#not saying it will be favorable for you after the fact

[brynn-lear]

The Abduction of King (Y/n) [Yandere Mydei x Reader]

A/n: Here I go, an asexual trying to learn how to write smut, so bear with me as I start this journey. Also, note that this story presumably happens after the entire Amphoreus Quests, so I’m running under assumptions on how the story ends. I enjoyed writing this reader. It’s always refreshing to write nice people turned feral.

Unreliable Synopsis: The new Stellaron Hunter, King (Y/n), is always welcome to visit the Express. Life has a way of changing a person… And Mydei couldn't accept his beloved’s new “whatever will be, will be” attitude.

CW/Tags: female reader (“King” is your title), slight hurt/comfort, yandere!mydei, toxic relationship, heavily implied one-sided sunday/reader, mild violence, and dubcon elements 

To smell and taste pomegranate juice— such were your aspirations before living the life you have now. 

You are simultaneously at the lowest and highest point of your life.

Being falsely accused of "matricide" was an unpredictable way to achieve that wish, yet you are nonetheless grateful for the hand you dealt with. You'd dare say it's a blessing in disguise. Despite your retainer’s blatant “betrayal”, you were thankful he had ground your knees against gravel and harsh pebbles. If anything, he wrote you a lovely story.

(Y/n) was exposed to have “murdered” her mother, the King, in the Charmony Festival.

Former King (Y/n) originally fled her mysterious unknown planet.

Former King (Y/n) joined the Stellaron Hunters soon after.

Exciting, is it not? Crimes you hadn't committed weighed intolerably upon you. Your planet, Amphoreus, wouldn't dare open its mouth for a choir. No tears shall be collected in jars should you perish, instead, your funeral will be basked with laughter. Daidalos is not a forgiving nation. The Daidalosan Cathedrals would sooner strike a beloved saint’s statue down than a chord from your songs. 

You still vividly recall Kafka’s opaque stare through her tinted glasses. The playful yet empathetic smirk on her face served to entice you to her. She needn't use a whisper. Fate just had its way with you.

The Nameless get to shelter a wounded bird, while the Hunters take on a new apprentice.

As poetic as that sounds, your resolve isn't cruel and unfeeling. If it were, you doubt the Express would take kindly to your serene shenanigans.

You giggled. Truth be told, you were aware as to why March left in a hurry. 

You may hold yourself with sheer elegance and an astute gaze befitting of the crown, but behind it lies a mischievous streak that remains undetected. What can you say? Perhaps this sneakiness is an act of love. You do miss their company.

Several months ago, the Nameless went on a dangerous mission to Amphoreus. 

The unknown planet the galaxy you hailed from that the rest of the galaxy does not know?

That was Amphoreus.

 The very same planet you escaped from was the place Dan Heng and Stelle landed blindly.

Aside from Elio, only a single soul knows this one other dangerous fact: you cannot taste or smell anything— and fall victim to catatonic moods more capriciously than others. Your ailment does not terrify you more than Kafka’s lack of fear (ironically), Yingxing’s mara— and especially not more than Firefly’s syndrome. Just a scratch to your patchwork of problems. You had support. Your people once wholeheartedly gave you your flowers for the good you've done. And it pains you immensely how you cannot express genuine gratitude for it.

You may have been a great King, but Kephale never favored you. Unfortunately, you cannot resign to THEIR uneven-handedness much longer.

You are not a Chrysos Heir.

You are just an Amphoreus Tragedy.

It's no small wonder that you offered your life to Elio, hoping he'd one day pull out a feast that would satisfy your tastebuds. That day won't happen any time soon. Not that you mind.

Cause you'll get to see Stelle, Dan Heng, March, and Sunday suffer while drinking your horrendous drinks— if you're lucky, Himeko’s as well.

Ah, your seemingly earnest and just demeanor is truly a gift that keeps on giving. Your “friends” are gone. You stand on new ground, one that allows you to take the smallest things to heart.

Your mother’s “murder” is when you started noticing what matters in life.

Now, you enjoy the silence.

Listen deeply. The child in you that wasn’t allowed to. Let it heal.  

It’s what Kafka ordered you to do, and it was the best command a King could ever receive.

“Going somewhere?” 

You stopped walking and looked up from your phone. A familiar young boy standing by the doorway. He had a small smile on his face, despite barring the exit.

“Lord Elio?”

“Indeed,” he nodded. “This is your first time seeing me in this form. And I assure you, this won't be the last.”

Given his clairvoyant abilities, you figured that to be true.

“My apologies for not recognizing you, Lord Elio,” you frowned. “I'm afraid I have grown more accustomed to your feline form.”

“No need for apologies.”

He handed you a machete.

Machetes are your weapon of choice, and quite frankly, no other steel fits like a glove. The lances of Daidalos do not compare to the satisfying momentum brandishing a machete elicits. Unpolished. Unkingly. Unsightly.

Personally? 

… You thought they were cute.

They remind you of someone.

They say never bring a weapon to a fistfight, but that little prince never minded.

You cleared your throat but stopped yourself when Elio raised his hand, disinterested in how you would inevitably pay him back in credits or an equivalent.

"I-I am most grateful, yet I must inquire— what purpose does this serve?" You inclined your head slightly, your gaze steady. "Is there an urgent expedition that demands my attention?"

“If there was an emergency, there would have been a contingency plan beforehand.” The boy giggled, fixing his bow tie with a smug smile. “But no, I just urge you to take this on your way to the Express. Just in case a small miracle triggers. Which, I doubt.”

Hmm, there must be a threat later then. Shame. 

Elio cautioned you. “You might also regret wearing that.”

“Wearing what?”

“Red.”

You assessed your appearance. At first, you thought nothing wrong about your flinty rings and maroon pantsuit. “Does it not look good on me?”

“One might say it’s too good on you,” Elio muttered. “Let’s hope it doesn’t reach that point.”

“Understood.” You bowed.

“Lastly, King (Y/n)?” Elio shook his head. 

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Do not bow for me,” he exhaled, mildly exasperated by your antics. “You are one of us. You are a Stellaron Hunter, do you understand?”

“Yes, of course, my Lo—”

“None of that either!”

“Yes… Elio.”

“Better,” the young boy opened the exit.

Then, he opened his eyes. It's those piercing blue shades that make you both uncomfortably seen and relievedly accepted.  

“Next time you come back, we'll have a giant feast for your return. No pomegranates. It's a feast that may just be more memorable than your previous birthday celebrations.” Elio’s grin widened. “Truth is, once our prodigal King returns, she shall become a Stellaron Hunter.”

No pomegranates? Become a Stellaron Hunter? What an odd choice of words— and aren't you already a hunter?

Does it even matter?

You can’t taste anything.

You laughed. Elio loves your laugh for it was always a whole, hearty, and joyous sound. A laugh befitting a king. 

“Much like my favorite bard, I do not understand a word out of you. However, do not worry—” You stepped out the door. 

“I am looking forward to it!”

“I'm ashamed I can't show you a better sight when you've been enthused to visit. What a pity. I cannot stand to present to you such weaklings.”

“Weaklings, you say.” You muttered. “Little prince, their rib cages are stretched open with limbs bleeding out. This torture you call training outmatches the way we Daidalosans treat prisoners.”

You picked up the tortured gladiator’s weapon.

It was a machete.

“Was it necessary to torture them…?”

“Δασκάλα μου (My teacher), they have insulted you and Daidalos. I cannot allow such slander to the former.”

You saw the intense sincerity in his eyes and turned away.

No matter how many times you have rejected his heart, he continues to court you in ways that disturb many.

“You care too much about me. I hope you would spare such care for your gladiators instead.”

“And you care too little about yourself. This is precisely why your nation fears our military might, King (Y/n). Make no mistake, everyone suffers in their imagination more often than in reality.” He scoffed. “Even these soldiers.”

█████ laughed. To him, this is one of many days where no one remembered the fallen except for spectators such as yourself. █████ watched as your eyes batted over the strewn rubble where your grandfather’s soldiers once fought for the realm’s peace. He saw conflict in those (e/c) eyes. A dead silent remorse for faces you have never truly seen.

Even so, you smiled sadly. 

That smile was out of place in Prince █████'s Spoliarium.

“███, that may be your opinion, but our mind IS our reality. It may seem overdramatic and unreasonable to you, but the pain is not any less real.”

“We seriously need to master how to make coffee before (Y/n) gets here….”

“Don't worry so much, Dan Heng, we at least persuaded Himeko to visit Herta so that's one big bomb deactivated!”

“... should you be adding that much Halovian sugar? I believe that unhealthy proportions are against many culinary rules.”

“Rules? What rules, Sunday? Nah. These are guidelines.” 

“What— Stelle, NO!!!”

You snorted a sound that does not sound elegant in the slightest. Both Dan Heng and March 7th apprehended their callous friend. Sunday’s wings perked up upon hearing you, and a smile formed on his face before he even knew it. Meanwhile, the three only took notice of you when they successfully extracted the sugar from her hands.

You placed a hand on your mouth, hiding any impolite laughter.

“I've just arrived, and it sounds like an interesting conversation. Shame, I should've arrived moments prior.”

“(Y/n)! Nonsense, you came at a perfect time.” Sunday sauntered joyfully, standing up to usher you toward Shush’s counter. “There's a seat beside me, please come here.”

“Look at him, already making the moves,” March whispered to Stelle, snickering.

Stelle, a master of the stoic expression, only nodded. “Let him cook.”

Dan Heng rolled his eyes, ignoring the two.

“King (Y-”

“Just (Y/n), please.” You pouted. “You are all an equal to me.”

“... (Y/n).” Dan Heng scratched his neck. “About the brewing session…”

Your questions were lost in Dan Heng’s recitals of Himeko leaving for Herta’s Space Station, Stelle’s failed attempts at brewing her cup (it somehow turns into alcohol-like beverages), and the crew’s insistence that the next batch should follow online recipes. This made you laugh more than you thought you would. So, you decided to drop the idea altogether, to everyone’s relief.

“Instead, we can talk about our last journey instead, how about it?” Stelle offered.

Your smile stiffened.

“Ah, yes, I believe that was in…”

“Amphoreus!” March grinned. “The pictures Dan Heng and Stelle took were so nice. Here, let me get it—”

“There is no need for that.”

You spoke a little too quickly.

More perceptive than you thought, the crew noticed your sudden change.

“(Y/n)?” Sunday spoke, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

“I know why.” Stelle pushed away from the table, upsetting her chair before theatrically balancing herself back. She then went on carelessly:

“It’s because she’s from Amphoreus.”

March’s eyes widened. “WHAT?!”

You looked away, sighing. “Shush, do you have a bottle of Retsina wine?”

“Wait, w-where did you get this information, Stelle?” Dan Heng shook her slightly. “I don’t recall hearing that—”

“She’s the former King of Daidalos, which is far away from Okhema. Honestly, I just saw it around stone tablets. Daidalos is a long-fallen land of artisans. People thought she died by execution because no one believed she did reach beyond the sky. They also say she’s the mentor and childhood crush of crown prince M—”

“You know a lot and you never thought to tell us about ANY this?!” March gawked. “What the heck Stelle!?!”

“I just thought it wasn’t that important.”

“Yes, yes it is!!!”

While the three argued over details, Sunday took the bottle from Shush and poured you a glass. There’s a look of understanding in his eyes, and he won’t ask unless you want him to. You gave him a small smile, acknowledging his empathy.

“You look rather pale, have those Hunters done something to you?” Sunday inquired, his unease blatant. “Is it your mission? Have they been asking the impossible?”

“What? No. My workload is infinitely a lot less weighty than the crown.” You grinned, teasing. “It's all light work.”

He figured he had nothing else of value to add. Still, his eyes were skewed. Sunday won't be dropping the issue any time soon.

“Then why do you look kinda miserable?” Stelle asked.

“Steeeeelle! C’mon, watch your mouth. How do you always sound so offensive?” March whined.

You placed a hand on your head. “Hmm, I shall not lie, nightmares have been mostly a root cause for my unsightly and dim appearance as of late. Pathetic, I am aware—”

“Nightmares?” Dan Heng shifted his body forward, closer to you. “Like what?”

“I dream of an old… friend a lot more frequently.” You paused. Should you be saying this? “And more often than not, I'm being… chased… by him.”

Both Stelle and March looked at Dan Heng. He bit his bottom lip, thinking. 

“... Where is your new mission?”

“Elio has given me no command,” You sighed deeply. “He declared that the plans are already set in motion, and it falls upon me to rise to the occasion, whatever challenge it may be that calls upon me.”

“Oof. Good luck.” Stelle said, but the air of those words seems a little more knowing.

March chuckled nervously. “Yikes…”

Sunday had no comment. Instead, he also poured himself a drink.

“I'd be wary if I were you.” Dan Heng’s gaze was astutely focused on yours. “I've been through something similar. Nightmares, that is.”

"Is that so?" You murmured, swirling the coffee in your cup with an air of detached curiosity. "And what transpired thereafter?"

“...”

March 7th laughed, uneasy.

“Well, uh, it kinda came true?” March’s eyebrow furrowed, wearing a strained smile. “It's good though, Blade didn't actually kill him so…?”

“March.”

“I'm sorry, it was just too silent, I couldn't stand it!”

“... What were the dreams like? Can you elaborate?”

You paused at Sunday’s questions.

█████ towered over your chained form, clenching an open letter in his strong hands. His knuckles were white from the sheer anger he held them.

“Entertaining a love letter, are we?”

He sneered.

“How dare you consider suitors other than myself?”

█████ knelt down and harshly grabbed your chin.

“Shall I pluck his feathers out for you?”

“Cold.” 

You muttered. “Lacks warmth.”

Sunday has never been this tempted to get into someone’s mind.

Dan Heng placed a hand on his chin. 

“Anything else? Like vivid smells or tastes?”

You laughed. “Are those things important?”

“Sorta?” March quipped.

“Is that so…” You wouldn’t know. Both senses eluded you.

…

…

Suddenly, you had willed your words into existence.

“!!!”

Someone uninvited has entered the Express.

An immediate tension gripped everyone’s lungs, and each heart in the vicinity quickened. A subtle shift, imperceptible yet undeniable, stirred them all. A silent warning. Eyes darted nervously, glances exchanged with no words. The Nameless knew that something was about to emerge. The weight of the unknown pressed heavily upon their shoulders, and though none dared speak it aloud, they could feel it— whatever was coming was drawing near.

The lights flickered and died out.

“LOOK OUT!!!”

Enshrouded by a ghost who trailed behind, you grabbed Sunday and jumped away. The sound of metal rang. None of you could see the other. Pompom’s screams, asking for what was happening, droned on inside the other car. 

You must’ve barely dodged that attack. Swiftly, you brandished your machete. Instincts that infiltrated each inch of your veins screamed that the intruder you faced was a familiar soul. Your body warmth congealed a hand’s breadth below the blade’s sharp rim. It’s been a while since you felt this threatened.

This excited.

You sported a boyish grin. Been a long long while since you had felt true risk— a real divergence from your tolerable comfort zone.

“Come and face me in the light, coward.”

The figure drew their already built frame taller to stiffen their pride.  You spun to the side, narrowly avoiding a crushing blow that tore through the air. Your instincts were sharp.

With a final joining of force and momentum, you swung your machete with half of your strength.

It met the shadow’s fists, causing an ear-bleeding stalemate of metal against metal.

Seconds passed, and it was clear that an impasse had been reached.

You both pulled away— and the figure ignited a fire within his palms.

As if your eyes were spiked with visions of red and yellow— you squinted at the strange man. His bare skin and intense eyes are enough to make the common man buckle his knees and tremble. 

But you know that face.

It's the one soul who knows your secrets.

You paled.

“... Dei?”

That face, though aged, belonged to the young boy you taught patiently. The same stubborn boy who wanted peace for his people even though the chances were slim. The only person who would vouch for your innocence. The kid who you secretly envied for his cursed immortality— for his status as a Chrysos Heir.

The little prince who wanted you beside HIS throne.

It was Dei himself. 

Crown Prince Mydeimos of Kremnos— the land of Daidalos’ “worst enemy”.

“Dei” grinned. He languidly raised his head, his gaze towering above you. A shadow clouded his face and settled in his eye.

You, who had reduced his name to one syllable on the day you met, was the first woman he had come to admire ardently.

Riotous pomegranate wines that hedonistically spill in white table cloths that adjoin themselves like countries on a map— saintly garbs donned by faces achieving a carnal state of euphoria— those were the images that describe Daidalos to the crown prince. Holy, but unrighteous. 

Yet, when the sky brightly illuminated your face at the outdoor picnic you extended the invite to, the Prince was royally smitten. Humbly, you were dressed only in a simple sundress. No accessories or cloaks to elevate yourself. In the seeded topsoils of the plains, you were the most natural beauty to behold.

Mydeimos had grown obsessed with the consistent air of absentminded integrity you carry as King. It was not an aura he had the privilege of carrying. But he will live that life vicariously through you.

“Δασκάλα μου. (My teacher.) Kαρδιά μου. (My heart.)” The prince scoffed an airy smirk. Not a word can describe his smug satisfaction. “Found you, at long last.”

Chrome, gold, and pomegranate red.

Those had always been his colors.

And that included the color of…

“You adorn yourself in every color but red, is there a reason why?”

“Red is more of your color, little prince.” You humored him. “And a King wearing red is an omen for war. The same is said for our flag.”

“I see.”

… blood and war. A color entirely suited for his calling.

You froze without breathing, struck dumb.

How did he leave Amphoreus?!

You greeted with a frown.

“... Hello, little prince.”

You can’t believe this.

Leaving took you centuries to perfect!

How did he do it?!

Mydei instantly detected within you an erosion of self-assurance.

Just talking to him felt no different from downing some of Kafka’s fancy wines. While you consider yourself above petty theft, this situation compels you to understand her deeply. You, too, would pocket Dreamjolt Hostelry’s alcohol to an amount you felt was just after talking to this prince.

He recklessly held your blade. The Chrysos Heir thrust your weapon’s handle against your palm whilst his own bled profusely.

It had always been difficult to challenge an opponent with no self-preservation.

“Has joining these intergalactic bandits stripped you of every bit of decorum, King (Y/n)?” He shook his head. Taking advantage of your paralyzed state, the prince yanked the machete away, allowing it to pelt to the floor with a harsh thud. 

The prince leaned down to kiss your hand, but the sudden pause shocked both you and him.

“Where is it?” He spoke gravely with murderous rage.

You pursed your lips. “Where is what, Prince Mydeimos?”

“Your ring.” Mydei spoke. “The Daidalos King’s ring.”

A laugh escapes your lips. One without any semblance of humor.

“It is a ring that adorns only the hand of a King, does it not? Yet I, alas, no longer bear such a title. You may put those facts together to form your conclusion.” You answered, nose turned up snobbishly. 

He glared.

The prince threw what was assumed to be a warp device that formed a distortion that connected the Express to Amphorous. Your eyes widened and you snapped back to make eye contact with Stelle. 

You only had a second to think.

“CALL KAFKA!!!—”

“(Y/n)!!!”

But before they could reach and save you, you and the intruder disappeared.

Just as there was no consensus if the Nameless should involve themselves in this matter or not, no trailblazer had the same opinion of following suit aligned with their beliefs. Sunday desperately tried to have everyone on his side, whereas the wiser of the crowd had more sway with their stable voices. The three only had to watch and wait for Kafka to arrive. 

Until then, the express was silent.

Crown Prince Mydeimos, son of Gorgo, may not be the sharpest of men— but he lived a proud life.

“That Prince again, how many more of our King’s time shall he exhaust?!”

“I do not know myself, Aitherios, but he certainly does not mean well.”

“And we are to let that man linger in our castle?”

“I suppose so.”

“But Luminia!—”

He had never hid his true self. There, Mydei would stand, taking no more notice of them than they are of him. Though usually unrestrained, he would hold himself back for those who spat venom were your people. People you had loved and cherished for centuries longer than you’ve known him. 

And he is no one but a person you’d go to picnic with on a sunny day.

Despite his raging mind, he kept his mouth shut about your unpleasant servants. He’d bear the pain of every word. He’d even accept lashes and whips if it meant he could sit beside you in your favorite picnic spot another day.

He stays rooted in a field where he does not belong.

That was how much Mydei loves you.

"Alas, it is a sorrow that your visit is swift. Had it been under better circumstances, I would have bid you stay and witness an Epic with me thereafter." You sighed, placing the teacup under your lips. "The young lad, who once struggled to wield a greatsword, now holds the power to lay waste to my very castle at his will. How swiftly the years slip away..."

Mydei’s gaze softened. 

On his frequent idle days, he systematically fit visiting Daidalos in his schedule. This is all in hopes that someday, you’d see him beyond what nostalgia portrays.

Why can’t you see that he obsesses over you the way a man would to his woman?

Frustrating how YOUR visits became less warm and less frequent. Was it custom only that bound the two of you? That cannot be so. You refer to him beyond his station, as he does to you as well. 

Surely, you feel the same beating as he does?

There is no other possibility, is there?

The only thing that stands between you two and the altar must be the crowns you both will and have been carrying. If your people only loved him—- if both your people only cared for one another instead of a constant rivalry for Nikador’s gaze.

"It must be so. As it stands, the folk of Daidalos and Kremnos are far from sharing the civil discourse you and I enjoy." Mydei gently set his cup upon the blanket spread across the verdant earth. "In the quietest recesses of my heart, I wish for a day when my people might share a picnic with yours."

“Do you wish me to crayon a series of plans?” You teased.

“Do not mock me, King (Y/n).”

“The offer for a treaty stands.” You shrugged, your face turned solemn. “That is unless the brutal culture of Kremnos has a better idea of peace?” 

Mydei chuckled.

“How about an abduction?”

“H-Hah—”

His lips claim yours in a fierce, desperate kiss. It's as if a dam has broken, all of his pent-up desire and longing pouring out at once. His calloused hands tighten around its grip, holding you close as he deepens the kiss— his tongue tastes you with the desperation he's not articulate enough to voice. You'll just have to take him as he is. Rogue and animalistic.

You punched his chest. As expected, he didn't falter. Instead, his gaze was tender and his breathing was more… pleased.

“Y-You look ravishing in red.” He smirked. "And to think that bird thought he could please you the way I do."

A husky, ragged moan sneaked out of his lips as he seemingly devoured and shared his heat with yours in unison. No escape. This was far from comfortable. Your back was pinned on the cold Spoliarium walls. You gasped as you felt the subtle and slow motion of his hips grind against your smaller frame. Mydei tilted your head to the side slightly to deepen the kiss.

The worst part? Both your eyes were open, for two reasons on the opposite side of the same spectrum.

He wants to watch his cornered prey, and you're his frozen fawn.

A few years ago, you had shown him mercy in hopes he’d do the same. His eyes were a murderer’s eyes, his hands were a murderer’s arms. But he is without sin. Mydei did not choose to have a murderer’s eyes and hands. And you had refused that he will be treated as such.

You should have.

Just when you felt your eyes fluttering shut at the immediate danger of passing out— the prince graciously pulled away. You saw a sliver of saliva disconnect between both your lips. Almost insane how this had your legs threatening to lay on the floor. The fact that you can barely stand from his intensity boosted a pride greater than a long spar in him. 

Then, the prince hoisted your thighs up and forced them to wrap around him. Your back hasn't had a single moment wherein it hasn't had contact with the wall. Your body hasn't had a single moment wherein you haven't had contact with his warm skin. Your gaze was pathetically unfocused.

“N-Not…” You couldn't help but jest, like old times. “H-How I expected to have my first kiss.”

You felt your spine shiver but had the strength to not make that undirected fear known. Nothing feels right about that place. His Spoliarium was too cold, too dusty, yet his hands were too hot like a forever sun in his palm.

Slowly, he cupped your cheek. Even that loving gesture was rough and intrusive.

Mydei scarcely had a definition for what romance is.

“The fault is your own for expecting gentleness from me.” Mydei brought his lips to your ear. You shivered as he leaned down and nibbled your neck.

Divine. 

You tasted divine. If only you could taste him too, then maybe you'd be more enthused for a “rougher” expression of intimacy. If he could take you now—

You shrank back, terrified. Mydei has been difficult to read on occasion, but tonight his thoughts are blatant and disturbing. You hope your instinct was wrong.

“T-Truth be told, I expect no intimacy from you. I-Is this a—” you panted, weakly gripping his muscular arm. No matter how much willpower you had, you couldn't stand upright. “—form of punishment? I-I wasn't aware Aglaea has e-employed you to guarantee my c-capture.”

“I came of my own volition.” Unbeknownst to you, Mydei’s glare was chilling. “How dare you assume I'd betray you.”

“How dare I, indeed…” You winced. “Why did you come here—”

Unfortunately, the prince was quick to forestall further questions. You helped from the sudden jolt of both pain and pleasure as he bit your neck harshly while he slowly rubbed his hips against you. Mydei was leaving too many marks in his wake. The heat was becoming unbearable.

You gripped a fistful of his hair, hoping to yank him off. “M-Mydei— in Kephale’s name, I command you to—”

“You wanted this.”

He pulled away, and you cursed yourself for feeling almost needy as he created a reasonable distance between you two.

“King— no, MY (Y/n).” Mydei took strands of your hair, kissing it innocently but his eyes were anything but. “I have desired you for too long as well.”

His hand slid under your shirt. You jolted as he squeezed your waist. 

There are times his replies slip so easily that it makes you question their sincerity. This was not one of them.

“I presume with that visage that you’re regularly, at the very least, 3 hours of obliterating sleep.” He pulled your shirt up. “May I know the names of the men who’d find themselves in my Spoliarium soon?”

You almost mentioned Elio in defense of the Hunters, but kept your mouth shut.

“Curse you, Mydeimos.”

He clicked his tongue, snaking his fingers around your neck.

“What dishonorable struggle. I never thought you would have cold feet.” Mydei lightly tightened his grip on your throat. “I offered an abduction, and you agreed.”

“W-What? What abduction?”

Cold feet?

"Reflect further. You possess wisdom far greater than mine."

Your eyebrows furrowed, remembering the conversation. “I only replied because I thought it was said in jest!”

“I am not a man who would jest about entering such a solemn union.” He growled. "You know well that I speak with the full gravity of truth in every word I say."

You paused.

…

Cold feet. Abduction…

Wait…

“Abductions, are they a ritual of sorts…?”

Mydei closed his eyes, huffing in mild amusement.

“...You did not understand that custom, did you?”

“N-No…”

He leaned his face closer, his breath touching your skin.

“Marriage.” His gaze softened. “It is a marriage custom in Kremnos. You have verbally agreed to marry me. And I shall reap what promise is owed to me.”

You felt your energy drain away. A sickening chill.  

Most of your life— it was spent on becoming a perfect ruler. You were chalk honed and clawed with lessons upon lessons upon lessons of strength and wit. Your family did not care if you were even made of a fragile core. But chalk is brittle. Chalk cannot withstand any more of this madness. This lack of human regard. This inhumane treatment. 

You do not love Dei.

You can never bring yourself to love the prince you thought of as a little brother.

“B-But I… I do not…”

“You do not love me. I have heard that lie from you several times.” He kissed your hand. “You have stabbed and buried me several times, yet I will continue to crawl back in your arms.”

Mydei chuckled.

“And tomorrow, we shall have our wedding despite it all.”

He saw how the despair dawned on you. You were shaking. Your breath was shallow and uneven, and he noticed the twitch in your hands, far too unlikely the steadiness of the former warrior King of Daidalos.

No one truly listens to the King.

You are more puppet than king, and everyone revered you for it. You only do what is required of you. What was needed of you. What was desired of you. 

No one truly hears what you wish for yourself. No one cared enough to know you were hungry for the true sensations of what tastes and smells truly are. No one asked you questions as to why you were obsessed with observing nature in the first place. Each person just approaches your throne in hopes they’ll take what they want. No one listens, except for…

This was the part he had anticipated— the fear, the panic, the realization that you were trapped. But instead, you did something... unexpected.

“... Hah… Haha!”

And then, slowly, something twisted inside. The edges of your lips curled upward— at first, just a flicker. You clutched at her chest as though trying to hold yourself together. Your laugh broke free, starting in a soft, broken sound that grew louder, more manic until it was a full-throated, deranged cackle.

Marriage? 

Right.

“Going somewhere?” 

“Lord Elio?”

“Indeed. This is your first time seeing me in this form. And I assure you, this won't be the last.”

“Next time you come back, we'll have a giant feast for your return. No pomegranates. It's a feast that may just be more memorable than your previous birthday celebrations. Truth is, once our prodigal King returns, she shall become a Stellaron Hunter.”

Elio promised you a feast.

Who are you to say no?

You gave him a mugshot smile only a criminal with an enormous bounty would wear.

You were no longer King (Y/n) of Daidalos.

“Is that so?” You grinned wider.

You were (Y/n), the prodigal Stellaron Hunter.

If he haunted your dreams for so long,

you’ll just have to haunt him back.

You harshly grabbed him by his necklace, your breath fanning his face. A giggle escaped your lips at his shocked expression. You swerved and pushed him until your positions switched. With one hand, you clawed both his cheeks, staring at him with an empty glare while the other hand slowly uncloaked him...

"If that is the challenge you present, then I bid you bring forth your utmost strength, dear Husband."

Taglist: @naraven, @macaronilovingracoon, @notthefib987, @chryseis-lxve

Actor!au behind the scenes for this fic: Blooper 1, Interview with Sunday,

[moontheoretist]

Better yet. I met people who claimed he is not mean, that he actually respects you and that you have I quote "adult consenting relationship with him" and maybe he does after the changes devs made after all those Ascended Astarion girlies complained, but it doesn't change the fact that he is not himself anymore, that he sacrificed himself for the power and that any relationship you have with him is just an illusion of equality. You will never be his equal and he will always see you as his possession rather than the person who is an equal partner to him. If that was removed then maybe I'd believe that you can have an evil x evil ending with him, but otherwise you are just his favourite toy.

And it's not just Astarion.

Gale, Shadowheart, Lae'zel and hell even Wyll. All of them can make a bad choice that they think they need to make until you show them it's not the case. Three first need to reject themselves for the sake of the power and security that is offered to them, while the last (Wyll) needs to lean into his prejudices and misguided notions in order to reject his own values for the sake of fulfilling the contract with his patron and not only gaining power but becoming the fake hero who condemns rather than listens, that he never wanted to be. If not for you Karlach would be dead as Wyll would not question and just assumed Karlach was evil. Same for Shadowheart and Lae'zel. Without you neither of them questions Shar / Vlaakith making them play into their abuser's hands. While Gale without you would just simply blow himself up just as Mystra told him to at first opportunity, or just like Astarion he'd just reject himself in favor of something that will never be him - a God.

Still Bad versus Good ending is not necesarily about morality.

In dating games this is simply a distinction between outcomes. The character in question may even enjoy the outcome despite it being virtually worse than the Good Ending version they would get instead. Still, it doesn't mean that people can simply just say that Bad Ending is actually a Good Ending simply because they say it's a better choice because no matter how happy or fulfilled character may seem, at the end of the day it is a bad outcome for them. The one that often ends with them harming themselves deeply in a way that can't be healed.

And player is often the one who let that happen.

The lack of media literacy in the baldurs gate fandom is astounding. There's a good ending for Astarion and a bad ending for him and people keep picking the bad ending for him and being shocked when he's mean to them LMAO.

[cercandodiscrivere]

Quod fata ferunt | emperor geta x reader.

word count | 2.3k

tags | @self-shipping-doll13

warnings | 18+, NSFW, concubines, blowjobs, porn with too much plot, unbeta'd.

synopsis | Being the favored one of an Emperor came with many privileges, one of them being able to see his most human side.

Under all their power and their might, even powerful ruler are still men at their core.

gifs by @batty4steddie

Geta is worried.

You don’t blame him; you understand.

You were present when he decided upon Acacio’s fate: all it took to turn the common people against their rulers where good words and a fleeting display of gentleness among foes – which ultimately meant nothing. Greater men have begged for mercy within the walls of the Colosseum, their distressed cries ignored by the spectators.

No, it wasn't pity that stirred the crowd: the anger had been simmering in their minds before, biding its time for the perfect opportunity to release itself.

A single withered leaf can ignite an entire town if placed upon an open flame.

Geta understands the significance of this – so he is worried.

It is an uncommon occurrence, which in turn worries you.

He paces around his chambers, twisting and turning the rings on his fingers – gold and gemstones and colored glass that send shimmering hues throughout the rooms.

The same hand he is torturing now condemned a man just moments earlier: and even as it happened, you couldn't help but wonder if Acacio would be the only one to bear the brunt of fate.

“You did what you had to do” you try.

There was no specific reason for why you were taken – dragged – to his quarters, other than the fact that you happened to be near him when the rebellion broke out. Amidst the chaos, two praetorians seized both you and Geta as their comrades protected Caracalla and Macrinus.

Oh, it was an incredible privilege to be invited to witness the fights from the imperial pulvinar: and yet, if you hadn't been busy serving wine to your domine the exact moment the revolt started, you would have likely been left to be trampled over by a raging mob.

Three other favorites of the Emperors were also present, but you haven’t seen them since. They weren't present in the chambers where the twins and their arms-dealer discussed what had occurred. None of them came running when Caracalla erupted into screams, nor when he stormed out of the chambers followed closely by Macrinus.

Alone with your master, you watch as he paces back and forth.

The argument with his brother left Geta in an even worse state, if that is possible. His mind seems to be pulled in two different directions, the distress visible on his face.

He knows some of the words spoken by Caracalla may hold truth, despite being laced with the poison of his illness.

Could he have made a mistake in his decision?

The Gods themselves communicate with him in ways that you could never comprehend – not with words, but through the sacred blood he shares with them. Did he misunderstand their wishes?

Even in his divine state, he may not be immune to the burdens of human existence. After all, despite sharing the same sacred lineage, Caracalla's mind is still plagued with flaws.

“There was nothing else to do” you say again. You feel a bit useless as you parrot his own words back to him, but in this delicate situation you fear saying anything that could be taken as an insult.

Geta is a pleasant companion and a passionate paramour – for those who know how to handle him.

From a young age, you have been taught how to play the lyre. Over time you lost the quick skilled fingers needed to captivate an audience, but the lessons learned still serve you in other ways.

In untrained hands, the instrument produces nothing but a jumble of harsh and unpleasant sounds: only those who have mastered it can create a tune that leaves others yearning for more.

During your initial encounter with Geta, you likened him to a lyre; a rather silly comparison, perhaps, but figuring out how to please him in order to gain his favor felt much like learning to strum the strings at the right moment.

And what a masterful musician you’ve been with him.

Still, the Emperor possesses the fiery temperament of a powerful man not accustomed to receiving criticism. He is quick to boast and show anger - but just as quick to calm down and become merciful again.

I play a lyre made of splintered wood, you think, but quickly push the image aside before a smirk can form on your face.

"You made the right decision" you repeat as you stand up, trying to infuse your voice with comfort.

Your movement catches Geta’s attention. He stops in the middle of the room, lingering, but not quite still. His hands continue to fidget and twitch: he looks at you as if he had completely forgotten of your presence.

Taking advantage of his confusion, you approach him and gently place your hand on his tense arm. “The praetorians are fulfilling their duty. Has any crowd ever been able to sway them?”

There have been past attempts at rebellion by the common people - their leaders too weak, too consumed by hunger to have the chance to succeed.

When Geta finally speaks, he does so while grasping your hand, his gaze fixed on the windows once again. “They listened to that poet’s words. That has never happened before.”

You refuse to acknowledge it, but he is right. It is not uncommon for gladiators to captivate audiences with their skillful use of spears and brutal displays of violence – but never with peace messages or pledges of liberation.

In another life, the man’s perspective would have seemed almost convincing. In this one, you've witnessed far too many good-willed revolutionaries meet a violent end.

“Gentle words can’t win a battle” you gently stroke his cheek, tilting his chin towards you so that he focuses on your face instead of the chaos happening outside. “Gladiators tend not to live long” you add to further placate his mind.

Geta’s eyes move, following your gentle guidance. He leans in and presses his lips against the inside of your wrist, sending shivers down your spine from the warmth of his breath on your skin.

Being the favored one of an Emperor came with many privileges, one of them being able to see his most human side. Under all their power and their might, even powerful ruler are still men at their core. Still, in moments like this one – when he stares at you with such vulnerability and openness, as if your voice is the only thing worth hearing – it becomes harder to contain your feelings to a level deemed acceptable for your position.

“The Gods have spoken through you” you reassure him once again, this time shifting just enough so you can pull him towards the lectus. “To attack you is to declare war on the deities themselves.”

“My brother…” he starts, but his voice fades. His eyes are shrouded in shadows once again; crammed amongst the pillows, he appears almost like a scared child, lying down but still far from being at ease. You gently twirl his ginger locks between your fingers, feigning a calmness that eludes you.

“He is scared” you murmur. You search for words that are reassuring yet respectful; it doesn't matter how much Geta favors you above others, you would still find yourself in the dungeons if you showed Caracalla any less devotion that what his status demanded.

“The mob is loud, but screams are nothing to arrows and swords” as you talk, you gradually lower yourself onto your knees in front of him, never breaking eye contact. “The praetorians are loyal to you and you only, no pretty words can change that.”

He hums, a quiet sound. “What about your pretty words?” he smirks.

A mischievous grin creeps onto your face as you play with the delicate hem of the elegant ivory palla draped over his tunic. “All I say is for your satisfaction.”

From this angle, with white paint masking his features, he bears the same daunting presence as the marble figures that decorate the halls: a god once again, towering over his most devoted disciple.

“All I do, is to please you.”

It’s eerie how greedily his gaze seems to follow even the slightest fraction of your movement, yet he remains seated on the cushions without making a single motion. His breath escapes in short puffs, tickling your forehead.

Now it's your turn to take control: this is the moment when he abandons his all his titles and becomes nothing but a man.

You remain on your knees between his spread legs, lightly tapping your fingers against his inner thigh - but still, he does not budge.

The challenge in his eyes is unmistakable, as if he's daring you to do something - anything - without his assistance.

As you press your lips against his clothed cock, he lets out a loud grunt, as if there was no fabric between your kiss and his skin. The noise goes straight between your legs, but this evening is not meant for you.

You continue to tease him, kissing your way up and down his thigh, deliberately avoiding his erection. To his credit, he tries his hardest to stifle his groans as best he can, but you can sense his muscles tensing and his patience wearing thin.

You want to consume him. You tug at the fabric of his tunic; this time, he doesn't hesitate and quickly moves into action, removing his own clothes until his hips are bare.

He begins to mention something about comfort, gesturing towards the luxurious pillows that surround him - but you're already nuzzling at his exposed thigh and the words die on his tongue. With one arm slipping beneath his knee, your body presses closer to his, the other hand running along his skin, hot and damp with sweat.

It’s intoxicating how you can make Geta shudder even when you’re taking your time with it. Sometimes, you've questioned whether it's expected of you to just pleasure him as soon as he asks – but in truth, you enjoy taking your time, savoring the sound of his soft moans.

Mouthing at his pale skin, dragging your nails down his legs with enough strenght to leave a trail of soft red marks. You plant a kiss on the head of his cock, pleased to see that precum is already forming at its tip. You eagerly lap at it with your tongue, paying no attention to the way your actions cause him to grip the cushions of the lectus until his knuckles turn pale.

He lets out loud groan as you engulf him completely in the wet, slick warmth of your mouth. His legs shake on either side of you, his hips thrusting forward as your cheeks hollow, tongue curling as you suck him.

 He keeps moaning, seemingly unconcerned about how desperate he must sound. Under different circumstances, he may have been more conscious of his tone. Perhaps, if your meeting had occurred after a triumphant war victory or a grand celebration in his honor, he would be as confident and arrogant as you are are accustomed to - but now all he craves is comfort, and you’re sucking him into oblivion.

Tracing the tip of his dick with your tongue causes him to bite down on his lower lip in response; licking along the underside has him closing his eyes and sigh. Your favorite moment, though, is when he's in so deep your chin rests on top of his balls - and he can't help but release a deep, raw moan of pleasure as he tries to thrust more into you. 

You can tell he's already close just from this. 

You peer out from under your lashes, eyes filled with longing, only to catch Geta's gaze fixed upon you with adoration. His mouth hangs open in a silent whimper, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows saliva. There is no being more magnificent than him in this right moment, neither god nor mortal.

Without warning, his hand shoots out and grabs onto your hair as you become more frantic. You whine, a mixture of pleasure and pain as his fingernails digs into your scalp, and he responds with even louder noises of his own.

His cock rests on the back of your tongue as he lets out rough and guttural groan and empties himself inside your mouth. His head falls back, his eyes fluttering closed.

You swallow it all, ensuring his eyes are back on you before nonchalantly wiping the cum from the side of yout mouth and licking it off your fingers.

Exhausted, you lean your head against his leg and close your eyes.

_

Geta's breathing is still uneven, but the haze of satisfaction is not enough to make him lose awareness completely – not  when Caracalla comes back into the room, shouting.

"Get out!" he growls. The harsh order is directed towards you, still kneeling on the ground, but his gaze is fixed solely on his brother.

In the past few months, there were times when he had lost his temper. Servants, concubines, hosts: everyone was subject to his outbursts of rage – but those were short-lived explosions, like fires on wet sticks.

Caracalla's skin is now covered in red blotches, visible even through the numerous layers of makeup on his face. Whatever words Macrinus exchanged with Caracalla during their private conversation did not seem to have a soothing effect on his temper.

“Get out, leave!” he screams again, pacing back and forth in agitation. This time, Geta helps you to your feet before nodding towards the entrance. His expression is serious once more, a confident facade to hide his underlying concern.

You are dismissed.

A chill runs down your back: you have witnessed the anger of the ill Emperor before, but never in such a furious state. Caracalla is yelling, Geta stands with his hands raised in surrender.

A moment of panic overwhelms you - even greater than the fear induced by the riots outside, but you quicly manage to calm yourself and take a deep breath.

Just as you approach the door, you catch sight of Macrinus once more. He watches the twins from afar, his gaze sharp and calculating, as if ready to intervene at any moment.

He's a strong man; he'll have everything under control.

With that last comforting thought, you turn away and leave.

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Charcuterie

Part 1 | AO3 | *This is a story told in scenes and can be read in any order though is listed in chronological order on the masterlist.

<I know you still have it. Can you take the credit card and buy a bunch of cheeses, meats, fruits, and pick up some of those fancy ice cube trays you’ve been eyeing?

The message from Simon had you fighting back the urge to rip him a new asshole. You know he isn’t trying to be rude. The guys were due home after six weeks gone and Simon needed a few days to acclimate to the fact you were not one of the soldiers and would bitch him out if he tried to treat you as such. It didn’t help that your period was kicking you down every step it could find and then dragging you into the octagon by your hair to go ten rounds.

>Incorrect. I snapped that fucker in half because it made me nauseous to have a black card in my wallet when I couldn’t afford to fill my tank.

Ten minutes pass before your phone dings with the message tone.

<You snapped a metal card in half?

>Yes. I was very determined.

You can feel the nose pinching from wherever Simon might be right now. He only did that move when exasperated. You watched John pull the same move about any number of minor annoyances.

John’s face appears on your phone for a video call within three breaths. Of course, they were talking about you.

Rolling your eyes and praying your eye doesn’t start twitching you answer the call. John is sporting a new bruise on his cheek and a split lip. You know better than to comment on it since the guys will let you look them all over when you get home.

“Hi, love. Can you do me a favor?”

Your tongue slides over your teeth behind your lip, the syrupy sweetness of his voice makes you want to reach through the phone and strangle him. Fuckers must not have deleted the period tracking app from Johnny’s phone like you demanded they did.

“What?” You ask brusquely.

“In my bedside drawer is a plain envelope with your name on it, inside is your copy of the card to the house fund. Can you take that and go buy whatever Simon already texted you and a snack for yourself?”

You can hear Johnny in the background asking to say hi and then getting promptly dragged away. From what you can see around John they are on a military base somewhere, the nondescript buildings in light beige and gray giving it away.

“Which bedside drawer John? All of your drawers can be reached from your bed.”

He had two and every time you visited his room to spend time with him or to simply sniff his pillows because you missed him you noticed the two nightstands and the massive dresser next to the bed.

Gary’s bark of a laugh reached you as John focused off-screen to glare at him.

John’s face softens when he turns back to look at you.

“The nightstand closest to the door, please.”

“Why have you been keeping a card for the house account from me? None of you let me pay anything into it.”

You weren’t bitter about that argument still. You weren’t.

He lets out a slow breath as he decides you won’t pick this fight back up now.

“I wasn’t keeping it from you. It only arrived before we left on this last job and I haven’t had a chance till now to tell you about it. But from what you did to the card from Simon it seems like a good thing I haven’t given it to you yet.” He looks at you with one brow cocked under his hat.

“Keep it up John and I will shrink all your hats one by one.”

The smile that broke across his face at your threat warmed you from the inside out.

“We love you, and we will be home by six. Be sure to stop by the pharmacy and get some painkillers for your cramps.”

With that, he ended the call.

“Fucker,” you mutter angrily to yourself as you stomp across the house and into John’s room. “Telling me what to do from across the country so I don’t bite him. Yes, I need pain meds and yes we are out. No excuse hang up the call instead of letting me yell at him like a man.”

Your angry tirade continued as you slid on your shoes and drove first to the pharmacy and then to the store. You bought two energy drinks to ensure you could survive until your guys got home and then spent an hour looking at cheese. Okay, more like an hour talking to the cheesemonger before getting yourself a couple of slices of Swiss and turkey to go along with the fancy cheeses you bought for the guys. The ice trays you did not need to buy this trip since you had already bought some two weeks ago to make your at-home drinks more fun.

At 5:30 the cheese tray sat ready, the ice had fully frozen, and all of the guy’s preferred alcohol had been pulled from the liquor cabinet. Cracking open your energy drink you transferred it into a new glass and sat down to wait for them. They would be early. John seemed to forget that when they were all motivated to get home they moved faster. Fifteen minutes earlier than John’s prediction and they rolled in the door. You rose to meet them, flurries of kisses and hugs as they all dispersed to their rooms to change and come back to the kitchen for food.

Gary came back first, wrapping himself around you like if he squeezed just right he could absorb you. You smiled and leaned into the love, having missed them tremendously while they were gone.

“You come back whole?”

He hums in confirmation and then is peeled off of you as Kyle replaces him in your embrace. Gary doesn’t fight it; instead, he grabs a plate and piles it high with the many options you grabbed beyond cheese and meat. This process is repeated until all of your men have been grounded in your presence and gorge themselves on food.

Finally able to move freely again you grab your own plate from the fridge and sit down at the table with them.

Johnny pokes at your plate.

“What’s this now?”

“I didn’t want fancy cheese so I bought some normal cheese,” you shrug as layer a cracker, cheese, and a bit of your turkey to pop into your mouth.

His hand sneaks forward to try and steal one for himself but you smack the back of his fingers before he can touch your plate. With one hand over your mouth, brows pulled together in frustration, and an angry finger pointed his way, Johnny gets the point.

Swallowing hard to clear your mouth you address him.

“If you don’t want fancy cheese next time don’t let Simon be in charge of texting me. You know he always wants the good stuff,” you finish your sentence with a sip from your glass. “Now if no one else needs me I am going to go curl up and die.”

Kyle opens his mouth to add something but you speak over his objections.

“I will lay down in John’s bed so everyone can fit in for a cuddle.”

John and Simon share a smile before looking back at you.

Your loves were home, and with them came the constant evolving chaos that was the home you shared.

Masterlist | Fallen Angel Masterlist

@lilynotdilly

[keeperofthepresent]

Teru and Akane character analysis

A scene which plagues my mind and I can't stop thinking of is that one scene when Teru and Akane go to help Kou and Mitsuba, and Akane tells Teru "can't you be a bit gentler with supernaturals?" Teru replied with "I'm always gentle though?" and then there's that pause. A pause from Akane which lasts 3 PANELS, and when he replies to Teru on the third panel, his face is hidden.

It feels to me like he wanted to say something in response to Teru, but he decided against it. And this entire scene just had me analyzing both of their views on supernaturals and what being 'gentle' really means.

Teru has been exorcising supernaturals his entire life based on one idea: they don't belong on the near shore. It's as simple as that. No matter who or what kind of supernatural they are, they can't be good if they're sticking to the near shore.

Not only does he think that they're unstable and can hurt people, but he also believes that they simply should not exist around humans, no matter how they behave, because they're like ticking bombs.

Teru's mindset comes from his sense of obligation and responsibility that has been placed on his shoulders since his childhood. He 'hates' supernaturals but his hatred is general towards all of them. He doesn't hold a grudge or 'bad feelings' towards a particular supernatural, and he doesn't hate one of them more than the others.

This all fits really well with his 'selfless' image. He's not the type of person to hate based on personal agenda. He's only doing his job, and he's said before that none of it came easily for him, and he just had to get used to it.

If he hated supernaturals based on a personal feelings and grudges, then it would be easier for him to be an exorcist since he gets to fight them whenever he wants. But Teru doesn't really get any joy out of being an exorcist. To him it's just a chore or a job, no more, no less.

The most we've seen him do towards supernaturals out of personal feelings is using them as 'stress relief' with either him hanging Akane to the ceiling or fidgeting with a mokke. He lets out his pent up stress on them when he reaches his limit, but he doesn't 'exorcize' them out of stress.

Supernaturals just happen to be the reason behind his stress and misery, so he uses them to calm himself. But at the same time, he won't let his feelings show in his exorcisms. That would be unprofessional.

The only times we've seen him get emotional during exorcisms were when exorcizing Kou, and when he was fighting Amane right after. He was fighting Amane with an intent to kill, not to exorcize.

His exorcism of Kou, on the other hand, was done not only to save Nene, but to free Kou and prevent him from doing anything that he'll regret. Hanako has said at before that exorcism is like a 'release' to a supernatural, and Teru is very much aware of that.

That is why Teru told Akane that he's 'always gentle'. He's doing them a favor. He's freeing them. He's not just killing them. That's the difference.

Akane, on the other hand, views things differently.

As much as Akane says he hates supernaturals, we've seen that this 'hatred' is usually fueled by some kind of reason. When he expresses hatred towards supernaturals it's often accompanied with 'this is why I hate supernaturals' and a reason on why he PERSONALLY dislikes them.

Of course, that doesn't mean that Akane's hatred is not 'general'. He does in fact express hatred towards all supernaturals. but his hatred is also usually accompanied with a justification. A reason.

"Number 7 is a pervert." "He's a murderer." "You saw what he did to Ao-chan, didn't you?" "This is why I hate supernaturals, they're all like this." "They're all like that."

Akane always has something to back up his hatred. It's based on personal agenda. Unlike Teru, who dislikes supernaturals merely for their existence, Akane doesn't view them the way an exorcist would. He views them a way a human who's been constantly inconvenienced by supernaturals would.

And this difference between the two really shines through in this arc. When they were discussing the new timeline with Nene, Teru was constantly referring to Amane by name. He called him "Yugi Amane". Not "No. 7".

Akane's first instinct, on the other hand, was to think "a murderer becoming a teacher? What has this world come to?" He also kept referring to Amane as "No. 7".

Teru viewed this world as a completely different world. Amane is a human here so there's no reason to dehumanize him. Meanwhile, Akane kept making connections between both the new and the original worlds. he couldn't separate them as 'our world' and 'the world created by supernaturals'.

Teru was already disconnected from the new world, but Akane only thought of it as 'it's a bit different, but it's still us.' Even more so because he's one of the clock keepers.

So when Teru started accusing the clock keepers of trying to control their lives, Akane's first thought was 'I don't think they're as tyrannical as you make them out to be.' He says he hates them, and he does in a way, but he always needs a justification.

And with all the time he spent with them, he couldn't find a justification on why he should accuse the clock keepers of trying to hurt them. He couldn't find it in himself to think badly of them. 'Just because they're supernaturals' didn't work for him. Not in this case, at least. But that's a good enough reason for Teru to not want to remain in the new world.

Now moving back to the scene that had me making all this analysis in the first place: what was up with that long pause from Akane, and what was the significance behind hiding his expression in that scene?

Well, for one, it could just be that he simply didn't agree that Teru was being 'gentle' when exorcizing supernaturals. Their general ideas differ when it comes to supernaturals, despite their mutual 'hatred' towards them. Akane humanizes supernaturals to an extent. He doesn't know where to draw the line.

Teru, on the other hand, believes that being gentle means exorcizing them quickly. And Teru is no hypocrite. We've seen him exorcize Kou quickly before he managed to hurt Nene.

Others may not view that as gentle, but one time when we REALLY saw Teru being not-gentle at all was when he was fighting Amane. And Akane saw that too, and he was watching with a horrified expression. That's what Teru is like when he's 'not gentle'.

But is all of this really a good enough reason to warrant that long pause from Akane? Yeah, he's had to deal with Teru's antics on many occasions as a half-supernatural, but he's been taking it pretty well as far as we've seen.

But this pause feels like it means something more. Something personal.

Now moving on from here, all my ideas are mere speculation as I feel like there's not enough evidence to back them up. But what if Akane was feeling a gap in Teru's methods when it came to him personally?

He's a half-supernatural, but also still a human. Teru's treatment towards other supernaturals purely stems from his sense of responsibility and obligation, but what about the way he treats Akane? Considering that this scene comes shortly after Teru punched him over the timeline change, this can be a possibility.

He can punch Akane, but he can't exorcize him. He can call him a supernatural, but he can't exorcize him. He can zap him with his sword BUT HE CANNOT EXORCIZE HIM.

And where's Akane left in all of this? He's not one of the humans Teru is forced to protect. He's not one of the supernaturals that Teru has to exorcize simply because it's 'his job'. He's just left hurt, stuck in between. And this may also be why he had the idea that Teru hates him at some point.

But that changed. They were starting to get along, they became friends somehow. But it all came crumbling down when Akane unknowingly hurt Teru by betraying him. He expected Teru to just blindly trust him, but he hugely underestimated Teru's trust issues.

Akane's reaction to receiving the order from the clock keepers, his reaction to Teru telling him that he 'let him down', his reaction to Teru saying that his mom is alive here but he still wants to return to the old timeline, and his reaction to Kou's death all show SO MUCH guilt. He feels so bad and he probably thinks he ruined what they had.

But at the end of the day, Teru once again protected Akane when it came to it. He doesn't hate him, he just felt awfully betrayed. But Akane is still a human and his friend, there's no way he won't take a blow for him.

So what was Akane thinking in that pause? I personally believe that he was starting to feel conscious of how Teru treats him personally compared to other humans or supernaturals, since he never seemed to follow the same pattern with him.

He treated him differently, and with all the built up guilt, and the way Teru referred to him as 'clock keeper' not long before, it's possible he was starting to think that Teru has come to hate him for real now because he isn't 'gentle' with him the way he is with humans, but he also doesn't treat him the way he would a supernatural, who he exorcises for solely his job and for people's safety.

The way I see it, he was probably just thinking 'he probably doesn't only hate the supernatural me, but the human me too now.' Teru saying that he's 'gentle' with supernaturals was just a proof for him, because Akane doesn't feel like he's gentle with him personally.

Teru just punched him, not for 'stress relief' because he's a supernatural, but because he was disappointed in 'Aoi' as a human. Referring to him as 'clock keeper' instead of 'Aoi' was just to rub salt in the wound. He didn't expect his friend to betray him like that, and he decided he wasn't worth calling by name at that moment. He dehumanized him out of disappointment and hurt.

It's not that he called him 'clock keeper', it's that he didn't call him 'Aoi'.

This is all just a speculation though, and with the scene clearly implying something, I assume we'll get some clarification later on down the line.

Whatever went through Akane's head was definitely angsty though and I don't know if I managed to fill the last puzzle piece, but I tried my best.

[mayapapaya33]

Well, I haven't read the origins comic yet, so I'll take your word for that. Some of the comic stuff is a bit wibbly on canon so I'm not sure if I do take it as campaign canon really, but I'll just go with it for the purposes of this conversation. (The fact that she never once mentions being run out of town by Yeza in the campaign makes that a little weird but sure ok. It also feels a little retconny to brush over her major fear that her family would reject her even if they DID know it was her under the curse, which was what was implied to be a big reason she stayed away in the campaign, in favor of it being because they DID chase her away based purely on what she looked like before she could say anything. It feels...strange. I'm not sure how I feel about it, I'll have to think about it. It just feels like after the fact justification of her staying away from them to me, but oh well. LET WOMEN BE FLAWED 2025! lol I am eventually going to get my hands on all of the origins comics, I just haven't done so yet.)

My point wasn't really a moral argument about Veth and Lilliana having done equally bad things in the world, obviously that's not true. I could have said It better, but I guess I just thought that was obvious and I was tired? lol, silly me. So to make it clearer: Veth is a hero who helped save the world, and Liliana fell in with a cult and did terrible things under the woefully misguided belief she was doing the right thing. I'm more saying I could see Veth turning out like Liliana if things went differently and their initial act of abandonment is fundamentally similar. Also, it's not just the hag thing btw, that was just the most obvious and memorable example I could reference and know everyone would know what I was talking about without writing a 5 page essay and hunting down obscure time stamps lol.

Another example was her stance in that discussion about justice and vengeance from ep 98 (26:26) with Caduceus. Cad basically said: Hey, going after criminals in the Empire sounds great if you can be smart about it, but if you're just doing it to make yourself feel better, I don't really see the point of that, so maybe don't because you'll probably restart the war if you aren't extremely careful. And Veth's response was very understandable from her characters pov, but makes me think that, yeah, in the right circumstances, she'll do what she wants, when she wants, and damn the consequences and it won't be about justice, it'll be about making herself feel good and she'll find the internal justification she needs to. "You can stand by -You can just watch bad people get away with it?" If the price of stopping one bad person is reigniting a WAR, um yeah, I can Veth. He's basically saying, don't cause more problems than you are going to fix by your actions, and interrogate your motivations and she wasn't having it. I think he might have gotten through to her in the end but I'm not sure because they "dissolved" using mouth sounds and hand waving into the next scene of Jester finding Marion.

There are many things that make me think this about her. Anger and desperation can cause people to make poor decisions. (I think you might have misconstrued the one bit where I was debating whether letting your family think you were dead and staying gone or just saying goodbye and abandoning them was actually worse or not, I personally vote dead being worse but I'm genuinely not sure, like I said. So, in that one aspect I think Veth's worse, but not for everything lol. The misguided hope left behind from what Liliana did might be worse.)

My point was that they both abandoned their families in order to solve a problem. Yes, Liliana left "voluntarily" right from the start in the sense that she wasn't kidnapped by goblins and transformed against her will, her "against her will change" was foisted upon her by a God Eater trapped in moon jail instead. She was essentially kidnapped by her own powers, she couldn't control them and needed to figure out what they were and how to deal with them. So yes, it was a choice for her to leave as you so aptly pointed out, just not quite as voluntary a choice as people keep presenting it as. I suppose it's more accurate for me to say it was Liliana's choice to leave, and Veth's choice to STAY gone (yes, even with the addition of the comic lore).

Don't you remember early campaign Imogen constantly having to be careful and worried about her telepathy? How it hurt her to be in large crowds? How her town DID treat her like garbage, like a pariah, "like an outright monster" even. It's not like Liliana left for fun. She was scared she was going to hurt someone if she didn't learn how to control herself, and worried that Imogen would develop those powers too. (That was her initial reasoning, and then things devolved of course). You said it yourself; The Grim Verity was taking too long, and she wanted to go home so she fell in with Ludinus and co because he promised answers and a solution.

Veth's initial separation from her family OBVIOUSLY wasn't her fault, and apparently in the comics she tried to go home and was run off for looking like a goblin. Well, that truly sucks for Comic Book Veth and she has my sympathy. There are still a variety of things she could have done, including once she befriended Caleb enough where she trusted him, have him go to Yeza in person and explain the curse and everything while she hid at the outskirts of town. She could have told Caleb a bunch of things only Veth would know to help convince Yeza, Etc.

At a certain point, Veth's Choice to stay away from her family was just as voluntary as Liliana's. She could have tried (or tried again if comics are canon) at any time, and she didn't. The problem wasn't solved so they "couldn't" go home and then events spiraled. Again, they aren't the same, I just think their situations parallel each other interestingly. Becoming "not a goblin" was not the only way for Veth to reunite with her family. It's perfectly understandable that she thought that it was considering all of her trauma and her shame and her fear, but that doesn't make it true. It was still an active choice that she made to not try to reunite with her family until she looked "normal" again, even once her circumstances had changed and she could have had help. She didn't try because she didn't want her family seeing her like that and because she was scared of what they would think. (Again, very understandable, but still a choice). What if Caleb couldn't find a way to change her back into a halfling? Would she never have gone home, continuing to look for a solution?

Liliana "couldn't" go home until she understood and could control her powers, a reasonable yet tragic decision, which then spiraled into it being that she "couldn't" go home until she helped "save" the world from the tyranny of the Gods, etc. Somewhat less reasonable I think you'll agree. How long does Veth's decision to not try (or not try again) to reunite with her family until she's no longer a goblin remain reasonable? One year? Five years? Ten years? It was a combination of luck and hard work that got her a new body as relatively fast as she did. Caleb and Essek meeting and becoming magic bffs might never have happened without Caleb's "I'm never going back to jail" moment in the Bright Queen's throne room for example lol.

More than all of that though, I'm not a huge fan of Veth's parenting while she IS present in Luc's life but seeing as Liliana hasn't really been present in Imogen's life for more than like a month, that's about where any parallels or comparisons stop lmfao. A lot of Veth's bad parenting once she's back in Luc's life is also due to the fact that Sam Riegel is a comedian first and an actor second so if he sees an opportunity to be funny, he'll pounce. Which unfortunately for poor Veth, does mean that if you look at her with a sober eye she comes across as a dreadful parent. Hilarious of course, but I did end up feeling bad for Yeza whenever I saw him futilely trying to be responsible whenever the M9 came trampling through their lives being bad influences. Honestly, she wonders why teenage Luc is like that! I learned it from watching you mom!

If the Good Moms of Critical Role ever learn about the shit Liliana's pulled it's on sight 😤

[aradassbadass]

cellular sentiment | ceedee lamb ꨄ iii

sowwy for the late update long chapter to make it up to yall🫶🏽

“right there mama, you like that?” he whispers in your ear voice like velvet.

“yes daddy, please.” you beg, words coming out choppy. a groan escapes his lips as he thrust into you and you begin to claw at the canvas on his back as you feel you finish nearing.

“ah yes, right there.” you encourage him wrapping your legs around his slender hips in hopes of keeping his body connected to yours. the groan that escapes his lips is music to your ears and your toes curl in ecstasy and you cry out in pleasure- a cry that sounds weird. really weird.

“wait, what the fuck.” you say eyes peaking open and spotting the alarm that is blaring right beside your ear.

you press the stop button in frustration and let your eyes flutter close in hopes to finish that dream. it felt so raw, so real. almost as real as the body pressed up against yours and the stiff arm that you were laying on.

your eyes shoot open as you realize just how real it was. how the man of your dreams quite literally showed up unannounced and was spooning you in your bed. you cant help but think of how easy it would be to make that dream into a reality.

you try to shake the thought from your head but you mind wonders back to the dream. you close your eyes and squeeze your thighs together in hopes to calm the constant throb between your legs.

you hold back a moan as you imagine him sliding the gown up and pulling your thighs apart to bury himself deep in you with no resistance your slickness acting in favor of his actions. you can all but feel his warm breath as he’d whisper soft praises to you soft kisses planting themselves on your neck.

the thought felt too real as you arched back into him and immediately felt his body tense up.

his grip tightened around your waist and his voice came to you as a surprise, “well goodmorning to you too.”

you bit back a moan and barely managed to find your voice, “sorry, i didnt mean to wake you. i was trying to get up to go shower.” the lie rolls off of your tongue with minimal effort and he seemingly believes it as his grip loosens and you are able to get free.

you rush in the bathroom quickly shutting the door behind you. you sigh as you turn the light on and finally catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

“lock the fuck in” you whisper to yourself turning the water on. you strip down contemplating a moment before grabbing the purple toy underneath your sink.

you place its suction cup on the wall before getting underneath the water. you sigh as you slide back onto it imagining the man in your bed is the one behind you. you slowly began to rock back on the toy hands bracing the wall and the side of the tub for support.

you imagine his big hands gripping your waist and the sound of lewd noises filling the steamed space. you quicken your pace to one you deem similar to what his own would be like and it takes no time for you to send yourself cascading over the edge.

you take deep breaths and regain your composure before you begin to cleanse your body.

the familiar sense of shame washed over you but it wasnt quite what it usually was. an unusual sen unfulfilment was mixed in as well. you needed more.

stop thinking like that he is a friend. a friend that came almost 2 hours to see you after a game, but still just a friend nonetheless.

thoughts swirled in your mind and complex emotions begin to swirl around your mind. you turned the shower off and stepped out grabbing a towel.

it wasnt like you hadnt thought about him in this light before- you did that quite often actually. maybe it was the fact that he wad there in the flesh that made the idea harder to shake.

of course. he’ll leave and the feelings wont be long to follow.

you smiled at the realization but there was still a feeling of uncertainty playing in the pit of your stomach. you chose to ignore it and get prepared for your day.

you did your usual morning rountine of brushing your teeth, slathering vaseline on your face and doing your hair which merely consisted of doing your edges and deciding if you wanted to wear a middle or side part today.

you replaced your towel with your robe and walked out of the bathroom.

“well dont you look refreshed.” he said smirk plastered across his face making your stomach drop.

did he hear me? fuck, no way he heard me.

“cant go teach the adults of tomorrow and not be.” you said voice almost breaking and showing your nervousness.

he said nothing just stared at you & you immediately got hot. “what?” you quiz turning to your closet as you begin searching for an outfit.

“oh nothing,” he mutters and you know he’s still smirking. “just found your dirty little secret.”

you whip around to look at him, ”what?!”you all but yell and he laughs pulling his jersey from under your pillows. the signed jersey he had sent you randomly that smelled exactly like him when you received it.

a sigh of relief escaped your lips, “oh, that wasnt no secret.” you laugh and turn back around pulling out a green sweater and and khaki jeans.

“i thought you said it wasnt for you.” he laughed.

“hmm i dont recall. wrong bitch.” you retorted and he suddenly wasnt laughing anymore causing you to laugh harder.

“man dont say that shit, aint no other girl.”he said tone suddenly serious. you roll your eyes and grab a pair of underwear out of your dresser sliding them on under the robe.

“right, well can you close your eyes or put a pillow over your head i need to change. you know some of us real people have to make a barely livable wage.” you sass and he is now rolling his eyes.

“ill do you one better.” he snaps and gets up going into the bathroom. you hurriedly remove the robe and throw on a bralette followed by the shirt and finally the pants.

as you carefully tuck the shirt in you hear the toilet flush followed by the sink turning on.

“you can come out, im decent.” you call to him pulling on a pair of socks.

he comes out smile beaming and you cant help but mock him, “well dont you look refreshed.”

he just shrugs at your words and begins making your bed. “thank you.” you smile sliding on your signature birkenstock clogs.

“of course, of course.”

“you want something to eat? i dont have long but i can whip you something up really quick.”you call back to him.

“no thanks its fine ill just eat at the facility.” he calls back and you roll your eyes. you check your watch, 5:47am, you have time and decide to make him a breakfast sandwich.

you turn the stove on high and throw a pan on it. you crack two eggs one for each of you seasoning them with red pepper flakes and then grab two slices of bacon throwing it on the same pan as well. as they are frying you throw two bagles in the toaster and wait. you grab your tote off the counter and check to be sure you have your ipad and such.

“ didnt i say i would get something at the facility.” the raspy voice caught you by surprise.

“dont really give a fuck what was said, food almost ready.” you still checking your bag. a tight hand grasp your forearm and you tense up making eye contact with the tattooed man.

he spoke no words his look said everything he needed. you snatched your arm away trying to ignore the tingling coming back between your legs.

“my bad shawty.” you try to play it cool,” just trynna do some nice for you, dont get all stern and shit.”

“yeah right” he rolls his eyes and sit down at the island.

“practice at 8 right?” you question flipping the bacon and pulling the bagel from the toaster.

“yep but gotta be on the field and stretched by 7:45”

“damn, you wasnt gone have no time to eat.” you say assembling the sandwich, “ill wrap it up so you can take it to go.”

“you really didnt have to do that, i know you never eat breakfast you gone be sick by second period.” he says and you can tell he is sincerely worried about you making you warm inside.

“im taking it for lunch, but i appreciate the concern.” you say wrapping the sandwich in parchment paper and tucking it into your bag.

“here.” you hand his to him, “now lets go, dont need mccarthy on yo ass.”

he just laughs as you both head out the door you jiggling the nob making sure it was locked.

“well i guess this is the part where we say goodbye.” you say standing in front of your car pushing a braid behind your ear, mimicking how the do on tv and he just smiles.

“shut up.” he laughs and wraps his arms around you pulling you in for a hug and boy does it feel nice. you let your body relax, and rest your head on his chest basking in the moment for as long as you can.

it is you who pulls away, “well alright ill see ya.” you smile looking up at him and he returns it.

“that you will.” he replied going to your door and opening it.

“well arent you a gentleman.”you say getting in and turning it on.

“that i am.” he says and you laugh closing it letting down the window.

“be safe.” he says as he bends down in the window.

“always, you the one need to be safe.” you reply. he gives you one final smile before turning and walking to his car.

you watch him through your rear view mirror as he gets in and turns it on. it doesnt take long before he back out of your driveway but he waits on you to follow. he drives behind you and as your light goes on to turn left you see his signal to turn right. you turn and honk a final goodbye and he replies with two of his own. you cant help the blush that comes to your face.

“what a great start to my day.”

ꨄ

the school day flew by surpisingly fast as today was busy due to it being picture day which you had honestly forgot about. you had only checked your phone at lunch to see you had a message from cee saying that he had made it and to have a great day. you loved the message and told him to do the same.

by the time 5 oclock rolled around and you walked into your home you were utterly exhausted. you threw your bag on your bed and immediately stripped free of your clothes. as you walked in the bathroom and went to turn on the water your eyes widened in horror. the dildo was still stuck to the wall of your shower.

“nononono NO.” you yelled hurrying to remove it.

he seen it- HE FUCKING SEEN IT. theres no way he didnt see it.

you thought back to this morning to when he cane out of the bathroom all giddy and smiley.

“FUCK.” you cry sitting on the toilet your face turning red in embarrassment. you reached over turning on the water and hopped in not even giving the water an opportunity to heat up. you let the icy water attempt to wash the shame from you as you cleaned yourself.

he hadn’t said anything before he left so thats a good thing right, maybe there is some slim chance he didnt see it.

you pushed the thought to the back of your mind and washed yourself hopping out and grabbing a towel.

you immediately go to your room and sit on your bed picking up your phone and seeing two text from him from 10 minutes ago.

‘ see you js made it home call me when you get out the shower’

‘btw im way bigger than yo lil friend if its me its prepping you for’

your stomach does cartwheels as you read the messages and you stare at your phone in disbelief.

without second thought you respond

‘ and what if its not you.’

he immediately reads it.

‘oh it is, you couldnt stop begging for me in yo sleep.’

‘& shii took everything not to give yo lil ass exactly what you wanted. now call me and lemme see hear it forreal’

[bluerose5]

The Way to a Man's Heart

Part of my Zevran x Lucanis one shot collection, A Tentative Alliance, on ao3.

Prompt fill, "Cooking for each other," for @mango-mage

Word count: 3,219

Summary:

Days after Lucanis made him dessert, Zevran decides to return the favor by making him a dish from home.

It gives them a chance to discuss where their relationship is heading.

...

The last thing Lucanis expected was to find Zevran in the kitchen.

Even in the beginning, before Lucanis and Bellara agreed to take over cooking duties for the team, he couldn't recall a single time he saw Zevran preparing a meal.

However, as soon as Lucanis walked through the doors, his mouth started watering.

At first, he thought that Bellara was trying her hand at an Antivan recipe, mixing up her usual routine perhaps, but that thought immediately vanished the second he heard a familiar voice humming a low tune.

“Zevran?” he called out, his brow furrowed as he approached.

“Over here!” he answered.

Lucanis stopped short when he caught sight of him.

While part of him mourned the current state of his kitchen —pots, pans, and utensils strewn about, his counters covered in the decimated remains of various ingredients— all of that paled in comparison to the man that was Zevran Arainai.

Golden blonde hair, streaked with bits of silver, was thrown back into a messy bun, stray strands falling into his face. His sleeves were pushed up above his elbows, exposing black ink along the length of his arms, slightly faded from the passage of time. Both his skin and his clothes were dusted with specks of flour, smeared and scattered unevenly.

Once he spotted Lucanis, Zevran's lips stretched into a wide smile, brighter than the sun itself.

Lucanis felt his face flush, resisting the urge to avert his eyes.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “You're… cooking?”

Zevran chuckled, stirring a tomato sauce atop the Lighthouse's magic-fueled stove.

“Good to know that your eyesight is still intact, my dear. I figured that I would repay you for that lovely dessert you made me the other day.”

Well, it was nice to know that his efforts were appreciated. It had been a while since Lucanis last made cinnamon rolls, but knowing how much Zevran loved cinnamon, it seemed like one of the more obvious choices to go with. Still…

“You didn't have to do that,” Lucanis said.

Zevran didn't even hesitate.

“Yes, I did,” he replied in that same matter-of-fact tone that Lucanis used on him. He cast Lucanis a tender look, causing his heart to skip a beat. “I know that you didn't expect me to return the favor, but I—” Trailing off, he sighed, staring into the pot for a moment before he managed to speak again, his voice soft, gentle. “I don't know. You like food, so I decided to make you food. I tried to think of something from home that you haven't made yet.”

Warmth spread throughout his chest, Lucanis touched by the gesture.

Slowly, he eased closer, leaning against the counter.

“Well, in all honesty, I didn't even realize you knew how to cook,” Lucanis admitted.

Zevran gaped at him.

“What?!” He gasped. “Oh, how you wound me!” He all but tossed his spoon aside to clutch at his chest with one hand, the back of his other one placed against his forehead. Lucanis winced when some of the sauce splashed nearby, but he bit his tongue, refraining from bringing it up. “How will I ever recover from such an insult?”

“Dramatically, by the looks of it,” Lucanis teased, “but is it really so surprising when I haven't seen you step foot into the kitchen on your own, let alone to cook a meal?”

Zevran laughed with a shrug.

“I didn't want to impose and make anyone feel uncomfortable. My companions from the Fifth Blight, hmm… Let's just say that they were more suspicious of me at first than the others were of you,” Zevran noted. “Kind of reckless on their part, I must say. I know that we met under very different circumstances, but I'm still surprised that they let you near any food or drinks.”

“Hey, now,” Lucanis protested. “I haven't poisoned anyone.”

“Not yet, anyways,” Zevran corrected.

Lucanis watched him closely as he added some basil to the sauce, then continued to stir.

Once that was done, he set the first pot aside, stopping only to take a sip from a glass of brandy before he brought water to a boil in another pot. When Lucanis tried to swoop in to taste some of the sauce, Zevran was quick to block his path. He gave Lucanis's hand a light tap before he shoved his glass towards him, Lucanis taking it from him before one of them dropped it.

“Patience, my dear!” Zevran chastised. “You are interrupting the process.”

Lucanis huffed, Spite snickering in the back of his mind.

He wondered how much time they could spend in the kitchen together before the others started to hear them shouting in Antivan. 

A question for them to answer another day, perhaps.

Swirling the brandy around in slow, even circles, Lucanis stared down into the glass when he asked, “Were you truly concerned about that?”

Zevran glanced towards him, quirking a brow up in his direction.

“About you poisoning me? How could I know for certain that you wouldn't, considering your loyalty to the Crows? I didn't want to doubt, but you—” He grimaced, stealing his drink back to take a heavier swig this time. He returned it to Lucanis just as quickly in order to add salt to the water, his face scrunched up. “You never know.” With a sigh, the tip of Zevran's ear twitched ever so slightly. “I might have made it a habit to make sure you and the others took the first bites before I dug in.”

“Of course you did.” How didn't he notice that before?

Not that Lucanis could really blame him when he put it into context like that, but some part of him couldn't help but to feel offended, hurt even.

“You're pouting,” Zevran said in a sing-song tone.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Uh-huh, see, you say that, but then you could put the saddest puppies to shame with those big, brown eyes of yours.”

Lucanis grumbled, his shoulders drooping.

“I want you to feel safe around me,” he eventually said, unable to meet his eyes.

A minute passed by as silence hung heavy in the air, but Zevran didn't let the tension overstay its welcome, his voice filled with certainty when he spoke.

“I do now."

Lucanis braced himself, then locked eyes with him again.

“You do?”

“Would I lie to you?” When Lucanis opened his mouth to respond, Zevran backtracked, rushing to interrupt. “On second thought, don't answer that.”

They shared a laugh.

“In all seriousness, though, about the cooking, I mean,” Zevran continued, “you do realize that I had to take care of myself before you came along as my personal chef, right?”

“Heh, fair enough,” Lucanis said, watching Zevran collect a tray off the counter, covered in small, pillowy bits of dough. “How did you learn?”

“The children were expected to do all sorts of tasks in the brothel I was raised in. I used to have to help with prep in the kitchen. I always said that was how I first learned how to wield a knife,” Zevran explained. “Then, when I was bought by the Crows, the way I obtained my meals mostly depended on the day. On rare occasions, the master assassins would invite us to dine with them, a pat on the head for a job well done, if you will. On other days, I would charm someone from a local tavern, convince them to treat me for an evening. But most of the time…”

He swallowed thickly, his stare distant.

“It was Rinna, Taliesen, and I. All of us in our cramped, little apartment in Antiva City, learning together through trial-and-error.”

Lucanis felt his chest tighten, his heart aching for Zevran as his expression twisted with sorrow.

“You mentioned them before,” Lucanis stated. “You three worked as a unit within the Crows, correct?”

“That, we did.” Zevran took a deep, shaky breath, carefully adding his gnocchi to the water. “But we were so much more than that, too.”

Lucanis didn't want to dig up any unhappy memories for him, but the words spilled out before he could stop them, too curious for his own good.

“You never did say what happened to—”

“I killed them,” Zevran stated, straight to the point. He tossed the tray out of the way once he was finished with it, mixing up the gnocchi in the water before covering the pot with a lid. “Both of them. Perhaps that should come as a warning to you to get out while you still can.”

As if Lucanis scared that easily.

“I'm not going anywhere.”

A single glimpse at Lucanis's face had him pursing his lips.

“Don't look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“You know what I mean,” he retorted. “Like you pity me.” Then, in a smaller voice, he added, “Or like you care.”

“Well, I do care what happens to you. Past, present, future. It doesn't matter,” Lucanis insisted. “I hate that you had to go through that.”

Zevran allowed that to sink in before he replied.

“I know.” He blew out a tired breath. “I know, but think about it like this. Had I not gone through the things that I have, then we probably wouldn't have ever met.”

“Yeah...” Lucanis knew that he was only telling the truth; however, he didn't want to linger on that thought for too long, so he took advantage of the lull in the conversation to change the subject, knowing that it must have taken a lot on Zevran's part to even share that information with him. “So, you made me gnocchi?”

Zevran accepted the silent offer to switch topics, grateful for the distraction.

“With my own two hands,” he said, “and I fully expect a batch of churros in return for all of my hard work.”

“I should have known you had an ulterior motive for doing this,” Lucanis snorted.

“Maker, could you imagine? Doing something for someone without any expectation of payment?”

“What a ridiculous notion, indeed,” Lucanis deadpanned. “Fortunately for you, I would be more than happy to oblige.” Anything for him.

“I had a feeling you would be.” Zevran smirked his way, eyeing him up and down. “You know, if you keep on spoiling me like this, then you might end up stuck with me.”

For someone who could be so closed-off at times, he said that with such confidence. Caught off guard by his straightforward remark, Lucanis turned his gaze away, smiling to himself.

Even Spite seemed to preen at the very idea.

“I fail to see the problem with that.”

“Ha! Let's see if you still feel that way after we take out the gods together.”

“I look forward to it.” But that did beg the question. “Say, now that I think about it, we never really did discuss ‘us’ yet, have we?”

Zevran fell silent as he lifted the lid off the pot. Once the gnocchi floated to the top, he worked on straining them next. Grabbing a dish to serve them in, he ladeled a portion of the sauce directly into the bottom.

Nervously, Lucanis took a swig out of Zevran's drink while he awaited his answer, savoring that delicious burn in the back of his throat.

“Is there anything left to discuss?” Zevran asked, genuinely curious. “You made me dessert, and it was sweet. You were sweet, but if my companionship is all that you seek, then that shall be enough for me.”

Pouring the gnocchi into the dish next, Zevran added another layer of sauce on top. From there, he mixed it all together, just enough to evenly coat the gnocchi.

Lucanis tapped a finger upon the glass of brandy.

“And if I told you that I wanted to explore what's between us beyond ‘companionship’?” he wondered.

Zevran stopped what he was doing in order to consider the offer, continuing after a brief pause.

“Then I would say that I'm interested,” he told him, “but I wouldn't ask anything of you that you are not willing to give. Whatever happens next, my dear, is up to you.”

“That's a lot of power you're giving me.”

“I trust you with it.”

Lucanis shifted at the absolute certainty with which he spoke.

Butterflies filled his stomach.

“I'm glad that you do, but I never…” He trailed off, his expression turning surprisingly bashful.

“What?” Zevran asked, grabbing a wedge of aged cheese out of Lucanis's stash to grate over the top of the gnocchi. “Something wrong?”

“No, no, no,” Lucanis rushed to assure him. “It's just that I, uh—” Lucanis rubbed at the back of his neck. “I've never really been in a relationship before.”

He saw it the instant that realization dawned on Zevran, his eyes widening ever so slightly, lips parted.

Then, understanding took the place of his initial shock.

“Ah,” he said, “I seem to recall that, when we first met, you said that a lot of decisions were made for you, even before the Ossuary. Were there expectations for you as the First Talon's heir, or…?”

“You are asking if I had a marriage lined up.” Lucanis snorted. “The answer to that is no. Not that I'm aware of, at least. Although, I would not put it past Caterina to have had a match already in mind for me, if she was determined to have our family's bloodline continue.”

He wrinkled his nose at the thought of being coerced into a marriage on those grounds, but quickly banished the idea from his mind.

An issue to worry about later, perhaps.

“The truth is that I was content without being involved with someone, simple as that. I didn't actively seek out that kind of connection when I met people. I had my job. I had my family. I had the Crows. What else did one need, so far as I was concerned?” Lucanis shrugged as Zevran wrapped up what he was doing. “Every now and then, I would become interested in another, but nothing ever really came from it.”

Wiping his hands off on a rag, Zevran flashed him a mischievous grin.

“You mean, like what happened with Viago?”

Lucanis sputtered in protest.

Finishing off their drink, he set the glass aside on the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I should have known you were listening in,” he huffed.

“What? It's not like you and Emmrich were trying to keep quiet about it,” Zevran said. “Plus, I had to make sure there wasn't any competition to worry about.”

Maybe it was the alcohol —or, Maker, maybe it was Spite’s influence— but Lucanis was overtaken by a sudden surge of confidence.

Without thinking, he stepped forward, reaching out to take Zevran’s hand in his as Zevran turned to face him.

Lucanis laced their fingers together, his heart threatening to pound out of his chest.

Using his free hand, he reached out to cup Zevran’s cheek, brushing a smudge of flour away with his thumb. Zevran immediately leaned into his touch, warm, brown eyes —like amber— fixated on Lucanis the entire time.

Lucanis glanced down towards his lips before staring deep into his eyes once more.

“There's not,” he assured him.

“Right. Okay.” Zevran took a moment to catch his breath, taken aback by the intensity of his gaze. “Lucky for you, I'm not exactly the jealous type, but still, it's good to know.”

“Mm-hmm…”

“And for future reference,” Zevran whispered, covering the hand on his cheek with his own, “give me a knife as a gift, and I can guarantee it'll work out in your favor.”

“Is that so?”

“You have my word.” Turning his head to the side, he pressed a kiss upon his palm. Heat lingered where Zevran's lips grazed against his skin. “What comes after, you'll have to find out for yourself, though. Can't go ruining the surprise, now can I?”

“We wouldn't want that,” Lucanis agreed.

“Not at all.” Zevran searched his expression, deep in thought. “On another note, if you've never been in a relationship before, that does bring up another question. Just so we're on the same page here, have you ever—”

“Had sex?” Lucanis interrupted, already anticipating where that question was headed. Might as well get it all out in the open now. “No, I haven't.”

“Huh. I mean, I had a hunch, but I didn't want to assume either way.” Then, under his breath, he muttered to himself, “The universe is trying to teach me a lesson for calling him woo-less, isn't it?”

Lucanis furrowed his brow at him.

“What?” he asked, utterly confused.

“Nothing, my dear.” Zevran waved off his concern. “Just reminiscing.”

As if that helped ease Lucanis's anxiety about sharing this information in the slightest.

“This isn't going to be a problem, is it?”

“Of course not,” Zevran said. “A change of pace? Most certainly, but a problem? Not at all.” When Lucanis responded by wrapping his arms around Zevran's waist, Zevran settled his arms around his neck, both of them resting their foreheads against one another. “I told you that whatever happens next is up to you. If you don't want to have sex, then we won't have sex. If you decide that you do want to explore sex with me, then we'll take it at your pace.”

He made it sound so simple, but the fact that he was willing to let Lucanis take the lead on this was more encouraging than he would ever know.

“Thank you.” Lucanis tightened his hold on him. “For being so understanding. It means a lot, truly.”

“Don't mention it.”

Zevran teased his fingers through his hair, Lucanis melting into his embrace.

“I'm serious,” Lucanis said.

“So am I,” Zevran joked. “I have a reputation to uphold, after all. I can't have people thinking that I'm being considerate of others’ feelings. Could you imagine?”

“Apologies. I didn't even consider the possibility of a fate so cruel.” Lucanis rolled his eyes, unable to keep his smile at bay. “Now, if you don't mind, I'm starving, and there are a bunch of gnocchi calling my name.”

Zevran chuckled when he dragged him along, Lucanis grabbing a fork to dig in.

The first bite, and every one after that, was nothing short of divine. The texture of the gnocchi was perfect, and the sauce was thick and luscious, both of which paired well with the sharp, savory flavors from the cheese.

All of that made better by the fact that Zevran cooked it especially for him.

Lucanis released an obscenely loud moan once he tasted it, not even bothering to muffle the sound as Zevran shushed him through a bout of laughter.

“Do you want the others to think that we're fooling around in the kitchen?” Zevran asked. “Because you making noises like that is not going to help our case at all, if they come barging in.”

“Let them,” Lucanis hummed through another bite. “Maker, a man after my own heart! I could kiss you right now, but—” He gestured towards the dish as a way of explanation, giving Zevran a playful wink. “—I'm a little busy at the moment.”

Shaking his head at him, Zevran placed his hand on his hips, watching in amusement.

“Are you at least going to save some for any of the others?”

“Not a chance.”

[maxdibert]

I find it curious that you say that about Snape when:

1. Barty Crouch, posing as Moody, physically and psychologically tortured his students.

2. He was the main culprit of Neville being traumatized for life, as he tortured his parents into insanity.

3. He’s a homicidal psychopath and Voldemort’s most loyal follower.

And if we talk about Pettigrew, don’t you think it’s a bit cynical to say we know almost nothing about him in canon? The guy betrayed his friends and sold them out to Voldemort. He got another friend imprisoned for 12 years and accused of mass murder. Later, he was a bootlicking sycophant to Voldemort. I think we know enough about both of them in canon to see they were pieces of trash.

It seems pretty simplistic to dislike Snape over trivial things like being an unpleasant teacher or insulting his friend during a moment of post-traumatic stress when the guy spent almost 20 years risking his life to take down Voldemort. Calling Lily a “mudblood” after James bullied Snape to the point of sexual assault is unforgivable, but selling your friends out to a genocidal maniac isn’t? Peter is a cute puppy, but Snape is unpleasant? How does that make sense?

And calling James and Severus rivals? Rivalry is when you and I compete to be the best in class, not when I, as a rich pure-blood kid, chase you down the hallways with my best friend and strip you in front of the school. It’s not rivalry when I and my friends hunt you down when you’re alone to torment you in a group. That’s not rivalry; that’s bullying.

Sorry, but it seems quite cynical to dislike Snape for things he did as an adult, especially when the adult Slytherins or Pettigrew you adore were a hundred times worse. Literally, without Snape, it would’ve been impossible for Harry to defeat Voldemort. The others were pure psychopaths. And if we’re talking about their teenage years? The guy was a bullying victim, mocked for being ugly and poor. Sorry, but looking favorably at his bullies, even at those who became homicidal maniacs and torturers, while condemning him has strong undertones of classism, victim-blaming, and body-shaming.

I couldn’t care less about fanon, especially the current Marauders fanon, which has turned them all into a bunch of clowns that seem ripped from a cheap Gen Z teen drama. Any resemblance to the real Marauders is purely coincidental because they have nothing to do with the canon characters. But don’t try to sell me the idea that Snape isn’t liked because of what he did as an adult to justify his ostracism in the fandom when you’re fans of characters who, as adults, were pure psychopaths. Snape might not have been the easiest or most likable person, but he was literally a key piece in saving the damn world. Without him, Harry would’ve died in his first year. In fact, he would’ve died before that because if Snape hadn’t asked Voldemort to spare Lily, she wouldn’t have had the chance to cast the ancient magic to protect Harry, which required Voldemort offering her a chance to live.

And honestly, if you don’t want to be called out, make sure those of us who are fans of Snape don’t see these kinds of posts because it’s a bit exhausting to constantly see him sidelined or banned from the fandom while pieces of trash like Wormtail are turned into adorable puppies.

"how can you like barty and evan but not snape?" "how can you like peter but not snape?" silly rosekiller and wormtail visions came to me in my sleep, and i simply didn't have such visions of snape. will update if i see him as a boykisser in my dreams and it alters the way i see him :)

[music-and-magic-1307]

In defense of Apple White:

TLDR: Her personality is counter to the themes, we get little of her backstory and what we do get is later in the show, being popular in universe giver her higher expectations for fans.

Okay, Apple White gets a lot of hate for being selfish but tbh I think she and Raven are equally selfish. This also includes a breakdown of the social hierarchy.

Apple is at the top of the social ladder, and on top of that, she’s from the most politically powerful story. Being at the top of a hierarchy gives you an innate privilege and ignorance of the flaws in the society. Essentially, by virtue of birth, she has blinders on, and is treated miles better than Raven.

Social ladder:

Royal Protagonist (Apple, Daring, Briar, Ashlynn)

Non Royal Hero (Hunter, Sparrow)

Non Royal Protagonist (Alastair, Blondie, Cedar)

Noteworthy Side Character (Maddie, Tiny, Farrah)

Villain / Antagonist: (Raven, Lizzie, Faybelle)

We also don’t get much of her background in the show, and what we do get isn’t until the second to last season (Dragon Games)

What we do get explains some of how she acts though. We see her getting a lot of pressure from her mother to be perfect at everything, grades, friends, and popularity. Truly Apple is the epitome of the “Little Miss Perfect” song that went around TikTok.

In the book we also get a story about why she clings to her destiny; at 6 years old she fell into a well. It’s said she was terrified. Page 120 of The Storybook Of Legends “It was the first time in her life that she’d ever felt alone. Or cold. Or really, truly scared.” “Even the scary parts of the Snow White story never scared Apple, because it was known.”

Apple has a LOT of anxiety around the unknown because of this event; which brings me to some of the more meta answer.

The narrative favors Raven.

The moral of Ever After High is individuality, questioning authority, and finding yourself and being authentically you.

This moral is in direct contradiction to Apple’s personality. She is Raven’s foil, and the narrative favors Raven. She is very trusting of the adults around her. (Back to the hierarchy, she has no reason to distrust them. They’ve never been anything but kind and supportive to her, unlike Raven.)

When Milton says that if they don’t sign the book that everyone in the story will “poof” (poof poof). Apple has no reason to doubt him, and again this is where I like the book more, she and Raven go on an adventure to see if it’s a lie.

But in both, Raven is not 100% sure that they won’t poof. She takes a risk (and is correct) but she gambled the lives of more than just her.

Apple is not. In fact. Only thinking of herself when she tried to get Raven to sign, she’s thinking of everyone in their story. She is not always the best at showing it, but Apple cares deeply for her friends and family, and is scared for them.

I would also like to point out that in Dragon Games she is being manipulated by Evil Queen, along with the pressure from her mother. It seems to walk back growth, but again, manipulation.

The show is full of flawed characters, and Apple is no exception. She is far from perfect but so is Raven. (Maddie might be perfect though… eh. Exceptions 🤪)

I would also argue that a character who is treated as popular and perfect in world has more pressure to be good from the audience. (Or cruel such as in Mean Girls and similar media) Apple doesn’t receive any (or very little) negativity from her peers until the Royal/Rebel debate begins. She was never given feedback to better herself. But I think this makes her harder to like by viewers/readers. She’s expected to then be perfect even by the audience.

Idk this was a little messy and all over the place, but while she’s not my favorite character, I don’t think deserves nearly as much hate as she gets.

[evergreen-endo]

you know i’m thinking about it and actually if endo spoils takiishi so much then maybe it would actually be pretty easy to make him whine n whimper…

[mrmeepsmadmind]

SOCIETY KEEPS KILLING ONE OF THEM BCS THEIR FRIENDSHIP WOULD BE INCAPABLE FOR GALAXIES TO HANDLE !!!!!

[cavenshh]

Lia wasn’t going to hold this against him, yes she hated the feeling like he had betrayed her trust, but she also knew about his reputation. She could see in Eddies face how truly sorry he was and that in her mind solidified the point that he wasn’t going to do it again. If he did, she wouldn’t be one to very quickly forgive him after that, in fact this whole thing wouldn’t be going anywhere

It was only natural to her that she wanted to pull away from the hug, to push him further away from her and to keep moving out the door and back to her place, she would have walked if she wanted to. But she didn’t, instead, she melted into the hug, the heavy tears that had hung in her eyes and on her cheeks soaking into his shirt. “I like you too, Eddie and I just… I have a lot of feelings for you and they scare me… But you say such pretty words and… If we’re really going to do this…” She paused, trying to think of the right words to explain how she felt, why she was so upset. “... I want to be your first choice. If there’s ever a time I’m not your first choice, do me a favor and end it… Because you will always be my first choice.”

Lia had had a few relationships in the past, and while she enjoyed them and felt fulfilled by them at the time, she didn’t think any of them really got to this point where she knew that this was someone she was going to marry. That in itself terrified her, knowing that they would get to the point where she would marry Eddie and spend the rest of her life with him, well, hopefully. That was resting on both of their shoulders, they would cross bridges when they came to them and this was one of the many bridges she was sure they would discover. She considered his question for a moment and nodded, but then quickly shook her head. “No, we can still continue with plans tomorrow, and we can still have breakfast. But I think, just for today I’ll take a break to get a quick breather.”

His heart sunk seeing the hurt in her face. He hated seeing her this way - even more because he was the reason she was hurt. It never crossed his mind that his actions could cause her this much hurt. They were very early days still and learning about each other. God, he knew he should've brought up that conversation sooner. Then all of this could've been avoided.

"I understand," he sighed softly, took a few steps forward and wrapped his arms around her. While he understood she needed some distance, he wanted to give her some comfort while he had her near. This was the first time he had seen her cry and he absolutely hated it. "I really am genuinely sorry, you know? I'm a fucking idiot. But look at me," Eddie lifts her chin, his blue eyes locking with her teary blue ones. "I really do like you a lot." It was weird to admit it out loud as he was still processing the feeling himself, but he needed her to know that he was emotionally involved to whatever they were.

Eddie was never one to get himself emotionally involved with anyone. Not since he was in his teens at least. Sure over the years he's had some women that he fancy quite a bit, but he always ended it before it got to anything serious. It was easier to be casual. He hated feeling vulnerable and weakened by his feelings for someone. It was that and other issues that he's yet to work through in an proper manner. But his feelings for Aurelia came so easy. It scared the shit out of him, but he didn't want to lose her. "If you want, I can reschedule things. I don't want you to feel forced to see me if you need the space."

[waywardsalt]

im thinking about possession aftereffects that linebeck experiences immediately after the events of phantom hourglass, so here are bullet points i have down for my own ideas

he’s out cold for roughly five days after the fight. he’s conscious for a bit after being freed, but it doesn’t take long for him to collapse once he’s transported back to the great sea. link finds him when he reaches his ship to see him again (he takes a lifeboat or w/e from tetras ship its a whole thing and not the point) and ends up having to take care of him for those five-ish days.

while he’s out cold, he develops a bad fever, and has a good few physical injures from being possessed; all of his wounds from being possessed manifest as burns, the worst wounds bring cauterized and mostly closed, while smaller ones are still open wounds. the largest wound is a large burn covering most of his back, which is cauterized by the time he passes out, and then there are smaller, still open burns on his upper arms and legs. (the smaller wounds are manageable by link when he follows some medical instructions, [there are some medical books on the ship] the larger one is also manageable, but takes a lot longer to properly heal).

(link asks tetra and her crew to stick around for a while to keep linebeck stabilized while he’s unconscious. when linebeck wakes up, tetra and her crew are good to leave because then linebeck can better report what’s going on, and knows how to handle injuries).

linebeck’s fever persists after he wakes up, and he experiences… pretty much every fever symptom, with especially bad chills and full-body aches. the aches are really bad for the first few days after he wakes up, he’s extremely physically weak and shaky for a while, too. that weakness and shakiness get better with time, but he doesnt go entirely back to normal without actually moving around and doing things to build that strength back up.

he’s delirious and struggles to stay awake for those first few conscious days, too, which makes that weakness and shakiness worse; he struggles to eat and drink water, and struggles to string together thoughts or words to talk to link, and both of them figure out pretty quickly that they’ll have to wait a bit longer before so much as an attempt to coax him out of bed can be made.

beyond existing problems with food, linebeck struggles to keep anything down while he recovers, and becomes ill pretty much every time after he eats anything, so a bucket is kept near his bed. with water, he obviously needs to drink a lot of it considering that he’s feverish, injured, and vomiting frequently, but while he’s sick he has a bit of an irrational fear of water (along with an irrational fear of air and the wind, which makes him hesitant to go outside while he’s sick).

he’s generally pretty irritable, which isn’t particularly new, but it makes him prone to refusing help with certain things. he’s less irritable when tired and just resting. he’s also especially nervous, and despite the overall fatigue, he struggles to sleep for very long while he’s sick, and as said before, is often delirious and even confused when things are bad.

along with the other difficulties eating, linebeck has a hard time swallowing for a bit, and salivates a lot more than normal while he’s sick. he is soooo fucking dehydrated the whole time and that really doesn’t help.

while the weakness and shakiness stays for the entire time he’s sick and even a bit afterwards, for the first few days after he wakes up he’s stiff and also experiences some muscle spasms and numbness in his limbs, and has a hard time keeping his balance the first few times he gets out of bed.

once the sickness clears up fully, linebeck has to still be careful with the scar on his back; it’s sensitive to touch for a while and hurts when exposed to the sun or air for too long and when he stretches his back too far, but eventually just reaches the point where it’s a bit sensitive but is otherwise just a large scar.

obviously he’s also going through the wringer in an emotional and mental illness sense too but those would require a whole new bullet point list.

[wonder-worker]

"Because Richard (III) usurped the throne, his retinue is inevitably seen as inimical to the crown and therefore in an important sense independent of royal authority. In the context of Edward IV's reign, in which the retinue was created, neither assumption is true. The development of the retinue would have been impossible without royal backing and reflected, rather than negated, the king's authority. Within the north itself, Gloucester's connection subsumed that of the crown. Elsewhere, in East Anglia and in Wales, that focus for royal servants was provided by others, but Gloucester was still part of that royal connection, not remote from it. In the rest of England, as constable and admiral, he had contributed to the enforcement of royal authority. When he seized power in 1483 he did not do it from outside the prevailing political structure but from its heart."

-Rosemary Horrox, "Richard III: A Study of Service"

[kittenfangirl20]

Adam: I don’t know, would he even want me if he knew what I had to survive down here? I am not the sweet and innocent guy he knew in Eden.

Cherri: There is nothing wrong with you, in fact the problem is with Steve. He took advantage of you when you were vulnerable.

Adam just gave Cherri a slight smile, she always knew what to say to make him feel at least a little better.

Adam: Thank you Cherri.

Cherri: No problem, you are one of the coolest people I know.

After having a few drinks Adam went back to the hotel. Lucifer was sadly looking down at the reflective surface of the bar seeing that like anyone who sold their soul, he took on some of the traits of the person who own their soul. His fangs which used to be pearly white were now that sickly shade of yellow that Alastor had and his eyes were now completely red. He bet that the Six Deadly Sins were laughing at the fact that Lucifer had to sell his soul. He looked up and saw Adam who smiled at him. Only one of Adam’s fangs were gold and the sclera of one of Adam’s eyes was black. But that seemed to be endearing on him.

Lucifer: Do you need a drink?

Adam: No, I wanted to spend time with you.

Adam sat down at the bar and he couldn’t help but at seeing muscles in Lucifer’s arms because he kept his sleeves rolled up. He wondered how muscular Lucifer actually was his body was kept under either robes or that ringmaster style suit he wore as King of Hell. Lucifer now wore a red button up shirt, a black vest, a black bow tie with a rubber duck pin in the middle of it, and black pants along with black and red boots.

Adam: Why did you leave me alone in Eden?

Hearing the pain in Adam’s voice broke Lucifer’s heart.

Lucifer: I was an idiot, Lilith told me the you were secretly trying to control her.

Adam: Why would I do that? I was told that Lilith was my companion and my equal. Why would I think that I am above her?

Now that Lucifer heard Adam’s words he truly realized how truly stupid he was. It must have hurt Adam trying to find Lucifer only to be told he ran away with Lilith.

Lucifer: I am so sorry, I know that my words can’t make up for the pain I caused you, but I am truly sorry.

Adam: I forgave you a long time ago, but that doesn’t change the fact that it still hurts.

Both were so close that they were about to kiss, but Charlie walked over to them which caused them to pull away.

Charlie: Adam? Dad? I wanted to start with some exercises to help break the ice with the guests.

They walked over to the lobby to see Alastor in an arm chair while Niffty sat in his lap. There wasn’t anything sexual behind Niffty’s actions, it was more like a father with his favored daughter. There was a new Sinner who had a snake like appearance and wore clothes that were in a Steampunk style.

Charlie: Everyone this is Sir Pentious, he came to the hotel in order to give redemption a try.

Sir Pentious: Hello.

Everyone had to get involved with an exercise that was a way to introduce themselves.

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Huskerdust Au

Adam stretched his long limbs over the hotel couch as he sucked on a popsicle, deep throating it as fair as he could while scrolling Sinstagram. His lamb ears twitched with annoyance with every text he got from his pimp Steve.

Asshole wants him to move back into the tower, never going to happen.

Charlie and Vaggie were trying to think of ways to drum up more clients for the hotel.

Adam: Ladies! You could always utilize the local talent.~

Charlie: Hehe, well Adam as kind as that is I wouldn't want to take advantage of you.

Vaggie: And we aren't making a porno.

Adam: Suit yourselves.

Then there was a knock at the door, when Charlie answered it was the Radio Demon who basically pushed his way in.

Alastor: The names Alastor, and what might you do my fluffy feminine fellow?

Adam smirked: I can suck your dick.

Alastor: Ha! No.

Adam: Your loss.

Charlie: Are you here to be redeemed?

Alastor just laughed: Oh no nothing silly like that. I'm here to help! And I can even provide more staff.

He snapped his fingers and a little ball came down the chimney which turned into a woman with one eye.

Nifty: Hi! I'm Nifty, I clean everything!

Alastor snapped his fingers again and a bar appeared.

Lucifer blinked, he was just at the crabs table on a winning streak the fuck is this!?

Lucifer: Hey! I was winning!

Alastor: And now I need your assistance, you can have all the cheap booze you want in exchange.

Lucifer growled and stomped over to the bar, one day he would be free of that prick. He cracked open a bottle of whiskey and started to drink it.

Adams eyes went wide, he made sure chest was nice and amplified and that his thong sides were showing on either side of his hips and plastered on the best smile he could as he sat down at the bar winking at Lucifer.

Adam: And who might you be, handsome?~

Lucifer looked up and both men looked at each other in shock.

Lucifer: Adam?

Adam: Yeah, what is the former King of Hell doing here?

Lucifer: I have a job, what about you?

Adam: I am trying to get back into Heaven.

Lucifer had heard that Adam was kicked out of Heaven for liking things that were considered sinful like rock music and swearing.

Charlie: Dad? Is everything alright? I was worried after you disappeared after Satan took over. Do you need help?

Lucifer: I am alright Char Char, I guess we now get to see each other more often.

Adam: I need to go to work, I will be back later.

Adam left surprised seeing his first love at the hotel, he went to the studio he worked at. Steve was waiting outside.

Steve: Do you honestly think that this redemption thing works?

Adam: I’m here to work.

Steve: Good boy, I want you with a man and a woman tonight. Get inside.

Adam walked in and let them take off Adam’s clothes. On the bed were other porn stars that Steve owned the souls of and Adam got into bed with them.

@things-arent-what-they-seem66