#no I can't get this any sharper. I already had to cut these out of the original video so be grateful you get even this

[alyrasturnz]

can u write something about chris arguing with you and saying really hurtful things and later then feeling bad after 😭😭

I'M SO SORRY

❐ summary » chris utters deeply wounding words during a heated argument, words that linger in the air like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over their relationship. as the echoes of his harsh declarations resonate, both chris and y/n are left grappling with the profound emotional damage inflicted. the rawness of the moment envelops them, each struggling to process the pain and regret that now defines the space between them.

❐ pairings » toxic!chris x fem!reader

❐ warnings » argument (resolved)

❐ a/n && w/c » a chris fic coming from me is rare  •  1.83k

the room was thick with tension as you and chris grappled with the day's mounting frustrations. after yet another failed take, chris's patience finally snapped. he slammed a stack of papers onto the table, the sound reverberating through the room, his frustration unmistakable.

"what is wrong with you today?" chris's voice was edged with palpable irritation. "you keep messing up everything. can't you do anything right?"

your eyes widened, a flash of hurt crossing your face. you had been striving to keep everything on track, but the mounting stress was wearing you thin. "i'm doing my best. it's not like i'm trying to make mistakes."

chris's voice grew sharper, frustration seeping into every word. "your best? really? because it doesn't look like you're putting in any effort at all. maybe if you actually cared about this project, we wouldn't be in this mess."

you set down the cleaning supplies, trying to steady your trembling hands. "i care about this project. i'm just trying to keep up with everything that's going on. if you'd just communicate better, maybe things wouldn't be so chaotic."

chris’s laugh was bitter, a harsh edge cutting through his tone. “oh, so now it’s my fault? you’re the one who can’t keep up. do you even realize how much extra work you’re creating for everyone else? it’s like you’re deliberately trying to screw things up.”

tears started to well up in your eyes as you took a step back, your hands clutching the edges of the table. "i'm not trying to cause problems. i'm just trying to help, and i'm getting really tired of being treated like i'm a burden."

chris’s face darkened, his anger simmering over like a storm on the horizon. “a burden? that’s all you are right now. you think you’re contributing, but all you’re doing is slowing us down. maybe if you took a moment to think about how your actions affect others, you’d realize just how much of a mess you’re making.”

your tears began to fall freely, but you fought to keep your voice steady. “you don’t have to be so cruel. i’m already stressed out, and you’re just making it worse. i thought we were supposed to be a team.”

chris’s eyes narrowed, his anger unchecked, like a wildfire consuming everything in its path. he took a step forward, his fists clenching at his sides, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he struggled to contain his fury. “a team? this isn’t a team. it’s a joke. you’re just dragging everyone down with your incompetence. if you can’t handle it, maybe you should just step aside and let someone who actually knows what they’re doing take over.”

your shoulders slumped, the weight of his words pressing down on you like an unbearable burden. your voice broke, trembling with the raw emotion you could no longer contain. “i’m trying my best. i didn’t ask for things to go wrong, and i didn’t expect to be treated like this. maybe if you were more supportive, things wouldn’t be so bad.”

chris’s face twisted into a scowl, his patience completely exhausted, like a thread worn thin. “supportive? i don’t have time to babysit you. you’re a grown adult; you should be able to handle basic tasks without screwing everything up. maybe you should just leave if you can’t handle a little criticism.”

your heart ached with the sting of his harshness, each word like a dagger piercing your resolve. “i don’t deserve this. i’ve been working hard, and all i get is contempt and harsh words. if you can’t see how hard i’m trying, then maybe you’re the one with the problem.”

chris’s anger flared one last time, his voice cold and final, like a winter's chill settling over the room. “you know what? i’m done. i can’t deal with this right now. figure it out on your own. i’m leaving.”

without another word, chris stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him with a force that shook the walls. the silence that followed was heavy and suffocating, like a thick fog settling over everything. you stood alone in the room, your heart aching with the sting of his words and the weight of the unresolved conflict, feeling as though the very air had turned to lead.

as you quietly sobbed, the harshness of the argument hung in the air like a storm cloud that refused to dissipate. you felt utterly isolated, grappling with the emotional fallout of a confrontation that had left you feeling both hurt and abandoned, as if the very essence of your being had been stripped away, leaving you raw and exposed.

»--•--«

the clock struck three in the morning, and the house was silent except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of settling wood. you lay curled up on the couch, the cushions barely cushioning the weight of your emotional exhaustion. 

the argument with chris had left you feeling hollow, and you had found yourself unable to sleep, opting instead to seek solace in the familiarity of the living room, where even the shadows seemed to understand your sorrow.

the door to the room creaked open slowly, and chris, his eyes bloodshot and swollen from lack of sleep and tears, stepped inside. he looked disheveled and hollow, as if the weight of the night’s argument had physically drained him. the moonlight filtered through the window, casting an ethereal glow that illuminated his troubled face.

he hesitated for a moment at the threshold, then took a shuffling step forward, as if the weight of his emotions were too heavy for his feet to bear. his breath came in uneven gasps, and the tear streaks on his cheeks glistened like fragile rivers of sorrow in the dim light.

the sight of him, broken and vulnerable, was almost more painful than the argument itself. you could see the raw evidence of his tears, each glimmer a testament to his remorse, which hung thick in the air, palpable even from across the room.

"y/n," he whispered, his voice cracking like fragile glass. he swallowed hard, a visible effort to compose himself, yet the depth of his regret seeped through every word. "can we talk?" his plea hung in the air, heavy with unspoken apologies and the weight of his vulnerability.

you didn't move, unsure of what to say or how to respond. your heart still ached from the harsh words he had thrown at you earlier, each one leaving a lingering sting. chris took a few more hesitant steps towards you, the weight of his guilt evident in every movement, as if each step was a silent apology. his eyes, filled with remorse, sought yours, hoping for a chance at redemption.

"I—I know it’s late," chris continued, his voice trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind. "i just... i couldn't stop thinking about what i said. i'm so sorry. i never should have spoken to you like that." his words, laden with regret, hung in the air, a poignant echo of his inner turmoil and the depth of his remorse.

you slowly turned your head, meeting his gaze. his eyes were filled with genuine remorse, tears spilling over his lower lashes like a sorrowful stream. he wiped at his face, but more tears quickly took their place, relentless in their descent. the sight of his vulnerability was both heartbreaking and confusing, a raw display of emotion that left you grappling with your own feelings.

"i was out of line," chris said, his voice breaking further, each word a jagged shard of his regret. "everything i said was hurtful and untrue. i didn't mean any of it, i swear. i just... i let my frustration get the best of me, and i took it out on you. that's not fair. it's not right." his confession hung in the air, a poignant testament to his inner turmoil and the weight of his guilt.

he stopped a few feet from the couch, his posture slumped and defeated, a silent testament to his remorse. "i've been thinking about how much i hurt you, and it's eating me up inside. i don't expect you to forgive me right away, but i want you to know how deeply sorry i am. i never want to make you feel like that again." his words, laden with sorrow, wove a tapestry of regret and a desperate yearning for redemption.

your silence was heavy, the air thick with the weight of his apology. chris's shoulders shook slightly as he tried to steady his breathing, his eyes locked onto yours with an earnest, almost pleading look. his vulnerability was palpable, a raw and unfiltered display of the turmoil within, leaving you to navigate the complex web of emotions that his words had woven.

"i know i've done a lot of damage," chris continued, his voice barely above a whisper, each word trembling with the weight of his remorse. "and i don't know how to make it right, but i want to try. i need to. please, y/n, just... tell me what i can do to make this up to you." his plea hung in the air, a fragile thread of hope amidst the ruins of his actions.

you studied him for a long moment, the pain still fresh but mingling with the realization of his genuine regret. his raw, tearful expression spoke volumes, and you could see how deeply he was affected by the argument.

slowly, you sat up, your heart softening despite the hurt. the silence between you was thick with unspoken words, a delicate dance of emotions that left you both teetering on the edge of reconciliation.

chris took a tentative step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. he reached out a hand, his gesture both hesitant and hopeful, as if afraid that any movement could shatter the fragile moment.

his fingers trembled slightly, a silent testament to the depth of his vulnerability and the earnestness of his desire to bridge the chasm that had formed between you.

"i'm so sorry," he repeated, his voice choked with emotion, each syllable a raw plea for forgiveness. "please, just give me a chance to fix this. i love you, and i never want to hurt you again." his words hung in the air, laden with the weight of his remorse and the desperate hope for redemption, a poignant symphony of regret and longing.

you took a deep breath, the pain and anger of the argument still lingering but softened by the sight of chris’s heartfelt apology. as you finally reached out to him, the first step towards healing began. 

the two of you sat together on the couch in the quiet of the early morning, the silence now filled with the weight of shared remorse and the fragile hope for forgiveness. the dawn's light began to filter through the windows, casting a gentle glow on the room, as if nature itself was bearing witness to the tentative mending of your hearts.

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[l0stfoster]

I desperately want to know more about the cursed tulsa au! Is it ok to ask you for more headcanons about it/details from the au?

Anon you have probably asked me the question that’ll give you the longest post I’ll ever have on my account because I was born to yap about this. Nothing super detailed or written out, but a lot of little things about the characters and the world around them! Take some of my written 'headcanons' with a grain of salt!! Although I'm kinda one of the writers, I don't want to call stuff canon without input from the others.

You can VERY clearly see who we talk about the most. Any additional fun facts or info will either be mentioned in reblogs or put in a new post and linked here!! EDIT: Added a read more bc it's so long I'm so sorry

TULSA

200 years ago, the area of Tulsa was cursed by a witch. This witch stated that the poorest born will be shown just as the rest of society views them. Freaks.

A majority of, if not all, of the greasers are cursed. They have to be born in Tulsa for this effect to take place. There are very few socs who are also cursed, but it's a very spl

Those born in Tulsa can leave, but their powers are weakened (or they lose them in full until they return)- this may not be an issue for the human passing ones who just want to live life normally, but folks like Fae and Harpies will likely be hunted down by the government, as their kind isn't seen around. (At least, not to the public eye.)

(Already stated this but I'll say it again) Follows the canon plot excluding Johnny and Dally’s deaths. Johnny ‘dies’ (heart stopped, declared clinically dead— gets resuscitated though) and Dally still snaps and loses it, bolts the second after he ‘died’. Dude gets shot (non-fatally on contact) by the cops, but the gang gets him to the hospital and he lives thank god.

Animalistic traits are pretty common amongst the cursed. Some have horns, others have tails, the harpies have wings, fae have pointed ears and tails, and many of them have sharp teeth.

DARRY

Fae, his power is Emotional Augmentation/Negation & Mind Manipulation. - He can calm people down, elevate their emotions, or clamp down on people's power if they're getting too out of hand. This makes it really hard for him to identify his own emotions. He also has a bad habit of using his power when he's upset, which means it pretty much rubs off on others. He's usually pretty good at keeping it down, but he struggles. - His manipulation is pretty much a workaround for the fact that the fae cannot lie. It pretty much makes him VERY convincing, mind manipulation does that. He'll tell someone something and they'll believe it. Master Gaslighter. That comes with its own issues-- he can't tell if the relationships he's made are authentic due to his manipulation, meaning they might just be telling him what he wants to hear. It bugs him really bad, and he worries that a lot of his friendships aren't as solid as they seem to be.

He had a very messy situationship and falling out with Paul. One-sided crush on Darry's end for a while throughout their friendship (Paul was in HEAVY denial of his own feelings, while Darry knew damn well he loved Paul.) Paul, being the soc he is, didn't like that Darry was "one of those freaks". That was sort of where their friendship shattered, and everything that happened after Bob's death made it beyond repairable.

REALLY hates being fae, and has done a lot of shit to try and prevent himself from being easily identifiable as something not human. He tried cutting his ears off ((due to paul's comment calling them freaks) got caught, and one ear is fucked up now), continuously tried to get his tail injured enough to be amputated (that also didn't work, but now he's got a disabled tail that hurts to move too much), and even gave filing his teeth down a go (also didn't work- made them sharper if anything.)

He doesn't wag his tail, and the gang can’t tell if it’s because he’s never happy or because the range of motion is limited due to his injury. If you’re lucky the tip of it will flick around but he also does that when angry so you can’t tell what the fuck dude is actually feeling

Fucked up his vocal cords growling all the time as a kid when trying to be intimidating, so now his growl sounds like a broken wolf's growl; he can't do it for too long or it fucks up his voice and he'll sound like a chain smoker. (Speaking of, I headcanon he used to/does smoke, just hid it well from Pony n Soda)

Purrs very rarely but when he does, he purrs like a motherfucker. Whole ass jet engine. It is LOUD and you will vibrate if he's hugging you.

His boss is the only one unaffected by his power. "You should give me a raise" 'Not gonna happen, Darrel' "FUC-"

Stole Darrel Sr's name. It's why he's junior /silly

Literally just anxiety personified, tbh. He cannot catch a break and hates himself so bad. He's equally as feral as his brothers but is just VERY good at keeping it lowkey.

All the fae are nature-linked in some way. Darry really likes the sun and warm weather. He's got Disney princess energy too, and animals adore him. (hence Two being drawn to him as a perch /silly) He gets followed home by neighborhood strays and keeps having to tell Soda that no, they can't keep them.

Not even specifically an AU headcanon but when he cracks any bones they pop like forty gazillion times. Cracks his back and it's just a solid 5 seconds of snapping.

Speaking of, he's one of the only people who can hold Two's weight because his wings are heavy. Dude's strong as fuck here for obvious reasons, he's also a little too fast compared to a human, so.

Bites his nails to high heavens. He stopped doing it for a while trying to break the habit but accidentally clawed up someone in the gang wrestling and hasn't let them get long since.

Likes to preen Two's wings, it's the repetitive nature that calms him down. If he's stressed and Two notices then he offers.

Like all the other power havers, he gets super fucking weak and a bunch of other drawbacks when overusing his power. Still developing said drawbacks but I personally imagine he either just gets overly emotional or goes completely robotic and stoic.

Jumped Paul with Dally once bc they were trying to get back all the feathers stolen from Two-Bit. Dally didn't even finish asking who was first before he answered a very flat "Paul."

He's very friendly with Ms. Mathews. She helps them a lot throughout the years and he deeply respects her-- he also finds it very funny to see all the photo album bullshit she's got for her kids. Laughs his ass off at the stupid baby photos of Two n his sister.

HE WAS SUPPOSED TO DIE ON HIS BIRTHDAY. This will be further explained in Johnny's little section but long story short, they were supposed to get into a car accident before the train tracks and Darry would've died. He's got survivor's guilt, to an extent, as his parents wouldn't have died in the crash. Only him.

Had heightened Pony's anger during their confrontation. The guilt still eats him alive.

Unlike the other greasers who's powers weaken while they're sick, Darry's power gets very unstable due to how he's commonly repressing them. The gang knows he’s sick no matter how hard he tries to hide it physically because they’ll be around him and suddenly they’re weirdly emotional, or he’ll say something and they’ll believe him even if they know better.

In alliance with my headcanon for the normal story, I personally imagine he got jumped after his friendship with Paul ended before their parents died (since that friendship breaking apart kinda ruined his alignment with any socs)

Generally just a normal hc but he's got Autism, BPD, PTSD, and a few other things like anxiety, major depressive disorder, and sensory/eating issues. Very financially insecure too.

Used to bite as a kid. That's it. Send tweet.

SODA

Fae, his power is pretty much just a Siren Song. - He can get people to do what he wants with his voice, it's as simple as that. He used it to get Sandy to confess to the fact that the baby wasn't his, uses it to get Darry or Steve to take breaks if they're working a little too hard, etc.

Used his power to get extra cake after dinner or to get teachers to lighten up on him or his friends when they got in trouble. It works very similarly to Darry's manipulation, only Soda's is physical and makes them very compelled to follow what he says. In certain circumstances, people can tell if he's caused them to do/say something. That doesn't stop him, though!

When their parents died, everyone's powers went haywire. Soda had to either scream himself mute or force himself to be quiet so he wouldn't accidentally make anyone do something. He didn't want it to be fixed.

If he overuses his magic then he can't talk for a good few days without it hurting, voice gets very raspy.

Thinks he's a bad person due to the nature of his power. I personally like to think the only time he doesn't mind using them is when it's for the benefit of his friends. He's had to coax Two down from the roof after his jumping because watching all the harpies fly just makes him feel worse. He's stopped Steve from overusing his telekinesis after too many close calls with dropping a car.

Absolutely LOVES his ears and tail. Has a ton of piercings and tries to accessorize them a lot. The polar opposite of Darry in that regard. Likes his sharp teeth too.

His claws are probably the second sharpest, as they get sharper with age IMO.

He's probably the most expressive of the fae; constantly doing stuff since he can't sit still for the life of him. Tail's either swaying, tapping, wagging, or doing something.

Has the growl of a leopard. it is terrifying, when he growled at the socs during the rumble they almost pissed themselves. It scares the shit out of Two-Bit LMAOAO.

Soda has arguably the most average purr out of his brothers, it's basic, simple like a cat's is. He purrs super hard and at pretty much any physical affection sent his way.

When asked for his name by Mr and Mrs. Curtis, he pointed at a Pepsi bottle. Eventually, he swapped it for Soda.

He was jumped by the socs once, and they gagged/muzzled him so he couldn't use his power against them to defend himself. The gang was fucking destroyed when he came home with it, they knew they weren't perceived as equal, but that's beyond cruel.

Also slightly nature-linked. I like to think bees flock to him <3 He's also very good with botany, pretty tied with Pony.

He makes little healing pastes/oils for Darry using Pony's plants when he massages his back.

Soda learned many of his extending-the-truth-to-avoid-lying tricks from Darry, so he's very good at it. Darry is one of the only people who doesn't fall for Soda's shit. Steve doesn't either, just because he feels too bad lying to his best friend.

Soda pretty much gets zoomies. He'll be practically bouncing off the walls and going batshit bonkers. It's insane. Sometimes he's on all fours too, no one knows how he can do it so well.

Arguably the most fae-linked of the brothers; a lot of the little things that don't affect his brothers get to him. All three of them are properly burned by iron, though.

Doesn't like being thanked, as it not only implies being owed something, but he also just feels that he shouldn't be thanked for being kind/having basic empathy.

He absolutely hates salt. Too white for it /j (It's another fae thing, Soda's just most impacted by it)

He's weirdly flexible and moves in super uncanny ways sometimes. No one's sure if it's a fae thing or if he's just.. built like that.

Soda's a smooth talker when using his magic but cannot for the life of him start a conversation without it.

When he found out that Steve's dad was abusive, he nonstop asked for the fucker's full name for DAYS because he was so upset that someone was hurting his best friend.

Stevepop is canon in the writer's eyes, but if you want to you can absolutely read their dynamic as platonic (won't stop us from drawing ship art of them so whoops). I try my best to keep most of the dynamics/relationships open for interpretation (On that note, no shipping the mfs who are family coded I'll actually maim you)

When he snores it rumbles off with a purr. Also sleeps halfway draped over Pony like a bigass weighted blanket.

Yet another normal headcanon thing but he's got ADHD, Dyslexia, PSTD, and DPD. Yeah all of them are a little fucked up.

He collects rocks and crystals. It's a stash he can't bring around Two-Bit because it WILL be stolen.

PONY

Fae, his power is Nature Manipulation - It's honestly just what it sounds like. He can create plants, manipulate them, etc. He's very commonly using them, and they're heavily emotion-tied. Cacti and Venus fly traps when angry, wilted plants and dead bushes when sad, etc etc. The plants he grows most are vines, as they're super useful for him. He can use them offensively or defensively as needed. They have a huge tree in their backyard that he grew.

He's benefited positively from bright sunlight and water. He's incapable of drowning, so when Bob tried to drown him in the fountain he was kinda just,, chillin'. (Unfortunately for these fuckers, Johnny did NOT know that.)

Alternatively, he gets super weak and sluggish during the winter and cold seasons. It's misery for him, he thrives on sunlight and warmth. He's got these greenish-grey eyes when it's the summer/spring and they get super dull during the colder months. Groundhog Day is for losers, the gang knows when spring's coming once Pony starts perking back up.

Plants grow in his hair, mostly little sprouts and flowers like that. Magical flower crowns!! He makes them for Johnny every now and then.

Gets followed by bees and bugs. He both enjoys and despises it because what the fuck dude why are HORNETS chasing him.

Liked to grow flowers to give their mom as a kid, he was a little gift giver to her.

On that note, a motherfucking GOBLIN as a child. Literally, chaos incarnate, absolutely horrible to try and raise because he was so fucking wild.

Does not have spring allergies, lucky fucker.

When their parents died, the house was wrapped in vines for days. Sometimes they still start to overtake and infest due to how many there had been, but Darry usually trims them down went he notices (or when he's got the free time, busy ass)

Has the fattest beef with Steve still. Will trip the guy with his vines and he bites.

He's got a squeaky purr and a squeaky growl due to being young. He growls like a snow leopard cub.

Responds really well to physical affection just like Soda, doesn't always purr to it but does really enjoy it. Avidly avoids it from Two bc the stupid bird will try to preen him and he thinks it's goofy /silly

QPR with Johnny. Pony represents life and Johnny represents death. They hold hands, are the besties ever, and are extremely codependent. Do not romanticize their relationship I'll eat your knees.

Pony knows a lot about flower meaning, as he should. He's also very good with botany too.

Instead of Tim stepping on him in the rumble, he ate shit and got smacked really hard by harpy wings. Two and Tim still aren't too sure which one of them did it.

Very little thing but he has a tooth gap.

Pony tried doing a Darry n attempted to cut his ears to look more human while at the church. It didn't work, so now he's got two little rips that look similar to if you had a piercing torn out. He's generally got mixed feelings about his features.

Tries to keep his emotions on the down low for the sake of looking like a tuff adult, but his tail is constantly giving him away.

Pony made them a fairy around the house with his plants, and it serves as a little thing that lets any of the Curtis' know if someone enters the hours whether they're at home or not. If Pony doesn't want someone at the house while they're away then his vines will yoink them out.

Choosing his name was just him saying a random word in a very ominous voice. Darry added the 'boy' to the end of it.

He makes flower crowns for the hell of it, just likes having his hands moving. Either the gang gets them or they get tossed in a misc pile.

He is SO fucking bad at trying to extend the truth, absolutely miserable at it. He cannot gaslight at all.

Due to his power being weak at Windrixville, he had tried and failed to save Johnny with his vines. Instead, they were pulling him back in a subconscious effort to save himself; plants don't go well with flame, after all.

Had to quit smoking post-Windrixville because the smell bothered him really hard. His voice was kinda fucked up after too due to the smoke inhalation as well.

He's got little burn scars on his hands from grabbing the iron gates at the cemetery where their parents are buried too many times. Darry thinks he's a moron for it.

Clings to Ace like a motherfucker during the winter because she's naturally VERY warm.

Darry has to hold this bitch down to cut his nails when they get too sharp because he'll scratch a bitch while wrestling and play dirty.

Mental stuff again; Autism, PTSD, and Sensory Issues. Also kind of an addict.

He hasn't reached the full potential of his powers because he's still going through puberty.

Poy thrives off sugar, being plant-based and all.

STEVE

Human, but his power is Telekinesis. - It's very simple to explain. He's capable of lifting this with his mind and little physical action. There technically isn't a weight limit, but if he lifts something too heavy for too long it'll drop and he'll be REALLL fucked up, it's exhausting to use too much. Alas, that doesn't really stop him. If he gets pissed off things start floating around him.

REALLY likes to throw cars. It's just showing off honestly. He likes doing little things like that for the hell of it.

His dad makes him float beers to him and he'll very bitterly do it. One time he did it a little too fast 'on accident' and held back smiling as his dad bitched about getting covered in beer.

If substitute teachers are unaccommodating assholes he hucks desks at them. Detention is very worth it.

His telekinesis makes him seem physically stronger than he actually is. When it came to Two-Bit perching on the group, the people who could do it were Dally, Darry, and Steve-- until they found out that Steve was just using his telekinesis to hold him up. He dared to do it once without and long story short they ended up on the floor.

Steve isn't super affected by Soda's magic, but he does stuff for him just 'cause Soda's his best friend.

He uses his telekinesis to fly around with Two sometimes. That sort of stops after Two's wing ends up fucked. Every now and then, though, he'd use his power to give Two-Bit the feeling of flying again. They both go home bummed, Two because he’s no longer ‘flying’ and Steve because he hates knowing he can’t actually help

He did most of the work making a prosthetic for Two, and Soda helped a hell of a ton too.

He can't lie to save his life, just 'cause. He also can't whistle.

Arguably even more autistic for cars like this because of how easy working on them becomes with telekinesis. Floats them up himself to work under them.

Speaking of that, he'll float Soda up to the ceiling if he pesters him too much while he's working on a car. Needs to be absolutely locked in and Soda interrupts that.

He may be human passing but he doesn't... look right. His limbs and fingers are too long for a person.

Was STRUGGLING after the rumble. Had to deal with the pain of bones being too stretched plus broken ribs and fucked up knuckles.

He's got a complex that he's only good for his powers. It's a big sense of insecurity for him. It doesn't help that his powers tie to his mood sometimes too. He's had too many close calls dropping a car he's underneath and almost crushing himself because something gets to him. "You good, Steve?" (literally shaking) "Yeah I'm great"

Soda has to use his magic to force him to take a break, cause Steve doesn't want to stop because he thinks they're all he's got that makes him good at what he does.

His dad was born poor and in Tulsa. Steve isn't too sure what his curse is, but he doesn't want to find out.

He's got a crush on Soda that he, for a while, keeps mistaking for a heavy amount of admiration. You don't want to be him, Steve, you want to be WITH him.

He's got fragile bones like the harpies, the only difference is that his isn't biological and is due to his telekinesis stretching his bones out.

Yeah also mentally ill. Autism, PTSD, and CDD.

Idly floats himself for the hell of it sometimes. If Soda calls him short he'll bitterly float up to match his height or be taller.

TWO-BIT

Crow Harpy. No power besides that I think

He's got all the mannerisms of a crow and of birds in general. He likes to give his family and the gang shinies; flies by and drops bottlecaps or random little trinkets and dips. Sometimes physically throws them at people.

He dives at people in the street sometimes if they have something shiny. He’ll also dive-bomb friends and just pick them up like a claw machine. Dally’s the most common victim of this.

He's very intertwined with the bird instincts too. Nests, preens, chirps, whistles, etc. Very fucking loud and will not shut up. Clicks when he's all angry and shit.

Two’s mom is a harpy and his dad is human. Neither of them took after him, and he wasn’t happy about that. Two-Bit constantly had his needs and habits as a harpy repressed by his father; this included having his feathers clipped and not being allowed to preen or nest. His mom wasn’t able to do anything about it for a while, as she was too busy working to keep a roof over their heads.

He knows she is doing her best, and he doesn't blame her for not being able to protect him from that. Two's a huge mama's boy. he used to hide in her wings when he was little.

He taught his sister to fly and had taught himself by jumping off the roof. It’s why he’s got his tooth gap.

His mom has a photo album of him and his sister as they grew, including their feathers as they molted. "Baby's first molt!" and he looks like a blended-up cotton ball. Darry loves these photo albums.

Dally calls him Songbird and Freckles. Two calls him Dimples

He likes to bleach the tips of his feathers and dyes them with his sister, since her feathers are still light enough to dye without bleach.

He preens with the gang and will also try to preen the gang. It’s a bonding activity but bc they don’t have feathers it’s usually just him fucking around with their hair. It usually ends with them wrestling a pissy bird that by god NEEDS to get that knot out of your hair or he will tweak. Pony hates it the most, Darry and Soda are the only ones who don't resist.

If Darry whistles around him he'll shoot over and perch on the guy.

Even bigger kleptomaniac in this. Always has something, Dally's been given at least six switchblades over a week.

He can mimic voices and sounds really well. Uses Johnny's voice to get Pony's attention once. "Oh so you'd get up the second Johnny calls BUT WHEN I DO YOU IGNORE M-"

Horrible flier when drunk, it's hilarious to watch.

If you throw a piece of cloth thick enough to block out light over his head, he falls asleep.

Cannot for the life of him get through doors on the west side because they aren't friendly for wings.

His heart beats like 200+ times per minute. Everyone thinks he's having a heart attack or something when they first hear it.

Alternatively, he thought Dally was dying when he first heard how slow his heartbeat was.

He goes into torpor during really cold winter days or if he's super fucking exhausted. Went into torpor right after his jumping and Dally was convinced that he was dying.

Two gets very territorial and defensive of the gang because they're "his flock". Gives people death stares if they're getting too close. He looms threateningly over the shoulders of his friends if he doesn't like the person they're talking to. It usually scares them off.

He likes to take the gang and his family for flights. Scoops em up and just goes, most of them enjoy it, the ones with a fear of heights? Not so much.

If the younger members of the gang get sick he WILL shove them in a nest and pretty much hover over the person. He gets mama-bird traits from his mom.

Alternatively, even if Darry gets sick Two will hover over that motherfucker. He will wrap that man in a blanket and not let him leave. Just swaddles all the fuckers.

He's got good timing with dive-bombing people. Darry fell off a roof once and BAM suddenly he's in the arms of a very energetic harpy.

Was a really small kid and just shot up overnight. One day he was up to Dally's chest and the next he was at his nose. Dally hated it.

He's docile by nature but when he gets violent it's HELL. He's got sharp claws and talons along with sharp teeth, my guy can do some damage.

Two hates cats and has absolute beef with them. He and the rest of the harpies are scared shitless by Soda's growl too, if Soda growls he whips his head around 180 and looks around frantic. Soda both feels bad but laughs his ass off.

Two (and the other harpies) can't see glass. He's walked into the glass at the DX and slams his head against car windows trying to look outside. He's absolutely mesmerized by glass cups because why is the water FLOATING?

He has to sit in the bed of Darry's truck because his wings don't fit.

The gang went to a mirror maze once and Two got stuck in it for 2 hours. Came out with a busted nose all pouty because those mfs left him in there how dare they.

The Curtis boys can mimic bird sounds really well, they whistle at Two-Bit and his head shoots up at attention.

He's afraid of ceiling fans.

Harpies generally don't like eating bird meat due to etiquette and cultural stuff, but Two's dad would force him to eat chicken as a kid.

He adores seafood and goes fucking bonkers for it.

He got struck by lighting once. Walked into the Curtis' house singed and just went "So I might've made a mistake." Somehow he wasn't too hurt.

He tries to puff up to look intimidating but people just laugh because it's fucking cute. If he wants to look scary all he has to do is smile, yet he doesn't.

He emotes a lot with his ear feathers, they're constantly moving.

Like most birds and other harpies, his bones are hollow. They're arguably made of stronger bone material but the insides are hollow so you can snap 'em with ease if you put enough force behind it.

His neck is like a chicken's, if you move his body his head will stay in one spot if he wants it to.

He liked to just sit and linger on Dally's shoulders when they were kids. Dally didn't mind.

His feathers travel up to the back of his neck and hair; the ones up top closer to his hair are a bit curlier.

The gang can play one-sided fetch with him if they want to. Toss a shiny and he dives after it; he just won't bring it back.

He's got a whole drawer that's just full of the shit he collects. Bones, bottle caps, coins, broken jewelry, glass, etc.

He gave everyone in the gang one of his feathers. All of them wear it on their person.

There's a rumor going around in soc society about Mothman. It's just Two-Bit in really bad lighting. He got moth man status because a soc was closing a shop one night and turned and just saw these BIG ol glowing eyes staring through the window in the darkness of the evening.

He goes after rodents and small bugs. His mom used to have to wrestle mice out of his mouth and he'd cry after.

His baby photos are 90% blurs and heaps of feathers because he ALWAYS had zoomies. The only photos he's peaceful in are the ones where he's snoozing.

If they were invented in their time, Darry would put claw caps on Two if he's resisting having his talons cut. They'll watch him try his damn hardest to just tolerate them before eventually relenting like "oKAY FINE I'LL CUT THEM."

In terms of a specific species, he's a Fish Crow.

TWO-BIT CONT.

His jumping went REAL fucking bad in this. Bev took a lighter to his wing and put her cigarette out between where they met on his back (alongside still burning his face). They didn’t go for both wings, because something was much more cruel about taking one rather than both.

That shit fucked him up for so long, not only was he unable to fly, but there was all that physical and psychological pain that came with having his freedom torn from him. He was made for the skies and now he’s forced to wander the ground with the same people who hurt him.

He self-isolated up until the rumble because he couldn’t stomach the idea of the group seeing how ‘gross’ his wing looked. His mom cried her eyes out when he came home after being jumped, even though he tried hiding the damage from her.

She tried to preen him to make him more comfortable but they couldn't get more than halfway through before he broke down sobbing. “Why couldn’t I have just been normal like dad” when his mom’s preening him bc he doesn’t want to keep feeling the pain in his wings. For a few days after he hesitated even letting her near just because the pain scared him.

HATED Marcia for a good bit after his jumping. She didn't partake in it, sure, but she watched and did nothing. It took months before he could even stomach looking at her.

When his wings recovered, he used to climb on the roof and watch the other harpies fly. He'd feel the breeze through his feathers and against his face and try to convince himself that just maybe, he was up there with them. Soda has to coax him back down with his power because he is only making himself feel worse. Two was bitter at the other harpies for a very long time.

Can't handle the smell of smoke from cigarettes, though. Fire itself in some cases (mostly Ace's fire) is fine, it's cigarettes that bother him.

School was hell on earth for a good while because tight spaces and sensitive wings don't go well. He usually ended up late to classes bc he had to wait for the halls to clear to leave. He would've dropped out over it if he wasn't afraid of upsetting his mom.

His balance was fucked up for a good while due to the difference in weight.

Steve and the rest of the gang made him a prosthetic for his wing. He cried, and it fit like a glove.

Despite getting that freedom back, though, he kind of hates it. He has to relearn to fly, and it's frustrating it causes a lot of resentment because he used to be able to fly perfectly and now he struggles. He hates that he needs to rely on this prosthetic to be free.

Two-Bit and Johnny bond over having had a part of their freedom taken and now needing aid to regain it.

There's no canon ship for Two in this but the writers fuck with Dar-bit and Mar-bit hard lmao. I'll probably be doing a lot of Dar-bit stuff for them.

AuDHD and PTSD, send tweet. Maybe ODD but I'm still thinking about that one. Major separation anxiety.

JOHNNY

Human, he's what we've been calling Death Tied - He's got a sixth sense where he can tell if, when, and how a person will die. If a person's death is coming up, he'll get flashes of the event; what killed them, their corpse, etc. It freaks him out sometimes, depending on who it is. I like to imagine he gets ‘death chills’; which is a similar thing to impending doom, only he feels it for others.

His curse was NOT biological. As a kid his parents almost killed him; Death saw this, decided it was fucked up, and decided to take in this small child as its own.

Johnny's teeth are just a little too white and his eyes a little too black sometimes. He’s got something akin to vitiligo after he received death’s blessing, and it outlines and mirrors the shape of his skeleton.

Butterflies follow him since he's death; unlike Pony, who has beef with the bees that follow him, Johnny enjoys their presence.

Doesn’t like to use his power much but (pre-jumping) absolutely will tell a soc with a flat expression when and how they’ll die.

He’d saved Darry from dying at the cost of Mr and Mrs Curtis’ lives. Initially, Darry had been planning to join their parents on the car ride to get the chocolate frosting; and Johnny had come over early to get away from home as they were getting ready to leave. He’d barely gotten to walk past the fae when he got the flashes occurred. Johnny watched everything— saw the crash, the way windows broke and metal crumpled inwards; watched the life drain from Darry’s eyes— and it freaked him out. He couldn’t for the life of him explain what he’d seen, but he wouldn’t let Darry leave; clung to him and wouldn’t let go.

Darry tried using his manipulation to get Johnny to let go, but it didn’t work, and that’s what stopped him from leaving. Their parents went alone, and it was the delay in waiting for Darry to come to the car that caused them to be on the tracks that day.

Johnny hasn’t forgiven himself for it. He thinks that maybe, he could’ve done something different and saved them all. He apologized for weeks— and still apologizes sometimes nowadays.

Johnny has never feared death, it’s hard to when you’re related to it yourself. When Bob died, he didn’t feel remorse until a few minutes after he was stuck there with the corpse. He's the boy of death, this is his normal- it’s only when his humanity returns that he realizes what he’s done.

The only time he's feared death was during/after the church fire. His power practically disabled itself due to how weak he was, and he was terrified. This was going to be it, he was going to lose his life at 16-- and then he woke up in the hospital.

While he was clinically dead, he spoke to Death. It was a simple interaction, just a reassurance that it was not his time to go yet. There was a feeling of comfort in their words, too.

Sometimes, when he sleeps, he sees Death again. One of the first times they'd spoken was when Darry was supposed to die. "Hey bud, that fae was supposed to die-" "No."

Before they could afford to get him mobility aids, Steve and Two helped him get around.

He's got a really uncanny feeling about him, people do not usually like it- Dally enjoyed it, though, 'cause he's fucking bonkers. It doesn't help that he doesn't blink.

He can easily float on the surface of bigger bodies of water because corpses float in water after they begin to decompose.

He's unnaturally cold like a corpse, the cold doesn't bother him because of that, but he does like feeling warm.

GAD, C-PTSD, and Autism. He's also selectively mute but is very vocal with the gang

Johnny still smokes, but being around the smell of smoke for too long makes him panic.

DALLY

Human, he’s the only one of the gang without a curse. However, he’s recently discovered a bit of an,, unsettling change to his daily life.

Dally's been seeing things. Apparations, spirits, whatever you want to call them. He'll see them in the corner of his eye and in certain circumstances can engage with them directly. He's not a fan of it.

Born in New York, moved to Tulsa when he was around seven; Two-Bit welcomed him with a stupid amount of enthusiasm and they’ve been buddies since.

He doesn’t talk about his birth family, no matter how much prompting there is. As far as he’s aware, Buck’s probably the closest thing he’s felt to an authority figure— at least until he grew older and colder, ignoring the role the adult had in his life.

He’s only capable of holding Two’s perching weight because he’s been doing it since they were kids.

He's very good at coping with his chirps too. Likes to whistle and watch that bitch shoot up and stare.

Dally tries his damn hardest to downplay how much Two (or any of the other greasers) mean to him. Vulnerability like that makes him feel too weak, and after having shown that weakness once, he doesn't plan to do so again.

Met Death while unconscious after being shot by the cops. The only reason he's alive is because Johnny would've been destroyed, and Death didn't want to deal with that shit.

Sometimes he feels a little weird about being the only human, but it's more out of a sense of not necessarily belonging there. It's an unconscious thought, one that only manifests in the rare moments when he realizes he feels just as out of place as he did in NYC. Dallas Winston is merely a boy who has never felt at home.

Dally, funnily enough, doesn't pass well as a human. Everyone outside the gang is convinced he's a vampire because he's so pasty and his canine teeth are naturally sharp.

He successfully convinced the gang that he could talk to and control rats. Two is the only person who knows he lied because he bought him a rat once and nothing happened.

He finds out through Two-Bit and Ms. Mathews that Fae can't lie and uses it to blackmail the Curtis bros, since nobody else knows that.

Yknow how he can see ghosts? One time he woke up on the Curtis' couch to Mr and Mrs Curtis in the living room. It freaks him out so bad that he unconsciously blocks them out right after. Blinks really hard a few times until they're gone.

He's the most feral of the gang. It's the New Yorker in him. He's not supernatural, sure, but he will fuck shit up. Absolutely off his rocker, launches people, and rocks their shit.

Dally's the one who found Two-Bit after he got jumped. He's so pissed ab what happened with Pony n Johnny that he wants some sick gratitude by seeing exactly where Bob took his last breath, so that’s where he finds him. He didn't know how to react, panicked HARD.

He's arguably the closest with Johnny and Two-Bit, he's just more open about that connection with Johnny. He's also pretty good friends with Darry, as there are a lot of little things they've found mutual ground on.

He's got claw scars littered around from the harpies. The ones from Two are due to the fucker dive-bombing down to grab him with his talons a little too fast, and the others are from fist-fighting Tim.

He called Ms. Mathews mom once and has not walked physically into the house since out of pure embarrassment. He doesn't even stand on the lawn that's how embarrassed he is by it all.

More general headcanon stuff fuck you but BPD, PTSD, intermittent explosive disorder, and ODD too.

Also a general headcanon but Two-Bit convinced him to get a tattoo during one of his own sessions for his sleeve, so he's got a little switchblade on the back of his leg.

He thought Two-Bit was having a heart attack the first time he heard how fast his heartbeat was.

Non-Canon but a fun fact. If he did die to the cops, he would've come back as a ghost.

ACE

Human, arguably the least passing as one, and she's got pyrokinesis - As usual, it's very self-explanatory. She can create and control fire with the mind, but there are a few limits to it. She can't produce large flames from her hands, and so she usually has to carry a lighter to kickstart her power if needed.

Ace can make very small fires on her fingers but they're not usually big enough to be manipulated. She can go larger as needed, but it'll drain her out. Likes to just light people's cigarettes and make the flame jump from finger to finger.

When she gets super pissed off, her hair sets on fire. The gang uses her to roast marshmallows sometimes.

Ace is unofficially adopted by Ms. Mathews. Shit's been reprised, it follows her canon backstory via Tilly, but she's still very very close with Two and is practically Ms. Mathew's kid.

On that note, has a very familial relationship with Two and his sister. They grew up together, how could they not be? They're absolute fucking chaos when paired, though. She likes to call him any bird other than a crow to see him puff up all annoyed.

She used to threaten to turn him into Thanksgiving dinner if he kept pestering her.

Absolute fucking goblin. She has tried so hard to convince Cherry to help her burn half of the soc's houses down. "We'll spare yours don't worry!!" "N..No."

She can't really swim and it could arguably kill her if she's in water for too long, but if she's mad the water will boil away.

VERY warm by nature for obvious reasons, literally a space heater. Pony flocks to her in the winter because she's so warm

Looks the least human of the humans. She's got horns underneath her hair that are still growing more, and her hands are coated pretty permanently in ash. She gives off a subtle glow and her eyes/teeth look way too bright in the dark. Her eyes burn brighter when she's upset.

Normal headcanon but arguably has the second-worst criminal record in the gang.

She feels very guilty about her power due to how much trauma the others in the gang have gone through relating to it.

Unrelated to the AU itself but she's a lesbian. IDGAF what anyone says.

Ace infatuates Two-Bit by putting on a ring and waving her fire fingers in front of his face. The fire's light bouncing off it makes it look extra shiny, she uses it to get him to do stuff for her. "Oo oo you wanna buy me a Pepsi soooo bad"

Literally just bullies him. They have no clue who's older because Ace doesn't know her birthday but she's self-titled him as her little brother.

Couldn’t control her powers as a kid, the gang is quite literally the first group of people who understood that and didn’t isolate her because she kept accidentally burning them when she got too excited (its emotions tied to an extent, hence why she’s started only channeling it by bottling up her anger until she needs to burst)

If Ace uses her power too much she quite literally burns out. Can’t use any part of it for days and is super fucking exhausted. Winter is her absolute beloathed because it’s a pretty similar feeling she gets. She's very susceptible to frostbite.

She used to make jokes about burning Two’s wings off whenever he’d bother her. For a good while she’s way too afraid of even being close to him after his jumping because she doesn’t want to hurt him with her flames. Two trusts her in full even after the accident but her ass is NOT taking any risk, he thinks he pissed her off somehow for a while until it clicks when he watches her extinguish whatever little flame she’s fidgeting with on her fingers the second he walks in. “I trust you." (wearily) “Should you?”

PTSD and ADHD, along with some pretty bad sensory issues & maybe Pica.

Had a really toxic situationship with Bev. She couldn't see the red flags until Bev harmed one of her own. Their relationship was broken off the mere second she found out who hurt Two. Literally blew up at Bev and burnt herself out due to being so fucking angry. It parallels Paul's "Why would I like a freak like you" towards Darry with Ace telling Bev "I can't believe I loved a monster like you."

Rarepair/Crackship time. Ace x Cherry is canon. We call them Fireworks. They're very slow burn. Cherry needs to come to terms with her feelings and Ace needs to trust another soc again after what happened with Two n Bev.

OTHER CHARACTER THINGS

All of the Shepards are Vulture harpies.

Paul and Cherry of two of the only socs with powers. Cherry's got something akin to electrokinesis and makes little sparks with her hands similar to the way a bomb with a lit fuse would behave. Paul's a witch, but his manifested pretty late; probably post-rumble.

Cherry's fingertips are calloused from her sparks, and she's got a bit of resistance to fire. Her hair sparks like a bomb/fireworks when she gets super pissed off. Ace has tried to weaponize this for the silly.

She tries to hide her sparks. Wears gloves to keep them down and if she has to have them off will clench her fists, even if it burns her.

She's desperate to be good enough to her parents. They're ashamed of her due to her sparks, and all she wants is their approval.

Cherry's got major internalized homophobia for a while, very comphet. Eventually, she comes to terms it.

Paul tweaked the fuck out at first and had a panic attack before realizing he kinda fucked with it. Still has a huge bias against the greasers, though. It's something close to a god complex, but he just thinks he's superior due to his financial status as well. He's just got basic shit like rituals and spells.

Was convinced Darry was using his power on him when he confronted him about the Fae having loved him, cause he cried. It wasn't a heavy cry, just a bitter stare, "Why would I like a freak like you?", and silent tears. Darry still doesn't know how to feel about that.

(9/18 Edit: Take the Paul stuff ab his relationship to the greasers with a grain of salt, we’re changing stuff)

The only reason it's tolerance and not raw hate is because Paul was NOT in on Two being burned 💀Turned around to see Bev with her light and was just like "Well I guess we're cooking chicken tn????"

The socs who jumped Two wear his stolen feathers. The only socs with neat feathers are Cherry and Marcia.

Two's little sister (who I call Molly) once asked their mom (who I call Carolyn) why they couldn't give Two-Bit their molted feathers to 'fix his'

Ms. Mathews has pretty much adopted the entire group emotionally by now. She tries to help Darry with financials but Darry is. Darry.

MISC STUFF

Two-Bit used to get caught in and fly around tornados and Pony always caught sight of that shit. They liked to play a game where he tried to catch him while Two avoided his vines. If they couldn't get him down, Pony would get Soda to ask Steve to use his telekinesis bc Steve would say no if Pony asked.

They also play a game where Steve will fling a member of the gang as far as he can and Two dives after them. It's like fucked up football; Dally offered to be thrown and it was the most fun the three have had-- until they had to stop 'cause Darry caught them and almost had an aneurysm.

The DX windows used to be blank and empty but Soda and Steve started putting stuff up on them so the harpies don’t slam into the glass.

Steve puts Two-Bit in air jail if he tries snatching anything shiny from himself or Soda.

Two, Johnny, and Steve bond over having shitty fathers. Two n Steve do it the most since Johnny doesn’t like to talk about it, but Steve and Two will bitch to hell and back. Johnny's a part of the conversation but just nods and listens. If they have a rough day with their dads, the three of them end up hanging out together.

Johnny, Dally, and Two make people the most uneasy. Johnny's got these blank, dead eyes, Two's smile feels predatory, and Dally's Dally.

All the greaser Harpies look out for one another. It doesn't matter if they're not from the same gang, or if their gangs have tension; you look out for one another. They may necessarily not be each other's flock, but it’s natural for them to stick together.

The harpies love to play fight. They will absolutely beat the shit out of each other and then grab lunch as if nothing happened. All of the harpies have bird habits. Most of them sleep on their stomach.

Dally took something shiny out of Two's hands when they were kids, and Two cried.

Ace makes fun of Two-Bit's choice of men because they're lesbian and bisexual solidarity. "Thoughts?" "And prayers, you'll need them." The only time she ever was like ‘Wow you made a good pick’ was when he jokingly said it about Darry. "Thoughts?” “Your only good pick, He’s got my blessing.” ">:0"

During the real cold months when Darry has to decide between heating or food on the table, Two and Ace practically move in bc a walking blanket and space heater.

{ Tags List: @nova-drawzz @timewing06 }

[tigergirltail]

TIGER HRT CHAPTER 4 - MONTH 3 - GROWING PAINS

First - Prev - Next

Everything hurts.

I started noticing it about two weeks after my first dose. It felt like a dull headache at first, but over the next month it spread to pretty much my entire body.

I had to start working from home, and eventually it got bad enough that I could only put in a few hours of work each day. My boss is a reasonable enough guy, but he wasn't going to pay a full time salary for part time hours, so I had to take a salary cut.

Luckily, my partner is around to take care of daily errands, not to mention being there to reassure and comfort me when the pain gets bad. They've been thinking about seeing if Lindwurm HRT is a thing, but they don't want to get the process started until I'm in the clear and can take care of myself again.

Gods I love them.

The reason the pain is happening, as best I can tell, is that my skeletal structure is already changing. I've gotten at least an inch taller, and my face has been reshaping into a feline muzzle. My teeth are getting sharper, and I'm developing proper fangs. I also noticed a little while ago that my fingernails and toenails had receded into their respective digits, which sucks for two reasons - I can't paint fingernails I don't have, and they are sore as HELL when I put any amount of pressure on them. I have to be REALLY careful with how I type to not inflict agony on myself. I'm also feeling my tail growing in, and even if it hurts, it's euphoric as HELL. A tail was always the part I wanted most out of this.

It's weird, the skeletal changes weren't supposed to happen this early. I've been trying to reach Dr. Erian about it, but he's constantly busy, probably because of the sudden surge of people looking for Humanity Removal Therapy.

Other than that, I've been getting areas of white and black fur coming in - mostly on my arms and legs, but a little bit on my face and ears - ears that are gradually reshaping and migrating. Nothing to report on hearing sensitivity, but I think my night vision is getting better.

I did a little bit of looking around for anyone with similar pain experiences. I got my hopes up when I found a girl, Antonina, who had a painful experience with Cat HRT, but it turns out it's because she took the rumoured Fifteen Minute version. She described the pain as "like bathing in an active volcano".

It leaves me wondering whether I would have preferred a 15-minute lava bath over a months-long full-body headache.

I ended up reaching out to her anyway, just because I wanted to know what I was in for in the endgame and feline HRT is rarer than I thought it would be. Sounds like the prey drive is the real deal - she keeps feeling the urge to bite this one girl who's on mouse HRT.

We've been spending some time comparing notes and getting to know each other. It's nice to know someone else who's going through this thing, even if our experiences aren't exactly one-to-one.

I also talked to my mother for the first time in nearly a year. I went No Contact with her a while back because she was only getting more obnoxious and combative about me being trans, but I figured changing my species is a big enough deal that I should keep her in the loop.

Besides, my savings had nearly dried up and I needed to ask her for money.

It… did not go well. She hadn't heard of therian HRT before, and once I explained it, she started panicking about how I'm "mutilating my body" with "untested treatments". I think I also heard her cry something about how her "son" is "killing himself", which is just multiple layers of insensitive.

At least she sent me some money. Hopefully it'll be enough to last until my transformation stops being agonizing and I can go back to work, and then I can go right back to pretending my family doesn't exist.

At roughly the three-month mark, I have a check-in video call with Dr. Erian. From the moment his face appears on screen, though, I can tell something is wrong. He seems… older, somehow.

"Hello, Miss Alexis.", he offers. He sounds tired. Sorrowful, even.

"Hey, doc." I have to ask about it. "Everything okay? You seem a bit tired."

"Nothing to worry about Miss Alexis, just the ordinary stresses of daily life."

Liar. I know I'm not entitled to details of your personal life, much less your professional secrets, but I know when something is eating at someone.

"…Does the word 'crossroads' mean anything to you, Miss Alexis?"

Huh? That came a bit out of left field. "I've… heard some other therian HRT patients use the term, but I don't know much of the details. Something about a point of no return?"

"Something of the sort." He lowers his head and seems to go from sorrowful to downright grim. "There will come a time, Miss Alexis, when you will have to make a very important decision in your care, and I ask that you do so with great consideration for the consequences."

I recoil a little in my seat. "Yeah… Of course I will. Any decision I make, even reaching out to you in the first place, I don't take it lightly."

"Good… That's good." His demeanor shifts back to his stoic, clinical self. I don't know what just happened, but he went somewhere for a moment there.

"Now then, I did receive your messages, I apologize for not getting back to you. You mentioned you were experiencing persistent and debilitating whole-body soreness?"

"Yeah. I can't even leave the apartment most days, it hurts so much."

"Odd… You are taking the treatment as directed, yes?"

"Of course. One tablespoon a week, just like it says on the bottle."

I see his eyes twitch behind his glasses. Did I say something wrong?

"…Teaspoon."

I cock my head to the side. "Say again?"

"You mean one TEASPOON a week, yes?"

I feel my heart sink. The dark smear on the dosage information… I could have sworn it said '1 tbsp/week'.

"…Could you hold on a second please?" I mute the mic and call out to my partner to bring the bottle of tiger HRT over. When they do, I unmute and hold it up to the webcam. I hear Dr. Erian take a sharp intake of breath as he notices the obscured instructions.

I set the bottle aside and the two of us share an awkward silence.

"So…", I begin. "…How bad is it?"

"The good news", he offers slowly, "is that you have only been taking three times the prescribed dose. An increased dose imbalances the growth rate of the different parts of your body, hence your pain and persistent weakness, but it could have been much worse."

I think back to the so-called Fifteen Minute version, and Antonina's description of it - like bathing in an active volcano.

Dr. Erian continues. "Assuming you return to a CORRECT dose, your growth rates will gradually level out over the course of the next month or so. It is my medical opinion that you should maintain a low-activity lifestyle until then, but you will eventually be able to return to your typical activity level, and you will also find that the physical effects become more… consistent."

"That's… reassuring. Thank you, doctor." I pause. Something I noticed a little while ago has been weighing on my mind. "There's one thing, though - do the treatments have… I guess you'd call them restorative or regenerative effects? I've noticed some old wounds aren't there anymore."

The doctor clicks his pen and brings up his notepad. "Interesting. Do go on, Miss Alexis."

"Well… I used to get lower back pain from a car crash injury I got a little over a year ago, but I haven't noticed it at all lately. Pretty much the only part that DOESN'T hurt… There also used to be some marks on my arm from a cat biting me when I was little." I give a slight smile. "The cat's name was Tiger, go figure."

Dr. Erian is writing the whole time I'm talking. "Yes, that is to be expected. Minor persistent injuries will fade over time as your body re-forms itself to a new baseline, even severe chronic symptoms may fade. If there are no other concerns…"

"Just one… Most of the other therian HRT patients I've talked to have gotten their meds as pills, so what's with the potion bottle?"

Dr. Erian pauses, and adjusts his glasses nervously, as if he's been caught out on something he doesn't want to admit to. "Well… advances in the field are occurring rapidly, and you are one of the more recent patients, so a more… streamlined option was available to you. I took the liberty of choosing the most compatible option based on your medical records, and that bottle is it."

"Okay… But what's IN it?"

"The active ingredients are antihominidone, which is your humanity-blocker, and a specialized formula of felistrogen, infused with white tiger genetic material. The rest of the fluid is a suspension used to dilute the effects, without which you would be looking at a short, but excruciating and potentially lethal process."

The Fifteen Minute version, I think to myself. I'm taking diluted Fifteen Minute meds. There's no WAY this isn't experimental, and I'M the experiment. I despise saying it, but maybe my mother was right to worry.

"But I'm afraid I really do have to go, Miss Alexis, my next appointment is waiting."

"G-gotcha. See ya, doctor."

---

Special thanks to @paintedbytosia for letting me write her in, and shoutout to @megamoonerjenny for coming up with 'antihominidone'

[riversofmars]

When All The Lights Go Out

Clearly, I lied when I said I would never write any Caitvi fic... Needed it out of my system, something something General Caitlyn Kiramman. I'm a predictable lesbian and can't wait until two weeks time for things to hopefully get fixed.

Spoilers for end of Act 1 of the second season. Porn with plot. Enjoy.

Vi is not prepared to give up on Caitlyn after their altercation in the ventilation shafts, at least not without having it out with her. Soon enough she finds herself back in her bedroom, climbing in through the window once more, and encounters the newly appointed General of Piltover. (Rating: Explicit)

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

Of all the things Vi had pictured she’d say when she sought out Caitlyn following their altercation in the ventilation shafts, that was not it. It was a blunt and ill-advised observation, but also all she could think to say when she laid eyes on her. Set in dark blue and gold as her enforcer uniform - familiar yet utterly foreign - Caitlyn wore a long cape that made her appear taller than she already was, and more menacing too, as her eyes snapped up to meet Vi’s across the room.

The newly crowned General of Piltover had strode into her bed chambers with purpose, unaware of the intruder waiting to greet her, and she stalled. It was hardly more than a flicker of uncertainty and surprise that flashed up in her steely blue eyes, but it was immediately drowned in the ocean of dark water. If eyes truly were a window into the soul, Vi dreaded to think what it meant for the woman in front of her. They had once been one of her favourite features of hers, full warmth and kindness, but now they were empty of such frivolousness - sharp, calculating, and cold.

It was more than obvious that Vi was not welcome in her home - not anymore - and part of her wondered why she had come at all. Perhaps it was a desire to stand up for herself, perhaps a desire to find some measure of closure, perhaps simply her desire for Caitlyn alone, pathetic as it was to think after what she had done. Whatever it was, it rooted her heavy boots to the floor and made her square her jaw in defiance.

Of course Vi had not arrived through the main doors, imagining Caitlyn would have instructed her staff not to let her in. Instead she had climbed in by the window, and all the way up the side of her body had ached terribly from the sharp jab of the general’s rifle in her stomach. Vi’d had worse, so many times and from so many, but this was a phantom pain, sharper, deeper than anything she had ever felt, and she resisted the urge to press her palm against her side that seemed to throb under Caitlyn's gaze.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was sharp, much like every aspect of her appeared to be. Even her features seemed more angular, more set, as she stared her down with barely contained anger bubbling beneath the surface. She had not forgiven Vi for what she had said and done, nothing had changed, and Vi was beginning to sense the futility of her quest.

“I- I couldn't-” She hated how her voice shook, but it was a reflection of where they stood, with Caitlyn at the advantage, holding all the cards, and Vi on the back-foot, the one who had come crawling back. And to what end? “I didn't want to leave things like that,” she strengthened her voice, raising her chin to appear taller than she felt. Everything about being in the world of the Kirammans made her feel small. Perhaps, at least, she could be the bigger person.

There was a moment of silence, turning on the edge of a knife that was gradually snapping single strands from the ties that had bound her to the other woman so fleetingly. The easiest thing for Caitlyn to do would be to simply throw her out, but credit where it was due, she was not one to do the easy thing.

“Do you realise what you said to me?” The general's words cut through the heavy silence, and of course Vi did. On her way over she had replayed their exchange countless times in torturous circles. “That I’m acting like the person who killed my mother.”

‘Because you were.’ Vi knew better than to drive that particular wedge deeper, the words that crossed her lips were different but no less accusatory.

“You said you wouldn’t change.” While a rational part of her knew that there was no way of telling which way grief would take a person, she had wanted to hang on to her promise and that wonderful kiss they had shared. Her first real kiss, come to think of it. She wasn’t completely without experience - in other areas too - but there were only so many real, meaningful encounters one could make when spending their teenage years in prison. None of it had meant anything, and she almost regretted it too, now that she’d had a taste of what the real thing might feel like. Perhaps that was why she wasn’t quite ready to give up yet.

“And you said I should take the shot if I had it!” Caitlyn took a threatening step towards her. “Where was your faith in me? I wouldn’t have missed!” She bared her teeth in anger, like a lioness advancing upon her prey and yes, she had a point. They had both gone back on something they had said, but righteous anger flared up in Vi’s chest as she remained convinced she had made the right call.

“Would you be able to live with yourself if you had?” she shot back, standing her ground and the other woman scoffed, though no joy or amusement was to be drawn from the sound.

“Would you have been able to live with it if I’d found my mark?” she growled and Vi couldn’t mask the flash of uncertainty that crossed her face. When they had marched into the chamber to confront Jinx, she had been sure. She had let Caitlyn take her shot and simply turned away. But when she had seen her sister - much as she tried not to think of her as such anymore - with the child… “Thought so…” Caitlyn spoke bitterly as she seemed to be able to read everything that was going through her mind. “She's still your sister.”

“And you're still an enforcer,” Vi spat, trying to regain some measure of ground in their exchange and she gestured at her change of outfit. “Or whatever the fuck you are now.”

Caitlyn’s expression hardened as though she had just remembered what exactly that was.

“And yet you're here,” she stated simply, looking her up and down, examining the dirty, torn enforcer uniform she was still wearing, lacking other options and ending on the hex-tech gauntlets. “Why?”

She hadn’t expected to see her again. The realisation struck Vi straight in the chest and left her winded. Was it really that easy for her? As easy as it had been to strike her and walk away? Or was she simply trying to act like it was? Vi couldn’t tell, not when Caitlyn hid any thought or emotion that could be perceived as weakness behind the hard façade she’d built.

Vi had no defences such as these to employ and she couldn’t lie either; she wouldn’t! It was time for some honesty at last and her confession tore itself from her throat in a violent outburst, as raw and angry as it was desperate.

“Because you're the only fucking thing I want, even if you embody everything I hate!” she yelled, fixing Caitlyn with a measuring look of her own, drinking in her appearance with bile rising in her throat. “Perhaps I thought that given the chance, having had a moment to reflect on your actions, you might apologise, but that’s not something you people do, is it?”

Caitlyn simply looked back at her, no answer or reaction forthcoming, just a blank, icy stare and with every moment what remained of Vi’s fool's hope drained away, confirming what she should have known. She'd been blinded by what she'd wanted to see.

“Have you ever been challenged on something before?” she continued sharply and advanced towards her, clenching her fists, the movement only pronounced by her gauntlets that shifted menacingly. “Have you ever not gotten your way? Have you ever apologised for anything?!” She raised her voice with every accusation, until it echoed through the bedroom.

There was stillness in the eye of the storm that whipped up around them, grief, disappointment, rage, a deadly flurry. Vi was breathing heavily, pleading silently with Caitlyn, hoping she could reach her behind her impenetrable shield.

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, it happened: the tension broke, the storm descended and Caitlyn broke out of her trance and senses, surging into Vi's personal space.

“You have no idea how many times over the past few weeks I have apologised to my mother for bringing all this on us!” she roared, losing her poise as her expression oscillated between rage and pain. “For my arrogance! For my stubbornness! For bringing you here and-” Her face was inches from Vi's, and it was a startling difference to the intimacy of the kiss they had shared.

“If you’re still looking for your mother’s forgiveness and approval in all this, I’m sure she would be very proud of what you have become,” Vi hissed, desperately trying to hold together the pieces of her that bent and splintered under the weight of it all. Everyone in her life had changed and where she had held out hope that Caitlyn wasn't too far gone, with every moment the outcome appeared more and more inevitable. Bitterness and disappointment laced her words as she passed her final judgement: “The fearless leader of House Kiramman. As cold as she is strong - a truly worthy successor.”

And there, Caitlyn's last measure of self restraint failed her.

“How dare you speak to me like that!” She yelled and catching Vi off guard, she shoved her backward, up against the wall behind her with an unrelenting grip on the collar of her uniform. She had always been stronger than she looked. “In my room. My house. My city!”

“Your city?” Vi echoed disbelievingly, fighting her body's involuntary reaction to the other woman's proximity, the way her body pushed into her own, the heat of her breath on her face. “Do you even hear yourself?!” It took all she had to fight against her, not because she was lacking in strength, but because of how much she wanted to have Caitlyn close. Desperately, she tried to ignore the ache she felt for her, resisting the ever-present urge to simply kiss her senseless.

Instead she shoved her off.

"And what was I meant to be?” she demanded as the general staggered back. “Just another thing that was yours?!” As tempting a thought as it was, it was so much less than Vi wanted.

“I didn’t force you to stay,” Caitlyn spat, catching herself on her feet. “You wanted to be here!”

“Because I thought you were different!” Vi's voice grew raw, half scream, half sob. “Imagine my disappointment to learn you’re just another power-hungry, selfish Pilti who doesn’t give a shit about people like me!” Despite it all, it felt good to finally have it out, unburden and disillusion herself from the notion that they had ever had a chance.

“I didn’t ask for this power!” Caitlyn seethed, breathing heavily but seeking to reign herself in, return to her composed self, and all Vi could do was shake her head, scoffing bitterly.

“Yet you wear it so well.”

“I think it’s best if you leave now.” Caitlyn decided at last, straightening herself out and raising her jaw. There was complete finality to her tone. They had both said all they needed to. “Take those gauntlets off, they’re not yours to keep.”

“Whatever,” Vi growled, surprising herself as she found she was past caring. She didn't need anything from the people of Piltover, certainly not their fancy weapons. “Give me my clothes back and you can have the uniform too.” She disengaged the locking mechanism of the gauntlets and the metal hit the ground, echoing as silence drew in, heavy and suffocating.

The end, surely.

Tears pricked the corners of Vi's eyes. Giving up was not in her nature but what was she to do in the face of such impossible odds and unrelenting force?

Caitlyn didn't answer but she turned, marching towards one of the chest of drawers that lined the room. Vi couldn't see her face as she busied herself in the task of pulling a drawer open, but she could have sworn her shoulders seemed to slump, if just for a moment. When she turned back, however, she’d pulled herself to full height once more with an unreadable, cold expression. She was holding a bundle of clothes, clean and neatly folded, the trousers and jacket Vi had arrived in Piltover in. Seeing the care with which they had been treated was almost too much to bear and almost enough to make her try again calmly, with a level head, but she wrote off the notion as quickly as it had occurred when Caitlyn didn't pass them to her as she approached, she simply threw them at her feet.

“If you’ve wanted me to kneel at your feet, princess, you should have played your cards right,” Vi growled spitefully, and swept the items off the floor.

“Fuck you,” Caitlyn hissed and the smaller woman scoffed, never having expected to hear the polite, well-mannered Pilti swear.

“You wish.”

There was a flash of something in Caitlyn's eyes, involuntary, surely, as she betrayed herself. Yes, she did. But it was too late for that now.

Suddenly, the air felt charged and snotty defiance took Vi over. It was petty really, but she was beyond caring. Everything was fucked anyway, and at least it would make her feel a little better to make Caitlyn squirm, show her that she couldn’t control everything.

In a swift motion, Vi tore open the uniform jacket that had always felt too restricting, uncovering her chest bound in nothing but white wraps. She was still dirty from the fight, smeared with dried blood and there was a dark bruise blossoming where Caitlyn had jabbed her with her rifle. But she also had a lean body to offer, strong arms and shoulders, abs that flexed with every one of her deep breaths she forced herself to gulp to try and hold herself together as the last good thing in her life fell apart.

The general took in a sharp breath, and Vi couldn't tell whether it was a reaction to seeing her injury or to seeing her so exposed. It didn't matter. She tossed her jacket at her feet, mirroring her perfectly and cocked an eyebrow.

“Give you something to think about when you're alone in that big bed,” she smirked and Caitlyn's eyes flashed dangerously.

Vi was playing with fire, every little jab adding fuel to the general's simmering, explosive state. She had gotten control of her emotions once more but how long for? Suddenly, the idea of making her lose it again was all too inviting. She would have considered it fun if her motivations weren’t desperately sad. Regardless, she took a step towards Caitlyn and leaned in close.

“You'll be thinking about me and what could have been long after I’ve forgotten your name,” she hummed a blatant lie. It was far more likely it would be the other way around. There was no way Vi would forget about her and the fleeing hope that life had more to offer than pain and misery. How she longed for the Caitlyn that had shown her kindness.

Suddenly, everything seemed to happen all at once. Caitlyn bridged the short distance between them, grabbed a fistful of Vi's hair and yanked her head back with such force that she gasped, only to silence her with a demanding, rough kiss, far removed from the tenderness they had shared.

“Shut up!” she growled, fisting her hand into her hair and pushed her tongue inside her mouth.

Vi kissed her back. Hard. All teeth and tongue, primal and desperate. She was drowning, perhaps they both were, in each other, and she grabbed on to her, clawing into her shoulders and holding on like a lifeline.

“You still want some of this then?” she groaned, but the general didn't meet her eyes. Instead, she dropped her mouth to the side of Vi's throat, ripping her head back further for better access. A whimper escaped her, but the flash of pain was oil to the flame that burned down her inhibitions. Caitlyn’s lips left a searing trail along her jaw, like an electric current licking across her skin.

“This is what you came back for, isn’t it?” she growled against her sensitive, exposed neck, lips pressing against her pulse point, keeping time of her rapid heartbeat. “Might as well see it through till the end.” A gloved hand trailed up her back, untucking her bindings, and Vi’s breath caught in her chest when she realised what was about to happen between them if she didn’t put a stop to it.

She knew they shouldn’t be doing this, nothing good could come of it, but it felt so good. Caitlyn wasted no time, feeling her up, palming her chest, grabbing her arse, dragging the wraps aside and Vi knew she was done for. Every fibre of her being ached for her.

“Fine by me,” she scoffed, trying to mask the desperate need in her voice and it seemed her consent had been all the general had been waiting for as she started to walk her backwards towards the large bed that dominated the room. She seemed intent on having things her way and Vi didn’t even fight, heat pooling in her gut, all too readily following her lead. Her legs hit the edge of the bed and Caitlyn shoved her down without hesitation, climbing on top of her. She tore away the last of her bindings and wrapped her lips around one of her nipples, dragging the thin metal rod of her piercing between her teeth.

“Fuck-” Vi gasped, overwhelmed by the intense sensation and she tried to reach for the other woman, trying to grab a hold of her shoulders, but Caitlyn seemed to have other ideas. She straightened up swiftly and grabbed Vi by the throat as she attempted to follow, shoving her onto the bed and pinning her there.

“I’m going to,” she groaned, undeniably as aroused as the woman beneath her.

With her fingers digging into her throat, Vi watched, transfixed as she brought her other hand to her lips, grasping the fingertip of her glove between her teeth and dragged her hand free.

A whimper escaped Vi, an embarrassing sound, but this was without a doubt the single most erotic thing she had ever witnessed, particularly when that very hand pushed down to her crotch, cupping her through the horribly restricting fabric of her trousers. She could feel how wet she was for her already and her cheeks burned along with the rest of her body under Caitlyn’s appraising gaze. She bucked her hips against her hand, an undeniable request for more but even in this, the general was calculated, squeezing her throat in a manner of warning, a show of power, even as she popped the button of her trousers.

It was maddening. Vi longed to have more, more of Caitlyn that was. Defiantly, she brought her hands up to her shoulders, reaching for her uniform, to rid her off the ridiculous cape, to feel some of her softness but it wasn't to be. Evading her grasp, she rolled off of her and before Vi knew it, she flung her around onto her stomach, a hand at the back of her neck as she pressed her into the mattress.

“Don't,” she growled menacingly, her free hand yanking down Vi’s trousers.

‘Why,’ she wanted to ask, but she didn't get the chance, Caitlyn's hand pressed between her thighs, into the wetness that had gathered there. Vi gasped, nimble fingers tracing through her folds. She bit back a moan but couldn’t help the way she ground back against her. A faint brush against her clit was like lightning shooting to her nerve endings, heat gathering in the pit of her stomach as she grew more and more tense with anticipation.

“God, you're easy,” Caitlyn hummed, the hot air of her breath ghosting across Vi’s sculpted back.

“Fucking stop talking about it and-” Vi snarled, pent up and needy, but her words were cut of in a sharp gasp when Caitlyn thrust her fingers inside her. “AH!”

It hurt at first, pleasure and pain in equal measure and the general allowed her a moment to adjust. It had been a while, there was no denying that and Vi clawed her hands into the sheets for something to hold on to when Caitlyn started moving. She spread her fingers, testing her limits and Vi muffled a throaty moan in the pillows.

“I did want you to be mine,” Caitlyn whispered a heated confession and picked up the pace, seemingly quite intent on making her just that.

“Fuck-” Vi's body screamed from the intensity of her assault, long fingers curling into her, hitting deep inside, following a furious rhythm. She knew how to work those fingers, filling her up and stretching her out, rubbing against her clit with every thrust in a delicious flurry of sensations. And yet, there was something missing. Even though Vi was engulfed by Caitlyn’s scent from her bedsheets, and she was fulfilling the part of her that had become almost primal with lust, her heart sank, further and further, as much as she tried to lock it away from the experience. She could be doing this with anyone. It was no different to a quick, intense fuck in the prison showers when she hadn't know any better and had wanted to feel something.

Caitlyn released her neck, her gloved hand rough against the skin of her back and she reached around her to lift up her hips, find a better angle, and Vi moaned when she hit a deliciously sensitive spot inside her.

“Cait-” she gasped, as her other hand found its why between her legs too, the rough fabric delicious against her clit. She hated how good it felt, and she hated Caitlyn in that moment too. She was giving her everything, yet nothing. If only she could see her face, at least know that it was having some sort of effect on her too that they were doing this, more than laboured breathing, low grunts and the force with which she was thrusting into her.

“Cait please-” She wasn’t sure what she was asking for exactly, and her plea made Caitlyn falter.

“Please what?”

Did she want to hear her beg? All Vi wanted was to know that it hadn’t all been for nothing. Everything they had been through. The heartbreak. Even if they wouldn’t fix things, she wanted to know that Caitlyn felt it too.

“Please, my back is killing me, can I-” She cast a glance over her shoulder, finding the general’s eyes and drawing some small satisfaction from finding her pupils blown with lust, seeing her face flushed and her hair hanging loose and messy around her.

“Fine.” Caitlyn’s response was curt and she pulled out of her, a low grunt escaping Vi at the sudden emptiness. She turned onto her back, her body beginning to feel heavy from exertion and suddenly, they were face to face, with Caitlyn hovering above her with a sudden, and surprising, air of uncertainty about her.

Had she thought better of it? Did she want to stop? Vi wouldn’t be able to take it if she did now, she was too tightly wound.

“Come on, Kiramman… Fuck me like the Zaunite whore you think I am so we can both get on with our night.” Her words were crude but elicited a response. Caitlyn’s expression darkened once more and she slammed her fingers back inside her, making Vi mewl with a new angle and intensity. She leaned over her lavishing attention to her breasts and Vi resolved to watch her, pay attention, commit what she could to memory.

Caitlyn scrunched her eyes shut, either lost to the experience or trying to escape it. Even in her increasingly delirious state, Vi couldn’t help but notice the subtle changes in her actions, and the way her rhythm suddenly seemed to falter.

Vi didn’t care, not really. It was hardly surprising she struggled to get her off when she didn’t know her body and took no time to learn about it either. At least she could enjoy the closeness a little while longer before the inevitable end. Perhaps she could claim a few more things before it was over.

Boldly, she reached out for her, grabbing her by the back of her head to pull her into a kiss. She succeeded too, for a wonderful moment, in a kiss that was passionate, but not as angry as it had been before and absently, Vi wondered if she’d released some of her rage in the course of this, but only until Caitlyn suddenly pulled away. Completely.

“This is not how I imagined this.” she choked out, and Vi was shocked to see tears pooled in her eyes. She didn’t allow her the chance to observe them, turning quickly as she fought to free herself of the cape that seemed to be restricting her movements and getting in the way. “Shit-” It was an unmistakable sob and Vi pushed herself upright slowly, unsure of what to say or do.

“No it’s not…” she agreed slowly, struggling to interpret her behaviour, particularly when Caitlyn offered no response. She remained facing away from her, perched on the side of the bed, fingers tensely clawed into the mattress.

There she remained and with every passing second, as Vi’s sweat cooled on her skin and silence reigned, the atmosphere grew more heavy and tense.

“Think we just- this was a bad idea-” Vi said at last when it became obvious that Caitlyn had no interest in continuing. A disappointing ending to everything that had happened between them but perhaps it was for the best. “No need to torture ourselves any longer…” Putting on a brave face, she braced herself for the final goodbye as she moved to the edge of the bed but suddenly, Caitlyn’s fingers wrapped around her arm, holding her back.

“Please don’t go…” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, heavy and shaky and Vi stalled, surprised.

“Okay…” Carefully, she turned back and at last, so did Caitlyn, her expression revealed as every bit the heartbroken mess that Vi had been going through. She didn’t meet her eyes, that was likely too much to ask, but her gaze fixed elsewhere: on the dark bruise that coloured the side of her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Caitlyn breathed words that Vi had given up on ever hearing. “I shouldn’t have, I…” A sob tore itself from her chest and she squeezed her eyes shut, fighting for some measure of composure that seemed beyond her now. “Oh goodness…” Little by little, she appeared to be breaking apart and while it hurt to see her like this, Vi couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t a little glad too. Maybe they could have a conversation at last.

“Thank you for saying ‘sorry’…” she offered slowly. “Luckily I’m made of stronger stuff, you couldn’t do this to anyone else-” She tried for some measure of levity, crack a joke but it fell terribly flat as Caitlyn hung her head in shame, drawing in her legs to her chest and hugged them, looking far smaller than Vi had ever seen her.

”Cait… what happened?” she tried again and braved moving a little closer. At the very least, she wanted to understand, and she gestured to the ceremonial cape that lay in an abandoned heap on the floor.

Caitlyn just shook her head to herself, a sad smile drawing to her lips.

“They made me- Ambessa, she- We declared martial law and I’m- I was made general-” she answered, sounding terribly detached from it all. “I want to protect my city, I want to stand up for my family, I want to- I want to be worthy of all those things but it’s tearing me apart…” Her voice had a haunting clarity to it, an innate truth that confirmed everything Vi had seen over the past few weeks.

“I know…”

“I know it doesn’t excuse anything but-” Caitlyn’s shoulders slumped and she sobbed, rivers of tears seeking a way across the plains of her cheeks. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold on to this anger, this pain, this rage. It’s burning me up and everything that I ever wanted - for myself - I’m losing-” she whispered, defeated and Vi’s heart squeezed inside her chest, the small flame of hope that she had very nearly lost was given air to breathe and grow. She gathered her courage and reached out, brushing her thumb through the mess of tears on her cheek as she raised her chin to bring her to meet her eyes.

“And… what is it you want?” She asked almost timidly, and Caitlyn smiled sadly.

“You,” she breathed and while Vi knew she wouldn’t be able to forget what had happened any time soon, this could be the start of fixing things. She brought her other hand to her face too, hoping to catch some of her tears and slowly she covered her lips with her own in a tender, emotional kiss that felt so much more intimate than anything else they had done that night.

“Can we try this again?” Vi mumbled softly, smiling against her lips as she felt lighter already and wrapped her arms around Caitlyn who melted into her embrace as they continued kissing until both of them were out of breath and the general’s tears had somewhat dried. “How did you imagine it?” Perhaps it was a bold suggestion but it seemed to lighten the atmosphere significantly.

Caitlyn chuckled and it was a genuinely warm sound, far removed from the iciness she had been confronted with all night.

“Something like this…” Gently, Caitlyn pressed her hand against Vi’s chest and pushed her backwards, but without urgency and force. She engaged her in a tender kiss, tracing her fingers across her chest toying with her piercings and quickly finding the best way to make her whimper.

There was nothing rushed about it now as Caitlyn trailed open-mouthed kisses along her throat, her jaw, and Vi relaxed into the sheets, witnessing the change in her with complete awe.

“Cait-” It didn’t take very long and Vi felt herself growing hot once more, the heat of their previous encounter returning but it felt different now, and so much better, as Caitlyn mapped her body with her hands and lips, disposing of her other glove as she went. She paid particular attention to her stomach and the bruise that was her doing, pressing kiss after kiss upon it and mumbling heart-felt apologies.

Eventually, she moved down her body, settling between her legs and Vi, breathless and worked up, simply stared at her in awe, feeling overwhelmed, as Caitlyn’s eyes sought some sort of permission.

“Please-” Vi breathed and Caitlyn smiled, lowering her head to bury her face between her legs. “Oh fuck-” Vi gasped, overwhelmed by the intense sensation as she parted her folds with her tongue, seeking her clit.

“If you’d rather I didn’t, I can-” The general picked up on how tense she became, even as she wrapped her arms around her thighs.

“No, I just…” Vi couldn’t help the embarrassment in her tone as she tried to relax which seemed a big ask with Caitlyn’s breath on her most intimate parts. “I didn’t imagine it like that either…”

“If you want me to do something different, I-” Caitlyn pulled back a little but Vi quickly shook her head, dying to experience all she wanted to give her.

“No, no, I mean- my,” she cleared her throat, stalling for time to find the right words. “Experience is… limited. And- it was never like this before. This is-” All of it, the close attention she was paying every part of her, her gentle touches, no-one had ever touched her like that, made her feel like that. It was overwhelming and oddly terrifying, if just for the thought it might all get taken away again.

Caitlyn smiled and reached for her hand, guiding it into her hair where she might hold on to her as she dipped her head lower again, dragging her tongue through her wetness once more.

Vi gasped, but held on to her, quickly finding herself grinding against her mouth. Caitlyn hummed in encouragement, deftly finding her clit with the tip of her tongue and drawing tight circles and flicking every once and again until Vi was shaking.

“Cait-” she sobbed her name as the tension became too much, the sensation overwhelming. Her muscles seized up and released, waves of pleasure crashing over her and threatening to carry her away, but Caitlyn remained her lifeline, reaching for her hand and squeezing it until the last of the aftershocks had subsided.

They didn’t speak after that, not for a while, there was no need. Vi was struggling to catch her breath and Caitlyn gathered her in her arms and stroked her hair in tender, affectionate patterns that threatened to move her to tears.

“Why did you come back after I treated you like that…” Caitlyn’s timid question broke the silence eventually, once their breathing had returned to normal and capacity for thought too. “I was- I’m sorry…”

Vi turned so she could meet her eyes, bringing her hand to cup her jaw as she sought connection to her.

“Because I- Because I need to know whether the girl I fell for is still there underneath all the grief, and I’m sorry I caused it but- we all do things we don't mean when we're grieving. I know all about that… I remember when it was like to lose Vander and how much I regretted striking Powder… even now,” she said and Caitlyn nodded understandingly, fresh tears coming to her eyes as she ducked her head in shame.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… I genuinely thought I would have made the shot. I promise. I wouldn't have…” She wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

“I know…” Vi acknowledged. “And I think I… part of me is still… she's still my sister. It's not that easy.” She knew Caitlyn deserved that admission too, if they wanted to have a chance at having a future together. It was something they would need to work through, whatever that looked like.

“I know…” Caitlyn nodded, resigned but not angry. “Thank you for stopping me. And thank you for coming back… I- I was wrong to think I’d be better off if-” she broke off, shaking her head to herself. “You’re… you’re like the light in the darkness… like the… the only good thing and I’m drowning in this sea of-” Her voice grew shaky once more but Vi was right there offering her reassurance.

“I know you are… and I want to help. If you’ll let me…” She wasn’t sure what she would be able to do. She couldn’t take away her grief and pain, no-one could, but she could try and help her cope with it somehow, even just by being there for her.

“Do you really still want to?” Caitlyn asked in a small voice, clearly not thinking herself in a position to make any sort of demands of her now, and Vi smiled.

“You’re my light in the darkness too. And I won’t let you drift away and drown, maybe we can just… hold on to each other…” she suggested, and Caitlyn nodded gratefully, meeting her in a soft kiss.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” she whispered as they parted. “I know it’s a bad time to say it, with everything that’s happened. I know it will take time to rebuild trust but-” She broke off when she realised the look of shock on Vi’s face and spotted the tears that started falling. She wasn’t able to help them.

“I’m sorry…” Vi choked, instantly embarrassed, dragging the back of her hand across her face, but Caitlyn grew very pale.

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that-” she started, but Vi quickly shook her head.

“Don’t be, please, I just…” she sobbed, feeling as though some age-old trauma had finally been lifted off her shoulders. It was overwhelming and disorientating as she tried to make sense of it. “I don’t think- I can’t remember the last time someone told me they loved me,” she confessed. “Not since Powder-”

Caitlyn pulled her back into her arms and let her cry, simply soothing her for as long as she needed it.

“Mother would be furious,” she sighed after a little while once Vi had regained her composure. “I’ve apologised for that to her too…”

“I love you too,” Vi blurted out without thinking any further than that, eliciting a similar reaction of stunned surprise, so she rushed to explain. “This version of you. The girl that is scared of what her parents will make of her bringing home a girl from the Lanes. The girl that strives for justice and can see the good in someone like me. And as … undeniably hot it is to see you acting all powerful and taking what you want… this is what I want. Who I want.” She took her hand in hers and pressed a tender kiss to the back of it.

“And that’s who I want to be,” Caitlyn agreed softly. “I don’t know what the future will bring, how things will play out with Jinx but… whatever happens… I don’t want to lose myself. Not again. And I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’ll be here to remind you,” Vi promised and Caitlyn settled against her, dropping her head to rest on her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she mumbled. “For everything.” Vi smiled and pulled her close, dropping a kiss to the top of her head, ever so grateful that they had made it through the trenches and made it to somewhere they could both breathe. There was a lot to figure out still, things were far from alright, but they had done the hard bit, everything else would follow.

“Now,” she hummed thoughtfully, casting a curious look to the girl in her arms. “I think the perfect way to thank me would be to finally allow me to see what you’re hiding underneath that uniform.” In a smooth motion, she flung Caitlyn around who landed on the mattress with an undignified squeak and laughed while Vi crawled on top of her. “You may own all of Piltover, but I want you to be mine.”

“I’d like that…” Caitlyn grinned and pulled her into a passionate kiss. Perilous as the way ahead was, they would forge a path for themselves, together.

[ghostiezone]

"....Ashe?"

"Who's that?"

short-ish fic under the cut because I had to be in the tranches about this :)

The Wards received the invitation only an hour before they arrived.

i know where to find your friend :)

The crumpled piece of paper looked like it had been drawn in crayon. It was stapled to the front door of their home. Their civilian home.

"Aux-" Failsafe started immediately, but Imprint's hand over his mouth cut off the name before he could finish. The boy wasn't in costume.

Imprint addressed him instead, cautious. "Ashe...?" He lowered his gloved hand from Failsafe's face and stepped forward between his two teammates, slowly, like he was approaching a cornered animal.

Wraith had been a stoic, silent presence since they entered the room, but Failsafe could feel the tension rolling off of him in waves.

The boy sitting on the edge of the desk looked.... young. Younger than he should. The shirt he had been put in was too big for him. Not in the same way his dad's jacket was too big for him- he used that like a turtle shell, something to retreat into, pull over himself like a shield. It was safe, warm, all-encompassing. Despite the issues they knew Ashe and his father had with each other, the love was still there. No, these clothes... they hung loose on his already skinny frame, making him look exposed. Vulnerable. They were monochrome, pale in a way that made him look washed-out, almost ghostly. He sat with his legs crossed, hands holding his ankles. He wasn't wearing shoes. One of the sleeves threatened to slip off his shoulder.

He tilted his head as they entered the room. The movement made Failsafe think of the stray puppies he used to feed in the alley behind their house.

His hair had been washed recently.

Something was very wrong here.

Ashe's face was devoid of all emotion. Though he was looking at the three of them, making eye contact, something seemed... distant. Failsafe reached out with his power and found... nothing.

He felt his heart seize in his chest. He frantically grabbed Imprint's hand before he could take another step forward, and tore his gaze away from Ashe to lock eyes with Wraith He hissed under his breath, he didn't trust his voice not to shake "guys, hes-"

"Breaker state, yeah. I know." Wraith finally broke his silence, voice stony and cold. "Don't get any closer to him."

At the sound of Wraith's voice, Ashe's eyes locked onto him. They were burning with an orange glow.

His head bent further to one side, and his face split into a wide grin that looked almost painful. Failsafe felt Imprint tense, fingers twitching like he was getting ready to reach for a weapon. He squeezed the wrist he was already holding. "Don't. We can't. That's still Ashe."

In that brief moment of distraction, the boy on the desk began to laugh. It was a broken sound, distorted, not like anything they had heard from him before. That deep orange glow in his eyes shone even through his closed eyelids. Wraith's cape billowed as he stepped in front of the other two, barking a clipped "Incoming!" as the space behind the desk began to distort.

Wraith's own warping powers sprang up in response, a translucent blue barrier forming in the air between the wards and their friend. As they watched, unsure of how to act, a rectangular shape began to appear in the air behind where Ashe was sitting, growing clearer and sharper as it eventually formed a sort of doorway. It was hard to look at directly, the light in the room seeming to bend toward the corners. The walls and floor buldged and sank in response to the tear in reality. The door itself was more like a window- a vague, distorted cityscape slowly coming into focus on the other side. The barrier began to ripple, as if it was made of water, as a figure stepped through it into the room.

Ashe's laughing was suddenly doubled as it became clear that whoever had just entered was cackling as well. It was an eerie echo- they were taking the same pauses for breath and short hiccups between giggles. Their shoulders bounced in matching tempo and their heads tilted back toward the ceiling at the exact same time.

The new figure was dressed in a long purple-grey patchwork coat, sleeves torn off and bottom hem ripped to shreds. He wore a darker purple scarf up to his chin, which flared out behind him into a tattered cape. The coat was sinched at the waist with a faded green belt, the end of which swung loose around his legs to give the appearance of a long tail. He wore some sort of blood-red bodysuit which concealed every bit of skin that would otherwise be showing. His darkened silver hair flared out around his head in wild spikes. Over his face, a circular mask concealed any distinguishing features. The mask may have been white once, but was now more of a tarnished brown. Two horns curled upward on either side of the face, which consisted of a cudely painted-on cartoonish black smile with squinted eyes.

"Why, if it isn't the Wards of New Haven!" The figure exclaimed, suddenly dropping into a deep bow. "You can call me the Trickster. Oh, I've been waiting so long to meet you!" There was a sort of childlike excitement in his voice, but there was a strain to it as well, as if holding back the laughter was causing him mental pain.

He turned his head toward Ashe, who was sitting motionless again on the desk. The figure cleared his throat, then in a harsh voice, snapped "You'd best show some respect in the face of such powerful heroes!"

As if dragged down by force, Ashe bent forward, nearly losing his balance and falling face first off of his perch. When he sat back again, his deadpan expression broke into a wide grin again. The smile didn't reach his eyes.

"What are you doing to him?!" Failsafe snapped, voice cracking with the panic of seeing his friend so vulnerable.

"Who, me?" The villain straightened back up, bouncing on his toes as he did. He flung a hand up to his chest in an overdramatic show of offense... and Ashe's hand made the same motion. In a cheap imitation of Ashe's voice, the Trickster echoed "I wouldn't hurt a fly!" As he did, Ashe muttered the same words.

"He's some sort of Master." Imprint's eyes were locked onto the figure, tracing his every move. The subtle shift in his posture put the image of a panther in Failsafe's mind. His next words were directed at the villain. "What do you want with Ashe?"

"Better yet, what do you want with us?" Wraith added. The strain of holding up a constant shield for this long was starting to take its toll on him, hands starting to shake. Even though the Trickster wasn't outright attacking them, knowing he was a Master with this kind of power was enough to keep them all on edge. They didnt know his limitations yet. "You were the one that sent us the note, right? Why bring us here just to stand there and laugh at us?"

The villain started cackling again, bending at the waist with the sheer force of his laughter. "Ashe?!" He straightened back up, mimed wiping a tear from the corner of the eye of the mask. "Who's that? Never heard of them!" As he stood up to his full height, he ran a hand gingerly through Ashe's hair. The boy didn't move, didn't react, despite Failsafe's immediate short burst of anger at the action. The Trickster clicked his tongue, continued to run his hands through Ashe's silvery-purple hair. As his hands moved, a glow began to spread from them. The same orange glow emanating from Ashe's eyes was surrounding the Trickster's fingertips. As he waggled the fingers on his free hand, little orange strings no thicker than spider silk extended upwards from them, seeming to disappear into thin air. The strings reappeared, wound around Ashe's arms. There was a loop around his neck as well, giving the sickening illusion of a collar.

"I just wanted to introduce the three of you to my Muse." He put an odd emphasis on that final word.

It was a name.

"And, to let you know he's mine now, and you can't have him back!" The static smile on the mask somehow looked devilish. It was such a childish statement, as if they were fighting over a toy on the playground, but it sent chills down all three of the heroes' spines. "Finders keepers, he came to me first! That means I get dibs." His voice dropped an octave on that last sentence, suddenly becoming threatening and deadpan. "Try to take him from me if you can. It'll be fun."

Suddenly, he spun on his heel, facing the doorway he came from. The rippling effect was starting to get more pronounced, more unpredictable. "Ah! But it seems like playtime's over for now. We'll see you soon, Wards."

Before he stepped back through the door, the strings around Ashe's limbs tightened, and he was dragged by some nearly-invisible force toward the doorway. He moved stiffly, as if the puppetmaster hadn't gotten used to moving him yet, but eventually he was pulled through the fading doorway.

The Trickster gave them one last mock solute before ducking through as well. The lingering echo of laughter hung in the room around them.

And Ashe- Muse- was gone with him.

[webbyghost]

are you still doing the touches writing thingy? if so can i request hand holding 33 with chainshipping?

33. bandaging the other's hand and not quite letting go

"You didn't actually have to punch that guy, you know."

Lawrence meets Adam's searching gaze with his own steadfast look, unwavering under the younger man's scrutiny. He only breaks when Adam dabs the cotton ball onto his split knuckles and the alcohol stings, the pain sharper than he'd expected. He hisses, and Adam grins sheepishly, pulling both his hands away.

"Sorry, Doc."

"No, no, it's alright. It needs to be disinfected, who knows what bacteria could have been in that man's mouth." He shudders, only half-joking. Adam laughs and dabs at Lawrence's bloody knuckles again, taking care not to press too hard this time. The sting is duller now, the worst seemingly over.

Or maybe it's that Lawrence's attention is more focused on the way Adam's tongue is poking out while he concentrates on cleaning up the dried blood that decorates Lawrence's hand.

"I mean, I know I'm awesome, but maybe you shouldn't be trying to emulate me, y'know I'm supposed to be the violent one, remember?" Always the chatterbox, always the jokester. Always the smartass, mouthing off and wearing that same smirk he's got on right now.

"I know I didn't have to," Lawrence murmurs, wrenching his eyes from Adam's mouth, feeling a peculiar stirring in his gut. "But he was so much bigger than you, and I-"

He falters. How to explain the rage that had boiled up so quickly upon seeing the stranger looming over Adam, how he had moved across the parking deck so quickly his leg was still sore from the effort. How his hand had moved before he'd realized it, balled into a fist and crashing into the stranger's face, the man's teeth cutting into his skin.

"I couldn't stand there and let you get hurt." Adam stops cold in the middle of opening a bandaid, for once seemingly at a loss for words. "Not if I could stop it."

"C'mon, Doc, I'm not- you don't owe me, man." He doesn't look up, continuing to put the little bandage on the open scrape of Lawrence's middle knuckle. "I mean, yeah, you shot me and I like to give you shit about it from time to time but like... You don't gotta make it up to me. You already did that when you got me out of the- that place."

Lawrence doesn't answer, the words he wants to say are... out of his grasp. All he can think about is how Adam's hands- both hands- are holding his own, cradling it gently while he inspects it for any further damage.

"I just think that... you've been hurt enough," he says, quietly, half-hoping Adam doesn't hear him. It's almost too honest, too close to admitting how much he's grown to care for the young man.

"And you haven't?" Adam demands, his grip tightening slightly. "Lawrence, if you hadn't broken his teeth, that dude would have beaten your ass!"

It's the first time since his rescue that Adam has used his actual name.

"I've been in fights before, Adam," he scoffs. "It may surprise you to know that I've even won a few in my time."

"Sure, old man, whatever you say," Adam rolls his eyes, then sighs, looking back down at Lawrence's hand, still clutched between his own. "Look. It's not that I don't appreciate that you've got my back, ok? But you can't go around stepping in every time I piss somebody off."

"You could try being less disrespectful to everyone who crosses your path," Lawrence says, dryly, and Adam looks back up at him, that smirk turning up the corners of his mouth.

"I think we both know how likely that is," he quips, and the smirk fades a little as he continues. "But I'm serious, don't go putting yourself in danger, not for me. I'm not the only one who- who needs you."

His fingers twitch and he grips Lawrence's hand a little bit tighter, though he avoids touching the doctor's bruised knuckles.

"I know," he replies, quietly, something clicking in his brain at Adam's words.

He knows now, why his hand flew on its own. He wants to say it, tell him that he put himself in harm's way because he needs Adam, too.

He wants to say it.

But he doesn't.

[zaceouiswriting]

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.24

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: None

As I watch them fight, a sudden rumble runs through me as I hear the training rods colliding, almost like metal clashing against metal. I get excited, although I'm not sure why that is. Maybe they're reinforced, but for training? Far too many injuries occur as a result of such ill-considered training sessions. While wood hurts a little, metal can ruin a soldier's entire career, and specialists are soldiers, so why would they possibly sacrifice them like that?

I half-heartedly want to go over to the older guy, muscular, with big arms and medium-length hair parted in the middle; he looks a bit like a player. Fine stubble adorns his face; he has a well-groomed but rough appearance. A crooked grin is on his lips as he tells his students how they should train.

But as I get closer to him, his eyes catch me. I want to sink into the ground, but before I can do anything, he's already coming towards me, forcing me to interact, so I do the same, and we quickly meet. He holds his hand out, and I take it without thinking, only to feel immense pressure. For a moment, I don't understand what's happening—until I look at our hands and see mine helplessly crushed by his. Annoyed, I channel my fairy magic into my right hand and strengthen it with a spell. "Body of stone," I mutter quietly. Immediately, I give him back what he had given me before. He apologizes with an embarrassed smile and pulls his hand back. Before he can see my little trick, however, I pull my magic out of my hand, making it look normal again.

I don't like this guy. He's loud and obnoxious, two things I can't stand, apart from the fact that he calls perfectly average and good-looking guys "girls," which makes me even angrier. Guys don't need that crap; most of them already have shattered self-esteem.

Even though I know that he doesn't mean it in a directly derogatory way, it still makes me angry for him to tell them that they don't have the form to become soldiers. After all, only one in a hundred million girls and women can become fighting soldiers, and that's why this seems particularly degrading to me.

When his specialists fight against the fairies, he realizes that being a soldier is not the only option, even if they have great power.

"I'd rather not. I'm not fully there yet; I've only woken up and desperately need some fresh air."

“Then there’s nothing better than a mock fight!” He laughs unbearably loudly again. Only this time he also slaps me on the back with his big hand.

Everything goes black for a moment as a wave of pain shoots through my body. When I can see again, however, I am above the tall man, now lying on his back, holding his head up by his shirt. A little blood flows from the corner of his mouth and from his neck, where a sword made of stone, sharper than any metal I have ever seen, cuts lightly into his skin.

I feel a strange anger boiling over, and my face is twisting with rage. But even though I sense it, I can't understand why it's there. I only remember the pain. But I can't push it away or let go of the big man.

"How about next time you challenge someone who's your own size?" I ask him in a furious, mocking tone. Even though I know deep down that I felt this way and needed to say it, I'm desperately trying to figure out where this anger comes from.

But the more time passes, the less I understand my anger. Just as I accept it, I feel myself regaining control. Suddenly, I sense my features relaxing a little, just enough to make me appear weak.

I feel the man beneath me shift, and I reflexively bend backward, just in time for his leg to sweep over me. As he turns, he tries to grab my arm, which he succeeds in doing, and the next moment he grabs my sword, which disappears into thin air. But he doesn't let that stop him. With his next move, he spins me around and hurls me to the ground. With my arm still in his tight grip, I can only half-roll out of the way. But with his strength, I get back on my feet, kick him in the side with my knee, slam my head into his, and finally put my free hand on the back of his neck, sending him tumbling to the ground. I hear a sickening crack, but I don't feel satisfied yet.

"Thousand swords!" I roar. Hundreds and hundreds of swords appear from the ground and in the sky. I can see the fear in the teacher's eyes glistening like stars as the summoned thousands of swords come dangerously close to him. "Next time, think twice before you get aggressive towards me," I whisper in his ear, only to raise my hand and close it firmly. Suddenly, all the swords disappear. Although the fear in the man's eyes has disappeared, it hasn't really helped get his ego back.

I stomp him into the ground and kick him in the side one last time as I stand up. But when I turn around, I see many shocked faces, which I completely ignore. What could I have said to them? Instead, I wander deep into the forest. Hidden between the trees, I can finally drop my mask. Almost immediately, I fall against a tree as my breath catches in my throat, and breathing becomes difficult. My heart is pounding so hard that it makes my whole body shake. What just happened to me? Where does this unimaginable anger come from? I have no idea and no one to ask my questions to, so how can I calm down?

I slide down the tree until my legs are almost at a 90-degree angle, hoping that it will help me somehow. But it is actually the gentle songs of the forest that help me. Especially the song of the few songbirds in the area, and among them in particular the black Barabella songbirds, so called because they sing the Barabella song, a famous song from my home world about love. And a species of bird that becomes aggressive if you don't pet it, if it flies close to you, or if it lands directly on your arms, has, contrary to what its behavior suggests, a relatively gentle song.

There are about a dozen songs that blend into a gentle symphony. It's so calming that it only takes a few minutes for my heart to calm down, and the rising panic is slowly disappearing.

As soon as I can breathe freely again, I head deeper into the forest. I'm glad the wall is so high because it's impossible to miss.

Before I got to the specialists, I wanted to take a side path to the wall, but after the argument with the teacher, I decided to take the path through the middle of the forest. I was hoping that I wouldn't be disturbed along the way because I believe the specialists have had enough of me. But, of course, nothing goes as planned.

The closer I get to the wall, the more astonished I am because of its height and sheer beauty. That I really have made something like this stuns me. I always imagined the spell got its name from my ancestor being eccentric, but no, this wall is beautifully made, and worse, it must have been built before. I don't even want to know where this monstrosity has gone.

I touch the wall with my palm and close my eyes. I feel the throbbing of magic in it, like veins through a body, and smile softly. Taking a deep breath, the wall suddenly disappears into the ground—slowly at first, but it gets there quickly. Now that I have more control over my fairy magic, I don't have to pull rocks out of the ground like I used to. Until getting the other cores out, I thought that was how fairy magic worked, but now I realize it doesn't have to be that way, only when there isn't enough magic. I've never come into a world where there is so little magic that I would need it to change the world itself.

I watch the wall disappear as I play with a summoned stone, letting it float in my hand, fly around, and change its shape. As soon as the wall is gone, I want to turn away to explore the forest and the surrounding area, but I can't take a step because two big eyes are staring at me in horror from the ground. Lying on the floor is a small, plump girl with a beautiful, round face, warm brown eyes, and wavy brown hair tied in a ponytail. She would look gorgeous if she lost a few pounds, but she is pretty enough as it is.

"Can I help you?" I ask this mysterious girl, smiling at her as I go into a squat. Her cheeks flush, surely from embarrassment. "Do you need help getting up, or can you do it yourself?"

Though she hesitates, she closes her eyes. With a warm breath that seems filled with even greater embarrassment, she whispers, "I could use some help," she tells me, her cheeks even redder. "I'm stuck."

I stare at her in confusion, having no idea how she could be stuck, until I look around and, to my great embarrassment, suddenly see that her ponytail is stuck in the ground. I didn't even see it! I have never apologized to anyone so quickly in my life. As fast as I can, I open the floor just enough to help her, pull out her ponytail, and help her back to her feet.

"I'm so sorry; I didn't think anyone would be here considering how far you have to walk to get to the other side of these walls."

She looks away shyly and shows me a broken root. "The plants were crying; I had to help them," she tells me quietly.

“Can you heal them?“

She shakes her head. I see a sad look in her eyes. "I'm not strong enough," she confesses with a heavy sigh. "Many trees have been ripped out of the ground; they're all slowly dying."

It forced me to look around for the first time. And to my horror, she is right. Wherever I look, I see large gaps in the forest: fallen trees, uprooted roots, broken branches, flattened bushes, berries, and vegetables scattered everywhere, and occasionally I can even find a lifeless animal. I didn't notice it at first, but my hand went to my mouth in shock.

I have never had such problems since my home world is almost desolate and only a few settlements outside the capital are inhabited.

I can't let go of it, and I walk almost as if someone else were moving my body towards one of those poor trees that fell victim to my carelessness. As I place my hand on it, I feel a faint magical pulse coursing through the plant, growing weaker by the second.

If I do nothing, these trees will surely die, weakening the entire ecosystem until new trees grow. I can't help but look back at the way I came. Seeing the building in the background, I realize that not only is there this ecosystem here but also this house, built by one of my ancestors with long-forgotten magic; it must have lived off the magic of the land for the last hundreds of years. I couldn't risk the ecosystem collapsing.

"Terraforming!" I have barely uttered these words when the ground beneath me shakes, the once hard ground softens, and from the other side of the tree, a small wave of dirt rises into the air and envelops the tree in its cold embrace. The dirt easily pushes the tree back into place, covers the trunk, and hardens again—not as hard as before, but enough that the tree would not fall over.

Immediately, the magical pulse within the tree increases, but the end of its life seems even closer than before. The trees here can live forever, as they are beacons of magic, which they produce without pause or end. Some even believe that all the dimension's magic is created on this planet, but that is only wishful thinking, as all worlds produce their own magic. But the mere thought of it brought about many positive changes for this planet, which is now revered as a holy place. Even if it all started with a lie, the people responsible and their entire bloodline are long dead—a well-deserved end, in my opinion.

I pour as much of my magical power as possible into the tree, hoping to save it, but since I don't have nature's magic, nothing happens. I must look worried because the girl not far from me asks if she can help.

Focusing my attention on her, I see at a glance that her magic is rather weak; it's barely enough to call her a fairy. But I can still sense something familiar within her. A song, no a humming, that vibrates with another hum within my head. As a child, this humming was much louder; I hadn’t heard it in so many years. Though the hum coming from her is quiet, I can tell what it is from a single note. While she is not the bearer of the song, she must still be part of this bloodline, as only the blood of the ancient Leviathans can hear or omit their part of this song.

"Who are you?" My question seemed to have surprised the girl because she took a trembling step back as if I threatened to kill her entire family. I don't know where this comparison comes from because, to my knowledge, I have never taken anyone's life. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you; I promise I don't bite!"

This seems to calm her down enough to give me a shy smile. But she doesn't just take a step forward; she walks straight towards the tree, but on the other side, which is fine with me.

As she places her hands on the tree, I can feel its pulse drawn to her. Honestly, it hurts to see nature approach another person so easily when I have the ability to literally change worlds. But for now, I should probably just swallow my pride.

I honestly have no idea what she's doing. It almost looks like she's talking to the tree, which isn't impossible but still looks ridiculous. But suddenly, her face twists in pain. Realizing she's lost control due to her low mana, I quickly run around the tree to catch her just in time, supporting her by propping her up against me, taking her hand in mine, and half-clasping them. Since I'm much taller than her, I can see her cheeks blush, giving me a much-needed boost.

I bend my head down and tell her to focus on the magic in the tree and not just mindlessly pour all her magic into it, but to control it too. I hope she listens to me and not to her wildly beating heart.

After a few seconds of nothing happening, I'm already considering giving her more specific instructions when, out of nowhere, I feel the tree's magical lifeline—the last root that connects it to the ground—twitch. Although still alive, it will take a lot of time for the tree to heal, but it will at least give most of the tree enough magic to live on for a while longer.

I can finally breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that the worst is over. Carefully, I release our hands and step back, but I make sure she doesn't fall.

While she stands there quietly, hopefully not feeling pressured by me, I look at the rest of the damage, take another deep breath, and use the spell again, only on a larger scale. A wave of dirt sweeps through the forest, pulling trees back into their holes and devouring already-dead bushes to become part of the system again.

“Can I place the healing of the rest of the forest in your hands?” I even lace a slightly teasing undertone into my voice, but it doesn't seem to come across because her mouth is wide open in shock. I chuckle softly at her reaction and shake my head. "Don't worry, I'll help you. Your magic is far too unstable for you to do this alone."

Her shocked expression turns almost instantly back to embarrassment, even though I didn't mean it that way, although I can understand why she might feel hurt.

The sun is already setting, which draws her attention to the time. She looks over to me and nods silently. Just as quietly, we walk back together, past the specialists just now finishing their training in the orange evening sun. We did get a few looks, but I didn't let that deter me. As we approach the building, we part ways without saying another word. I like her, and hopefully we can be friends one day when I have cleared my name.

[Masterlist]

[carsonian]

avengers rock band au. not sure if i want to take this further. let me know if you're into it!

Content warnings: drug abuse, implied sexual content | Also, apparently 2024 is the year of pining!Steve....?

Steve stops at the foot of the bed, already done with the conversation set out before him. With a sigh, he says, "you can't run from this forever."

Tony's draped across the bed like he's an art installation, some avant-garde, postmodern posturing of an insouciant rockstar sniffing a line of coke. Because it's Tony, he does the line clean, and when his head finally slants to acknowledge Steve's presence, he doesn't look any lesser for having snorted a little plastic baggie of white powder.

He doesn't even have the grace to trip over his comeback. "I don't need forever." He turns over onto his back, stretching his arms above him with a slow inhale that carries on, and on. "That's nice."

"It can't possibly have hit your bloodstream already."

"I was talking about the stretch."

Steve feels his eyebrows knit tight and angry, and does his best to quell it as he walks over then sits down on the bed. "Tomorrow. That's the deadline. You said we'd look it over."

"God, since when is rock and roll about meeting deadlines?" Tony grouses.

"You're doing the Jagger routine? Really?" Leaning forward, Steve presses the flat of his thumb against Tony's pulse point until the man's wincing back. "Get up, come on."

"I'm incapacitated." Tony gestures to the plastic baggie.

"Your choice, isn't it?" It's a little sharper than he intends, than he promised himself he'd be. It is Tony's choice. Badgering him about it isn't going to help. "I've seen you give speeches with more a' that shit in you, cawm on. You ain't getting out of this."

"You're such a dick." Tony grumbles but it's the grumbling of a resigned man, and sure enough, in the moment after, the brunet sits up and shuffles close to him. Steve had brought his guitar with him, his trusty ol' Les Paul, and he puts it in his lap now. "I'm still figuring out the words," he warns Tony, and the man hums, eyes blinking shut the way they do any time he's listening to something for the first time.

Steve's not the singer of the group, no, that's the brown-eyed bugger himself, and his voice can't quite hit the high notes. Still, he's used to this, relaying lyrics to Tony, and there's no discomfort about him as he sings, soft and a little husky, about the twisted machinations of media politics and the displacement of the working class. The political songs are always trickier because wording matters so very much--and while he's good at punchlines, good at finding the lyrics that'll stick, he's not the greatest at stringing it together into perfect, lyrical harmony. Structure. Narrative. That's where Tony excels, pulling in the threads, rearranging things, knowing what to cut out, what to bring in.

Steve's sitting cross-legged with his guitar in his lap, and when he gets to the bridge, Tony shifts to rest his head atop Steve's knee. His eyes blink open, and the look in them is thoughtful.

He finishes the song, and keeps his fingers poised ready over the strings.

"You've got a thought," he murmurs. Tony fixes one eye on him, the other shut so it's like looking at a still-frame wink. It pulls at the barely there wrinkles around his eyes in an interesting way that Steve absolutely doesn't pay attention to.

"Lead up to the bridge isn't strong enough." Tony says, "for one."

"I reckon that'll be percussion. Haven't picked Clint's brains yet. Cooper's still got that nasty fever." He explains.

"Still? Thought they went to the doc's?" Tony asks.

"It's sticking around." Steve says, "I think Laura's keen for another visit, though I'm not sure how much that'll help."

"You and your distrust of hospitals." Tony turns his eyes heavenward, rolling off Steve's lap and onto the bed. "Instead of ending with, giving it all to the very few, why not lead with, giving it all to the very few, into nobody's seeing what it all comes to. And you repeat that thrice before the chorus. Extends the song, yeah, but it gives that first part of the bridge more heft."

Steve sings it, Tony joining in to demonstrate how each iteration gets more caterwaul-like, more desperate. It works with the isolation of the bridge and Steve smiles, private and quiet. "Works." He makes a note in his writing journal, flipping the blue slide down from his multi-pen.

He's got a system: black for writing drafts, green for chords, blue for amendments. In between lines and lines of black, blue and green--scrawled down whenever he gets a good line or chord in his head--are throwaway lyrics and beats in red, from times when Tony leans over and whispers something into his ear, whatever brainworm's gotten ahold of him. And sure, Tony could pen it down himself but he travels light, and Steve doesn't think Tony's actually gone into his notes app before, is practically familial with the virtual assistant for anything he needs done. So it all comes to Steve.

He doesn't mind; sometimes, Tony's ideas spiral into his own. Other times, it's just nice to write something in a different colour.

They pick through the song like this, Steve discarding some of Tony's ideas which of course prompts Tony to spitball more outlandish suggestions, shuffling up onto his elbows. It's fun, this. Tony getting riled up ranks high for entertainment value alone, but Tony riled up over music? It's a privilege. Even as Tony's fingers being to tap manically against the back of Steve's elbow and his teeth begin to grind from the cocaine, it's not enough to break the normal, honest, downright beautiful joy of songwriting.

After the third time Steve catches Tony's legs from folding around his neck in a pretzel-like headstand, he clicks his tongue and squeezes the man's ankle. "Alright. You're bouncing off the walls. Go shag a model or something." Steve pats his ankle, "go on. I hereby relieve you of your brain."

Tony's whoop is longwinded and obnoxious, but the grin he sets upon Steve is wild, all unholy danger. He points at Steve, and says, "I wanna explore every crack in the fucking universe," here, he licks his lips absentmindedly, "and I'm starting with that sound tech's."

"You're vile." Steve says, calling after Tony as he heads out of the room, "don't fuck Sandra, she talks shit about you when you're taking a piss break!"

"That's not a turn-off!" Tony sing-songs as he flicks the door shut behind him.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Daughter of Olympus (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Tough day for bad bitches -Danny Words: 2,097 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter / Next Chapter Listen to: 'Home' -by Catie Turner

XLII: Local Dumbass Knew What She Was Getting Into and Did It Anyways

The last time she dreams of Percy, Ara just opens her eyes and he's there, sitting cross-legged on his bed. He doesn't speak at first, just studies her with curiosity. 

She knows it's him and not a made-up Percy, someone has allowed them to see each other earlier than expected.

"You look like her..." he tilts his head. "But are you really..?"

Ara sits up on her bed, but she moves carefully, afraid to wake up if she makes the wrong move. "Percy, where are you?"

The boy looks around the room ignoring her question. "This is your place?"

"Our place," she knows Percy got his memories stolen just like Jason, so she starts with the basics. "When your mother adopted me, I asked if I could share a room with you just the first few months, cause I'd never slept alone," she tears up a bit. "Now I sleep alone all the time, here and in camp."

Percy smiles. "You are Ara, my sister, right?"

Percy calls her sister all the time, she was used to it already, but it's been months since they last spoke, months since they saw each other, and yet she is still a sister to him.

"I think someone wants us to talk," Ara continues, trying to keep it together. "Dunno what they want us to say."

"You sound kinda different from what I remember," Percy's eyes brighten. "You've been eating your veggies, Birdy?"

Ara abandons her bed in an instant and Percy hugs her as soon as she reaches him. The contact feels so real it makes her sob. She gasps. "I should kick your ass! You've had us worried!"

"I'm not having a blast out there either, you know?" He scoffs, squeezing her smaller frame tighter against him. "But I'm happy to see you, even if you look different."

She holds his face and looks at it hungrily: he also looks different, his features are sharper and he appears to be stronger now, judging by how she struggles to get out of his grip. "Tyson was close to finding you and then he lost track—"

"It's a long story," Percy cuts in. "But I promise you're close to finding me."

"Don't—"

"I promise," he insists, squeezing her shoulder. "Trust me."

"I always do," Ara pouts. "Don't die, Nemo. Or I'll force Hades to spit you out, just so I can kill you myself."

He laughs. "You got it, General."

I speak to Kronos's army using my charmspeak. "As the last child of Olympus, I carry the duty of defending it."

I lift the javelin and pray to any god that's listening to help me out, cause I really need to make an impression, and before anyone has enough time to doubt the reasoning of what I've said, I throw my spear at a Hyperborean. 

I watch him fall, then seize my compass and turn it into Almighty. I raise the sword over my head and scream. "FOR OLYMPUS!"

The monsters are pretty frantic, so Pollux has no problem keeping the hallucination going. I charge towards their army and when Chiron concludes Lily and I have no intention to slow down, he decides to distract Kronos.

My plan also works on most of the demigods from the enemy army. I can't blame them, Achilles never spared a soul, so running away is the smartest choice here. 

Pollux's power isn't strong enough to fool the monsters for long though, so they probably see just a blur, and they can't decide whether to run or stay. 

I jump off of Blackjack when we get close enough to the monsters. He rises from the ground with Pollux holding onto him and I land on top of Ethan Nakamura. As soon as I touch him, he screams in realization. "It's a trap!"

An arrow flies over my head, Lily has stopped a dracaena from ripping my head off. I get up and kick Ethan's stomach for good measure. I use my charmspeak again. "Give up!"

If I hadn't been blessed by my mother in advance, my reach wouldn't have gone as far as it does. The monsters closer to me drop their swords, and some get on their knees begging for mercy. Arrows come down flying all around me, evaporating the monsters on the spot. 

I run forward and a monster tackles me, but then a miracle happens:

Nico Di Angelo's arrival is enough to split the crowd. He's wearing black armor that, to be honest, makes him look really cool. He lifts his sword and kills the monster that has me pinned on the ground. 

I thought I'd failed to convince Hades, and even though I hadn't said anything to Lily, I'd assumed he was determined to let us die. I guess I was wrong. "Sorry for the delay," Nico helps me up. "But I know it's never a good idea to steal the spotlight from an Aphrodite."

It's the first time in days that I manage to smile. "Thank you."

"Son of Hades," Kronos sneers at Nico. "Do you love death so much you wish to experience it?"

"Your death," the boy replies, lifting his sword again. "Would be great for me."

"I'm immortal, you fool! I have escaped Tartarus. You have no business here, and no chance to live."

Nico and I share a look and he picks Almighty from the ground, handing it back to me. "You're gonna kill him, or what?" He asks me casually.

Kronos notices me at last. Luke's eyes haven't looked in my direction in so long, that it hits me like a ton of bricks. It's weird 'cause he doesn't look any different, just... worn out.

But I, on the other hand, am a whole other version of myself.

"You," he seethes. "This is the last time you disrespect me."

"Yeah," I adopt a fighting stance. "It is."

The ground quivers under our feet and skeletons spurt out of every crack, seizing monsters without warning. 

"Drop your weapons and retreat!" I yell, Nico, Lily and I move together. "You're done!"

"HOLD YOUR GROUND!" Kronos screams. "The dead are no match for us!"

"The dead are not the ones you should be worried about, old man," Lily says, aiming two arrows in his direction.

Hades shows up riding his spooky chariot. "Hello, Father. You're looking... young."

"Hades," Kronos glares at him. "I hope you and the ladies have come to pledge your allegiance."

"I'm afraid not," The god looks at Lily, Nico, and me. "My son and his friends convinced me that perhaps I should prioritize my list of enemies." His eyes Percy. "As much as I dislike certain upstart demigods, not all of them are deserving of oblivion. It would not do for Olympus to fall. I would miss bickering with my siblings. And if there is one thing we agree on—it is that you were a TERRIBLE father."

Kronos shortens the magical barrier and leaves most of us out, only a small group remains in it, and my brother is one of them. 

"NO!" I run towards it and Hades does too, but we're both pushed away.

"Are you serious right now?"

"Lily, he knew about Camp Jupiter before any of this happened and he never mentioned it!"

"If Chiron couldn't, what makes you think Nico could?" Lily leaves her dagger on Ara's nightstand and gets up. "His new sister is Roman, right? Perhaps he was afraid to lose his family again if he talked."

"So you're saying I shouldn't tell Annabeth about it?"

"Gods, no! She's having meltdowns left and right! She'll murder Nico! My sister's already way too pressed about the delays, don't freak her out more."

Ara scoffs, obsessively folding and unfolding the clothes she's planning to take on the quest. "I'll murder Nico when I see him—no wonder he never stayed here, he knew Jason would recognize him, that asshole..."

"Hey..." Lily stops her. "You can't be mad at him for wanting to protect his sister..."

"And where is his loyalty to us?" Ara demands grumpily. "He owes us."

Her friend stops her from folding more jeans and shorts. "Are, whenever he visits you're always fighting. You promised Hades he'd be welcomed with open arms—"

"He's the one who continues to act like we're out to get him! If he were nicer—"

"Ara!" Lily stomps her foot in frustration. "You always do this! You push Nico and me into the crowd, telling us it's easy because you have no problem doing it, but it's not fair!"

"You wanna talk fair?" Ara argues. "Nico saw us dying with worry every day for the last six months and said nothing!"

"What could he tell you that Jason hadn't? And being fair, Ara, after you met Leo you left camp like it wasn't important to supervise us anymore, like you'd gotten what you wanted from us so the rest didn't matter."

"I'm sorry?" The girl glares at Lily. "I care about this camp more than you seem to know, Lily. Unlike Nico, who only cares about his reputation!"

"How can you say that after what he did for us during the war?"

"He tried to kill my brother and felt guilty when it didn't work!"

"It wasn't his plan and you know that!"

"I don't wanna go over this again," Ara rolls her eyes and turns away from Lily. "I've got other things to worry about..."

"Like your prophecy?"

Ara freezes. Annabeth must've told Lily about it, so there is no point in asking how she found out. She wonders how long Lily sat with this information, letting it boil until she could spit it out. 

"I was going to tell you," Ara says quietly.

"I doubt it."

"I was going to tell you once I knew what it meant," she clarifies.

Lily starts to leave the room. "You're unbelievable, and I'm done."

"Don't do that!" Ara follows her out. "Why do you have to turn every conversation into a test? Every time I choose wrong, you treat me like I'm still small dumb Ara!"

"Because you keep hiding stuff only to tell us about them at the last second so we have no chance to stop you! You've always been like this, and that's why no one thought you'd be a good leader!"

Ara comes to a halt at the top of the staircase. "Did you?"

"What?" Lily stops midway down the steps.

"Did you think that as well?"

"It doesn't matter," Lily's eyes are cold, like two pieces of sharpened ice. "You move faster than I can think. I struggle to keep up and you don't care if I'm still grieving. Nothing's been enough for you since you became the daughter of Olympus."

"If you could believe in me for just a second, maybe I wouldn't need to do everything on my own."

"I believe in you," Lily's grip tightens on the handrail. "Learn the difference between concern and distrust, Strategus. Whenever you do something foolish is like you don't understand how lucky we are to have—"

"No," Ara replies, anger seeping through her words. "You are lucky to have survived, I worked hard to get here. I earned my place as Olympus's General, don't you dare say I'm here out of mere luck."

Lily looks up at her, eyes darkening. "You used Michael and I to crawl your way up, and you barely made it out," she turns and keeps going, quickly reaching the bottom of the stairs.

Ara stays at the top of the staircase, her chest tight and her head pounding. A girl calls her name downstairs and she immediately rushes down, thinking it's Lily.

She finds Annabeth instead.

"What's wrong?" Ara asks anxiously. "Not another delay?"

Annabeth's eyes are bright and eager. "Get your things. We leave in an hour."

My parents wake up and start fighting, which is something I never thought I'd see, but they're doing a pretty good job. Kronos runs to the entrance of the Empire State, and I lock eyes with Percy.

Clarisse and Chiron are out of the fight, and Annabeth and Thalia are trapped inside the border with him. I see him fall to the conclusion that I must do the one thing he can't.

"You're in charge," he shouts. "Don't make me regret it!" Before leaving, he tells Mrs. O'Leary to look for Chiron under the debris. 

Lily and Nico stand by my side, weapons ready. "Heard him loud and clear," Lily nudges my arm. "So you better do something."

I nod, taking a deep breath. "Hermes, Hephaestus—Take the mortals to safety!" The campers start pushing the people out of our way. I turn to the demigods that are left. "We end the war today," I lift my sword. "Camp Half-blood!"

Cheers and cries of war respond to my call. I roar a second time. "Praise Hades!"

Lily and Nico echo my cry, and some campers repeat it as they charge against the army of monsters. Nico's dad shines brighter, and he attacks Kronos's barrier with renewed force.

Next Chapter ->

Taglist.

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[xenon-demon]

hiya!!! just wanted to say i LOVED your kas!steve post so much it makes me squeal with delight no joke

any chance you can drop some details about steve's new appearance/abilities 👀 because i would love to hear more!!! (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Hi thank you SO much!!! <3 I have so many THOUGHTS about Kas!Steve constantly and am always keen to talk about it! (if I defeat my crippling executive dysfunction issues long enough to post more I can tag you in it if you'd like 👀👀)

Kas!Steve's whole deal is that Vecna revived him to act as his "ultimate weapon", particularly against the bunch of meddling kids who already interfered with his plans once. He's not worried about the government or any of the scientists ruining his plans, he's worried about Eleven and her allies. He knows damn well the Party & co are going to have a much harder time defeating one of their own, or at least something that looks like one of their own, than an assortment of inhuman beasts. Plus, having a second in command who is intelligent is an asset to Vecna (and Steve, while not academically gifted, is really good at tactics/strategical thinking).

This got wayyyyy longer than I thought it would so I'm chucking this under a readmore, I have "can't shut the fuck up" disease and it's terminal.

BASICALLY I wanted Kas!Steve to be at least a little different from the classic fandom depictions of Kas!Eddie, just for flavour - so to start with Steve absolutely Does Not have wings. Regarding his appearance, the main stuff is:

prehensile, multiple tails like the demobats do - Steve has 5 tails, with one (the central one) being slightly longer and thicker than the rest while the rest sort of loosely weave together around it at rest. They can be controlled independently, but it's quite difficult to do so and Steve is absolutely not at that point yet. It's like - if he went "I want to grab that object with my tails" they would all wrap around it to grab it securely like a human hand would, but it would take a looooooot of practice and experience with this new form to go "I want to hold a different object in each tail at the same time" (and even then it'd be tricky as fuck/take a lot of concentration).

FANGS. So all of Steve's teeth are now sharper and pointed, like the democreatures tend to have, but in addition to that boy's got MAD fangs. His top canines actually jut out from under his top lip and visibly dig into his bottom one, Steve has to relearn how to hold his face when his mouth is shut to hide them. His bottom canines are also larger and pointier than the rest of his teeth, but less egregiously than his top ones. Plus he has claws too, where his finger/toenails have essentially expanded and hardened so instead of just being a "cap" on top of the digit, his fingers and toes blend from skin to keratin and end in a hardened, sharp point. It is actually possibly to file/trim them without hurting him though, with appropriate tools (since they're harder than human nails).

Steve's eyes have vertical pupils now (like cats), since he's got what essentially amounts to DnD darkvision. They also glow gold when Steve's craving blood. Or craving... other things. (I'm talking about being horny his eyes glow gold when he's horny. In Steve's defense, bloodlust and regular lust are kinda intertwined when you're a vampire.)

His skin is also just that bit tougher than it used to be, Steve no longer gets scrapes or cuts as easily.

He does still eat food in addition to blood, he's just carnivorous now - lots of meat (can be cooked but tbh raw is better) and animals products like eggs and dairy. He doesn't digest plant products properly anymore and will throw up if he eats too much of it. As for human blood... he doesn't NEED it to survive, but he craves it, and it gives him a boost to his abilities when he's drank some recently (in that what I've described is him at Full Power™, and if it's been a while since he's had blood it's progressively harder and harder to do those same things). He also just Looks Sick if it's been a whie since he's drank blood. Also when he's out of the Upside Down (especially if, say, he was no longer connected to the hivemind) if he doesn't drink human blood on a regular basis he WILL go feral and revert to a much more animalistic state of mind.

Now the fun stuff, aka his powers:

Superhuman strength, pretty much no one would be able to beat him in a one-on-one, hand-to-hand fight. Bring a weapon, ideally a gun. He also has better stamina than a regular human would and tires much less easily.

Heightened senses - he can see in the dark better than humans ever could and his sense of smell is heightened (particularly smelling blood, human blood in particular). His hearing is actually not that much better than a normal human's, but very high pitched or "artificial" sounding noises grate on him in a way they never used to (e.g. Curse The Fucking Fluorescent Lightbulb Buzz).

He's connected to the hivemind like all UD creatures are, but unfortunately that means he's connected to Vecna. Vecna has a very strong connection to him, given that it was through Vecna's powers that he was revived, and he can plunge Steve into a hallucination whenever he pleases just like with the curse victims. This is how he communicates Steve over long distances.

Steve also has vampiric thrall/mind control abilities, but he can only really pull it off when he's freshly loaded up on blood. It also works best for simple instructions - he could exert simple, one-word-command type control over almost anyone, but complicated multi-step instructions or more abstract things (e.g. being encouraged to forget about something or instructed to not answer certain questions going forwards, indefinitely) would only really work on someone Steve has an extended, close relationship with. It works through eye contact - the gold eye glow also happens when Steve's using these abilities. But shhhhhh I'm sure Eddie's going to be totally fine, everything is chill he'll be fiiiiine ;)

God this is WAY LONGER THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE I'M SO SORRY. I hope you enjoy the lore drop!! <3 Let me know if there's anything else you want to know about because I could talk about this AU all day, I'm obsessed with it

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Karlach waits by the rigging and watches as Doe enters the cabin. She'll be fine, the girl can handle herself. The tiefling's attention turns to the rigging, examining the knots their newest recruit had been working on. Immaculate work, all things considered.

A moment later, her attention is drawn back to the officer's quarters as a blur of dark hair slips out of the door before disappearing behind some barrels. Gale's tortoiseshell tressym follows close behind. Bloody hells, what's he done this time? Karlach stomps over to the office door and lets herself in, not even bothering to knock.

"Captain? Care to explain why our mutual friend just became incredibly interested in the state of our water barrels?" 

Astarion lets out a tight sigh. "That wasn't my intention," he says, sharper to his first mate than he'd been to Doe. His eyes close and he straightens, turning to face the tiefling woman. "She—" he cuts himself off. He tries for a moment to justify his own cruelty, but he can't. "She didn't deserve that," he says tightly. "But this is my ship. Wherever I go, the rest of you are in danger. Our priority must be putting as much distance between us and C—” Astarion stops himself again. "Between us and the Rhapsody," he corrects, a touch quieter. 

Fear, even of the name, shakes him even now. He breaks Karlach's eye contact with a twitch of his head, avoiding any chance of revealing too much.

"Gale is right. My actions have already lost us a tenday, and we must regain our course."

Karlach nods, pretending to ignore the anxiety radiating off her typically suave captain. "I understand. Would you rather I go speak with her now or give the emotions time to cool off?"

Astarion thinks for a moment. It's only the girl's first not-even-full day aboard the Sanguine Shadow, and the captain the only one she really knows...yet he hasn't been forthcoming with her. One part of him finds comfort in the cold distance that he's sown between them. The space might make things better if the Rhapsody catches up. 

The other, however, feels a tug in the hollow of his chest. He knows he should apologize. He wants to go after her. He needs to go after her. 

"I—" He swallows, finally regaining eye contact with his first mate. "I don't know."

"You hardly gave her a chance to speak her mind," Gale argues with a huff. "Just because we're off course doesn't mean we don't have five minutes to talk.” Gale puts his hands on his hips. "I also imagine, if she didn't even know your name, she probably didn't know you're from Baldur's Gate."

Astarion shoots a glare across the table at the navigator, but relents. "Fine, Gale. You have a point."

"I usually do," Gale drawls in return, crossing his arms.

Karlach rolls her eyes at the navigator and captain's squabbling. "If you're done being petty, I have a crewmate presumably crying into a certain tressym's fur as we speak." She turns to face the captain, her brow crinkling slightly. "I'm not sure what it is she did, or what in the hells you could have possibly said to upset her, but I get the feeling an apology would be better received from your mouth than mine. I wouldn't want her to think you were sending in your lackey to clean up your mess."

The first mate turns to leave, then pauses and turns back to the captain. She lays a reassuring hand on his shoulder, pulling back briefly as she feels him flinch under her touch. "Astarion. You don't need to fear that bastard any longer. You aren't alone this time. I swear on my parents' grave, I am here until the end." She searches his face one last time before returning to her post on the deck.

Gale nods. "She's right, we've got your back. Now get the hells out of my office and go apologize so I can meet the lass properly." 

Astarion looks between the two and nods. Without another word, he exits Gale's quarters, making his way to the top deck in search of Doe, rehearsing his apology over and over in his head with each step.

—A

Doe has abandoned any pretense of getting work done. She hugs the purring tressym close, feeling immense comfort in her presence.

'The thing is,' she says quietly, 'is I only just got here. I haven't even been able to speak to your friend properly.' At the tressym's meow, she continues. 'Yeah, exactly. I mean gods, I was hardly going to throw my weight around. Do you know how terrifying this is? I've been a lighthouse keeper since i was 17, and now I'm... what am I? Certainly not a conquest for that... that...' she trails off, suddenly angry and upset again.

'All I mean is that I don't belong anywhere yet. I got onto this ship because I leveraged his interest in me- a passing interest, surely, but nonetheless- I saw an opportunity and I took it. But I thought...' She shrugged. 'I don't know. I'm not someone people love.' She stops herself, startled at her own words, and the tressym puts a paw on her cheek. 'I was abandoned back then, and I'm not surprised I've been rejected again now, is all.'

She begins to cry, tears coursing down her cheeks as she sobs softly. It's humiliating, being so hurt by it. It's not like she thought she was special. More that she'd made the mistake of assuming that she was valued. A dangerous game, she thinks, even as the tressym puts her paws on her shoulder, hugging her in earnest.

'Oh you poor thing,' she sniffs. 'I've probably got your feathers and fur all wet. What do I do if your friend comes to talk to me now? I bet my face is all blotchy and disgusting, and he's-' she stops herself. 'I think I just need some sleep. But I won't ask the captain for leave to do so, I refuse. Come on. I need to get working again.'

The tressym doesn't move, giving her a stern little meow. She will accept the comfort and the chance to rest, or else, it seems to say.

[casual-therian]

I've noticed a a few lil things i tend to do that i learned were from being a (cat) therian that i might as well share while I'm here (under cut since i didn't want this post to be too long)

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Ok so we all know that cats can make biscuits right? Ik it's originally to get milk out of their mom's and more times than not us just a habit for them but still

Well I've noticed that i tend to do exactly that but with my feet, and when I'm very content and happy. Just silently making biscuits in like a blanket or shoes. No one ever knows when I'm doing that since it's usually hidden when i do so but still

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If anything is waved in front of my face i will at least pat it if not play with it

Prime example being (context I'm a scare actor during Halloween session and my friend is usually the look out for customers in our area) my friend climbing up the metal tower thing, letting her foot swing and my instinct is to repeatedly pat her swinging foot. She's fine with it, we're close with each other, and is used to it btw but every time that instinct kicks in

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As a kid (this was sadly one thing i had to heavily mask and kinda "stopped" doing for my own protection) i used to chase lights. Like lazer kinda lights.

Now i kinda "chase" them with my eyes alone, but i always have the urge to physically chase them but of course that's not acceptable-

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I remember as a kid i used to actually act like a therian, be on all fours act fully like a cat ext. Younger kids LOVED it since i was shockingly good at it. Hell i even jumped on all fours too.

Of course now I'm... Heavily out of practice here, but my size could help with that tbh

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So I've lived with cats around me my whole life, of course it's normal for me to hear cat noises.

So apparently (according to others who have heard me meowing back at cats anyways) i can imitate good cat noises. Mainly meowing but also the "murr"s do when you touch them when they don't expect it, yeah i can do that but it's rare

I can't figure out how to purr tho as much as i want to (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

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Me. Wanting. Retractable. Claws. Paws. And. Toe. Beans.

I i say claws/paws/paw pads specifically because my teeth are already sharp to the point people thing i may be a vampire. So fangs are set by genetics apparently (though I wouldn't mind if they were sharper 👀)

Oh and a tall/ears. Both would be nice as well.

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Speaking of tail since i tend to sleep like i have one

I am always sleeping on my side, usually in an... Unusual (human) sleeping positions...

I'm usually either sleeping like there's a tail in my face or sprawled out. I rarely sleep like a "normal" human and if i do it's usually because i want to seem as "human" as possible to not raise suspicion to them, though nowadays that's... very rare so ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

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Walking around home.

I gained a habit of I'm not wearing any kind of shoes I will walk on the balls of my feet like actual paws. I won't do it when I'm wearing shoes because usually I'm out in public (plus it's uncomfortable for me to do so in shoes), but with socks or my bare feet? Yeah I'll walk like that around the house

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Either way that's it for now. Stay safe y'all and have fun

[neoninky]

TWST Fanfic "Her Lost Voice": Chapter 19 (FINALE)

Chapter 19: Part of This World (Part 2)

"Make a deal with me. Release Junonia permanently and I will use my magic for your clan's benefit only."

The Muraeni crew stared at Elise with a mixture of looks. The two younger sons looked the attractive girl up and down like she was a new toy. Proteus seemed intrigued as well but no one had a sharper eye than Don Muraeni himself.

"Elise, you can't be serious!" Luna started to argue as she held her sister protectively, "Azul, say something!" 

The boy merely pushed up his glasses with a defeated sigh, "You think I haven't already tried? What more can I say? She is determined..."

Elise stepped forward, straight toward Don Muraeni with little to no fear. The two sons bared their teeth and started to charge her before their father snapped at them, "Back off you two. Proteus...put them in time out."

The ray repeated the same ritual of unsealing two bottles that trapped the brothers inside them just as the previous bottle had done to Junonia. The Don then snapped his fingers at his right hand and the two men began to circle Elise like two buzzards. Muraeni's ice blue eyes, his nose, each sense noted every detail like an apex predator. She was young, beautiful even, but not reckless in her offer. Her luminous eyes, the vibrance of her features and her energy told him that she was no run-of-the-mill mermaid. If that didn't do it, the Royal Rose Queendom pins adorning her did. Proteus was on the same page judging from the widening grin on his slim face. 

Muraeni paused to lean down and carefully sniff at her, "...you're a cecaelian mermaid. No wonder you reek with magic and ink. I admire your gumption but what exactly do you have that is so enticing?"

"Aside from your oh-so-pretty face," Proteus chuckled as he gripped the girl's chin to get a better look at her, "Lovely..." 

Elise ignored the irritated shivers running down her spine and spoke directly to Don Muraeni, "I've been mastering my unique magic and other healing spells under His Majesty King Revon Castilene's teachings. I can show you exactly what I can do right now if it pleases you, Don Muraeni." 

Her tone was the perfect marriage between confidence and becoming. After a moment of consideration, the Don smirked.

"You have my attention, Miss...?"

Elise's pink lips grinned in satisfaction, "Call me Elise, sir."

-

By some miracle, Elise had convinced Don Muraeni and the rest of the room to regroup down on the resort's beach. The sun was already sinking into the horizon, painting the clouds burning orange and lavender. Azul never said a word during this whole transaction but he never strayed from Elise's side either. Any fuss their companions made went ignored by the Muraeni pair and by Don Leech as well. Roscoe Leech simply raised his hand to stop his boys and their mates from proceeding further onto the sand. The silent command said everything they needed to know: they were to stay close to him and not move a damn muscle unless told otherwise. Indigo had stayed in close proximity to Elise and Azul at the front of the pack in silence. He only spoke once the three of them reached the shore first. 

"I trust you know what you're doing, princess..." he didn't sound so sure but the spark in Elise's eyes was undeniable. She leaned in to whisper to him before the others joined them.

"I do, Indigo. Don't worry."

"Well here we are. On with it then," Muraeni had never been very patient. He and Proteus strode right onto the beach as if they personally owned it. Elise only smiled, unruffled by the man's bluntness. Azul hesitated to let go of her hand as she walked towards the water.

"Of course, gentlemen. Let me show you my most successful experiment." 

Elise walked into the water until she began to transform, searching the waves, waiting for something. A spiny fin suddenly surfaced and cut through the water. The visitor rushed towards her and circled around her once, not wanting to keep his mistress waiting. Elise smiled and turned back to the group so they could see the new arrival.

"Say hello, Spindle." 

Indigo's eyes widened as quickly as his father's narrowed. Spindle gave them both a weary look but said nothing as he rose out of the waters. Had anyone been paying attention, they might have heard the curse that left Proteus' mouth over the wash of the waves. 

"Spindle...? A cute name for a runaway I suppose," Muraeni scoffed, "Good to see you return to us...alive." That last word was shot in tandem right at Proteus with a deadly glare from the Don. 

Elise pretended to not hear the obvious anger in his voice, "Not only is he alive, but his body is also better than new. Take a look." 

She gestured for Spindle to come closer inland so everyone could see his full body, head to tail, and its abundant lack of scars. Upon closer inspection, even his skin and colors seemed more vibrant than before. 

"When I found him, he was on the verge of death. With my own magic, I reversed the damage so much, it was as if it never happened. Tell me, Don Muraeni. Sirens have no doubt given you power and every drop of prosperity at your enemies' expense. But can they do this? You'd never have to worry about a rival getting the upper hand ever again. Your men would never have to suffer fatal injuries or ailments with me in your corner. Why...at the rate I'm progressing, the Muraeni bloodline may even outlive us all." 

The prospect was deliciously tempting if not downright terrifying. Don Muraeni felt the possibilities burn in his brain. Still...he didn't get this far by being gullible. 

"A fascinating pitch. But how do I know you aren't just pulling some elaborate scheme with my youngest here? I'm not too sure where his loyalty lies these days..." 

Elise's back tentacles curled protectively around Spindle's tail on instinct but her confidence only bolstered, "Your doubt only proves what a capable man you are, Don Muraeni. I would never dream of making such a flimsy proposition on my word alone. In fact, I want to give you a proper example. Tomorrow, in fact..."

He rose a cynical brow, "All of a sudden your grand proposal must wait until tomorrow?"

Elise walked back onto the shore, changing back into a human, "I understand your skepticism, sir, but I assure you. It'd be more than worth your time. The senior students of Sacred Crown, myself and Luna included, are holding a special seminar on campus tomorrow to show our progress in our individual studies. I want to invite you, and Mr. Proteus of course, personally to see the investment you'd be making firsthand. No tricks, no empty promises."

Muraeni looked to Proteus for any hint of suspicion. The ray silently tapped his chin as he weighed the girl's words in his mind. The proof of Spindle's own skin was too good to be a trick. Proteus seemed ready to sink his teeth into this charming little octopus but Muraeni wasn't fully convinced...yet.

"You drive a hard bargain, sweetheart. But it'll take more than that to close a deal with me," the Don stared down his nose at the girl, challenging her one more time. Lucky for her, Elise expected this and planned accordingly. She simply turned to Indigo and reached out for him.

"Don Cerith, can you help me prove a point then?"

Indigo tensed for a split second before closing the distance between the two of them. He silently questioned Elise but didn't voice any doubts. If she said she knew what she was doing then he would trust her. He followed her lead as she beckoned him closer and leaned down so she could place her hands on his face. Elise took a breath, smiled at Indigo, and began to recite:

"Return to what you once were. Undo the harm done and try again. Second Chance."

Indigo's eyes widened as they stared into Elise's bright pools. From her fingertips, he felt magic flow across his skin like cool spring water. Before their eyes, his scars shrank and the skin resealed itself back to its unflawed state. Even after the magic served its purpose, Indigo could still feel its revitalizing remnants tingle across his skin like a soft breath. Elise removed a compact mirror from her pocket to show him his rejuvinated face, "Well how did I do, Don Cerith?" 

Indigo felt a pang in his chest that could only be equated with finding something precious that had been lost, "Amazing..." he whispered. When he snapped out of his wonder and looked to his father, Indigo saw hesitation but not a single shred of doubt. Muraeni began to observe his son in the same calculating fashion he had with Elise earlier. After a few minutes of silent contemplation, he turned to Elise to look at her properly. 

"I shall attend your little seminar tomorrow then, my dear. My only stipulation is that you remain here in our wing tonight. Alone. My boys will escort you to your campus tomorrow to ensure that you have enough time to prepare...do we have a deal?"

He extended a hand to her and only then did Elise notice just what an omnious limb it was, its long fingers covered in golden rings that looked both deadly and impressive. Elise took another deep breath and put her hand in his, "It's a deal, sir." 

Indigo watched the handshake between the two of them and felt a twist in his gut. The same dread he felt deep down was painted all over his youngest brothers' face and less so on Azul's. Elise had one foot in the door of the lion's den. Muraeni seemed satisfied until he locked eyes with his youngest son, remembering that unfortunate loose end.

"Hm...his outward appearance is completely reformed. Does that count for any internal injury as well?" he vaguely asked Elise, keeping Spindle squirming under his cold gaze.

Elise frowned disappointedly, "When I observed him after the fact, his vocal cords seem to be in perfect condition, and yet he will not speak. He hasn't said a word since I took him under my care. It's so strange." 

Proteus sneered at this delightful bit of news, "How unfortunate...the poor boy must be traumatized." 

His father checked his watch as if he were stuck waiting in a subway, "A bonus really. He may not be as strong as his brothers but now that he's healed, he's in perfect condition to pick up where Cowrie left off. If tomorrow goes well, I shall have to throw in a special thank you for you, Elise." 

The girl fought the urge to kick him in the groin right then and there and instead just smiled, "You're too kind, Mr. Muraeni, sir." 

The man took the compliment as plain fact, showing no signs of flattery, "Proteus. Show Elise to her room. Preferably one close to mine."

The grin on the righthand man's face turned the octomaid's stomach, "Gladly, sir..."

"Wait."

Indigo was speaking to his father but physically made himself a barrier between Elise and Proteus, "I will take her, Father. It's only right that I thank her for her care." 

Had anyone else said the same thing, it would have meant something far more...unsavory. Elise knew this wasn't Indigo's intention but judging from the looks on Muraeni and Proteus' faces, they took his words very differently. Proteus raised his brows in surprise, "My, my...seeking out a second mate already, Don Cerith? You are your father's son." 

Elise felt a shockwave of heat hit her face as Indigo put a protective arm around her. His expression was devoid of amusement, "I don't need nor desire another mate. It's called having integrity, you perverted bastard."

Muraeni waved off the rising argument with a bored look, "Fine, Indigo. Just make sure your brothers don't get any ideas. They're far more carnally driven than you are."

Azul nearly bit his tongue having to stand by and endure all of these insinuations. Spindle looked like he'd bite of the legs of anyone who even thought about going into Elise's space with bad intentions. Elise looked over her shoulder at both of them, giving them a silent nod. Spindle's features turned serious as he suddenly dashed back into the water and disappeared but his rash exit didn't seem to alarm either Don Muraeni or his subordinate. 

"We'll fetch him later. Indigo. Bring her." 

Without any further pleasentries, Don Muraeni and Proteus walked straight past the Don Leech and his brood without so much as a glance. Elise started to call out to Azul but Indigo abruptly pulled her along with him as he followed after. Azul wanted to argue but held his tongue. He trusted Elise: she was brilliant and she had a plan. He just didn't like feeling so stuck on the outside of it all. The twins and Cerith sisters watched Indigo escort their friend back to the resort, feeling just as helpless.

-

The young Don Cerith didn't say a word as he and Elise stood behind his father and Proteus in the elevator. Occasionally the two men shared a word or two regarding some other business that Elise wasn't really paying attention to. Instead she quietly looked up at Indigo's freshly healed face. Indigo Cerith was very handsome, well-groomed and polished with a quiet, deadly air about him even now that his scars were gone. He definitely looked even more like his father but his eyes, as tense as they were now, were far more kind. Elise suddenly felt his strong gloved hand take her much more delicate one without turning his gaze down, silently promising to watch over her. The elevator doors opened and the four of them entered yet another long, empty hallway. The father returned to his room behind a regal set of double doors without a word to the rest of the party. Proteus released the two other Muraeni sons and commanded them to keep watch over their new guest, "Give the lady her privacy but also...make sure she doesn't wander off."

They looked a bit drained if not disoriented but the two brothers nodded as they regarded the protective glare coming from Indigo. "Stay outside her room at all times," he growled once Proteus entered his own room for the night, "Only I'm allowed inside her room until further notice." 

He quickly opened a nearby door for Elise and followed in after her, shutting and locking the door behind them. Elise felt an immense wave of exhaustion that forced her over to the giant bed on shaky legs. Indigo gave her a moment to settle before kneeling on the floor in front of her with a deep sigh.

"I admire your courage, Princess, but...no I should be thanking you instead of lecturing you. Not just for this," he gestured to his face, "but for what you're trying to do for our family. You're the most incredibly reckless human I've ever met. Which is saying quite a bit." 

Elise gave a shakey laugh, "I was already determined when Spindle told me what was going on but then...I met her. She was the one who rescued me from that storm so many years ago. I cannot let her stay trapped any longer." 

Indigo had a look of understanding in his quiet eyes, "You call him Spindle now. It suits him. You rescued my sister and my brother. Now you're risking everything to save our mother."

He paused and clasped Elise's hands before bringing them to his lips, then his forehead. The action seemed so gentle and devout as if he were in the presence of a saint, "Thank you, Elise. You have my loyalty for the rest of our lives." 

Warm tears sprinkled down her cheeks as she leaned down to kiss Indigo's hair, "That means  the world to me, Indigo."

-

 The next day would be unforgettable for everyone across the campus for very different reasons. To most, it was another school event full of nervous energy for those perhaps feeling apprehensive regarding their presentations, or rather doing so in front of the entire faculty and their families. To the Leech brothers, Cerith sisters, and their two octopi: today was a chess match with no room for error. Each member in their place, waiting to move, as the day began. Luna was one of the first to present and if she had any unsettled nerves, no one would ever know. Don Leech with his Madam Leech on his arm, Don Muraeni, and Proteus were in the audience along with Indigo, his wife Ivy, and the Octavinelle trio. She had learned quite a bit from the short weeks of study but today, Luna focused on demonstrating the benefits of utilizing her portal magic specifically to enhance communication and transportation of imports/exports between the land and sea. That is, other ways to do so aside from the personalized method she made just for their crew alone. 

Both the faculty and audience were impressed. She was congratulated by the Headmistress and given high marks by the rest of the teachers' panel right there on the spot. Floyd had gotten bored halfway through and zoned out, daydreaming about the cute future babies he and Luna were going to have, but still checked back in just in time to cheer on his girl at the very end. To the point where his father had to tell him to quiet down. Elsewhere in the crowd, Cowrie sat with the rest of her dorm and applauded her sister's achievements. She caught Luna's eye and gave her a genuinely proud smile in spite of all the inward stress. 

There were a few other presentations that followed but soon enough, the Headmistress was introducing Elise to the crowd. The stage seemed to open up as Elise prepared to start. As she approached the podium, three volunteers entered the stage behind her, some with assistance from other students or medical staff. On the large screens surrounding the auditorium, Elise's full name and the following title of her presentation appeared: "Advanced Healing: Medical Studies in Personalized Magic."

Azul searched the crowd and sure enough in one of the VIP sections of the audience sat Reine along with her father, both looking rather eager to see Elise in action. There was another man sitting next to Revon Castilene that he did not recognize but he had very similar eyes to Elise herself. Azul ventured to guess that the regal gentleman was Elise's father which made him feel both very happy for Elise and very nervous for himself. Elise took a deep breath before turning her microphone on and smiled to the audience, thanking them for coming today. She also took a moment to personally thank her mentor for being in attendance today and for teaching her everything she now knew. Her mind was on autopilot as the rehearsed words flowed out of her mouth as if she were acting out a prepared role. She saw her friends in the audience, her father, Azul, and more importantly...Don Muraeni. He was there with his eyes locked onto her and waiting. Elise felt her adrenaline kick in as the true spectacle would begin any moment. This was more than an academic exhibition: this was a show, an auction curated for one specific patron and Elise had one shot to hook him.

"Alongside traditional healing encantations, I have mastered my own unique magic for the purpose of not just treating injury and sickness, but completely rejuvinating and rehabilitating my patients entirely. Starting with a case of optical first aid..."

Elise greeted  the first volunteer, a fellow Sacred Crown student who had been banged up during Magift practice. The girl removed the bandages put in place by the school nurse, who had been specifically told not to heal the following students with magic for this exact presentation and showed the audience the scratches and bruises on her arm. Elise very gently held the injured arm and asked that the faculty observe it up close first. The teachers did so, confirming for the audience that the injuries were legitimate. Elise thanked them and assured the student that while they might feel strange afterward, the process was entirely painless.

She held a hand just above the broken skin and recited her encantation. A wave of awe rose up from the audience as the girl's arm was fully healed in seconds. Cheers and applause came from her peers and the Cerulamare dorm as Elise walked the first volunteer to the stairs by the stage. She continued to explain how the magic worked in varying degrees. She even paused her succession through the volunteers to show how the magic itself could also be used to repair machinery, other tools, and even architecture: "While my own Unique Magic cannot be taught to others, there are common threads of magic that can be learned and utilized in similar ways. With the ingenuity of each individual mage, the future of healing for both people and technology will ensure better lives across the board." 

Her third and final volunteer was an older gentleman from the island's city accompanied by a certified nurse. He had the most severe injuries consisting of a broken leg and even previously damaged skin and teeth. He sat in a wheelchair and Elise quietly thanked him for putting his faith in her before very carefully kneeling to place her hand on his cast. There were a few murmurs hovering about the crowd, seeming to be full of skepticism. Azul carefully looked at Don Muraeni out of the corner of his eye. The man's gaze was unwavering and completely fixed on Elise. His expression gave away nothing. On the other side of him, Proteus was watching Elise with a smirk of a predator, patiently waiting to pounce and its prey the moment it moved. Azul turned his attention back to the stage. He felt a flutter in his chest as he watched how careful, how gentle and precise Elise's movements were. Watching her work gave him the same sense of wonder that he had felt for years watching his grandmother and mother in their elements. 

The enchantment left her lips and her magic wrapped around the man's leg and damaged skin with a soothing aquatic glow. The man entered a trance as the spell wrapped him in a half-cocoon of light. As it dispursed, the electric chill of its trickling energy spread through the audience causing a collective shiver. Even those in the very back of the room could see just how the man's skin was renewed and how even his teeth were brought back to near-perfect condition. There was a hush as the nurse used their own magic to remove the cast...and then no one could hear the man's astounded cry as he stood, not for the thunderous applause. She would no doubt pass with flying colors but Elise's true victory came when she locked eyes with Don Muraeni. He stood up and clapped. 

She had done it.

Elise accepted the praise from her Headmistress and the faculty panel on her impressive display and once again thanked her mentor and the volunteers that had put so much faith in her before she left the stage. She barely reached the bottom step when she saw Indigo's two brothers waiting for her backstage, tucked in the shadows where no one else would see them. They said nothing. They didn't have to. Their father had made his decision and now it was time to pay up. Elise braced herself and tried to stand as tall as she could in their towering presence, "Lead the way." 

-

The resort seemed like too obvious of a spot to finish their transaction. The lake was too risky. Even now that he had made up his mind, Don Muraeni was far too suspicious to let someone even think about catching him off guard. No the final meeting place for the exchange would take place in the city square outside the school. A neutral territory where no one could interfere and live to tell the tale. So here she was, Elise was brought directly to the large, mostly empty square save a few locals walking about. The Leechs were nowhere to be seen. Neither were the twins, or Azul, or the Ceriths except for Indigo. Don Muraeni, Proteus, and Junonia waited, seated at a nearby outdoor seating area as if they were frequenting a cafe during their stay. Indigo rose from his seat next to his mother to pull out an empty chair for Elise between the two of them. As soon as she sat down, she felt Junonia grab her hand from underneath the table. Her eyes were desperate but she dare not speak out of turn. The princess gave her the bravest smile she could muster in return. 

"You performed splendidly as you said you would, Elise. Well done," Don Muraeni's serious tone had barely any warmth to it, "I appreciate you coming without a fuss. I assume you are ready to keep your side of the bargain?"

Elise nodded, "Yes, sir. As I said, I will trade my freedom for Junonia's and in exchange, I will pledge my loyalty to the Head of the Muraeni house and use my magic for his and his family's benefit." 

"Please don't do this-" Junonia started to beg before her ruthless husband snarled at her.

"Shut up, Junonia. You've wanted out for so long and now your chance is here on a silver platter. Take the out before I change my mind."

Elise squeezed the siren's hand and spoke in kindness, "Please, Junonia. Let me do this so you can be together with your girls again." 

"Smart girl. Now then," Don Muraeni snapped his fingers and Proteus produced a document that looked eeriely similar to the magical contracts that Azul could conjure, "I have my staff procure very special paperwork for situations such as this. Sign yourself over to me and let's be done with this already. As he was for Junonia, Proteus will be your main handler." 

Elise eyed the omnious document and gave Muraeni and Proteus both a light chuckle, "I'm sorry? I think you misunderstood me...I said that I would pledge my loyalty and services to the leader of the family. Isn't that technically Don Cerith?"

The two men's faces fell for a brief moment as this girl coyly bat her eyes at them. She continued, "Don't misunderstand, gentlemen, I'm by no means backing out. But this is a binding contract and a magically infused one at that. Regardless, I take my freedom and the use of my magic very seriously so these things must be handled accordingly. Am I wrong?"

This girl was wickedly clever. Indigo felt his lips tug upward into a smirk as his father cleared his throat and answered in a forced tone to hide his irritation, "You are not. It may still be referred to as the Muraeni family but Indigo is the acting head currently in power and thus has the authority over all legal decisions, contracts, and arrangements in circulation. It doesn't matter in the long run, the result will still be the same."

Without waiting for permission, Indigo slid the document over to himself before biting into his finger. A bright red drop of blood bloomed on the tip before he pressed it onto the top line. Soon after, the name 'Indigo Cerith' wrote itself across the line in his own manifested handwriting. He then in turn slid it over to Elise and asked for her hand. She gave it to him and held her breath as he carefully pricked her finger for her. One quick sting later, she mirrored Indigo and pressed the finger to the bottom line. Elise watched her name scribble itself onto the contract. Her eyes widened as her surname did not spell out Coralette but Cerith. Elise Cerith.

"You now belong to me, Elise Cerith. The deal is done," Indigo said with a sigh that betrayed just how drained he really felt. The bottle that had once held Junonia was placed on the table as it swiftly crumbled into sand. She was free.

"There you have it," Muraeni's tone was a bit sour at the hiccup but either way, he got what he wanted in the end. He didn't bother looking in Junonia's direction as he waved her from the table, "Go. I'm sure Luna and Cowrie are crying in some corner waiting for you."

Indigo helped her up from her seat. Any argument waiting to be made was silenced as he hugged her one last time. He whispered something in her ear making her tear up but Junonia left the table and made her way across the square alone without looking back. Muraeni huffed grumpily before checking his watch again. 

"Wonderful. We have much to do now that our resources have opened up tenfold. I've had quite enough of the land life. Proteus-" 

Indigo aggressively cleared his throat before shooting his father a challenging look, "I think you've overstayed your welcome actually. Both of you." 

His father's eyes sharpened dangerously, "Watch yourself, boy. I've allowed you some leeway by handing my title over to you but don't forget who's really in charge here." 

For the first time since he could ever remember, Indigo's smile genuinely confused his father as he chuckled, "Yeah...about that." 

Indigo snapped his fingers and his eyes glowed vivid blue, matching the mage stone ring he now wore on his dominant hand, "Abyssal Snare"

His father couldn't move fast enough as the ground underneath him rapidly sucked him down like quicksand until it resolidified, trapping him at his shoulders. He screamed in confused outrage at his other two sons who merely stood there staring down at him. Proteus pushed away from the table in a panicked scramble, showing genuine fear for the very first time. Unfortunately for him, he was doomed the minute he sat down at that table.

"Heart's Lyre!"

The ray yelped as his arms snapped to his sides as he tumbled forward. He hit the cobblestone ground hard with a pathetic thud that bloodied his nose. The predatory heel clicks that approuched him from another nearby table put more fear into him than anything else. 

"Well, well. Look what I've caught in my net..." 

"Oof, he's an ugly bastard that's for sure!" 

Proteus coughed as a cloud of dust was kicked into his face followed by a pair of wicked giggles. He crained his neck the best he could in his state but immediately regretted it. Hovering over him were the very smug and vindictive Cerith sisters. Luna's eyes burned as she quickly tugged at the glowing strings tangled between her fingers. Proteus shrieked as the gesture dislocated one of his arms. 

"Oh no no. Don't cry just yet, " Luna purred darkly, "I'm just a placeholder, unfortunately..."

Both the former don and Proteus searched the area wildly, completely baffled that none of the locals that had been milling around earlier were reacting to this blatant assault on them...only to realize that they were all just standing there watching it happen like it was some form of entertainment. 

"Oh don't worry about them. They're just here to watch after being promised a show, " Elise said, still seated comfortably despite the chaos, "it's truly remarkable just how organized the Leech and Murae-excuse me-Cerith houses truly are when they work together." 

It was then that the 'locals' dropped any and all disguise they may have had and Muraeni's temper shot through the roof. Each one was a member of either Roscoe Leech's gang or his! This had all just been some elaborate setup and he had been completely played by both his and his rival's own people. 

"How the hell did you...?!" he sputtered as Indigo bent down to address him as he lay stuck in the ground, "And where did you learn that spell?!"

Indigo flashed the ring on his hand and gave it a loving look, "First of all, you can thank my wife for procuring this magestone for me, straight from her family's supply. Also that wasn't just a spell, it's my spell...fortunately, I had enough time to develop it before you dragged me out of school all those years ago. Furthermore, if you're wondering how so many people came to the conclusion to help ruin you, Don Leech is a very resourceful and powerful man. He taught me well. He should be waiting to tie up any loose, unguarded ends back home right about now, actually." 

Venom didn't even scratch the surface of his father's fury. He thrashed trying to free himself while screaming obscenities at his own son. It was a rather sad sight actually. In the ruckus, Proteus was helpless to escape but his horror had just began as a different pair of feet confronted him. At first, there was no answer, no declaration, or accusation made. Instead, the feet just kicked the paralyzed ray over onto his back where he was faced with terrible karma. His copper red eyes were globes of fear as the young man standing above him was Spindle. In his hands was the enchanted dagger that Elise had been given to originally break her own curse. In his eyes were years of resentment bubbling to the surface and ready to come to a head.

"I'm setting things right and taking it back..." his voice was clear and terrifying. 

The agonizing scream that ripped from Proteus as the dagger was plunged into his leg echoed throughout the square but the pain from the wound couldn't compare to the feeling of Proteus's very life force being sucked out of him along with the stolen magic. Muraeni watched in horror as his loyal servant began to age and wither as Spindle's magic returned to where it belonged. He was still alive but Proteus seemed more like a walking corpse now that he was powerless. Luna released her hold on him. He was far too weak to fight back much less escape now. 

He coughed and roughly spat at Spindle, "You devious little shit!!"

Proteus dugged his gnarled hand into Spindle's leg but he was so frail that it took barely any effort for the young man to kick him off. The bottles that had contained his older brothers tumbled out of Proteus' jacket and turned to sand. The sisters and Spindle walked over to the shriveled ray and stood beside Indigo as he spoke to their father. 

"Judging from how Proteus' bottles disintegrated, it's safe to say that his 'collection' has now been dissolved," Indigo enjoyed the color leaving his father's face a little too much, "so it would seem that all of your assets you had him collect for you are now null and void." The dethroned Don now understood what Indigo had meant by 'loose, unguarded ends'. 

Indigo straightened up and checked his watch as he had seen his father do all day, "But don't worry. I'll make sure the next one is well taken care of, or rather, Spindle will." 

Cold, desperate panic flooded every corner of Muraeni's brain. He couldn't move. He was outwitted and outplayed by his own blood and the connection with his rival's family that he had wanted to extort so badly. He cried out as Spindle's eyes began to glow, "ST-STOP! I gave you what you wanted! Your mother, your sisters, I can give you even more-"

"No thanks," Indigo cut him off bluntly, "That's all the time we have. Spindle?"

The disgraced father's angry maw was muzzled by his youngest's unforgiving grasp. The boy spared no words as his glowing pale eyes bore into the man's petrified expression. The pitch of his screams warped as his body twisted and shifted into a small mishapen polyp. What was left of Don Muraeni's parting shrieks were quickly silenced as a small glass bottle formed around him and sealed him away. Spindle grabbed the bottle and gave it a hard shake making his dwarfed old man smack his gross little head against the glass a couple of times. Cowrie cracked up at the sight and begged her brother to let her do the same before he pocketed it. 

Indigo turned back to  Proteus who was being kicked and stomped on by his abused brothers. He waited a minute before stepping in. 

"Alright, that's enough you two. Cut it out," he half-heartedly scolded them, "You two are still on my fucking list by the way..." 

The two brothers quickly retreated away from their prey letting Indigo and Luna stand over the miserable husk. Indigo looked to his sister, "What do you think, Luna?"

The siren hummed as she glared down at the man that had tortured her and her family for so long. Seeing him like this, while completely well deserved, just seemed to take the fun out of vengence. Still, why waste a golden opportunity?

"Being bottled along with Step-father seems too kind...I bet the sharks are rather hungry after all the paces this cruel man has put them through for the past few years," her grin was merciless. 

Indigo turned to the men that not only disguised themselves as island natives but secured the entire block to make sure any real pedestrians stayed away, "Gentleman, lend a hand if you will..."

In seconds the pitiful sack of bones Proteus had become was dragged away through some back alleys, away from the square, and out of sight before he could even hope to yell for help. Elise hadn't moved from her seat this entire time. She watched her new siblings at work, holding her breath until it was all over...and it was all over. She watched the four Ceriths finally let their guard down and actually enjoy the fact that they were together again. Indigo pulled Spindle into a relieved hug and said something to him that Elise couldn't hear but seeing the happiness on her friend's face was enough for her to know. The sisters quickly accepted the younger brother as well. Cowrie squealed as he not only hugged her but lifted her off the ground, happy to see that she too wasn't actually dead. They looked so genuinely happy...finally. 

She suddenly felt a leather touch on her shoulder and a familiar smell of cologne that made her whip her head around. Azul Ashengrotto couldn't hide his smile from her even if he wanted to, "You know, I don't care for being left out of such an elaborate and dangerous plot at all, my love. But you handled yourself flawlessly...so I guess one time is acceptable. Just don't scare me like that again, Elise Coralette!" 

Elise didn't even notice the twins arriving on the scene with similar complaints as she jumped up to melt right into Azul's arms, "It's Cerith now!" Before Azul could make another quip, Elise locked her eager lips onto his. Jade and Floyd decided to leave them be for once as they escorted 'Mama Cerith' back to her children. As the rest of her new family reveled in their freedom, Elise could only focus on the man in her arms. She rested her head against his shoulder as his arms wrapped securely around her. 

"I'm ready to go back home," she whispered with a deep sigh, "I nearly forgot that we're still in school because of all this..."

Azul chuckled and kissed her head as he stroked her soft wavy hair, "Think of it this way, after everything you've accomplished-"

"We. Everything we've accomplished," she corrected. She was flattered but this was one hell of a team effort.

"-We, yes. The rest of the year will seem terribly boring," Azul had a point. Any academic stress was barely a threat after nearly selling her soul to a mob boss. Elise suddenly stood up and looked at Azul with a sad grin.

"Yes. But...I still need to finish my senior year so I can graduate and get my mage license. Meaning I'll be spending the rest of the year in the Rose Queendom." 

Azul's mood suddenly took a nosedive. That's right. Elise was free as were Junonia and all of the Ceriths. She had become a mermaid again. But of course, Life just had to test his patience just a bit longer, didn't it? Well, he was a mature young man, and hell, he had waited this long!

"You'll do marvelously. After that, what will you do-"

"Elise..." Indigo suddenly interrupted the pair with a serious look in his eyes, "I think you and the others should return to the campus for now. Spindle and I need to help clean up here. Also...after you graduate, I'd like you to come live with Junonia, Spindle, Ivy, and myself at what will be the Cerith house. You are still one of us, after all."

Elise felt like her heart would burst. She had a future, she had a home! Azul felt a bit of relief knowing that she wouldn't be too far away. The relief didn't last once Indigo turned his eyes on the Octavinelle prefect. 

"That is...until you get married, of course." He was talking to Elise but staring directly at Azul like a protective father sizing up his daughter's boyfriend. The pair had matching red faces at the implication. Azul now knew just who he'd have to go through to ask Elise for a proper courtship. He couldn't say he was entirely thrilled about it. The boy just grabbed Elise's hand and quickly followed after the eels back towards the school. He was too embarrassed to look back at Indigo who had a big smirk on his face.

Conversation flowed pretty easily between the two eel couples as the girls caught the boys up on the events they had missed, much to Floyd's annoyance. Azul and Elise hung back a bit behind the energetic quartet, Elise intertwining her fingers with Azul's gloved ones. She quietly giggled at his pink face and tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

"So...to answer your question, I want to open a clinic. Maybe collaborate with Luna as well. You're going to open up a proper Mostro Lounge aren't you?" 

Her smile was brimming with excitement, it was infectuous. Azul felt his own passion stir in his chest, "Oh absolutely! I already have the blueprints and infrastructure all laid out. We start the process as soon as we become seniors. By the time we all graduate, Jade, Floyd, and I will have a real establishment up and running. Once Jade becomes the new Don Leech, he'll be very busy naturally but his support will only guarantee our success-"

Azul and Elise continued to talk about the future all the way back to the campus, swapping ideas and feeding off of each other's energy. Once they reached the gates, only one question was left unanswered...

"And after all that..." Elise mused, "I suppose then I can settle down and take a mate if the time is right. Yes...I think Elise Ashengrotto has a nice ring to it."

She said it so casually that Azul almost missed it. Or he would have had it not hit him like a freight train. His heart thumped in his chest wildly at the prospect. The desire, the intention had been resting in the back of his mind for some time now. Now that the dust had settled and the stars aligned, Azul felt ready. 

"It does. It's a gorgeous name...and if you're willing to wait for it then so am I, dearest," Elise blinked owlishly at how unfrazzled he suddenly was. Not only that, Azul was removing a small, palm-sized item from his pocket, "Elise, I was going to wait to give you this later on but since we're on the topic..." 

He opened his hand to her. In his palm was the spiral shell pendant that once held her voice. It had cracked once the curse had been lifted and became nothing more than a dull, damaged shell. Now after some clever care and polish, Azul presented it to her as a proper mating necklace: its cracks filled with gold and various-sized pearls adorned the surface, tracing the spiral shape elegantly. It was absolutely perfect. Her heartbeat pounded as Azul kneeled before her with a charming, loving smile.

"I would be honored if, in the future, you would become my mate. I cannot imagine a more perfect woman to spend my life with." 

Elise felt like she could both faint and fly of her own volition at the same time. Her hands shook as she gently took the necklace and held it to her chest. She tried to speak but only a happy sob came out as she started to cry. She laughed and nodded enthusiastically before letting Azul put the necklace around her. She didn't even pay the cat calls from the eels any mind as her mate held her to him with a deep kiss. 

This...was exactly what she had been waiting for. 

-

The rest of the year passed at a blinding yet peaceful pace. Luna and Elise spent the rest of the year studying hard with their respective tutors. When it came time for winter break, everyone made a point to venture home and spend time with each other and their families before getting back to work. The two best friends graduated and quickly returned home to start laying down the foundation of their careers. 

While it would have made more sense for Elise to inherit Madam Lorelei's position as the local sea witch, being her granddaughter-in-law and all, both Elise and Lorelei agreed that the honor belonged to Luna and Luna alone. She had earned it and would build a reputation just as polarizing as her mentor, later being called 'Madam Luna' by the locals. Elise had her own grand plan that quickly took off as soon as Indigo's reformation swept across the old Muraeni territory that was now called the Cerith District. 

Junonia enjoyed a peaceful life and retirement from her siren days in her son, who kept his commitment as Don Cerith, and his wife in another home that Indigo had built in the same territory as the Muraeni mansion but in a much sunnier spot. The old mansion had been abandoned and eventually torn down. The only space that was retained was Proteus' old collection space. It was now empty save for one solitary bottle that Spindle personally guarded and kept locked in a vault. The other two older brothers continued to serve under Indigo but were constantly afraid that Spindle might trap them as well. Now that he had become Indigo's right-hand man, he had every authority to do so but still spent most of his energy looking after Elise, who he never strayed far from.

The Siren's Cove was shut down for good. The girls were either returned to their families or supported by Indigo to start new independent lives. Meanwhile, the building was gutted and rebuilt into Elise Cerith's medical clinic. Luna, of course, was more than happy to give referrals and help prepare and distribute medicines to supply her friend's business. 

During their senior year, the Octavinelle boys stuck to their guns and developed The Mostro Lounge just as they had planned. While Jade inherited his father's role as Don Leech over time, Floyd stuck to what he was comfortable with: part-time head chef at the Lounge, part-time head of security and interrogation for his brother. Cowrie managed to stay ahead academically and entered her own internship as a senior during the same time as the boys. Once she became the new Madam Leech, her main focus would be supporting her husband and household, but at the same time, Cowrie Cerith desired something of her own. Studying under her sister or Elise had always been an option for her but instead, she surprisingly followed in Ivy's footsteps and acquired an internship at the Funebris magestone company. They had branches on land and under the Coral Sea for their unique pearl division. Cowrie took interest in the technical side of things but somehow attracted the attention of the marketing department as well. 

To this day, Jade says that it was because she became even more beautiful once she turned eighteen. She went from being a petite, cute little sassy eel to blossoming into a nymph-like young siren that turned heads and broke hearts. It was awkward at first, mostly because of being in Luna's shadow for so long, but Cowrie quickly leaned into her alluring glow which quickly landed her a modeling/spokesperson career within the Funebris brand, eventually other Coral Sea brands, and even a few from the surface as well. 

Once their lives, businesses, and careers took off and they all reached a point where they felt comfortable taking that next step, that's when the marriages started happening. Surprising no one, Floyd and Luna were the first ones - aside from Indigo and Ivy - to start having children. The entire Leech family was thrilled to welcome the first baby girl the couple was blessed with. And then the next. And the next. And the next. Eventually, Floyd and Luna had one son, who would ironically be the only child that would inherit his mother's siren genes, and then finally one more daughter. Either way, Narissa Leech was thrilled to have so many adorable little grandbabies right out of the gate. Roscoe Leech, though he'd never admit it, was extremely happy to have so many granddaughters. 

For a while, Cowrie had worried that she wouldn't be able to have Jade's children after many failed pregnancies. Perhaps no matter how much they loved each other, they just weren't physically compatible. Just when Cowrie was about to give up hope, she contacted Jade in near hysterics when she found out that she was officially, fully pregnant with not just one baby, but two. A year after their nephew was born, Jade and Cowrie were blessed with twin boys. While they wouldn't reach their father's mammoth height/length, the boys did certainly take more after their father in their size which put a lot of strain on their mother while she carried them. However, in spite of the difficulties, Cowrie had her babies without any complications aside from her husband almost worrying himself to death. Between taking his father's place in running the Leech household and aggressively caring for the mother of his heirs, Jade was more exhausted than his mate.

As for Mr. and Mrs. Ashengrotto...

They married once a few different things happened: Azul had run the Lounge with booming success for about two years without any major losses, Elise had established a strong foothold in the community in both Leech and Cerith territory, and Azul had been granted Don Indigo Cerith's blessing to marry his adopted sister. There wasn't a huge ceremony, much to Mama Ashengrotto's outrage, but they did have an enormous celebration at both the Leviathan Club and Mostro Lounge respectively. After about two more years, Azul and Elise had a daughter that inherited her father's coloring and her mother's eyes. She was Azul's entire world, second only to his wife, and was absolutely adored by her grandmother, great-grandmother, and her eel uncles and aunties...and now that the two families that ruled the city were actually one big family...

Life under the sea couldn't be better.

---

Lazuli Ashengrotto could hear the jazz music from her father's lounge downstairs. She was turning fourteen today and preparing herself at her vanity for the elaborate party about to happen downstairs. She combed her long lavender-grey locks with one tentacle while she applied a small bit of color to her lips with another. Her father had fussed at her for wanting to wear makeup so soon but after many, many debates, they reached a compromise. His baby girl wanted to be just as beautiful as her mama so who was he to stand in her way?

"Oiiii Zuliiii~" 

A rapid round of knocks sounded from the other side of the teenager's door just before opening. Never waiting for an invitation, Floyd's youngest daughter and child Juno swam in and wrapped her long teal-striped tail around her best friend.

"Let's go, let's gooo~ We can't get started without you and I'm STARVIIIINNGGAH..."

The young octopus just giggled as she pulled her wavy locks back with the final touches, "Alright, alright here I come."

Downstairs the Lounge had closed for a private event in which all friends and family were in attendance. All of her uncles, aunties, and cousins, and of course her grandmother who always insisted on catering for every single birthday party. And not just for her actual granddaughter but all of her eel 'grandbabies' as well. Between them and her business, Ursa Ashengrotto had her tentacles full. 

Lazuli smiled at the usual chaos that came from these parties, why it had almost become a tradition. At one table sat her dear Uncle Don Jade Leech, Auntie Cowrie, and their twins that towered over their mother but would never dream of upsetting her. Unlike their father and uncle, Jet and Spinel Leech had clearer tells of who was who. Jet had the signature black streak in his teal hair and heterochromatic eyes just like his father: one yellow from Jade and the other blue from Cowrie. Spinel, however, did not inherit the dark strand like his brother, but his eyes were mirrored to Jet's. He also inherited his mama's gold freckles. The only matching trait the twins shared were the dark stripes on their tails and arms they inherited from Cowrie. It always made Lazuli think of a pair of raccoons. The boys watched their father closely as he discussed some sort of business with them as Cowrie doted on her niece, Lucine, that had swum over from another table. Lucine took after her mother in appearance and somehow came out with a far more demure and shy personality compared to the rest of her siblings.

Floyd and Luna's family took up one of the larger booths. Their eldest daughters Marissa and Cyane sat on either side of their parents. Marissa was the spitting image of her Grandma Narissa, thus the name, and held herself in similar elegance. Cyane was also very lovely but had her father and grandfather's sleepy eyes that often made her look a bit pissed if not threatening. Clustered among them was the only son and second youngest child, Calico Leech, who looked every bit like his mother with her same black hair and warm golden cream coloring. He was destined to be just as tall as his father though and already had to tuck his long tail underneath him to keep it out of the way. 

Uncle Don Indigo Cerith and Auntie Ivy had just arrived with their own two children: Cobalt, their eldest son that could be his father's twin save for the fiery eye color he got from his mother, and Elsie, the youngest daughter who was a perfect combination of her mother's green color and her father's darker patterns. She was also named in honor of her Auntie Elise. Her Uncle Spindle arrived with them, escorting Junonia who was immediately ambushed by all of her enthusiastic grandchildren.

Lazuli made the rounds to greet everyone before noticing that her parents were nowhere in the room. She smiled knowingly and snuck over to one of the outdoor balconies. Her parents were very busy and industrious octopi so whenever they could squeeze in a private moment for just the two of them, they absolutely seized the opportunity. Their daughter found them enjoying the view and sharing a loving kiss or touch as she normally did. It used to gross her out how lovey-dovey her parents were but now it barely phased her. She cleared her throat to announce her presence.

Azul and Elise Ashengrotto turned to their little darling with warm smiles. "There's my princess!" Azul cooed to her. Lazuli was also accustomed to her father's abundant affection and soaked up every single drop of it. She jetted over and threw her arms around her father with a happy squeal. Elise's heart warmed at the sight of her husband and daughter. She stroked her girl's silky hair with a doting smile, "Happy Birthday, Lazuli, my darling."

Lazuli turned and hugged her mother before beaming up at her with matching turquoise eyes, "Are you happy, mama? Daddy?" She turned back to Azul as her arms stayed around Elise. She had become very in tune to her parents' moods from a young age. When they were happy, truly happy, they seemed to shine and Lazuli was convinced it was because they had so much magic. So every day, at the very beginning, she always asked: are you happy?  And when they were, they said...

"Absolutely."

-the end-

Thank you for reading <3

Tagging: @nuitthegoddess @iscarlettappel @foxwitchaine @1ndigowitch @wysteriadelights @evieyouknow @ladyrosemoon @victoria1676 @aiimee9 @honey-milk-depresso @espada188 @feldya @marcepanna

[brittlebutch]

hi there! Were you able to find any more chronic ill Vax fic in your drafts?

oh yes! I was able to find one other vax fic (set right after the ep where that demon guy tricked Vax into wearing the Flaying Coat & stabbed him - premise being that Vax is still cursed as he was in canon but it takes them much longer to catch onto that fact because he's so used to dealing with similar symptoms) and I'll share some snippets under the cut!

(TW i guess? This one was a lot of GI symptoms stuff which is probably a big reason I never finished it haha)

"Vax sleeps like shit and wakes up feeling even worse.

It isn't, honestly speaking, all that unusual.

He'd been on a streak of good days, before last night happened, but it really was only a matter of time before reality settled in once again. After all, Vax doesn't so much have 'bad days' so much as he has the occasional 'good one'.

His body has never done well to do its job as a body. By this point - even without added traumas - Vax doesn't particularly expect any differently."

--

"Vax staggers to his feet, dizzily pushing through the open space of his room until he can prop himself against the doorframe and breathe for a moment. The simple action of moving leaves him feeling wiped, already further exhausted than he had already been, but the change in orientation means his stomach is more unsettled than ever, and he doesn't have long to pause before he has to stagger onwards."

--

"This type of sickness was a once daily occurrence, and while it still happens far more frequently than Vax would ever like to experience or admit to, at least it isn't as bad as it had been once.

At least that's what he thinks, up until he realizes that the cramps in his intestines aren't alleviating, the sickness isn't letting up, but he can feel his mouth filling with saliva, a pressure against the base of his esophagus getting worse instead of passing.

'No,' he says aloud, for some reason. His strangled voice echoes strangely off the walls around him. He's frantic as he can be as he glances around the small room, his guts haven't settled, there's no way he can simply get up and change direction, regardless of how briefly, but there isn't any other receptacle readily available and he can tell there's no time to call for help. He can't, he just -

he leans forward and vomits all over the floor between his feet, nails digging into the sides of his thighs as he heaves, barely missing the fabric of his pants in favor of bare tile. The effort of puking makes his guts pull even sharper, and the pain makes him actually cry out, up until he chokes on another mouthful of sick.

Things haven't been this bad in a while. Vax hadn't missed it."

--

"It truly is bad enough to have to suffer through this, but it is far worse to have to know that other people are aware of it. Especially something like this, it's repulsive. To Vax it's simply one incident out of many, but he knows how the wider world sees it - anywhere from a vile secret to a childish joke.

Insult adds to injury, he feels his hands start to go numb, vision going grey at the edges. His stomach twists again, and he doesn't bother attempting to choke it back this time. The mess is already there, by now there's no point in trying to avoid a bigger one."

[grappel-writes]

Poor Strategy

Orion regales his dying companion with a childhood story like a proper soldier. Except the companion is an overly dramatic undead (who almost certainly can't die from blood loss), and "companion" is a very muddy definition.

Read on Ao3 Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50446567

Astarion x Orion (male tav) Stabbing, gratuitous blood mention, wound descriptions, permanent injuries (not for a major character)

Rocky bluffs, short falls, precarious footing, but good for making sudden dodges, getting into, and out of, the enemy’s range. The sun is setting, creating stark, long shadows that are perfect for Astarion to utilize. Half a dozen opponents block the thin deer path that cuts through the woods shading them. Hooded figures, likely cultists, with only short blades visible. If more weapons or magics were hidden underneath, there was no time to tell. Orion is flanked by Wyll, already summoning his rapier, and Astarion, who leans forward in thrilled anticipation of the blood that’s about to be spilled. Orion’s ax is pulled, grip secured with a calibrating heft, and in sync, they’re off. 

The figure at the lead rushes forward, too, knife over extended and leaving himself open. Orion sees the telegraphed move from a mile away and is already aiming for center mass. The moment before impact, from the corner of his eye, he notices a vital detail. A deadly one, even. An oversight that drains him of all his confidence. Astarion is slipping into the shadows like it’s a habit, but doesn’t see the figure already planted there. Half obscured behind the brush, she’s well behind the path. They had walked right by her without a single notice. The vampire doesn’t even get the chance to turn fully before the lithe, hidden human poses for her target. There’s no time to warn him, not mid motion, and Orion’s ax blade glances harmlessly off of the unseen plate under the traveling cloak of his attacker. Something else he should have noticed, but he’s too concerned for Astarion. He curses, loudly, and tries to reorient himself without letting it rattle him. What else had he missed? Was anyone else in danger?

But again, there’s no time, no time… there’s never enough time. “Fights start and end remarkably fast.” Orion’s voice resonates through the camp the same way the fire in the center radiates light that dissipates into the dark woods surrounding them. “You don’t even realize how many decisions you have to make with each breath, each half a second… each half of a half of a second.” “That’s called a quarter, darling.” “It’s called life or death, fangs.” He’s been poking the fire with a far off look as he’s entranced by the licking flames, musing out loud. “In that ungodly small instant, you have to make so many judgements, each one to save yourself. Or your people. In the time it takes for a sword to unsheathe everything could have changed. And you can only act on what you know… what’s in front of you, what you actually see, hear. Where your focus is.” “You overcomplicate things. Just go in with sharp instincts and sharper blades, it’s always worked out for me.” “If only I had the instincts of a well fed vampire, hm?” The dimpled, healing marks on Orion’s neck betray his fondness. “I have to keep honing that sharpness. Walking onto the battlefield, for me, unprepared is the same as walking in already dead. So, even if we’re ambushed, separated, in camp, or hells, at sea, I want to have a plan.” 

“Ugh, really?”” 

“I know it’s a lot but what you’ll do, what I’ll do, how to save each other… they keep me up at night.” He tosses the stick he’s using to poke the fire into the flames and clasps his hands together tightly. “I don’t just look out for myself, you know I’d protect any of you, but Astarion… I can’t see you get hurt. So, please.” 

The vampire’s quiet for a moment, watching the upturned golden look that reflects the fire back to him hurt and plead silently. 

“Fine. Only because I can’t wait to see what you think I could possibly do on a boat of all things. And because it’ll ease your worries.” 

Gripped by fear and pain, overwhelmed by indecision and the flurry of moments he should be judging now, and now, right now, knowing the more he’s absent the more he’s missing and it’s stacking up faster and faster. Orion freezes. 

The enemy ambusher’s blades flash out with deadly precision, cloak floating back behind her with the motion. Both daggers find their mark deep into Astarion’s side, making him cry out. The side of his carefully mended gambeson immediately darkens with blood. There’s a gruesome noise when the attacker pulls her blade free with a wicked, successful snarl. She’s readying to strike again despite Astarion crouching over to hold his wounds, incapacitated. 

Orion can’t even process a want or fear, an instinct, not even a noise. He’s completely numb, his mind ejecting to some other realm. So far gone, when he’s struck by a battle hammer on the shoulder that jostles his entire frame and pushes his collarbone sickeningly low, he doesn’t even respond to the shooting ache. Distantly, he acknowledges a bolt of raw power that shoots over his shoulder. The smell of ozone registers, but no meaning is placed to it even as Astarion’s attacker is sent flying back off the stone ridge. No longer having to pull his focus between his attacker and the wounds, the vampire falls to his knees. 

Those wounds are deep, judging by the length of blood he saw disappear into Astarion. The fighter’s blood runs cold, the idea to shout dies as just a passing thought. His stomach lurches as blood continues to pour out from between the vampire’s clutching hands. The entire side of his companion and the ground under him are a glistening scarlet. Their blood. Shared life and strength that Orion readily gave, that Astarion made his own, was spilling. 

There are other crashes, yelps, and grunts of a fight he can’t seem to pull to foucs. His ax is weightless in his hand he’s so unfeeling, stuck staring uselessly at the elf across the clearing. He could run to help, but how? His legs are more than useless. Besides, he’s no medic. Astarion could die, couldn’t he? And standing here just watching, surrounded by enemies who would love to find out if he could, Orion’s mind is simply blank. A flash of a different fight, in a different life, rainy cobblestones drain the blood he shared with another towards him and again, he was paralyzed. 

“...what are you doing? Orion!?” The still scene in front of him blurs, then shakes violently as Wyll grabs him by the back of his chest plate. The warlock is inches from his face, wielding a rapier of light out to an approaching attacker just to buy them a second. 

“Snap out of it! Orion! We need you in this - don’t lose it now!” Orion blinks, recognizing the one infernal and one stone eye boring into him, commanding him to come to. Wyll was still well, still fighting, and Orion couldn’t let him do it alone. The grip on his weapon tightens, conviction set, but all he can manage to do is look over his shoulder at Astarion anyway. The other man balls tightly onto his knees, making no noise, no movement… “ Now Orion!” Wyll gives the armor another brisk shake, then tosses the fighter directly into the fray. The world snaps back into focus. 

Years of training take over. Decision to be made now - life or death. No time to think. Anything that he had missed would have to remain unnoticed. It pushes Orion back inside. The scared young man who just wants to run to Astarion’s side and scream. Instead, it’s the fighter who stands tall, and before him skulls cleave, armor crumples like foil, crushing its wearers. Blood flies, wounds opened by him are cauterized shut again by the pure energy of Wyll’s spells striking true. It’s a gruesome duet that ends in mere seconds and leaves smoldering, motionless carnage at their feet. Orion doesn’t recall a single moment of it. 

As soon as the last body thuds to the ground, Orion’s ax joins it there. He twists on his heel to sprint to Astarion’s side, his only cohesive thought is to be with him. He falls to the bloody dirt, “Astarion - hold on, not now, not now, notnownotnow… I’m gonna get you back. Come on-” “ Don’t. ” Astarion bites back without looking up, hissing through his teeth. “It hurts. ” each sound is torture, a fight on its own. “Give me. A moment.” Orion’s hand hovers nervously over him, shaking, his mouth dry. “I’m sorry, this was my fault, I shouldn’t have told you… We could have seen her. I’m sorry. Let me do something, I’m not leaving you here.” Panic is mounting as he realizes just how useless he is at this moment. Only good at destroying, not at helping someone once they’re actually hurt. 

All too many commands, curses, and pleas flood Astarion’s mind. They roll around like something barbed, catching each other and ripping and tearing at everything. Unable to speak anymore, they lash out to Orion’s mind, its parasite, directly.

I can’t fucking move. Don’t make me - it’ll hurt worse. I’m not going anywhere. Help me. I’m immortal. Can’t die. Can’t die. I don’t want to die. It. Hurts. 

The half elf recoils at first at the rushed flood of thoughts, but recovers and shifts even closer, heart pounding, lost. He doesn’t look up when Wyll approaches while digging something out of his pack. 

“I know, I know, that looks nasty… here.” He presses a familiar bottle into Orion’s hand, catching it within his own while he speaks to get the frayed fighter to focus. “Give this to Astarion. Stay. Here. Fight off anyone else that comes, I know you can.” Orion nods. Wyll looks to Astarion. “Don’t die. I’ll be back with Shadowheart. We’ll get you right.” the Blade forces a smile, “I won’t let our favorite leech-” “ GO” Astarion’s deep, guttural command cuts through all pretense, all niceties. Wyll blinks, but understands the urgency immediately and takes a couple steps backward before taking off.

The cork is fumbled with a couple times before Orion is finally able to work it free. He holds it under Astarion’s mouth, grateful that his shaking has settled now that he’s been given a task. “You have to.” He can’t help the shaking in his voice, though. 

Astarion groans, sitting up enough to do that would stretch his wounds out, but his energy is fading and he can’t protest more than that. His thoughts are too cloudy to come up with any other idea. 

“I know, but if you can’t do it on your own I’ll have to push you on your side and pour it down your throat. Your choice.” An even more miserable idea than the first… Astarion weighs his optins, and decides that if he’s going to go through excruciating pain again, it’ll be on his terms. A bloodied, pale hand lashes out and grips Orion’s bracer. His grip slides on the metal, but stays, and he pulls the arm closer to himself. “I’ll do it, dammit-!” His breathing is deep, rough, ragged. Blood is dripping from his mouth now as he stares down the potion in front of him as if it’s his newest nemesis. Insufferable pain, or death. How he wished he wouldn’t end up in this situation over and over again like this… But he had done it before, and he could do it again. 

The fighter lets his arm be controlled, holding it steady through Astarion’s pained quivers. He pushes it up and against the vampire’s lower lip. Ready. 

With a sharp inhale, Astarion sits up fully and pulls Orion’s arm, and the potion, with him to drain it fast. Orion follows through with the motion, tilting the bottle as needed. Sharp, wrenching pain makes Astarion’s vision swim and the world twist as he can feel the gruesome shift of cut flesh against itself. He knows pain like this, and in some fucked up way, it’s a comfort that he isn’t new to this kind of anguish. 

He drinks fast, unable to taste or feel any of it, and releases Orion’s arm with a cry as soon as he’s done. The bottle’s tossed aside, and the elf leans over again, hand ghosting over his own wounds, too sensitive to touch now. They still burn, but now in a sickening way as the potion gets to work to weave flesh back together the limited amount it can. The pain now is less dominating, atleast, no longer fading in and out of lucidity, his mind is his own. 

“Orion.” He gasps, still crouched. Hurts a little less to keep it compressed, it seems. 

“Yes?” “Looks like we’re moving our next night time encounter up quite a bit sooner.” The fighter scoffs, a relieved smile flashing for just as long as he dares to feel that. “Not if you’re going to just let it all go to waste again. No point in filling a bucket with a hole.” “ Don’t. Make me laugh.” Astarion shoots a dagger of a look back up, with the slightest glimmer of mischievous appreciation in the red. “Right, of course.” Orion shifts back, sitting fully in front of him now, in tense silence. It feels like infinity as he watches the growing red on Astarion’s side slow, and then finally, stop. The only noise to accompany them is the shifting of leaves in the woods, the barely there shuffle of the creatures that live in it. They’re deathly still and quiet, as if they’re both waiting to see if the healing reverses somehow. Of course, it doesn’t, and the searing pain finally ebbs away enough for most of Astarion’s other senses to return. A few more moments, and he’s comfortable to move again. If he’s going to be under the careful watch of his mark, he might as well look proper while he is. Sitting back against the bluff, still favoring his bad side, Astarion looks squarely back. Takes in the tight shoulders, the grit teeth of the fighter in front of him.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know. I’ll let you take the blame since I can’t sink something sharp into the actual person that caused it, but you're just taking the fall." The half-elf's brow pinches, and he works to remove his bracers and gauntlets as he speaks. "You acted under my guidance, I contributed at least that way." The removed armor is dropped by his knees, "and again I failed you, when you were caught by someone I didn't see. Then when I couldn’t make it to you… Three moments I could've prevented this, and didn't." Left to watch the self scrutiny, Astarion can only grapple with the roiling confusion of why . Why did he endeavor over this so hard, blame himself, put on this show about it? Orion claims to not want anything more than a cure and to go home, so what's all this effort for? Did he really think that Astarion was worth risking this much for? "Most people would call me a blind idiot for missing the rat myself, and they'd be right. I'm already bleeding out, making me watch you torture yourself too is just depressing." 

That gets Orion to almost roll his eyes, but he relents. "You're right. You don't need to hear me go on." "Of course I’m right.” Astarion rolls his shoulder, wincing at the easing pain, “If you've anything more entertaining to discuss, well, we'll likely be here for a moment." "Mm." Orion shifts, one knee up and the other curled under himself. "Something entertaining… I'm not a very good story teller. I'd read you your book, but it's not in your pack I don't think?" Astarion shakes his head, an earnest, small smile touched by the offer. One that perhaps he’ll have to take him up on later. "What do you want to talk about then?" “You want me to pick? Come now, if you can’t even regale an injured ally in his possibly last moments with a battle story, what good are you as a soldier anyway?” 

Orion slumps back with a disbelieving laugh, “Sure don’t sound like you’re in your last moments… but fine, if you just want to hear me drone on while you die…” 

“Well honestly, I’d rather be in a massive feather bed, wonderfully not stabbed, surrounded by beautiful people, wine, and the bloodiest of dinners but. You’ll do.” The vampire gives a dismissive wave towards the other, as if his company wasn’t one of the most important things in his life right now.  "Let's see… why don't you tell me about how you froze out there?” That red look cuts back up, suddenly razor sharp. “Don't think I didn't see it. I might have been in mortal peril, but even I was able to catch that." Despite his best efforts to needle, his expression softens. The toying lilt fades to something that sounds dangerously close to genuine concern. 

"Really?” 

Even under the pauldrons, it’s easy to see Orion’s shoulders drop. “You were clutching at two stab wounds, and you still noticed?" He rubs a hand down his jaw to hide his embarrassed smile. He tries not to think how that meant when Astarion was hurt, he looked to him. Tries not to think of how that makes him happy. 

"I'm very perceptive. Now, don't deflect. Remember the whole dying and occupying my last moments thing?" "Firstly, you're not dying. Second: of course, Astarion, let me just bare my deepest fears and biggest insecurities to you. For entertainment." "That is precisely what I want, yes." Orion laughs, "One day, I'm going to figure out how to say no to you…" He pushes his hair back to avoid making eye contact. “I’ll take that as a challenge.” Another laugh, and Orion laces his fingers together, staring at them with a fading smile as he pulls the thread on an old memory. 

"It's a whole story - which is exactly what you were hoping for, I think. Some family drama, even…” he glances back up, downright bashful, “I’ll tell you, but you don’t talk about it to anyone else, okay?” “Darling, keeping secrets is what I do, I would never.” Astarion holds a hand over his heart, a swear he’s broken countless times, but something pulling at him says not this time. This one he’ll take to the grave if Orion asked. The other nods, satisfied with the answer because he trusted Astarion far too much.

“I've never frozen like that before, except when I was a kid. I was big enough to think I was grown, but still young enough that I wasn't sure what to do with all the new strength and height yet. Mom always said I reminded her fawn at that age, I guess I get why.” He blinks hard, bringing his thoughts back to the story he’s so used to avoiding. “Anyway, I picked a fight with a merc group." 

"That was stupid of you." 

"Yes, it was. Dad wanted to hire them for something, they turned him down, and it put him in a tight spot. I didn't even bother to ask why they did, or stop to think if there was a better way to help. I just got it in my head that they needed to be taught a lesson." 

Astarion's brows lift in unexpected amusement, never would he have guessed his humble warrior used to be so hot headed. And the eagerness for violence, even at that young of an age? Some people are just born with talents, he guesses. "And I'm assuming you didn't leave them to drain in the streets, mission accomplished?" 

"Hah, no. Course not. I think I wanted to… prove myself? Make my mark? I don’t know. All I actually did was get beaten senseless. Turns out they weren’t interested in going easy on me just because I was young.” He tilts his head with a sheepish chuckle, “I wouldn’t have either after some of the things I had said.” “To be a fly on the wall when that happened…” Orion points that half smile back at him, “Maybe you were. Can you do bugs, as spawn? I know the real things can do bats, wolves… surely a fly is easier, right? You could handle that?” “I’m sorry - I believe we left off at the part where you made a fool of yourself and were then beaten and humiliated in the street for it?” 

Another laugh, bouncing straight from his chest. It isn’t graceful or polite, but Astarion can’t help but smile with him because of it. It’s beautiful. 

“Right, that part…” hands up in surrender, “Face so swollen you couldn’t recognize me, ribs broken, couple joints dislocated…” He motions to Astarion’s wound, “You get it.” “I do.” there are other things he remembers, more in tune with what Orion’s describing, that he can relate to. “Trust me.” The fighter seems to notice, clears his throat, and rubs a fist in two circles over his heart: ‘I’m sorry.’ A quick sign he picked up somewhere, Astarion’s never asked, but he appreciates the brevity of the movement. With the quiet acknowledgement, the moment passes. 

“They… were going to kill me. I think. Until they got bored kicking me on the ground. I stayed there that night, passed out right in the street. You know how Baldur’s Gate is, no one else’s business, so no one even looked twice at some kid in the gutter.” “Ah, yes. Home.” “Hah, yeah. Home. Speaking of, I came home the next morning. Nearly knocked Dallin over while he was running out to go look for me.” Orion’s voice drops, eyes close. “I’ve never seen him so furious. At me, at the people who had done it to me… Dallin liked to fight, too, but he was better at it than me. More skilled… and he did it for the right reasons. ” “Suppose that gallant, knight in shining armor behavior is genetic, then. It’s a wonder either of you made it to the age you did.” Orion’s silent for a moment, studying the ground hard before continuing, acting as if he didn’t hear Astarion’s last comment. 

“He waited a couple days. Pinned down their hideout, figured out who they were and how they fought. Where they liked to drink, the gear they had, casters, abilities… he did his research. I got patched up, braced, bandaged, and he put a sword in my hand again. Told me if I was going to make problems that other people had to fix, the least I could do was help.” His tone darkens, the usual glow to him seems to dim with the rapidly setting sun. In return, the snark dies on Astarion’s tongue. He lets himself be engaged with the rest of the story in earnest. The dull ache in his side not forgotten, but throbbing sympathetically with Orion’s remembered injuries. 

“So we head out. Two kid brothers, with unsharpened swords, and nothing but revenge on the mind. We found them, and got exactly what we wanted. The fight broke out immediately, Astarion… and I froze.” He looks up to the sky, rapidly approaching dark blue, blinking a couple times to force back the burn of his eyes. “I was too far away from Dalin. We didn’t have a plan, we just ran in. So when they kicked him down, there was nothing I could do. I knew I needed to help… the sound his back made. I knew it was bad. But I couldn’t. I stood there and watched until someone knocked me out or I blacked out, I don’t know.” With a shuddery sigh he drags both hands over his face, and he’s quiet for a long time. So long Astarion nearly speaks up to convince him that he doesn’t need to finish the story, but his curiosity wins over, and he waits. 

“When I came to, I was at home. Guards broke up the fight, carried us both back. Should’ve taken us to prison, really, but they knew our parents. And they pitied us. Pitied Dallin.” Voice cracks, but he pulls his shoulders back with a throat clear to compose himself. Astarion sees the man he met off the nautiloid, the one who kept everything hidden behind a soldier’s mask. 

“Dallin couldn’t move his legs. Couldn’t feel them. Whole host of healers revolved in and out and none of them were able to fix it.” 

The last hanging on rays of the sun are clipped, relenting to the smothering navy of the darkening sky. “Don’t be so broken up about it, it’s hardly your fault that he stepped into your fight. One he couldn’t handle, no less. He had to have known something like that was a possibility.” Astarion watches, waits, and seeing no change in that steeled expression, continues. “Not me, though. Your brother is exceedingly valorous, and all the accolades to him for it, but I still expect full protection - and look at the state I’m in! I’ll be holding this against you until you figure out some way to make it up to me.” 

Orion scoffs, trying to force away the smile that pulls from him. Astarion’s getting too good at cracking his composure. 

“I’m sure you will, considering how often you speak on things you’d like to hold against me.” 

“Feeling bold only when I’m hurt? We’ll see if you can keep that up when this gets mended.”

“I’m sure I can keep your teeth off of me just fine, even at your full strength, vampire.” 

“If only it was just fangs we were talking about…” Orion’s look lingers, trained on that red stare that makes him breathless, “If only.” 

The vampire wets his lips, shifting forward, it’s become easier to ignore the burn in his side with this temptation before him. “When we get back-” 

The growing sound of boots crunching on the dirt and gravel path pull both of their attention. Even in the dim lighting, the silhouettes of their companions are clear. Shadowheart’s braid swinging behind her as she moves, Wyll’s proud horns curling above him. “Thank the Gods.” Orion stands, those trailing words from earlier immediately forgotten, and moves to go meet them. 

“Ah-! Don’t just leave me here!” Orion stops in his tracks, it’s unnecessary, they’re only down the path, but he obliges. With only a moment’s hesitation he comes back and takes a knee next to him. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll stay right here.” At that, Astarion has no response other than a haughty sound. He was expecting a hand wave or a laugh instead. Not this level of devotion, especially after the story they just shared. He’s grateful he can look at their approaching companions and avoid the soft, golden look that always seems to be watching over him. 

The mending goes quickly, easily. The only residual burning is from the healing magic, and will wane much faster. Astarion shifts his shirts around to examine the bloody scars underneath through the holes left. They’ll be healed within the week. “I just patched this one…” “I know,” Orion slings Astarion’s pack over his shoulder. Wyll and Shadowheart are picking over the bodies for anything useful, just far enough away to be out of ear shot. “But better that than your ribs.” 

“Better I not get stabbed at all.” He continues to run his finger along the torn edge, “You didn’t have to stay with me.” “... I did.” “You didn’t. But you did anyway.” Astarion pulls his shoulders back, lifts his chin. Every part as regal as he was before the wound. Even if it was just a gesture of an age old guilt, a heavy memory Orion was trying to correct, it was also a kindness, and he’s not used to that. “Astarion,” Orion takes a step closer, and from his thick voice the vampire expects a touch on his jaw, in his hair, something he’s not sure he’s dreading or excited for. It never comes. “I would do it again in a heartbeat, over and over. Anything to make sure you’re okay.” 

“Orion! These yours?” He spins on his heel just in time to catch the gloves flying towards him. “Yes! Thank you, I’m all over the place, I would’ve left them…” He flips them in his hands a few times, and again catches Astarion’s look with a near pleading one of his own. “I’ll do better next time. It… makes my heart hurt to see you like that. I don’t want it to happen again.” almost shyly, his look goes back down to his gloves. Just a second though, in the next he’s composed again. That casual smile back, he nods to Astarion and turns. As if he hadn’t just branded Astarion’s safety onto his soul, declaring it to be of utmost import to him, the fighter walks towards his other companions to look over the pile of secured equipment. 

Gone before he can stumble into something witty, Astarion is overwhelmed and overtaken with a feeling he had lost a long, long time ago. When Orion turns to look down the path, faint, matching pin pricks are clear on his neck. The bare side, where they’re more obvious but won’t scar his tattoo, by request. Evidence of what they do, how they’re linked. That Astarion was there. Mindlessly, his touch grazes over his own new twin scars on his side, but they’re to be lost soon. Vampires always go back to their original state. It aches to think that he’ll lose the permanent reminder. The proof that Orion was ever there, that he was changed because of it. “Ah,” he breathes, and the something between every word and thought materializes, solid and unmistakable now in his chest. His touch traces up to that instead, hand flat over his long still heart.

“Hello there, you were supposed to be dead.” 

[chubby-aphrodite]

I would love to hear about the list of fictional boyfriends bc you're so right about ghirahim

(This is in reference to my tags on this post, which read "#holds him by the neck #theres a reason you dont get to be on my list of fictional boyfriends #its because youre simply too much of a bitch to keep up with.")

THANK YOU.

So like. As you may know, I am aromantic and asexual, but I have a pronounced attraction to many fictional men! I've tried the whole dating thing once or twice, but it kind of makes my stomach flip in same kind of way that you might feel when you accidentally walk into the wrong classroom on the first day of class and you were already really really anxious so you just sit in the bathroom crying for like 20 minutes to try and hold yourself together. That kind of way.

But I like many fictional men in a way that might almost be described as romantic or sexual, but that's the catch with them: they're fictional. I can rotate them in my mind and then put them away because they're some guy someone made up. I also just have eyes that are not immune to aspects of visual design that are supposed to look Good™. I experience some level of aesthetic attraction, it's just that fictional characters can very easily be broken down into aesthetics. Real people kind of... can't.

So, without further ado... here we go.

Now, these aren't in any particular order, they're just in the order I added them. I actually keep a documented list.

Kirin Jindosh (Dishonored 2)

He's snarky and intelligent at the same time. He's a mechanical genius who built his own Clockwork Mansion (which was beautifully executed by the game designers). He built autonomous killer robots with such an attention to aesthetic. He was kicked out of college for causing an accident that's implied to have cost him his left thumb and forefinger, which he proceeded to replace with a ceramic prosthetic that doubles as a smoke pipe. He's tall and lanky and has a rakish charm to him that I just can't resist, and yet I can also see myself punching him directly in the face.

I always go nonlethal in Dishonored games, but doing that to Jindosh in particular fucking broke me. He's an asset to the villain because of his intellect and engineering prowess, so in order to neutralize him without killing him... you essentially lobotomize him. With an electric chair. That he designed himself to use on one of your allies. With the pull of a lever, that's all gone. He wakes up knowing that he used to know things, used to be able to make intricate creations, and realizing that he can't anymore. He's not even mad. He's just... sitting there, confused, with a sedate sadness about him. It literally made me fucking sob for a good five to ten minutes.

I learned a while ago that they had considered including a route where, instead of only having the options to kill him or lobotomize him, you'd just... skedaddle with your captured ally and leave him alone. But, this was cut due to budget constraints. They would've had to record voicelines and make versions of cutscenes for if he was alive and fully himself, but they didn't have the budget for it. I understand... but I'm still mournful of that.

Greed (Fullmental Alchemist, Manga/Brotherhood)

He is a tall man with sharp teeth, a black sleeveless turtleneck, and a cropped vest with a fur lined collar. He's a very interesting character that explores what it means to be "greedy" because the way it manifests through him is that he has a lot of friends and he loves them very much and he is extremely pissed if anything happens to them. He can also transform to have sharper teeth and CLAWS.

I'm very mindful of the version of Greed I talk about, however, because at one point he dies and gets his essence shoved into someone else to create a new Greed. It's just that this "someone else" is a 15 year old and I am Not About That. Had I gotten into FMA while I was still in my middle teens, I may have had a crush on Greedling, but as it stands I'm 22. So! Only the man who has his friends smash his head open for fun to demonstrate his immortality for me, please.

Adam Frankenstein (Frankenstein)

Okay. I'm gonna be real with you on this one. I've never read Frankenstein before. I should at some point. He's tall and stapled together and is described as beautiful and is actually very intelligent (if vindictive and vengeful). But this is entirely based on the fact that I had an erotic dream about him once. I'm not gonna describe it here, but rest assured... I don't know what I'm telling you to rest assuredly about.

Professor Venomous (OK KO)

A man with a penchant for sadism and was made sexy on purpose. He's extremely divorced. He's happily married. He's petty. He's got an even eviler alter ego to go with the fact that he's already evil. He's a whole bastard and a half. He's purple. He's even bisexual. I love him.

Leon (Pokemon Sword and Shield)

He is KIND and he is A LITTLE DUMB AT TIMES and he IS WEARING A TIGHT SPORTS UNIFORM FOR MOST OF THE GAME. He has more depth than some people give him credit for, and has a fun dynamic with Raihan. There's a moment where when you beat him in a battle, his losing animation shows him covering his face with his hat and gritting his teeth and almost shaking, but then he takes his off and he puts on a nice face like "Yeah, that was an awesome battle!" He can't actually be angry when he wants to be angry because he's The Champion (and later the head of the Battle Tower) and everyone has his eyes on him. His hair also looks very pullable.

Saïx (Kingdom Hearts)

So this is kind of an OG fictional boyfriend for me. He was one of the first characters I ever sought out character/reader fics for. If you know me, you know I have a thing for both vampires and werewolves, and Saïx is sort of a diet werewolf. He has a moon motif and can turn more... wild and angry. I like a man who is measured in most of what he does and says, but when he loses it, he fucking LOSES IT. He's also (say it with me now) TALL!

The kicker here is that I've only played two KH games (re:coded and Dream Drop Distance). I was just so sucked in my the fandom as a tween that the men I was interested stayed with me even now.

Qrow Branwen (RWBY)

So, fun fact about this one: before I started watching RWBY, one of my friends pegged me as the sort of person who would be a Qrow Fucker right away. And they were right. He's a conflicted man whose source of pain is himself and how he thinks he makes life worse for everyone around him.

The Assigned Power that he has is literally bad luck. Bad things that happen around or to him that most would just ascribe to simple chance happen with increasing frequency around him. He's afraid he'll get the people he cares about hurt, so he pushes them away to avoid that. Bad things constantly happen to him, so he's driven to drink. He puts on a sarcastic and nonchalant facade about it, but he's just a lonely man whose self loathing is so far up his own ass that he almost actually got people killed because he drank himself into a stupor and couldn't help them.

Punchable, but also a sopping wet cat of a man. It also helps that he's mildly disheveled and a little flirty on purpose.

Guzma (Pokemon Sun and Moon)

YA BOY. Man just likes bugs and wants to give people a place to go. I enjoy imagining what he'd sound like because it's an accent I can actually do. A crusty weirdo with a soft and gooey interior. Very emotive and up front. I like a man with confidence.

Ganondorf (Zelda)

I'd just like to say I was a Ganonfucker before TotK. His original incarnation from Ocarina of Time is LITERALLY out there wearing a skin tight leather leotard, thigh high leather boots, and a tights. His subsequent incarnations also all have very compelling things going for them, too.

Winder Waker Ganondorf had a thought out, sympathetic motivation that became warped by his inescapable lust for power, dooming him. And he has his moms' names printed on his swords, which is adorable. Twilight Princess Ganondorf is genuinely terrifying, resisting his divinely powered execution squad and masterminding a takeover of the very realm meant to be his prison. He also has an excellent design. Shoutout to Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf for also having an excellent design. And finally, his Tears of the Kingdom incarnation combines an also-incredible-design with a very, VERY powerful presence.

I love his very harsh features and also I want to bury my face in his chest.

Sidon (Zelda)

What can I say about him that hasn't already been said? He's kind. He's handsome. He believes in you. He's enormous. He loves his sister. He loves his wife. He loves Link. He's even got sharp teeth.

Side tangent time because I love dumping this on people and if you've read this far you're in for the long haul already: sharks don't really have two dicks like we typically think of them. They have a pair of something called claspers, one of which is left out in the water and the other is inserted into the other shark. The left out one pumps in seawater while the other one expels water and sperm, fastened inside the other shark by the grace of the fact that it can unfurl like an umbrella. Sharks don't have dicks. They have jizz hoses attached to their crotches. I learned this (most of it anyway, the rest was filled in via Wikipedia) in the marine biology class I took in high school because I thought it would be fun and I didn't wanna take normal biology. Thank you for coming to my impromptu lecture on shark dicks.

Axel (Kingdom Hearts)

Axel has much the same story as Saïx with regards to his relation to me. I was into the Kingdom Hearts fandom as a tween and he just stuck with me. I enjoy the fact that he's cool and a bit sassy and I love his friendship with Roxas and Xion. It's nice.

Alucard (Castlevania)

Disclaimer: I've only played one Castlevania game (and it wasn't even a good one) and watched only a few episodes of the show. But by GOD this man is good for me. Tall angsty vampire with long pretty hair and a really cool outfit. Shoutout to Ayami Kojima's art.

Dunban (Xenoblade Chronicles)

Dunban is an incredible man. He lost the use of his right arm entirely due to the god in the sword he was using at the time rejecting him, and yet he still used that sword successfully to defend his home from an onslaught of man-eating robots. A year on from that, he learns to wield a sword one handed in his non-dominant hand, and is just generally a badass.

Tales of his heroism spread far and wide, even to more isolationist corners of the world—enough so that when he visited those isolationist areas, he could leverage his reputation to make people of a much higher societal rank than him listen to him. Essentially, he's talking to the prince of a kingdom, and the prince tells him he can't do something because of X or Y esoteric law relating to the traditions of their people (even though he understands they're odd to outsiders). Dunban, in all his cleverness, essentially just goes "Let's do it anyway because it's the right thing to do, and if anyone gets in trouble we can just say we're weird outsiders who don't know your laws, yeah?" but with better wording and more emotion. At this point, the prince, who is of a long-lived race and is literally five times Dunban's age, essentially yes sir's him.

I also just love his voice. One of his voice lines for one of his abilities is just a really guttural, growly "Dance with me" and I love it.

Grimsley (Pokemon Black and White)

Depressed man in a suit with a vampire-ish appearance. Then has a later appearance where he looks aged by stress. That is all.

Volo (Pokemon Legends Arceus)

Oh fucking BOY I am not normal about this man. He is kind and passionate and has an insatiable hunger for knowledge, but the knowledge he's accumulated has made him seek out the power of a god. A power he can't have. In spite of the stupid Arceus-shaped hair, he manages to have such a gravitas in his final battle. The beady eyes. His casual half-smile turned sinister. The music that plays being a remix of the most feared trainer in Pokemon history, to whom he is implied to be directly related to. The fact that he fucking cheats and pulls out not only a seventh Pokemon, but the fact that that Pokemon pulls a "YOU FOOL, THAT WAS ONLY MY FIRST HEALTH BAR!" The way he goes through Laventon to avoid talking to you again in order to tell you that Giratina wants to help you. The ease with which you can give him spine crushing trauma through a combination of religion and retail. I've literally written a volo/reader fic and am working on another, longer one. I love him.

Vanitas (Kingdom Hearts)

On my journey out of tweenhood and into being a teenager, I became slowly more interested in villains as times went on. Vanitas was one of my first and most powerful instances of that. He's an evil doppelganger to one of the protagonists created out of the darkness in the heart of another. He's cool. He's angry. He's very enjoyable to me.

Consul N (Xenoblade Chronicles 3)

Oh boy, another one I'm incapable of being fucking normal about! I've posted about him at length in other posts, but the general gist of my obsession with this man is... his obsession. His devotion. He's so strongly attached to the one he loves that, after repeatedly having her ripped away from him, he chooses to perpetuate the miserable world that so violently tortured them both on the condition that he could be with her forever. He looses himself in his possessiveness, he wants to believe he's doing it all for her—but deep down, he knows he chose the coward's way out by abandoning his hopes and dreams and choosing to become the boot that keeps the world down rather than topple the system that won't let it rise.

And that's how the story of XC3 starts: his cast of hopes and dreams—and those of the woman he loves—coalesce into a new existence that hasn't suffered the many existences he had—that they both had. And that coalition of their hopes and dreams finally, finally manages to set the world right, after much fighting and suffering and introspection. At one point, he physically and emotionally tortures the embodiment of his hopes and dreams as if to prove to himself that what the way he's been doing things was the only way. But later, his hopes-and-dreams self literally tells him that he's a coward and that he's full of shit. I was so enraptured by this scene that I had to make art of it, of N leaning against the bars of a jail cell as he emotionally tortures his other self, and it became my profile pic.

Commander Isurd (Xenoblade Chronicles 3)

This man is so fucking stressed out that the quest you do to help him be more powerful is trying to find him a way to relax, and there's a scene where he strips and sits in a hot spring. He is a man whose heart is so full of grief that he won't let himself process. I've described his eyebags as harrowing before, because there's no other better word for them. Let him rest. I want to help him rest.

Sephiroth (Final Fantasy VII)

The disclaimer here is that I've never played a Final Fantasy game, let alone any incarnation of VII, I just find this man fascinating. He has three dads who are all pointing guns at each other and as well as two moms. He was injected with alien DNA in the womb, raised as an orphan, and groomed to be the perfect supersoldier. When he found this out as an adult, he went on a rampage and did a lot of terrible things including trying to explode the world. But before that, he was just kind of a guy put under both a spotlight and a microscope, and all that culminated in incredible violence. Also I like one winged angel.

Grusha (Pokemon Scarlet and Violet)

He's just very pretty and I like his attitude. I'm also intrigued by his implied angsty backstory.

Spyke (Splatoon)

I'm simply a sucker for vaguely mysterious tall men. I don't know why they gave him some kinda cockney accent in the American English localization only, but I'm frankly here for it.

Vash the Stampede (Trigun)

I've also been posting about this one at length. He's a very kind man to the point of accepting personal injury if it means he doesn't have to hurt someone, and it shows. He's goofy as hell. He menaces people into being nice to each other through the force of his (falsely) violent reputation alone. He loves his brother so much, he just wishes he would stop being an asshole. He believes in the human capacity for change. He represses his emotions and puts up a facade so that he doesn't hurt the people around him, even though he tries to push them away anyway. He's tall. He's got some cool alien/monster traits. He's also just cool as hell. He's a mama's boy. He's even into petplay. I love him!

Conclusion

I love all my hims.