go back to that. Plus, exploring concepts around abandonment and loneliness is something I do a lot with her - feelings of neglect and disillusionment, and ideas surrounding “do I need to like someone or be liked by someone to treat them with dignity”. ( virtuous-dignity, on the other hand, was created because I wanted to write something as soft and uwu as possible, and then it turned into something about ‘balancing dignity for oneself with duty to others’ and handling those kinds of conflicts. )

I also really do enjoy, on some level, turning people around on these characters. “You made me care about character x” is such high praise.

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO.

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. ( idk, how many of you think robots are hot- )

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. ( I think people downplay Ori’s intelligence a lot, but Riot also casually implied she did open heart surgery on herself so??? )

Are they underrated?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO / MAYBE ?

Were they relevant for the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO / MAYBE ?

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL.

How strictly do you follow canon?  — hahahahahahaha. hah. hah. Sorry. Everything I write is divergent by default.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  —  A genius inventor and cute spherical robot duo who speak to other robots and shoot lightning, run around acting cute, and try to save their city one step at a time - all while dealing with deep existential dread and fighting off a fate that decrees Ori’s death. Between ‘pancake bot’ and Ori being an accidental flirt, there’s plenty of variety and development here as my oldest canon muse. Not to mention that the blog ‘grows’ and ‘changes’, and in the last year, Ori has taken to dying her hair pink ( because Vi is cool is why, just don’t let her near a rifle or she’ll try to imitate Cait ). I also regularly think about / draw different hairstyles and clothing styles. Ori is very much ‘alive’, the most so out of the three muses on this blog. A human that has the memories of being a robot, trying to live on and live a good life. Also, there are bird, angel, and time themes. So many clocks. Mega clocks!

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  —  Deep angst and existential dread, because she knows her fate is to die and she’s cheated time. Themes of dysphoria and other troubling topics abound. Being stuck in time loops, thinking she’s an aberration, needing crutches because her legs stop working, etc.

Also, removing the fact that she is a robotic automaton is a bunch of the appeal of Ori. Or well, it’s what makes her character ‘interesting and unique’ to many. Without that, she is ‘yet another Zaunite’, as the thing that made her most interesting was her death and rebirth. ( Nevermind that her entire story is that she’s a selfless person but- I’m supposed  to act like she’s bad, right? )

What inspired you to rp your muse?  —  Hey remember when institute of war was a thing? And then when it wasn’t? And Ori’s lore was “died to a turret shot trying to be a champion”... and then it was up in the air for two years?

That’s why. If no one else will love her, I will. She deserves better. And then the lore became close to my lore so I rewrote everything a second time trying to stick to the themes I had.

Ori’s thematic question is, “What do you do when you don’t recognize yourself anymore? How do you get back to ‘okay’ and what do you do from there?” It’s a pretty dim question that has a lot to do with body image, but also to do with abandonment and neglect, and  just dropping out of people’s lives. I think that’s something that people can really relate to. I originally wrote her on a multi with a ‘post void Malz’, who was dealing with the trauma of being puppeted around for years and all the things he had done, trying to get back to ‘okay’ without getting killed. More below:

What keeps your inspiration going?  —  Themes as noted above, Ori is super cute, and a lot of my art & general ideas. I’ve kind of turned these three characters in borderline OCs and keep developing them as they grow... Sometimes I think the stories and concepts I’ve written have outgrown the fandom. And thinking about her, and how she would live, and what her story is... mmm.

Also, the themes I write... I think they matter. Maybe it’s not obvious to anyone but myself, but writing a character who feels dysphoria and hates their body for ‘betraying them’... is relatable. It’s not nice. It’s not simple. But it’s relatable and it matters. Ori’s theme on this blog has a lot to do with “fighting a fate that says you’re going to lose and defying expectations” as well as “coming back from something wicked and rotten in your psyche/body”. And I do write some other skin verses for her but they’re all adapted to meet that theme. ( For example, in SG, she rises to guardian after finding out she’s fated to become a dark star and fights that fight alone, because ‘hell no she’s not going to go dark’. This was 5+ years ago back when there were theories SG and DS were same universe. )

Mostly it’s writing about these themes of expectation and reality. Overprotective parent, absentee parent, dealing with trauma... All my writing is like that. It can make my characters seem overly tragic, yes, but these ideas are not so far gone that they’re completely irrelevant and beyond belief. I’m sure many people have experienced emotional exhaustion and problems with body image. Even though I do write ‘polite but ready to fight’ characters only... Well, I believe in exploring and expressing these kinds of problems. Inner conflict and all. But also fluff! Fluff is really nice! Talk to her about pancake robot.

I also really do enjoy, on some level, turning people around on these characters. “You made me care about character x” is such high praise.

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO. ( post rework??? oh my god )

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. ( hard to consider ‘martial’ characters strong when Xer/ath and Syn/dra exist )

Are they underrated?  YES / NO. ( she’s a little overrated, isn’t she?  )

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO / MAYBE ?

Were they relevant for the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO / MAYBE ?

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL.

How strictly do you follow canon?  — I still draw from old lore with her big four blades of doom and ‘reviving’ with the help of Raka ( though I leave it vague / easy to gloss over ). I also had a lot of ideas about music and rhythm and tradition before the update ( drums were a big thing for her, so strong percussive beats and motions reign over the more silk and ribbon dances that flow more, drawing on things like Zelos existing, Lito’s lessons & harsh behavior, and her own internalized habits of trying to calm herself ), so I draw on those a ton. For me, the progression is ‘classic’ -> ‘infiltrator / nightblade ‘ -> ‘aviator’ all as one timeline. Also wrote her as being ‘missing in action’, which makes the awaken cinematic weird. I also really try to emphasize that she’s an emotionally stunted wardog with scars and not ultra pretty, so.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  —  A world traveler and a wardog, you can find her anywhere, any time, ready to kick some butt and enjoy the local food. Her simmering fury is a counterpoint to her relatively muted demeanor and adventurous spirit. However you may find her, there’s a definite charm to being flown up above the clouds to watch a sunset and talk. She will fly you where you need to be.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  —  I’m a little stuck on old lore and writing Lia as a character that has “left behind” her past and is pretending to be dead does make certain interactions tough. She’s also a deeply stunted character, emotionally, and I write her ten years of experience as having chilled her to a cold, ever burning ember rather than a passionate flame. Also, ‘aviator’ is kind of weird to handle for a lot of people.

What inspired you to rp your muse?  —  This one is really simple. When this blog started, the only splash where Irelia was smiling was the aviator splash. That’s it. That as the whole reason. “I want her to be happy and have found her happiness.”

What keeps your inspiration going?  —  I will admit that Lia is the character that I give the least attention to out of these three, and part of it is because I don’t really do flirting or shipping with her as much. She’s not one to reach out to others, and there are a lot of popular Lia blogs to the point that when I, as a multi, write with someone... She probably isn’t the first pick.

But I just... want her to be happy. That’s it. As I mentioned with the Ori section, what I’ve worked out for her has kind of outgrown the fandom itself, she’s become a different entity. Her themes largely involve recovery and finding oneself anew, and writing a character that is passionate about others while still being cool-headed is some of the variety I need. Because Lia is ace/homosexual, she sits out on a lot of the flirty content, but the chances I get to write her being romantic and caring... my god. Just a few posts back and forth with @unholyshe​ ‘s Akali and a So/na I used to write with....... Unforgettable. ( On that note go follow @unholyshe​ what a good writer, gosh dang. ) It’s these small interactions I find intensely compelling, and having a ‘quiet intensity’ and really thinking about her body language...

Also it’s nice to write a character with little secret agenda, who is just straightforward. “Will I enjoy kissing you? Only one way to find out. ‘It was okay.’ “ A ‘the only way forward is through, just do it’ attitude is refreshing.

------------------

Learning to write all three characters helps me write the others: The little things I think about that are specific to each person really help me out for the others. The depth of using body language from Sona bleeds into how Lia uses body language, and how Ori doesn’t ( even common ticks ), etc etc. Ori’s blunt, observational style of speaking ( telling you that you look good like it’s an observational fact ) helps me understand how to be straightforward with Lia.

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES …? / NO. ( sometimes I do get very anxious abt it, esp. since I’m so divergent and do things like ‘so/na is one part succubus lol’ )

Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO. ( do excerpts count? less headcanons and more musings, since I’m on like 5+ years with 2/3 of these. )

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO. ( time is not a thing but I used to write a ton, my drabble energy goes to novels now )

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day?  YES / NO. ( this is why you see mobile posts from me constantly, and so many excerpts / musings ).

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO. ( It’s what I want but it can also be disillusioning / disappointing to people so. Dunno. Anxiety. =/  )

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO. ( It takes me a bit to warm up to a character again, but yes. I know my writing is not bad but I can be a little insecure about it. )

Are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO. ( Very. I cry a lot and I get upset pretty easily. Sometimes I end up being really cold instead but idk. )

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  — To a point. Sometimes criticism is irrelevant or meaningless, or is just personal taste. “Sona shouldn’t be that strong” isn’t helpful ( but thinking about ways to pare down the complexity is good! ) Sometimes I get criticism that is the equivalent of tasting a chocolate cake and going, “It should have been vanilla, I like vanilla better.” That’s cool, but that has nothing to do with the taste of the chocolate cake I made. ( Ori as a human isn’t interesting, talk more about Sona & the etwahl even though it’s broken, Lia flying doesn’t make sense, etc - these are foundational flavors, so what can I do? ).

Also sometimes people make comments that make me feel they’re just being petty / catty and not sincere. I’ve seen quite a few hypocritical comments and it’s hard to take them seriously. So, yes, but ‘to a point’... Mostly I take suggestions, which I then talk about for the muse. Exploring those ideas. Unsolicited criticism is... hmm. In my experience, about half of it isn’t constructive. And from the wrong person, it can sound judgemental. 

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?  — Of course? I love asks. Always. Great. Awesome. If I have a chance to draw to answer these asks, even better.

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?  —  Not really. I’m divergent, they probably disagree because they have a different vision for the character. I’ll be honest here and say I’ve had enough people tell me that “my portrayals are not what they expected” that this can be... disheartening. I usually have a good reason for 80% of my hcs. If we’re talking in IMs though or just conversing, I’m totally fine with it. This comes back to unsolicited criticism - to be a little blunt, some people just straight up don’t know what they’re talking about. And given that I put a bunch of effort in trying to make sure most of my headcanons can be glossed over, so it doesn’t cause conflict and my ‘ultra grim take’ doesn’t cause the end times... I dunno. I’d rather that someone tell me “the kind of interactions they want”, so I can lean into that direction. If you just want fluff, I can leave most of my darker hcs for So/na at the door... But you need to tell me that, so I can work with you. 

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?  — just leave? huh? I mean, I already know people disagree. If you’re not rude, then we’ll just move on and be chill. Otherwise... well, we won’t be chill and you can still go, but I’ll consider you a dick. I don’t expect everyone to agree with “Ori is a human”, but why bring that up to me?

This is why a lot of the time, when people talk about characters and my muses, my brain defaults to “Well that has nothing to do with me.” Why should I invest any time being upset that people are disappointed with my portrayal or I’m not what they expected. It’s exhausting. People have some really strong opinions about Lia and Sona sometimes, but... ‘that has nothing to do with me.’ There’s no point in trying to convince someone to try your flavor of ice cream when they’ve already decided what flavor and toppings they want. It just leads to tremendous insecurity. I should not have to argue that ‘my portrayal is worth paying attention to’. 

Ugh. I might be too sensitive about this. There was a point where people really got in the habit of saying, “this is how character x is” ( not their muse ), and it felt like someone trying to enter my kitchen. It did not feel like a suggestion or an idea. It was an assertive, “this is how Irelia is” by, say... a Ry/ze or Ken/nen blog or something. That felt extremely isolating and alienating to me, because it felt like I could not participate in that conversation at all. Or stuff after. I had to sideline myself, because... that has nothing to do with me or my interpretations. Ofc griping at them is wrong because I know they mean, ‘this is how I see it’, but ye. I’m short tempered and easily upset. Working on it.

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  — um? bye? hello?

god I used to go “ ok that’s cool you don’t like my portrayal, here are some other great So/na blogs that I love” but I realized that I was directing someone who felt the need to tell me my portrayal or character is bad to those people... and no. no no no. I still feel a little guilty about it, because thinking I directed a toxic person to my duplicates...  yuck.

If you don’t like the characters, or you don’t like my divergent takes, that’s fine. I get it’s not for everyone. Just unfollow me. You’re not paying me. You’re not under any obligation. To an extent, i don’t mind being critical of the character, but there’s a difference between being critical and being hateful to someone’s muse? And it depends a lot on how close I am with a person. For example, I think Sy/las is a complete scumbag and I hate him, but I don’t go yelling that to every Sy/las blog I see. C’mon.

Another bit of salt but it’s... kind of a sad topic, really. There are some characters people love to hate, whereas other ones get the ‘protection squad’. And in general it’s really disheartening to see someone shittalk Lux every two weeks, but go ‘these other champs are off limits’. If you have that attitude, it makes me think you’ll shittalk my characters the moment they get popular ( COUGHIRELIACOUGH ) and that’s kind of sad. And mean. So general advice on this is: Probably just don’t tell someone you hate their muse, you know? Idk. Everyone has their own tolerance level too so. meh.

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?  —  Somewhat.  Not much to say here, sometimes I am very tired, sometimes I comma splice like a madman, sometimes I overuse hyphen dashes to avoid deciding whether to use a comma, period, or semicolon - like this. I don’t need an editor. English is my first language. But if there’s something egregious or you have tips, let me know? I’m someone who looks up grammar rules regularly, and breaks teh rules just as regularly. Knowing when and how to break grammar rules is useful. Though I do tend to... overuse something once I’ve learned it. Hyphen dash, I’m looking at you.

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?   — Yes and no. I’m chill, I can be a little overly passionate, and I’m pretty quick to apologize... But I have certain moral standards and if you break those, you’re done. Also I can be a vengeful bastard. I try to give as much benefit of the doubt as I can and many chances, but I’ve noticed that I really... have a sour attitude towards a lot more people than I expect. Sometimes people who are very well liked, just because they said or did something that ticked me off. Luckily, I have the special skill of not being a jerk even if I don’t like you, and overall trying to be nice to most people, so it usually won’t matter. 

Ah and I can be a little selective in who I talk to / play favorites a bit. I’m a busy person with an adult life and a stressful job, I only have so much patience. I skip from “tolerating it” to “leaving”, and that can seem like I ghosted, but that’s not always the case. Just better to leave than to pick fights. I have some pretty strict standards and harsh opinions. Short temper. Vengeful. Alas.

Somehow people think I am very nice and baby, so take that for what you will. Pft. I just want people to be happy and feel comfortable and okay. Wrong is wrong, blah blah blah ok I stop now.

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

( If you managed to read all this, with 3 full muses... Let me know, I want to hug you??? )

[starfaring-princelotor]

The Prison Kingdom

Chapter 2: To Create A Name

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Summary: With new companions comes new information you were unaware of before.

Warnings: Mentions of suicide and blood.

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I respectfully ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Lotura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing. ★

A/N: Click here to learn more about fairies.

1 . 2 .

-

“I didn’t know pirates can read.”

“Aye, fancy that, eh? Learn something new with every rising sun,” you closed your book then fully turned your attention to the man leering over your shoulder, “I didn’t know that incubus’ can be nosy, little whelps, and yet, here we are, mate.”

Lance, he said his name was. Young faced with an offended scrunched up frown because of your comment, he seemed fresh to the battles of blades. And of insults. Rule number one when growing up under the honorable tutelage of your aged seafarer captain: whatever you do, do it well. May he rest in peace, the poor fool who took a cannonball to the gut. 

“Hey! I’m not nosy!” came his witty reply, accompanied by a muttered grumble.

You took that as his white flag.

“Pirate.” 

“Aye, capitain?”

Shiro said nothing else, only gave you that good old “stop picking on the soldiers” look. You shrugged in response. He stated that he needed to stop by his neighboring guilds and request assistance from a few specific set of people. And thus, along with you and a few others who gathered at Altea, Shiro created a small group of warriors for this expedition. 

There was Ulaz, a powerful necromancer who channeled spirit energy from the dead to do his bidding. Attractive mercenary with those glowing eyes and pointed ears, leader of the Blue Tail Guild. Then that one golem from the deep mountains, what was her name? Shay of the Yellow Eyes faction? Those fancy jewels embedded in her rocky exterior were tempting, but you were sure she could pack a punch if you tried to use your five-finger discount. And, last but not least, a dryad ghost who calls himself Rolo, belonging to the Green Claw Guild. His skills with traveling between planes of existence at ease would be most useful for scouting. 

Right now, the only one left was meant to be meeting at this farm on the outskirts of a small, unnamed village. Someone from the Red Teeth Guild, supposedly the one King Alfor led until his untimely demise. Her name was Hira, one of the Alteans who was tasked with defending the royal family. Keyword: was. She gave up that title and dedicated her life to hunting monsters with vengeance, more importantly the dragon that razed Altea to the ground. Though she lacked the magical abilities passed down by her ancestors, she made up for it in pure strength as a berserker. 

“- He is ready, Shiro. I have seen the boy fight alongside Lance, they both would make worthy comrades in battle.”

You could sense the pride and ushering tone in, who you assumed, was Hira. Off in the distance, the two boys mentioned were tending to a bull peacefully. Out here, it was easy to fall into the dull sense of a domestic life. A farm, crops to harvest, animals to feed. Making pasteurized cheese from only the freshest of milk. A humble existence, not one meant for the explorative type of people. Much too docile, too vulnerable.

“No, Hira. They are just boys. If we were hunting wild boars, yes, I would bring both Keith and Lance along, but this mission is too dangerous for the inexperienced,” Shiro argued, voice muffled behind the bales of hay, “I’m not putting their blood on my hands. Are you willing to?”

A pregnant pause, only to be interrupted by the peppered clucks of chickens nearby.

“Altea needs soldiers, Shiro.”

“Children are not soldiers, Hira. I’m done discussing this. Are you with us or not?”

“Fine. But keep your Galra scum on a leash. This war still isn’t over and I won’t forget what happened a decade ago,” she spat with spite lacing each syllable in her words, “His kind shouldn’t even be joining this party.”

“No one would forget, but his skills are invaluable if we’re going after a dragon that uses quintessence as an energy source. Our mission is to kill it so a repeat of the past doesn’t happen. Do you understand?”

Part of you wanted to say you didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Really, you didn’t, it was just convenient that your hearing was much more enhanced than the average being. And, judging by the pupiless stare of Ulaz, you knew he heard them, too. That slightest, almost barely noticeable twitch in his ears gave him away. 

“That bull is going to charge them. Watch,” Rolo informed, also watching the spectacle of Keith and Lance’s shenanigans.

As if able to predict the future, Keith must’ve patted the animal a little too hard, which irritated the beast. He started hoofing the grass, gave one loud baying screech, before shoving both of them away in a disgruntled thrash. Don’t run, you thought, but it was instinct to flee when something once neutral becomes aggressive. Pity that Keith fellow was wearing red, though. 

“Useful trick ye got there. Ever thought about trying yer hand as a fortune teller? Could swindle a few fish for quite a bit o’ gold,” you chuckled, recalling the time you did such a thing yourself. 

“Huh. Wonder if Nyma would be up for that gimmick after this hunt.”

“This hunt...it is such a small group. Can we really fight a dragon?” Shay’s inquisitive voice openly asked, “I have heard rumors and stories of such feats only being accomplished by massive armies, yet we are of only 10 bodies.”

“We are not going to kill a dragon. Shiro needs us to find it first before requesting for support from Altea. Perhaps the kingdom’s allies can send reinforcements as well.” Ulaz spoke of Shiro as an old friend, an old comrade in arms, and oddly enough, that fact was reassuring, “We can not trek through enemy territory with siege weapons and cannons. Not yet.”

Not until we know what we are going against. 

“Can you build, pirate?”

“Can a shark bite?” you immediately retorted, but judging by the blank look on his face, he didn’t understand the reference, “Aye, aye, I can build. Bless me with a keg o’ gunpowder and I’ll gift ye bombs strong enough to take out me other leg.” 

Shay giggled, Rolo smiled, and even Ulaz found the dark joke a little humorous. 

-

There was something stifling about traveling by foot through the thicket of the woods. You would take the open sea and the ship over mangled trees and looming leaves any day. Rolo, however, was in his element. It seemed like the vines were reaching towards him to give an odd embrace from the trees themselves. Was it just you or did that trunk have a face carved out in it? Perhaps you’ve been spending too much time reading that book of yours. 

[Not every spirit is malicious. Some belong to those children who ventured too far, unguarded and blind to the dangers lurking deep within. Be careful if you hear echoed giggling of the young. Faes are master tricksters. Under no circumstance should you ever answer their question, lest you wish to be swept up and vanished into thin air. Avoid rings of mushrooms at all cost.]

Below was a quickly drawn image of cap mushrooms formed in a circle. There seemed to be a child-like figure with butterfly wings attached on its back. You came to realize then, while sitting around the campfire and partaking your turn for watch, that the creatures of the land vastly differ than those of the sea. You expected this, of course, but something in the back of your head had one question buzzing in your skull: how far could you flee if you came across such beasts?

Shuffling off to the side alerted you of Shay awakening. Slowly, she emerged from her tent as the fire danced, making those gems glimmer even more beautifully in the night. 

“Are you well, p-pirate?” she asked albeit hesitantly stuttering on the title.

With a nod of confirmation, you shut your book quietly just as she took a seat across from you. She seemed to be lost in thought, curious even, and it amused you greatly to see her glance away when you caught her stare. Then, her gaze stayed locked on the very interesting rock by your wooden leg. 

“Lass, does this ol’ thing give you the willies?” you tapped your leg, already quite used to not feeling anything come from the action, “It t’aint rigged with explosives, ye can trust me word on that.”

Now, she quickly snapped her wide eyes up at you, “No, no, not at all! I mean, it’s a little...I have seen such things before. But that is not why I was - forgive me - for staring.”

“Eh?”

“Your name. The captain calls you ‘pirate’ and you were introduced to us as so. I have never met someone who doesn’t have a name,” Shay rubbed her hands together unsurely, wondering if her question came out too personal, “ I - does it bother...do you have a name that you wish to be called instead?”

Cute and utterly kind by a default. You liked that about her.

“Would ye like to hear a story, mate? A story of the Name-Stealing witch of the sea?”

At that, her attention was completely enraptured by the flourish wave of your hand and the quill you pulled from your coat sleeve like magic. If there was one thing you enjoyed more than crafting bombs, it would be telling stories embellished in exciting lore and haunting truths. Or lies. That was left to be decided by the listeners. 

“Aye, among those who were unfortunately marooned on desolate islands, legends say that the nights following an empty sky, there be but a single bottle floating to the shore. No matter where, it always held a single piece of parchment and quill. You nay see her on the bank, or hear her whisper, but some say she stands afloat as a speck on the horizon. And some say...she will grant ye solace if ye but write yer name on that there paper.”

You now pulled out a rolled-up sheet from your other sleeve, earning a gasp of surprise from your audience. Well, your one audience.

“I came across her one fateful night. There’s a rule among us pirate folk: those who fall behind are left behind. Ye carry yer own weight to survive out there and me weight was just a little too heavy,” cue you knocking on your wooden leg, “I was starved and alone with nothing but me ‘n me pistol. Good ol’ trusty Kretch. Once the taste of sand could no longer sustain me, nor the grass, nor the leaves of the palms, I had to decide if I wanted a quick death to be my end.”

Concern. Of course she was concerned to hear those dreadfully haunting words. 

“But she came to me one night, offering me nothing but a bottle. I told meself, if there were a chance to live, I’d take it without thought. And I did. I wrote me name, but oh, what a fool I was. There I lay, death washing upon the shore, and she came to me. She took it with a kiss, so I may never speak it again. She took that parchment so I may never write it again. And when I woke on a different bank, and when those kind souls helped poor little ol’ me, and when they asked who I was…”

You crumpled the paper then immediately tossed it into the fire, the blaze quickly sparking a green flame in a show of bedazzlement.

“...I couldn’t remember it.”

At the end, Shay was practically sitting on the edge of her log with wide-eyed awe. Couldn’t remember your own name? The very idea seemed appalling and completely impossible. Not even magic can do that...right? 

“But why? What could a sea witch want with a name? Was she born without one and chose to steal names, collect them, to satisfy her own cruel jealousy? Or was she searching for hers? She may still be out there yet, Shay, ready to make a deal with those desperate enough to survive. Perhaps she even haunts those in the forests or the caves…”

“No! I want to keep my name, I - “ she shook her head to get the jitters out, clearly displeased with the thought of losing something so important, “Can you get it back? Your name?”

“Many have tried, but all have failed or perished in the pursuit,” you paused, letting a slow, sneaky grin spread on your lips, “Unless...ye have more than one name to go by.”

“More than one?”

“Aye. That’s why ‘tis important to make a name fer yerself. And that’s why Shiro calls me pirate, fer me own safety, eh? Not even she can steal a title like that.”

“Can...stealing a name kill someone? Do you think she can kill a dragon if she took its name?” Shay questioned more for herself than for you, “It’s scary to think about…”

“Ah, but then ask yerself, do ye want t’forget the dragon? Pain is the world’s cruelest teacher, but I cannot imagine waking one day and not remembering how me family died by the dragon’s fire,” you explained before tilting your head in thought, “Were ye there, lass? When the dragon attacked?”

She shook her head no, “I wasn’t, but my people helped with saving the injured who were buried under the wreckage. Many were worried about the royal families and of the prince and princess as well.” 

Now it was your turn to lean in, intent on catching every word she shared.

“It is tragic that Queen Mellanor passed at Allura’s birth. Even more that her father was killed by the ally he trusted. We weren’t able to find Prince Lotor nor Emperor Zarkon, assuming they had fled as soon as the attack had started. It was horrible, hearing the survivors share their woes. I wish it hadn’t happened. Even a few Galra citizens living in Altea were affected, but…”

Here, she began fidgeting with her hands nervously then lowered her voice down a pitch as if the forest have ears of their own.

“When we uncovered Galra citizens, they were herded off into the castle...and they never came out.”

Somehow, Shay’s story was much more frightening than yours. Not only because you believe her, but you also believe that the fate of those Galra was likely leading to an unhappy ending. 

“I think - “

A rustle, one against the wind, and your head snapped in the direction of the noise. 

“Shh - wait, I hear - “ and before you could finish your sentence, a blunt force punched you in the face, sending you flying off your seat to knock into an allies tent. 

You heard Shay let out a yell, a battle cry and a way to warn everyone that an intruder was here. A cacophony of noises rose in volume, people scrambling to attack a wisping shadow in failure, for the punches came too quick and too powerful. A whirlwind of purple light trailed by each landed blow and, tried as you might, every shot from your pistol did nothing against the flurry of that damn bludgeoning weapon. 

“Rise!” Ulaz shouted and, instantly, a cooling spell fell over you, releasing you from the bruising pain of your crushed rib. 

You owe him a drink for that one. 

“Form up on me! Shields up!” Shiro ordered, equipping his own shield to cover his front, but it was already too late. 

By the time the chaos settled and the dust came down, the attacker had Hira’s throat in a deadly grasp while holding her body up in the air. Metal claws were cutting into her skin, drawing a line of blood, just to emphasize how serious she is close to dying. One wrong move, and her life would be forfeit. You waited with held breath on a command, anything from Shiro, but nothing came in one, two, three seconds.

Then, Shiro’s eyes widened at the person standing across from his infantry.

“Sendak?”

[illthdar]

Eleveneven

tagged by @silver-wields-a-pen, lover of all the best hot messes.

 Give us the elevator pitch for your wip!

For the first book in the Illthdar series: Guardians of Las

Imagine a world where every fairytale and fantasy book you read was real. Sounds pretty amazing, right? Sure, until you realise you can’t leave, and the natives look hungry, and the salad on your plate talks and it’s raining actual fire.

Meet a rag-tag group of people, thrown together by need and by fate. For some, they work to restore the balance to the world they call home; the rest just want to get the hell off of it before land that logic and reason forgot kills them. 

Do you have any favorite antagonistic characters?

It has to be Magnilla. She’s just so amazingly extra - she is every bit that RPG/D&D character that everyone feels an irresistible urge to leap across the table and do real harm to the creator.  

What do your characters do on a night off/night out?

Depending on the mood, the teams might spend the evening in the barracks, have a meal in the repurposed brewery or take a trip from the Order of Mana to the Alewifery tavern for drinks.

Does your mc have any irrational fears or phobias?

They all have their issues to work through. In terms of phobias, Seth has the most due to being traumatised when he ended up in Illthdar as a kid; Magnilla suffers arachnophobia; and Tundra has issues with pools of blood. 

Are there any books/authors you drew inspiration from for this story?

I’ve drawn inspiration from a lot of fantasy classics as well as a few that a more obscure. Pop culture in movies and games also served as sources - though these are more in the form of easter eggs and trope-mocking. Some of the cast are OCs created by others who graciously granted permission for my use, I would be remiss if I undervalued the inspiration they provided.

Who was the first character you made for this wip and how did they come to you?

The first characters made were the first team: Abaddon, Magnilla, Nyima, Scyanatha, Vyxen and Zercey - the majority of them were those aforementioned OCs not originally mine. For the character Zercey, the lore behind her was recycled from an original fairy race I minted for a roleplay I had going with one of my oldest friends.

Do you usually have a title in mind when you start the story or does it comes to you later?

I start with book title placeholder - something that reminds me of the direction or key piece I want to convey to the reader. So far, my first place holder for my WIP hasn’t been used as an official title yet and isn’t relevant until book 4. Winning.

For you, what’s the hardest part of writing?

Currently, it’s getting all the planets to align so that there is a block of time where I can work on it. I’m accepting that isn’t likely going to happen until my youngest is 6 months or older.

What’s the best part of writing?

Getting those scenes that run on repeat in my head out onto a page. It’s an all-consuming thing for me; there’s a story that needs to be told desperately and it’s very hard to shut my brain off at night without putting time towards it.

How would your characters feel about you if they met you in person?

LOL They would straight up murder my ass with no apologies. No one stuck in that book likes how they’re living.

What helps you recharge your writing batteries when you’re running low?

Besides the obvious (see: sleep), listening to music or drawing helps. If I’m feeling stuck, I try writing the scene from a different POV, or I try pivoting to a different scene completely and work on that for a bit to clear the air some. 

Questions: same as above

Tagging: @bigmoodword, @radley-writes, @raevenlywrites, @dangerouslyspicynacho, @elizabethsyson, @floralandrogyny