#now he has weird powers and his body bends light weird

[shrikeicee]

hey remember that guy i posted not even 12 hours ago. i fixed him hes better now (idk what to put in the corner so i filled it with text posts that fit him)

under the cut is the drawing w/out the text posts

[luveline]

could I please request a remus x reader that isn’t used to affection and cries at being called a pet name <3

—Remus calls you lovely, so you cry in his back garden. fem

You hold your hands out to the fire pit, relieved when heat kisses your palms and warms your arms to the elbow. Summer nights are supposed to be warm. Not in Wales. 

The decking under you bends and groans as multiple pairs of feet cross it. Someone steps off by your legs and moves further into the garden. Solar lights warm the space and a battery powered lantern lights the patio table where Sirius hosts a championship of Speed. 

A pair of shoes stop by your legs. They step down and a body sits next to you tightly, thigh to thigh, no want for space. “Hey,” Remus says. “Are you cold?” 

“Not really.” 

“Did you bring a jumper?” 

“I’m not cold,” you laugh. “Of course I did, though, it’s upstairs.” 

Staying with Remus and his friends has been fun so far. The idea of spending a few weeks of your summer between your second and last year of University at Remus’ house had felt daunting when they suggested it, but you’ve had nothing but fun so far. It’s nice to have friends. Nicer to have patient and gentle ones.

“You can have my jacket? Wear it over your shoulders like a cape.” 

“No, thank you. Really.” 

Remus takes your arm. Gives it a quick rub with his thumb until his hand moves down to yours. He feels your fingers, his palm soft, before he returns to his personal space. “You don’t feel too cold. I’ll ask James to put another log on in a bit.” 

“All the food is keeping me warm.” 

He grins. Brown eyes, brown hair, lashes of firelight on his cheek. “Are you having a good time?” 

“Of course I am.” 

“Yeah? Will you tell me if you’re not? I know it’s weird staying somewhere else. Even if it’s just that the bathroom makes you miserable or you need extra socks.” 

“It’s like I’m on holiday with all my best friends,” you say lightly. 

“You are on holiday with your best friends. I’m not, ‘cos it’s my house, but this is the definition of a holiday.” 

“Thank you, for inviting me.” 

Remus puts his arm around your shoulder, and he kisses your temple with a gentle smile. “I wanted you here, lovely. We all want you here.” 

His arm falls away. It’s just amicable affection, you know that, but it’s more than anyone’s given you in a long time. You’re surprised he’d want to; you must feel a deep, deep tenderness for someone to call them lovely like it’s their only name, and to kiss their forehead with a smile already in place. 

You pull the inside of your bottom lip between your teeth. It’s precious, to be wanted. To have someone as special as Remus show you what you mean to him plainly. You’ve had a great day filled with nice food and good friends, and now you’re warming your knees by the flickering fire pit in the Welsh countryside, stars emerging above you, the moon a pinky nail by the mountains. 

You tip your face into your hands. 

Remus brings a hand to your back and draws a shape without comment, but his hand flattens, and he feels it loud and clear when you sniffle. “Dove?” he asks softly. 

You raise your head quickly, sniffling again as you wipe hot tears off of the hills of your cheeks. “Sorry.” 

“Did I upset you?” he asks, sitting up straight. “I’m so sorry, what did I say?” 

“No, no, it’s nice. It’s nice, you’re always so nice to me.” 

“You’re upset because I’m nice?” 

“I’m just not used to it, that’s all.” 

“Not used to it,” he says, frowning. His brows set. He’s nearly stony.

“You’re the nicest friend I’ve ever had.” 

“Can I give you a hug?” 

You nod, shivering as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, no room left between you. His cheek smushes into the side of your brow, a heat like the fire warming you, the two of you listening to the sound of wood embers popping. 

He makes a sound somewhere in his chest and pulls you closer again. Impossibly, he shifts, and his second arm comes around to turn his side hug into a proper one, as though he’s changed his mind about it just a few seconds in. You turn into him without apprehension. 

“You’re not used to it. Do you like it?” he murmurs. 

You press your face to his jaw and neck. Your arms act of their own accord, tightening behind his back. 

“You should be used to it, someone like you. You should be so used to it that it bounces straight back off you again.” He rubs your shoulder. His fingers work into a tight muscle gently. “You lied about being cold, I can feel it now. Your back is freezing.” 

You raise up off of the decking to hug him harder. He’s all for it. 

“We’ll teach you exactly how to be part of the world’s touchiest friend group,” he promises. “You're already a good hugger.” 

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

In another life pt 2

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader

Summary: A visit to Nanami and trip down memory lane

Warnings: Language and suggestive themes but only a bit lol

Part 3

****************************************************

A/N: was so overwhelmed by the amount of love I received for part one!! Thank you all so much for the support😭🩵

“This is definitely a first” Nanamis gaze travelled up and down your body.

You shuffled uncomfortably from your place on the couch. Gojo stood leaning on the wall behind you.

“Yeah I’ve been hearing that a lot today..” you sighed.

“Hmm, well from what I know. This curse has been known to travel through dimensions, which is why he’s been so hard to catch in the past. He disappeared several years ago after somehow escaping from a seal. Looks like he ended up in your universe.”

“That makes sense, it was only a couple years ago he appeared and Satoru subdued him. A couple months ago he told me he found some weird residual energy on the seal but otherwise everything was ok… I guess the theory of the spy was correct but…” you brought a hand to your chin.

“Go on” he encouraged.

“We placed three seals on them. There’s no way an amateur broke through them… I wonder if he has any clue on who it could be...”

BZZT BZZT BZZT

“Another call?” Gojo tilted his head forward.

You picked up the phone and read “Weird Bangs” well speak of the devil!

“Nope just a text.”

-Hey you ok? Satoru just told me what happened. Don’t worry, we’re investigating as we speak. We’ll have you home in no time.

You smiled warmly and replied,

-Thanks Sugu, I have complete faith in you two. And don’t worry I’m ok.

“Anything important?”

“Not really, Sugu was just checking in. By the way, is he on a mission or something? I haven’t sensed your version of him yet. Unless you don’t have a version of him which would be honestly so weird since I swear you two are like your own couple..”

Little did you know the room had gone from warm to freezing cold.

“What did you just say…”

“Huh?” You tensed seeing the mood was a bit off now.

“Wait…don’t tell me he’s…dead?” Instant dread washed over you.

“No..he’s very much alive…” (excuse me while I change the timeline a little)

“Then what’s-“ you tilted your head.

“Nanami, what can you tell us about the curse transporting other people?”

You blinked at his sudden change in topic.

“Honestly nothing.” Your shoulders slumped.

“Really?”

“Yes but I promise I’ll do everything in my power to ensure you get home safely”.

“Thanks Nanami…” you tried not to feel to sad, after all you had so many people working hard to figure it out.

“Well it’s getting late, why don’t we continue this tommorow, Nanami you’ll reach out if you find anything yeah?”

He nodded, “I’ll dig into some of the old archives, and let you know what I find.”

“Thank you Nanami” you smiled and followed gojo out of the room.

“So what now?” The sun had set and you realized that for the first time in years you were not going to sleep in your own bed, cuddled next to your husband.

“Well… I could take you to one of the spare dorms here but considering the curse is still out there I think it’s best if you stick with me”

“So back to your place?” Haha that takes you back.

“That ok with you?”

“Mhmm” not like I’m used to anything else but being with you…

“Ok then, hang on” he touched your shoulder and suddenly you were transported to a place that smelled like fresh linen and his cologne.

“Oh wow this takes me back” you flicked on the light and took in the old place.

Gojo raised a brow that you seemed to know your way around.

“I take it you’ve been here before?”

You nodded fondly while taking in the place once again, “yeah, we spent so much time here back while we were dating…I lived in a really crappy apartment that you had to bend down in.” You laugh at the memory.

You turn to look out the floorlength window and promptly scream.

“AHH is that me!?!? Have I looked like this all day!?!” You could barely see your skin it was covered in dirt and grime from the previous fight and your hair was basically inviting birds to make it their home.

“I need to shower…” ah crap I didn’t think to stop and get clothes.

“I’ll find you some clothes… the shower is over the-“ but you were already beelining towards the bathroom eagerly to wash the filth off of you.

“Right you already know… so weird” he crossed his arms.

The second the steaming water hit your body you sighed in relief. It took a good 15 minutes for the water to run clear.

Using his body wash sure took you back to the days you’d sleep over. Those days were some of the best of your life. Watching movies late into the night, eating junk food, making out, falling asleep tangled together…

You shut your eyes before the tears could come.

No, none of that, you had the best and strongest people on the case. You’d be home soon, so let’s think of this as a weird mini vacation.

After your shower you dried yourself off and peeked into the bedroom where the door connected to. Sure enough you found a set of his pjs on the bed.

His shirt engulfed you, looking more like a dress. You thought for a moment to forgo the pants but realized you probably shouldn’t go pantless and underwearless around new Gojo.

Once you were decent you stepped outside into the main living space.

A delicious aroma immediately invaded your senses.

Wait… no fricken way!?

“You cook!?!?”

“Huh?” Gojo paused to look back over his shoulder. “Of course I cook… does your Gojo not?”

“He- he tried once but burnt everything… and anyway I’m home way more so I usually do the cooking..”

“Well I hope you like seafood, I haven’t gone shopping yet so there wasn’t really many options.”

He turned back to the stove to continue stirring.

You sat on one of the counter barstools and watched him in awe.

He even has the towel thrown over his shoulder and everything...

“So tell me about other Gojo. How did you guys meet?”

“Well… actually it’s kind of embarrassing…”

“Oh well now I have to know”

“Well I was jogging by this old elementary school and this curse popped out. It was so cute tho it looked like a super fluffy puppy. And then suddenly you popped in, ready to blast it to smithereens when I jumped in front and defended it….” He paused his stirring and looked over at you again.

“Yeah I know.. it was crazy but the curse really wasn’t that bad. So anyway I picked it up and started running away from you…”

“Pfft seriously?”

“Yeah… you should’ve seen your face haha. I made it about 10 steps before you warped in front of me”

*Flashback*

“Uh listen lady, that thing your holding is very dangerous so it’s best if you-“

“No way!”

“Huh?”

“No way, he’s just a little baby, he hasn’t hurt anyone!” You hugged the curse tight to your body and for some reason the curse seemed… relaxed?

“Lady… it’s a curse.. we can’t exactly just leave it to roam free..”

“Well then….”you thought for a moment..

“I’ll keep it!”

“You’ll keep it…” he repeated to himself in disbelief

“Mhm hm” you nodded.

“Uh…” he watched you snuggle the curse closer and the curse for whatever bizarre reason seemed content.

“It hasn’t hurt anyone has it?”

“Not that I’m aware of..”

“Then it’s settled! I’m keeping him.”

“Uh…”

“Don’t worry, I have some skill in exorcizing curses if anything goes wrong but it won’t will it little cutie?” You rubbed under its chin and it started to purr.

“Ok so you’re serious…uh well here’s my number… in case he decides to turn murdery and you can’t handle him”

You smile and hand him your phone, when he hands it back you glance down and let out a little gasp.

He smirked, you must’ve realized who he was now.

“You have the same screensaver as me! I love that show!!”

Oh

“Haha well it is a good show, even if the heroine sucks.”

“What- what did you just say?! She’s the best one!”

“No way, if you ask me the best friend should be in the spotlight.”

“That snobby bitch? No way” you made a face.

“Snobby? I see it as confidence.”

“You must’ve gotten knocked in the head too many times by a curse..”

“Well it doesn’t really matter, I think she’s gonna take that job in the next episode.”

“Wait you think so? As much as I hate her, she makes the story interesting.”

“Yeah I-“ BZZZT BZZZT BZZZT

“Ah sorry hold on”

You watched him turn and take the call. Looking at him now, even without seeing his eyes you could tell he was good looking.

“Sorry, duty calls. Make sure to call me if…that thing suddenly decides to eat you ok?”

“I will, thanks”

He whooshed away and you looked down at your phone.

Satoru Gojo….

Oh my god

No fucking way…

He had the same name as your favorite book character! What a small world…

“Alright cutie, let’s get you home. I wonder what you eat?”

*End flashback*

“Don’t tell me you still have that thing?”

“That thing has a name and his name is cutie. And to this day he hasn’t hurt a fly! Well actually that’s a lie because he does eat all the bugs around the house.. but other than that he’s harmless. He does chew the furniture though..” awe I hope he’s ok..

“You’re a little strange you know that?”

“You’re one to talk..”

“Hey, you shouldn’t insult the hand that feeds you.”

“You’re right sorry chef” you bowed jokingly then went to grab plates to set the table.

“Oh I hope you don’t mind me touching stuff.” You retracted your hand afraid he might get upset.

“Be my guest.” He waved nonchalantly.

Ten minutes later you were sat across each other.

“Oh lemme grab some drinks” he stood up and disappeared into the kitchen again.

You nodded and began plating your dish and his. His having three times the portion like usual.

Gojo came back and sat down with his mouth slightly open.

You realized your mistake and felt heat rise to your cheeks. “S-sorry it- I did that out of habit. Didn’t mean to make you feel weird..”

“It’s fine it’ll just take some getting used to is all…” he smirked and dug in.

“Thank you for the meal.” You twirled your fork around the shrimp and pasta and took a bite.

Oh

Oh

Oh hell no

“Something wrong?”

“Satoru this is amazing… like really really amazing”

“Glad you like it”

“No but seriously this is so good…Why can’t my version do this??”

You took another bite and swooned, maybe you’d leave your version for this one…

BZZT BZZT BZZT

“Oh it’s you! Well other you..”

“Satoru?”

“Hey babe you doing alright?”

“Yeah, I’m alright… we met with Nanami earlier, he said he’s going to do some more research and let us know if he finds anything..”

“Same here, Suguru and I are tracking the curse down but it’ll take a little bit of time, he’s a slippery one that’s for sure”

“Mm, sorry for putting everyone through this trouble…”

“Don’t worry, I have plenty of ways you can make it up to me later”

“Ah geez I need to stop putting you on speaker..”

“You’re not alone? It’s pretty late..”

“Yeah well other you thought it would be best to keep me close for safety reasons. I’m here at the old penthouse actually.”

“….”

“Toru?”

“You’re with other me?”

You blinked. “Uh yes?“

“Hey other me!”

You tilt the phone closer to this Gojo so he can hear better.

“Uh yes?”

“I know it’s tempting but no canoodling my girl alright?”

“S-satoru!”

“Not even a little touch, I mean it.”

“Satoru what are you talking about?! I just met the guy!”

“And? Do you remember how I was back then?”

“Well...” yeah a manwhore..

“Oh yeah and another word of advice, no girls over to the place. She gets suuuuuuper jealous, one time she even told our pet to attack and-“

“I did not! That was-!-you know that was an accident!”

“Mhmm sure”

“You know cutie feeds off my feelings, I didn’t tell him to bite her arm!”

“Of course sweetheart of course..”

“You- what about that time you hijacked my date!”

“That was purely coincidental, I was in the area.”

“Sure you were…”

“Anywhoooooo, did you take your meds?”

“Y-yeah”

“Liar”

“Hey make sure she gets those pills, she’ll faint without them and I don’t need her falling into anyone else’s arms”

“S-satoru good night already, I’ll talk to you later…”

“Alright sorry, you know I worry. Night baby, don’t feel too lonely without me”

*click*

“Ugh annoying jerk” you words didn’t match your soft tone.

Gojo leaned back in his chair and scanned your form.

Did he? Did a version of him really fall in love and settle down. You were certainly beautiful but he’d been with a lot of beautiful women.. did your strength draw his attention? He supposed he hasn’t seen you fight yet, maybe he would fix that soon..

“Oh uh sorry you had to hear all that again, I hope it’s not too weird”

“Well I’m not gonna lie and say it’s normal but..”

You smiled and brought another forkful to your mouth.

“Thank you for everything, really… you don’t even know me and you’re doing all this..”

“Well hey don’t worry about it, any alter ego/universe me’s wife is a friend of mine”

“Heh thanks” glad to know all Gojos humor are the same across universes.

After dinner you helped clean up and were lounging on the couch while Gojo went to shower.

He wouldn’t mind if you turned on the tv right?

So far this Gojo was 99.8 percent a carbon copy of yours so no he wouldn’t mind.. plus tonight the new episode of “Wishing I was yours” was airing and you couldn’t miss it..

And that’s how Gojo found you 20 minutes later, arms wrapped around your knees cuddling a pillow, tearful eyes glued to the TV screen.

‘No! No you can’t leave me. You can’t give up after everything we’ve been through’

‘Forgive me my love, you’ll have to continue this journey without me…’

‘No! I need you!!’

‘I’m only going to put you in danger… it has to be this way… I’m sorry’

‘Noooooooooooooooo!’

How can she watch this crap…

Gojo made his presence known and stepped in front of the couch.

“Oh hey, I-i hope it was ok that I- ah no don’t go!!” Your focus was quickly redirected back to the gripping scene. You groaned when the credits rolled.

“Dammit you were right about the ending…now I have to do that thing… ugh” you mumbled into the pillow.

Gojo couldn’t help but be curious what that thing was but stayed quiet.

“Don’t tell me that I actually watch this kind of stuff?”

He sat on the other end of the couch watching as you paused the tv and turned towards him.

“Well not at first but we worked out a deal, every week we watch one of my picks and one of your picks… but ugh you always choose the scariest stuff…”

“Better than unrealistic lovey dovey crap…”

“Unrealistic?? Says the one who spouts the most corniest lines 24/7”

The title screen for another episode started playing and he swiftly grabbed the remote.

“Allow me to show you what true cinema is.”

Uh oh, you had a bad feeling about this..

1 hour later

“Ah no way no way no way” Gojo smirked watching how you hid behind a pillow shaking like a leaf.

“Oh come on, it’s not even the scary part yet…”

“Liar! Ew ew ew I accidentally looked again”

“Human snake vs Octogator is a masterpiece , you’re insulting one of the greatest films of all time!”

“You just chose this because you knew it would scare me!”

“Lady I barely know you, is that something I would do?” He smiled, glowing eyes peeking behind his glasses.

“Yes, that is exactly what you would do..”

Well you sure did seem to know him he was realizing more and more…

After the movie you were basically half asleep so Gojo decided to call it a night.

Sleepily you rose up and followed after Gojo to the hallway. But instead of turning right to the guest room you automatically turned left to his room and bumped into his back.

“Huh”

You froze, eyes shooting up to his.

“A-ah s-sorry!” Embarrassed you darted to the guest room and shut the door.

BZZT BZZT BZZT

Hm?

*NEW MESSAGE*

-Since you’re all alone, use this to tide your appetite over xoxo

*image loading*

“Ah-!”

The heat rose to your cheeks immediately.

(I’ll let you imagine what kind of picture he sent lol)

-Don’t send anything back tho ok? Don’t want the creep next door spying on you and catching a glimpse of my pretty girl~”

-he’s in another room obviously..

-wait he wouldn’t look through the walls with his eyes would he??

-would- did you ever do that??

-ah gotta go baby, the line is bad, nighty night!

-We’re texting idiot, what line?! And answer the question!!

-xoxo 💋

Ugh jerk… you threw the phone on the bed then slowly got in the unfamiliar bed.

You hated sleeping alone… even when he was out on overnight missions you were surrounded by his scent, his clothes, his everything…

You grabbed a pillow and snuggled it for comfort.

“I miss you idiot…”

Part 3

***************************************************

Aaaaaaand that’s chapter 2! What did you guys think about Suguru’s mention hehe. The angst boat is coming y’all, but first came a little fluff before the storm. Please lemme know what you thought! Until next time!

@gojosatorulover7 @goaway-plzz @goldenglow149 @taakt17 @kneesheee @yumii-34 @ritsatoru @generalstephkenobi @author20 @bitchycloudstrawberry @hojoslutoru

[twstthing]

[A quick change of clothes(kin).]

Minecraft Single Player! Yuu AU

Summary: Yuu(rmom) has a really weird concept of clothing, Deuce and Professor Crewel figure that out the hard way and witness transmutation.

In NRC, every student gets uniforms. It’s only natural that they get enough from their ever so kind headmage.

Crowley, the said headmage, gets Crewel to tailor a uniform for Yuu as a thank you for doing unintended and unpaid repairs for the Ramshackle dorm. The event was bound to come up, having enrolled them as a half-student alongside Grim. 

Making a uniform for a student isn’t as intensive as creating fashion pieces, however both are pieces of art that require the utmost focus and precision. What kind of professor, let alone MAN, would Divus Crewel be if he let himself slack on providing basic needs for a pup? At the very minimum, he swears upon himself to never stoop down to a level of air-headedness that his boss, unfortunately, has. 

To be honest, Crewel has been itching to get Prefect Yuu a new set of clothing for a while now. Ever since that pup landed in NRC, they have been nothing but trouble with an outfit that gives him one of the strongest eye sores he’s ever felt. A plain, loose cyan blue t-shirt with an equally saturated pair of indigo trousers that have no pockets. Not only is it poorly colored, it lacks function.

Perhaps the lack of function could be explained away with how the pup has their own magic storage, pulling stacks of items in and out of thin air with no strain. But those colors? Crewel is a cunning, logical man, but not everything can be reasoned with nor justified.

Additionally, Yuu(rmom) is due for a good shaving and trim. He’s not sure how the teenaged pup has a fully grown (and very well-styled) goatee, but perhaps it’s just genetics. 

Naturally, there are procedural steps to making a set of clothing for someone, and the first and foremost is to gather measurements. It is one of the faster paced processes, but key to executing all other parts. 

Crewel really should have expected that anything dealing with the new prefect would never go normally.

“Yuu, you need that uniform! I promise it doesn’t hurt at all, it’s actually kind of fun!”

Deuce is on his tiptoes in the Alchemy Laboratory, shouting like he is cooing a cat to come down the tree it ran up. In a sense, he is doing exactly that but the cat is actually a person with extra-stiff limbs and reality-altering powers beyond magic.

Said person looks down from their oak wood block tower, doing several impossibly fast 120 degree hip bends while swinging their arm. Deuce knows this version of gestures, recalling Riddle’s presentation on Yuu’s mannerisms with the assistance of Rook and Iida. If Yuu individually does several hip bends first and arm swings second, it indicates “I am here.” and something along the lines of a declaration depending on the context. 

In this context, Yuu is currently on-guard and firmly standing their ground which means Yuu does not want to do measurements.

Inwardly, Deuce gives himself a pat on the back for remembering all of that and reaching a conclusion. But there’s a slightly more pressing matter at hand that he does not have a method or conclusion to, and that is how to convince Yuu to get down from their tower and get their measurements done.

He’s done everything he could, really! 

Deuce truly thought that his cauldron summoning spell would work in knocking Yuu down to ground level, but the moment the cauldron made contact with Yuu you wanna know what happened? The cauldron DID hit Yuu, eliciting a very manly, “OOF!” from them as their body flashed red, but it didn’t even knock them down. After making contact with Yuu, it shrank into one of the pixelated slabs that Yuu creates and fell to the ground with a light clack.

Magic coercion didn’t work, and his words don’t seem to reach the Prefect’s head either.. Sure;

Turning to Professor Crewel, Deuce bows a into a straight 90 degree angle and shouts, “Professor! I apologize in advance for the.. Un- Uh, seemingly display I am about to do!”

Casting aside his blazer and rolling up his dress shirt sleeves, Deuce takes a deep breath. The oak block tower was 5 blocks high, which means it wasn’t unreasonably tall. A lot of things can be overcome so long as you just try to do it, that’s how Deuce learned he was particularly skilled at hurdling during club practice. Just like how he warmed up at practice, Deuce gives two experimental hops, remembering the feeling of how to make himself spring up.

Professor Crewel is no stranger to the reckless activity of teenage boys having been one himself, so his eyes widen as he realizes what Deuce is about to do. 

Three steps backwards and an inhale is all he needs to sprint straight to the oak block tower, and when the moment is just right—not too close, but not too far from the wall—he leaps once. Deuce reaches to just about 3/5ths of the tower, but he closes the gap between him and the top as his left foot pushes off of the tower and launches himself higher. 

Being face-to-face with Yuu wasn’t necessary so long as he could just get them down, so in the moment that Deuce reached his highest point his arms would shoot out to grab onto Yuu’s legs. Deuce can only smirk in triumph as he shouts, “Gotcha!”

From that point on, gravity could do the rest of the work as it pulled him and Yuu downwards. Deuce is completely ready for the fall, but Yuu seems even more flustered than him as their arms flail around and make the fall much more uncertain.

Though, it was only in that moment that Deuce realized he couldn’t make a stable landing when there is another body of weight that he’s holding onto. He can already feel a sore backache or a rolled ankle coming into play as he falls, but the expected pain does not come even after he squeezes his eyes shut.

Instead, he feels a gentle gust of wind below him, lowering him and Yuu close enough to the ground before completely dissipating and letting him land on his butt. The relief of having no injuries sustained is completely overwritten when he feels the piercing gaze of a very furious Professor Crewel towering about him.

“Yuurmom and Deuce Spade.” Crewel practically seethes out, “Both of you pups. Reckless, unruly behavior that would have gotten you both a nice trip to the nurse’s office. Not only will this be reported to your Housewarden, but I also expect a two-pager reflecting on your actions. Deuce Spade, you will write about the dangers of acting before thinking. Yuu, you will be writing about why listening to authority and following instruction is necessary.”

With a heavy sigh, Professor Crewel settles himself down before declaring, “Now bark if you understand my instructions!”

Deuce spends no time in shouting back, “Yes Professor!”, but Yuu remains silent much to his panic. Yuu’s face is just about as neutral as ever, though the slight crease in their eyebrows is indicative of their immense dissatisfaction with the situation. While Deuce really does want to consider his friend’s feelings here, he would really rather not face any more paperwork and reprimanding from Housewarden Riddle, so he jabs Yuu(rmom) with his elbow. 

Two beats of silence afterwards, Yuu utters out, “Yes.” much to Deuce’s relief. 

Professor Crewel lightly massages the crease between his eyebrows, muttering something along the lines of “stressful pups”. Not too shortly, he turns to Yuu and gestures to them, “Now let’s get your measurements done. I don’t know why you have such an aversion to removing your current clothing, but rest assured that the process will not take long and you can put them back on right afterwards.”

To that, Yuu(rmom) launches out of their seated position to stand and rapidly shakes their head, body following behind their head movements. 

Deuce inwardly sighs, ‘Now we’re back at square one.’

“Pup, is there some kind of connection you have with your clothes? Start speaking, because I am not a mind reader.” 

Yuu takes a moment, eyes scanning Deuce and the professor. It’s a bit jarring to Deuce to see Yuu express this much discomfort at anything. Asides from their overall lack of expression, they typically march to their own beat regardless of the situation. If Yuu(rmom) was 100% human like he and Ace were, perhaps they would be breaking out into a sweat. 

“.. I can’t remove my skin.”

“I don’t think clothes are skin, Yuu.” Deuce states without missing a beat. 

Shaking their head, Yuu replies, “Everyone wears skins.” They wave an arm at Deuce, gesturing to his current outfit, “That’s your skin.” then look down and wave an arm, referring to themselves, “This is my skin.”

Professor Crewel is looking up at the ceiling, hoping to find an answer to why he must explain what clothing is. Pushing past the frustration, he thinks to himself. 

Every day, Yuu shows up with the same set of eye-straining blue clothes. Despite how much farming and tussling they do, their clothes do not appear tattered or even remotely affected by the things its been put through. Even when doused in water, Yuu appeared as dry as sand. 

It doesn’t seem like they have a whole closet of the same clothing either, because Ramshackle’s plumbing bill falls much further below average. While it would be possible that the Prefect could just do their laundry by hand or with one of their otherworldly gadgets, Crewel highly doubts that their arms have the.. articulation, to properly wash clothes by hand. 

If he’s on the right track, Yuu’s current clothing might actually be attached to them.

Looking back down, Professor Crewel gazes at Yuu, “Pup, if I give you a uniform—no, a skin—will you be able to put it on?”

Yuu stares back at him, many figurative cogs turning and churning in contrast to their ultra-still body. They slowly turn their head down and up, which seems to be the closest they can get to doing a hesitant nod, letting Deuce and Professor Crewel sigh in relief. 

Deuce leans into Yuu’s space and nudges them, “See? It wasn’t THAT bad.”

From his own spatial storage, Crewel spins out the reference uniform he would have used after acquiring Yuu’s measurements. It is a men’s size large uniform, based on the speculated height of Yuu(rmom) who appears to be around the same height as the especially loud aide of Draconia. The blazer, vest, tie, dress shirt, and pants are folded into a crisp, square-like shape much to the pleasure of Yuu who draws closer to the stack of clothing. 

Crewel hands the clothes to Yuu, who manages to hold it upright without using their fingers at all. He remains straight-faced for professionalism, but Crewel wonders to himself when his brain will stop trying to make sense of the illogic that is Yuu(rmom).

And for a moment, Yuu simply stares at the uniform. The next, Yuu’s silhouette dissolves into pure static along with the jarring din of buzzing noise emitting from them. Deuce lets out a shout of shock that is ultimately drowned out by the noise of static, and both he and Deuce plug their ears to block out the cacophony. 

Professor Crewel still subconsciously tries to make some sense of what he’s seeing, and he sees the shifting silhouette of Prefect Yuu. It goes from the average four-limbed human that he’s familiar with, then phasing into a two-dimensional figuration of various rectangular shapes, and then a three-dimensional cubic rendition of the human body. 

As suddenly as it began, the static ends, and Yuu has returned to a human figure. The uniform is perfectly fitted on them and worn correctly, however something more significant changed with the Prefect.

Deuce exclaims it first, “Yuu! Your hair! YOU SHRANK??!! What the heck just happened??”

While Deuce furiously pats Yuu down for changes while asking a barrage of questions, Professor Crewel notes the most obvious changes to Yuu’s appearance.

The awful clothes are gone in place of the NRC uniform, Yuu’s goatee is completely gone, and their short-cut brown hair has been replaced with longer, green shaggy strands. Not only that, they gained a pair of eyebrows and had their rectangular eye sockets replaced with ones that aligned more closely with a normal eyeball. Though, it appears that the square-ness didn’t completely disappear with their pupils still square-shaped.

What concerned Professor Crewel the most was the change in build and physical age. Yuu(rmom) was taller than the average student, but now they’ve been reduced to a height similar to Ruggie Bucchi. Their previous muscle mass has also been reduced to that of the average teenager's, and their face has regained the kind of residual baby fat that students would have.

It was already known that Yuu(rmom) was not human based on their behavior and supernatural abilities, but they have literally shape-shifted into a first year NRC student which brings into question just exactly how old they are. Were they actually a 16-17 year old masquerading as a more mature person or are they a mature person who can change their appearance at will?

Though, it seems like malicious intentions don’t seem to be on Yuu’s mind considering their previous behavior on demanding farmland and an extreme desire to build cubic buildings. Additionally, behind their unwavering behavior lies a familiar sense of immaturity that blends right into the NRC population. 

It might not be a worry for now, but Crewel decides to store this information for the upcoming staff meeting in two days. 

Crewel lets out a loud “Ahem!”, drawing the immediate attention of Deuce and the now more human-looking Prefect Yuu. 

“Continue your celebrations after you two finish writing your reflections. I expect them to be done by tomorrow afternoon and on my desk before I begin teaching the third year pups.”

The reminder visibly knocks into Deuce as he drops his head down in mild shame, and displeasure is now visible on Yuu’s face as their new eyebrows slightly furrow. 

[kasdan]

𝐸𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟'𝑠 𝐹𝑢𝑟𝑦 {𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 13}

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a/n: im so sorry this took me so long to get out, i'm gonna try my best to get more chapters out faster from now on. i hope you enjoy<33

summary: while you and frank are still trying to figure out your powers, trouble shows up at the doorstep

pairing: frank castle x reader

warnings: angst, blood, fighting, gun violence, death, trauma, ptsd, language

word count: 3.7k

chapter song: heads will roll - yeah yeah yeahs

The inside of the building looks rundown and abandoned, like no one's been here in a long time. The building isn't huge, just a large room that fills up the main space and a small hallway in the back that doesn't look like it leads to much. It makes me wonder what this was even used for, considering it's completely empty on the inside.

Frank sets the bags down in the middle of the floor, the boards creaking in the process, and looking like they're about to bend in half, making me hesitant to walk around much. Frank doesn't seem as worried about the floor boards as he walks around messing with the bags, his heavy boots thudding on the floor with every step.

I'm more confident in my steps seeing this, and I find myself walking around the area. I can hear the soft tapping of the water outside dripping on the roof, and I find myself glad that it looks to be in better shape than the floor is.

I come across a switch on the wall, with not much of a foundation surrounding it. The inside of the wall can be seen, with various amounts of wires around it. I mindlessly bring my hand up to flip it, wondering what it's for and if lights even work in here at all.

A soft grip on my wrist stops me in my tracks, my fingers barely brushing against the switch. Frank's face comes into view, and I wonder how I didn't hear his footsteps coming up behind me before.

"I wouldn't do that. Don't want you gettin' shocked." I feel my body shudder from the thought of electricity flowing through my body, and I drop my hand back to my side. 

"C'mon." He speaks softly and brings me back over to the middle of the room, sitting down a little ways away from where the bags still sit. I sit across from him, making sure to avoid any loose nails in the floor boards.

I watch Frank take out a folded piece of paper and slowly unravel it in front of him. I watch him curiously as his eyes scan over the contents of the paper. He meets my eyes over the top of the paper and smiles at the questioning look on my face.

He lets out a sigh after a few more seconds of looking at whatever is on the paper and folds the paper back up in his hand, crossing his arms over his knees that are tucked up to his chest.

I'm expecting him to tell me what's on the paper that he now holds loosely in his hand as if it's not even there, but I just find his gaze flickering over me.

My eyebrows raise waiting for him to say anything, but after another 30 seconds he still just sits there looking at me with a grin on his face. "Are you going to tell me what's on the paper or are you just gonna stare at me for the rest of the day." I can't help but mimic the grin he has on his face halfway through my sentence.

Frank shakes his head and drops his gaze to the ground. I hear him lightly clear his throat before opening the paper in his hand at a quick glance over.

"'S a list of all the possible powers you could have, 'n the emotions that come with them." His eyes flick up to mine over the top of the paper as if trying to grasp my thoughts. I don't exactly know how I feel about the information that he just told me. How does he know about what powers I have when I don't even know the things I can do? Where did he get that information from? Should I be worried?

Before I'm able to get any of the questions I have, Frank intercepts them. "I know, it's probably weird for you to hear this, but just let me explain." He pauses to look for my reaction, and I silently urge him to continue. "You know it wasn't an accident that I found you on the streets that day. David's been scrounging around the database for weeks before we were able to find you. Ever since you showed up as the "weapon" we've been tracking, David took it upon himself to try and dig deeper." He stops for a moment to take a shuddering breath, and I watch as he clenches his fist, crumpling the paper in the process.

We sit there for a couple seconds in silence, as Frank's intense gaze pierces into the floor he's staring at. I can feel the anger radiating off of him, and lingering in the air, and I find myself just sitting there and waiting for him to continue. Seeing how he's acting makes me start to think that there's more to the story that I don't know. Why would he be so mad at something happening to a complete stranger?

It's not until I see stray tears start to run down his face that I feel the need to intervene. "Frank..." My voice comes out softer than I intended it to, but seeing how affected he is makes my heart clench. I instinctively shift my body closer to his as his teary eyes find mine.

"I saw... all the things they were recordin' down from their experiments. All the things they were doin' to kids 'n I just..." He takes another deep breath, pausing between his words. "I couldn't think about these innocent children goin' through all this pain, and it makes me fuckin' sick to even think that I'm even slightly glad that my kids went out the way they did, and didn't have to go through that shit. I jus-" His voice cracks, stopping him from finishing his sentence.

I'm not sure what to take from the situation, and seeing Frank like this makes me feel like I should try to say something to make him feel better, however blurting out whatever first comes to mind probably isn't the best idea, but my brain isn't fast enough to communicate this to my mouth.

"I mean, it wasn't that bad?" The sentence ending in more of a question than anything makes my face scrunch up as soon as the words leave my mouth. I don't even look at him, keeping my eyes trained to the floor, not wanting to see the look on his face.

All of a sudden I feel a slight breeze float across my body, and I shake my head as if trying to shake it off of me. 

"-it makes me fuckin' sick to even think that I'm even slightly glad that my kids went out the way they did, and didn't have to go through-" My head whips up to look at Frank, wondering why he's saying the same thing he already did.

"What?" My voice comes out harsher than it probably should and Frank seems taken aback by my outburst. "I'm sorry I just... I don't understand why you're saying it again?" I gently shake my head in response.

"'M sorry darlin' I don't know what you're talkin' bout." He lets out a breathy laugh at the end of his sentence, with his eyebrows furrowed.

"I-" I cut myself off from saying anything else, wanting to just let the situation go completely. "Sorry, just ignore me, my mind's fucked apparently." He looks like he wants to say something else, but before he does, his gaze quickly flicks to the window next to the door. 

Frank brings a finger to his lips, motioning me to be quiet as he gets up from his position and moves towards the window as quietly as he can. I stay where I am, wondering what he's doing, but it becomes apparent when I hear the faint sound of a door closing from the outside.

I feel myself perk up at this, and hear Frank let out a quiet curse after peering through the window. "I need ya to hide, they found us." He motions towards one of the back rooms of the building, and quickly makes his way to the bag that lies in the center of the room.

I hesitate, not wanting to leave Frank alone with them, but it seems he's having none of it when he practically shoves me into the small room in the back, placing a pistol in my hand before hurrying back to the other room.

There's no door to close me in, so I have to squeeze myself into the back, and hope the darkness covers me enough to blend in. Frank got me in the room just in time for me to hear the sound of the front door opening, and a series of heavy footsteps enter the building.

All I'm met with is silence, making me wonder for a minute if everyone somehow left the building and I didn't realize. I jump at the sudden sound of the front door opening again, and I have to try to steady my breathing.

"I believe you have something that's ours." A voice speaks that I find familiar, but can't make out from where.

"I don't know what you're talkin' bout." Frank responds, sounding like he's speaking through gritted teeth. The other person lets out a spine-chilling chuckle before responding.

"You and I both know that's a lie. I vividly remember her lodging a bullet into my side while carrying your unconscious body." The place gets quiet again, and I remember where I heard the voice from. It was the same person I ran into while trying to leave the place to save Frank's life.

The same uneasiness I felt when interacting with him the first time, racks through my body again. "Search the building." The man speaks again and my body freezes hearing multiple footsteps start to walk around. I hear another movement before I try to push myself further into the room.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The voice spoke again and I can only imagine Frank attempting to do something in order to stop the other people from searching the place and evidently finding me.

I know the building isn't large, so it won't take them long to find where I am, but there's nowhere for me to go to without showing myself to the rest of the building, therefore all I can do is try my best to blend into the small room and hope they're dumb enough to leave it alone.

My hope diminishes when I hear a person walk closer to the room I'm in, causing me to  grip the pistol in my hand a little tighter. The person walks into the doorway of the room, causing the small amount of light coming from the rest of the building to be covered up, leaving me in complete darkness.

I'm pleading in my head that the person just turns and walks away since they can't see in the room, but apparently luck isn't on my side when I see them bring an object up from their person. 

Light suddenly floods my vision, and I squeeze my eyes shut, turning my head to the side to try to shut it out of my vision. My mind is screaming at me to do something, but it's as if I'm frozen in place not able to move my body. I wait for the person to grab me, shout that they found me, do something, but nothing happens.

I slowly open my eyes, the light still focused on the room, and I end up squinting my eyes to try to see past the light. All I see is the shadow of the person holding the light, and the light slowly scans the room, stopping right where I'm standing and my breath catches in my throat.

The person starts to step in the room, light still trained on my exact spot, and I wait once again for them to do something, but nothing happens again. They take a step towards me and I instinctively move to the side, trying to get as much distance as possible. I feel my back press against something, but I pay it no mind as the light goes to the other side of the room, the person spinning with it to look at every corner.

The person eventually walks out of the room, satisfied that nothing was in it, and I let my body slack more against the wall, letting out a breath I was holding. I realize my mistake when I feel a small shock go through me, and I let out a small surprised yelp jumping away from the wall I was at.

The receding steps of the person that was in here stop, and turn to come back to the room I'm in. Shit. I have to think fast, and I glance down to the pistol in my hand, but immediately shove it in the back of my pants, covering it with my shirt. Shooting most likely will lead to everyone else in the building shooting, and I don't know how many people are in the room with Frank, and can't trust he'll be able to get out.

The person shines their light back in the room, and this time I can tell that they can fully see me when they grip my arm and drag me out of the room. I wince at the tight grip they keep on my arm, and they seem to just tighten it more, pushing me into the main room of the building.

There are a line of people with rifles in their hands standing guard in front of the front door, with the man who was doing all the talking in front of them, standing with no weapon, obviously in control of the other people. Frank stands a few feet away from them, his own rifle in his hand, glancing in my direction.

His face remains emotionless as he fixes his gaze back on the man in front of him, who now has a grin on his face, looking at me. "Look what we have here." His grin just gets wider and I feel myself cringe back at it. He keeps talking, but I block it out, trying to think of a way out of this situation.

The person holding me, is only holding one of my arms, making the other one completely free of motion, and didn't check me for any kind of weapon, causing my brain to go to the gun I still had on me. I glance over to Frank and meet his eyes, and he seems to be on the same page as me as he adjusts his grip on the gun ever so slightly that wouldn't be noticeable unless you're actively paying attention to his actions.

The fingers on my free hand twitch slightly, ready for anything and I tell that Frank noticed when I see his own fingers twitch slightly on the gun he holds. I know he's ready for any move I make, and I have to think of the best way to go about this.

I can easily access the gun on me, but first have to get the person's grip off me so I'll have access to move freely. I start to twist the arm that's being held captive, as if trying to break free, but the grip that's on it just grows tighter. I attempt to move my arm again, and my plan works when the person lets out a low growl and leans down to my ear to sneer out an empty threat, but I'm already taking my chance.

I bring my free elbow back and slam it into his jaw, causing him to let out a yelp and fall back away from me dropping my arm in the process. As soon as my elbow makes contact with the person, Frank immediately starts shooting. I put my trust in him covering me as I grab the gun off me, and slam the end of it into the person's head who had a grip on me, not being far away enough to get a clean shot on him.

The person falls to the ground unconscious, and I bring my attention back to the rest of the room. Frank already has almost half of the group on the ground, unconscious or dead I can't tell, but through the short time of me facing away, he moved his body to be in front of mine blocking me the best he could.

I find one person aiming their gun at Frank as he deals with two others and I quickly bring my gun up and shoot. The bullet flies through the person's head, causing them to drop the gun and fall to the ground, joining the pile of bodies already there, including the man with the scar, having too many bullet wounds in his chest to count.

I focus my gaze back to Frank who has one of the men pinned to the wall, with the other on the ground next to them. I go to help him when there's suddenly a grip on my ankle, causing me to fall and scrape my chin on the ground. I let out a small shout of pain, turning my body around to see the person who originally found me aiming the gun he had right at me.

I quickly roll my body out of the way before he fired, causing the bullets to indent the floor right next to me instead. I take this chance to force myself as forward as I can to kick his foot causing him to lose his balance and fall back on the ground.

When the person fell, they dropped the gun from their hands, and I quickly push myself up and grab the gun from their side, shooting multiple bullets into his chest before he fell back onto the floor, not moving.

I don't let myself take a breather before I'm turning to where Frank is again. He's still fighting the guy he had against the wall, letting grunts out after every punch he throws. I see movement next to him and focus my eyes on the person who was previously knocked out next to them. The person reaches for the gun to their side, but doesn't have a chance to pick it up fully before I aim the gun in my hands and they fall back down fully to the ground after my finger presses the trigger and an array of bullets find their way into the person.

The person with Frank finally falls to the ground unmoving, and Frank takes this time to turn to look at me. Blood coats his clothes and face, and I figure I don't look any better as I feel the blood from my chin drip down my neck, and my shirt stick to my body with blood. Frank opens his mouth to say something, but before he can the door to the building bursts open and another group of soldiers enter, guns raised.

Frank and I don't give them a chance to do much before we're both spraying bullets into them, causing some of them to fall to the ground. However, our advantage doesn't last long until the gun I have is out of ammo, and I can't do much but look back at the few people still remaining.

Things happen fast and I see one of them raise their gun up aimed at me, finger on the trigger, but before anything can happen the whole scene changes. Suddenly I'm staring at the sky, with grass under my fingertips.

I push myself up at a quick pace, looking around. I see the building I was just in just in front of me, with a series of vans around me. I can't bring myself to wonder how the hell I even got out here, I just know that I need to get back to help Frank.

I can't go back in with no weapon, so I open the back of one of the vans, hoping there's something I could use in it. Luckily the van is lined with a various amount of guns and weapons, and I grab one of the rifles that all the soldiers looked to be using, while grabbing a couple throwing knives as well.

I can see the front door from where I am in the van, and see it open with people walk out. I quickly crouch as to not be seen, and see two soldiers dragging a bloodied and beaten up Frank out of the building. I quickly jump out of the van, and move crouched to the other side. 

I hear the soft steps on the grass of the people, and dragging of Frank's feet walk away from me, and the sound of a different van door opening. I take this as a chance to peek my head around the back of the van I was by. I'm met with the back of two soldiers heads as they push Frank into the back of a van like the one I'm by, but without the walls of weapons in it.

I have to move now, so they don't drive away with him and I lose them. I go for the gun, but hesitant thinking if I shoot, I might accidentally hit Frank, so instead reach for the throwing knives I'm glad I got out of the van beforehand.

The knives are about the same weight I'm used to working with, which I'm grateful for as I ready one of them in my throwing hand, and hold the other in my other hand, to get ready to throw them in quick succession.

I bring one up and aim straight for one of the people, not wasting any time when I throw it, and it lodges itself into the back of their neck, with the other one not close behind to hit the other person with same precision.

Both the people fall to the ground which leaves me able to run to get Frank, who's staring out at me, shock written clear on his face. I can tell he has a million questions, but I just work to get him out of the van and into ours, so we can get out of here before any one else comes here. 

Frank is insistent on driving, even though he doesn't look like he should be doing much of anything with his condition, but I know I won't be able to convince him of anything, as we're able to drive out, leaving piles of bodies behind.

buy me a coffee ♡

@sleeperthelazy @lunaticgurly @casa-boiardi @mattmurdocksstarlight @cherry-berry-ollie @givemylovetoall @maddiewinchester

[colormepurplex2]

On Wings of Mist & Memories | Oath Breaker

↳  DragonRider!Jungkook x FieldScribe!f.Reader ⤜ Enemies to Lovers, Exiled Royalty, High Fantasy ⤜ Rating: MA | angst ⤜ WC: 11,632 ⚠️ Crass language, talk of war, blood, mild violence, flashback minor character death, mild sexual tension, suggestive inner thoughts

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Glossary Mave - dragon rider who can wield magic, tethered to the soul of their dragon when they bond (death for both if one dies) Psion - infinite memory/recall Reaver - a dragon that can wield magic, tethered to the soul of the rider they bond (death for both if one dies) Noks - infantry soldiers, humanoids who can enter berserk/rage mode Rider - regular dragon rider, no magic, uses bows or scouts Brute - riderless dragon, usually wild and very dangerous Wielder - magic user, no dragon needed Signis - the designated/specific type of power someone wields Helnite - metal ore that can cut off magic from its user

It’s not cold in the Andos Forest like in the mountains. In fact, it’s the opposite with sweltering heat and thick humidity. It reminds you of growing up in the farming villages near the Southern Garrison. Stretches of open farmland, open to the blaze of the sun and humidity coming off the ocean to the south. You haven’t missed the constant stickiness coating your skin or how breathing became harder as the sun peaked in the sky.

The constant trickle of sweat down your body and the cottony feeling in your mouth makes it hard to sleep. Your clothes are fur-lined and thick, even your boots, which are making your feet ache from how warm they are. You’d give anything for a drink of water or for Shadowsword to come back and finish shredding your clothing—the heat is clearly making you delirious.

“Goris, you awake?” you ask, trying to blink the sweat from your eyes.

You haven’t heard anything from him ever since Shadowsword left, and that was hours ago, you’re sure. The tent fell into silence, you and Goris both closing in on yourselves. Whether lost in thought—you—or trying to compartmentalize the whole-body ache from getting tortured—Goris—there wasn’t much to be said then.

But, now, after trying and failing to get some sleep, you want to use what little time you have left before Shadowsword returns—there’s no telling how long that’ll be, could be hours more, could also be just a few minutes—to your advantage. It’s hard to gauge the passage of time or where the sun and moon are without being able to see the sky. The canvas of the tent is thick, and the overhead mage lights neither dimmed nor brightened with indication.

You watch as Goris’ chest rises and falls with a deep breath before a sigh whistles between his swollen, blood-crusted lips. “Hard to sleep with the pounding in my head. Quite certain that asshole concussed me.”

“Thank you…for what you did. For trying to keep him away from me.”

He grunts. “You stopped him from pounding my face further.” His jaw pops as he works it like he’s trying to ease the tension from the swelling. “It was the least I could do.”

Silence fills the space again, making you feel awkward as you form your next sentence. “How do you know him?” There is no need to specify who the ‘him’ is. With the way Goris shifts uncomfortably under his shadow bonds, you can tell he was expecting you to question him about it eventually.

You’re not sure he will answer you with the pregnant pause he allows to settle between you. The swelling in his face is getting worse, his left eye is completely swollen shut, and there is a weird bend in his nose that wasn’t there before. You watch as he continues to shift, flexing his fingers where they rest on his thighs and rotating his ankles, the heel of his boot drawing ruts in the dirt. 

Goris has always been kind to you, if a bit standoffish in a broody sort of way. You’re sure he fancied General Marvick on a deeper level than just as his commanding officer. He’s not an unattractive man. His auburn hair is braided tight to his skull and dangles down his back. His eyes have an amber hue, not quite brown but not orange either. You think, in another life, one without wars and violence, he and Marvick would have made a great couple.

Thoughts of Poli have you pressing your lips into a thin line. Now isn’t the time to linger on thoughts of the dead. You need answers, information, something you can store in your arsenal for later use. The more you know about Shadowsword—the exiled fucking Prince of the Golden Kingdom of Bolas—the more chance you have of getting out of here alive and with at least some of your dignity intact.

“I taught him how to wield a blade,” Goris finally says, his voice low but carrying to you in the quiet of the tent. “When he was just a boy, I was the weapons master at the palace. I was there the day his Signis manifested, and the day he bonded with his dragon. I’ve known him for a long, long time.”

That explains the familiarity Shadowsword showed Goris. It’s clear they had a bond. You don’t work so close with someone for an extended period and not grow close to them. Your heart threatens to squeeze tight as you think about your own time spent so close to someone—you shove that feeling away again before it can take hold.

“How do we get out of here?”

Goris grunts a laugh that turns into a pain-filled cough. His breaths wheeze as his coughing tapers off. “I don’t think there is any getting out. Not for me, at least.” The words are spoken solemnly. “Look at me,” he commands, embodying the commander that he is. “No matter what he does, you remember your training. You may not have learned swords and shields, girl, but you can fight just as well without them. Use your words, mind, and body if you have to…you’ve been trained for this. Don’t let him win.”

The one amber-hued eye you can see glints in the mage lights as he stares you down until you give one quick downward jerk of your chin. May the wings of death be swift if ever I let loose my tongue. You repeat the Psion mantra that was hammered into you from day one of your training. Goris is correct. You may not know how to swing a sword, but you know the mind is a far sharper weapon anyway.

You have little time to think about that or ask Goris for more information. A gruff voice draws your attention to the tent's flap momentarily before it’s drawn aside, and Shadowsword steps in. It’s a bit surprising to see him not wearing his armor. You were sure the gold and iron were what made him seem larger than life, but you now realize he’s just as intimidating without it.

Black hair, wet from sweat or a bath, covers his forehead and curls around his ears. It’s not slicked back like yesterday when he took his helmet off. Maybe it was the shock, but you don’t remember seeing the small metal jewelry adorning his mouth or the whole sleeve of ink covering his right arm. He looks like an entirely different—but no less dangerous—person.

He’s wearing a light linen top with the sleeves ripped off and the ties at the neck undone enough that you can clearly see the shadowy depth between the muscles of his pecs. As he moves into the small space, the shirt breezes open enough that you catch a glimpse of black curling from his left peck to over his shoulder. But, the fabric bunches and moves as he crosses his arms over his chest, obscuring it before you can decipher what it is.

“Good morning, friends.” The cheerfulness in his voice doesn’t fit the way he’s standing there, feet shoulder-width apart, arms banded over his chest, hips slightly tilted forward. His stance screams predator, while his tone offers up what you know is undoubtedly a false sense of security. You can already tell it will be tricky to navigate around this man. He’s cunning, dangerous, and completely removed from what you’re used to—that much is clear.

“You don’t get to call me friend, Jeon, not after everything you’ve done,” Goris harumphs.

Shadowsword swings around to face him. You can’t see his expression, but the confusion on Goris’ face makes you curious. “Have you ever thought to stop and ask any questions, Rit? Or are you just mindlessly following and believing anything and everything that comes out of my father’s mouth? You know, I always thought you were the smart one, someone that might at least be curious enough to do his due diligence regarding people he cares about. But, maybe you never did care as much as it seems.” Those thick, broad shoulders push up in a shrug before he reaches back and pulls two shiny, metal, circular collars from where they were tucked against the small of his back, hooked into a holster you hadn’t noticed before.

“I-is that…are those Helnite collars?” Goris chokes out the question, his confusion replaced with wild panic.

“Just a precaution, Rit. You understand, don’t you?”

Before Goris can respond, Shadowsword crouches before him and swiftly clamps one of the collars around his neck. The sound he makes can only be described as a wail of mourning. He thrashes so violently against the tent pole that the whole structure sways as he continues to bellow and curse.

“Did he say Helnite?” you whisper. Despite how loud Goris is, Shadowsword still seems to hear you. He pivots where he’s crouched before Goris. Those dark, calculating eyes appraise you. A new wave of sweat breaks out across your brow and down your neck, competing with the chills working their way down your body as that look alone confirms your fear.

Helnite is the only thing in all of Filasdurn that can cut off a magic user from their power. The glittery silver ore is mined in Lork, the land where dragons supposedly originate from. No one knows more than that, as travel to and from Lork is forbidden, thanks to a centuries-old peace treaty between them and The Golden Kingdom of Bolas.

When Helnite is smelted down, it can be forged into weapons or imprisonment implements. When formed into a completed circle, it acts as an instant castration of any and all power. The use of it on innocent humans has been outlawed for decades. It’s been limited to being only used on criminals or Brutes in the wild that need to be caught for gentling so they can bond.

You’ve never been subjected to Helnite, with it being outlawed and you not being a criminal and all that, but you’ve seen the effects of it. It’s different for each magic wielder. The magic between a Mave and their Reaver is soul-deep—which is why when one dies, the other does, too. Right now, with that collar around his neck, Goris has been completely cut off from Ripley. It’s been explained to you that it feels like a piece of your soul is literally missing, the pain immense and full of dark thoughts—death without dying. It can leave lasting, unseeable scars, even after it’s removed and the connection re-established.

As for other magic users, such as yourself, it’s said to feel like—the collar snaps into place, your mind instantly goes blank, and you cannot finish your internal thoughts. Your chest rises and falls in rapid succession, the air wheezing from your lungs. The metal burns where it touches your skin, setting an instant ringing in your ears. A thick, cottony feeling pulses through your head, like the beginnings of a migraine.

“You’re going to kill her!” Goris yells.

“Is it too much?” Shadowsword asks. His voice is soft, almost sounding like he really cares.

You blink to clear your vision, and he slowly comes into focus. There is concern on his face as he kneels on one knee beside you. He’s close enough that you can smell the soft, clean scent of soap coming off of him. If your arms weren’t bound to your sides by his shadows, you wouldn’t have to reach far to touch his face. The sudden urge to smooth your fingers over his furrowed brow has your fingers twitching.

“If I say ‘yes’,” you have to pause to think, “will you take it off?” Your voice warbles, and your tongue feels too thick. It’s weird to have to think of how to form words. The effects of the Helnite impact everything. For someone like you, that means all your cognitive functions as well. It’s a weird sensation, feeling like your thoughts must slide through thick mud before they can form.

“Helnite isn’t typically used on Psions,” he says as if you don’t already know that. Though, you’re not sure if you do? Everything feels so uncertain, like you know nothing about anything but also still know everything all at once. It’s disorienting. “I was told it should be okay. And it’ll only be until you agree to cooperate.”

Your lips twitch, and you open them to respond, just for them to slide closed again. You shake your head instead, trying to tell him that won’t ever happen. He’ll get no help from you.

“You’re going to kill her!” Goris says again, his voice cracking, hoarse from screaming.

“Ripley is fine! I’m not going to kill your Reaver. I wouldn’t do that.” Shadowsword glares over his shoulder at the still-struggling man.

“Not Ripley, you idiot. Her!” He jerks his head in your direction. “That’ll destroy her! Helnite shouldn’t be used on a Psion of her caliber! She’s as good as dead if you keep it on!” Goris yells, sucking in air between his raging words. He’s still thrashing, rattling the canvas all around. “She’ll become a shell of a human, suck the life right out of her! She needs her magic more than any of us!”

Shadowsword’s glare softens out to a slight frown. “There’s no real proof of that. The archives are just full of speculation.” The roar of a dragon rings through the air somewhere outside the tent, and Goris screams along with it. “Fucking hells,” Shadowsword curses, pushing to his feet and throwing back the tent's flap. “Get her back under the shield, now!”

“W-what?” you try to ask them what’s going on, but the question only comes out as a single word instead of a complete sentence.

Just as abruptly as it began, Goris’ and the dragon’s cries stop. Thick pants fill the air, Goris trying to heave in air. His face is a deep scarlet, nearly purple from how long he was screaming without breathing. “Fuck. You.” Tears cascade down his ruddy cheeks, and his mustache quivers as he chokes back sobs. “You’ll pay for this, Jeon.”

This is the second time Goris has used Shadowsword’s real name—his real surname, at least. It’s not lost on you. Or maybe it is. You’re still unsure if the information and realizations are filing away correctly in the thick fog filling your mental spaces. What was once an infinite space resembling a placid lake that you could quickly dip into for recall is now more of a boggy marsh that threatens to overwhelm and drag you down each time.

“You,” Shadowsword stabs a finger toward Goris, “shut up before I gag you. Someone will be in shortly with some food. Try not to be an asshole to them, or you’ll go without. We’re not done, you and I. There’s still a whole lot we need to talk about, Rit. But, it’ll have to wait.” He moves toward you. “Fuck!”

The shadows holding your arms and chest fade away, leaving you to list to the side heavily. You manage to catch yourself before you hit the dirt. “My…head,” you whisper, bringing your other hand up to clutch at your temple.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck!” He continues with a litany of curses as he stoops down and grips you around the waist before hauling you up and over his shoulder.

“Agh!” Your world spins, and your stomach threatens to heave up its nonexistent contents. “Please,” you slur, tongue feeling thicker than ever.

As Shadowsword pushes through the loose tent flap, you get your first lungful of fresh air since being brought here. The inside of the tent was far more stifling than you imagined. Though the air outside is still warm, the sweat covering your face and neck begins to wick away by the gentle breeze making the leaves on the surrounding branches of the trees whisper and dance.

“Park!” Shadowsword yells as he carts you off toward a line of what looks like work tents. All their sides are open, revealing various workstations. You spot a loom and a weaver cart before he spins on his heel, and your view blurs. “Park! Where the fuck is Park?”

“What is it?” snaps a delicate voice from back toward the work tents. “Stop screaming. I can hear you just fine. Gods know it’s not like I’m busy trying to fulfill the orders you already dropped on me this morning.” Whoever is speaking continues to grumble as they draw closer.

Shadowsword spins again, making you convulse on his shoulder with a dry gag. “Those Helnite collars I had you make. You said they can’t be taken off unless you do it. I need you to do it.”

“Well, that was quick. How did you manage to fuck that up?” they quip, but the tone is teasing more than anything.

“Shut up and go. Hurry!”

You try to steady your breathing, pulling in air through your nose and pushing it out between your dry lips. If he doesn’t put you down soon, you feel like you really will be sick.

The smells of hot metal and ash roll over you as Shadowsword steps into the shade of one of the tents. There isn’t much you can discern from your perch over his shoulder, and lifting your head to look around feels impossible.

“Lay her over here.”

As Shadowsword slides you off his shoulder, you catch a glimpse of the man standing on the other side of the cleared work table you’re being lowered onto. He’s wearing a leather apron, similar to the ones you’ve seen smiths wear. The soot and ash smears on his hands and face lend to that even more. With his soft features, kind eyes, and brown hair kissed with golden highlights, you think he’s more beautiful than handsome. A startling contrast to the harshness of the forge glowing red behind him.

“You said the Helnite would work on the Psion,” Shadowsword growls at the other man, posturing aggressively with his hands braced on the table by your hip.

Those soft eyes take on a fierceness that fits more with a metal worker. “I said, in theory, it would work. And well, it clearly has worked.”

Shadowsword jerks up a finger, jabbing it at the man across the table. “It’s practically turned her into an invalid. You said it would only limit her ability to read magical signatures and retain new memories.”

“I also told you it would depend on her strength in ability. You refused to let me in the tent to see her runes, so it was all guesswork, you arrogant prick. You wouldn’t even tell me how big it was,” Park gestures animatedly at your chest, where your tunic has fallen open slightly to reveal the top half of your rune and your breasts, “it’s massive! Just because you feel possessive over—”

“Just shut up and take it off! Fucking hells, Jimin, you can berate me more once I know I haven’t ruined my chance at getting what I need.”

“You mean once you know that you haven’t ruined your new toy,” Park—Jimin—grumbles as he leans over the table, and his eyes, once again soft, meet yours. You blink lazily at him, trying and failing to filter through and latch onto their conversation. You know there are significant bits you should be retaining, but they’re like grains of sand slipping between your fingers.

Jimin slides a finger between your skin and the collar, working it around until he’s nodding and hurrying away from the table. The short moment his finger was between your neck and the band felt like a drink of cool water, the heat from the metal subsiding substantially.

“How long is it going to take?” Shadowsword questions.

The reply comes from a distance, accompanied by the sound of metal clinking together. “Not long. The Helnite can only be removed using a special cutter and must be imbued first. You’re lucky I have the right tools for this.” Coming closer, he says, “You should really get her some better clothes suited for the warmth here. The heat is making her even more muddled.”

“I’m such an idiot. I got one of the most valuable people in existence just to nearly kill her,” Shadowsword grunts under his breath, you barely catching the words. “Just get it done so I can,” he says louder for the other man to hear.

Jimin fingers the metal collar again, pulling it as far from your skin as he can to slip the curved edge of a pair of clippers under it. “The shock might make her pass out,” he mumbles, bracing himself against the table as he grips the long handles of the tool. 

The collar tugs on your skin as he applies force, the Helnite groaning under the pressure of the clipper. There is a distinct sound of metal screeching as it tears, and relief floods your system. Your senses buzz, the sensation growing until you feel like you’re on the verge of drowning.

The air in your lungs isn’t enough. Your back arches off the table. You try to cling to the tiny tendrils of reality surrounding you, but your consciousness is swept away in the rush, sucking you into a numb, static-filled state as your mind fights the sudden maelstrom of information.

🖤🖤🖤

Jungkook

“Gods, I really am an idiot,” Jungkook grumbles to himself for what feels like the thousandth time since he laid your unconscious form on the pile of blankets and furs he uses as a bed in his tent. He sits across from the bed in a low-slung camp chair, elbows on his knees and face in his hands.

In all his years, he’s never nearly botched something so thoroughly. He knew the instant the Helnite clicked into place around your neck that he royally fucked up. The vibrant fire in your eyes that he had come to seek out anytime he was in your space instantly dimmed.

He could barely think over the panic that held his chest in an iron grip. It didn’t help that Rit wouldn’t shut up, confirming what he already knew—that the Helnite would ruin you if he didn’t do something about it quickly.

The fact he had disregarded Jimin’s insistence on seeing your runes to be sure the Helnite wouldn’t hurt you is something Jungkook hasn’t stopped kicking himself over. He might have avoided this whole fiasco if he had not been so obsessed with you and consumed with this ridiculous possessiveness.

None of this is going to plan at all. Trusting Ulgrin was his first mistake. He should have known there were things that Ulgrin was keeping from him. Most important among those is that Marvick was holding one of the, if not the most powerful, Psion in her employ. He would wager to guess that even his father is unaware of your potential; otherwise, you’d have been under his thumb instead.

Thinking of Marvick makes his stomach twist and knot. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. He never wanted her to die, not by his sword, at least. Though, he’s not even sure she did die by his sword. The timing was too close between the moment Lowren crashed into the side of the mountain and his sword cleaving into her neck. Either blow could be attributed to her falling.

Neither was supposed to happen. According to Taehyung, Lowren caught a bad downward draft because of the storm kicking up outside, and after he broke away from engaging with Hoseok’s dragon, Rubel, his wing was clipped, and he went down hard. It’s never easy hearing or watching another Mave or Reaver take a fatal blow, knowing the bond will kill them both. It makes Jungkook realize just how precious that bond is and how easy it would be for someone to take him out simply by targeting his own dragon.

You’ve been out for hours now, and the fact that Jungkook doesn’t want to leave you in here unattended and doesn’t want anyone else to take over watching you means he’s shoved off most of his responsibilities onto Yoongi and Namjoon. They’re both in his inner circle. They know easily as much as he does about what must be done. If it weren’t for his friends, all six of them, he knows this camp wouldn’t function as smoothly as it does. For a rebel encampment, it resembles a well-oiled military station pretty well.

Jungkook’s attention jerks to you when you moan softly. He watches as your brow pinches and your lips turn down in a barely-there frown. It’s curiosity that has him pushing up from his camp chair and approaching the bed. Your eyes flicker behind your closed lids, frantic. It looks like you might be having a nightmare.

Sweat glistens on your brow, and he can see how it shines along your neck and the small part of your chest exposed from where he just had to cut the ties on your top. Jimin said you needed cooler clothes, the heat not helping what the Helnite did to you. He wonders if you might recover and wake up quicker if you cooled off.

Slowly, Jungkook settles onto the bed beside you. His knees press into the thick layers, shifting your hips slightly as his weight sinks in. With timid motions, he pinches the loose flap of your tunic and begins to pull it open slowly. Just as the more significant swath of your rune that spreads over the tops of your breasts comes into view, you jerk a hand up and slap his hand away.

“What are you doing?!” you croak, scrambling away from him until you flip off the edge of the bed, your legs flying into the air. “AH!”

“Oh, shit! Are you okay?” Jungkook launches across the bed and tries to help you sit up, but you just scream and frantically start swatting and kicking at him. “Okay, okay! Stop! I’m just trying to help you!” One of your boots connects with his jaw, and he jerks back, his ears ringing and his vision blurring. “Fucking hells,” he groans.

“I’ll gut you!” you snarl, brandishing a very familiar knife. The small, leather-hilted dagger he usually keeps under his pillow waves in the air before him, clutched in your trembling hand.

It’s kind of cute the way you’re threatening him. He knows he could quickly disarm you with his shadows and a simple thought. But, erring on the side of caution, he doesn’t want to scare you any more than you already are. Holding his hands up and out to either side, he rocks back onto his heels and slowly sits on the ground a few feet from you.

“Sorry. That probably looked terrible, didn’t it? I wasn’t trying to…well, I was, but not like that. I was worried you were too warm, and it was affecting your ability to recover from the Helnite.”

Your other hand goes up and circles around the front of your throat. Relief sags your shoulders when you feel the collar is gone. The only thing that remains is a slightly raised line where your skin was mildly blistered from the short time the Helnite was on.

“Why did you take it off?” The suspicion is evident in your tone, accompanied by the narrowing of your eyes and the steadying of the blade in your hand.

His lips twitch. “Believe it or not, it wasn’t my intention to hurt you. I should have done more research, but I was blinded with desperation and—er, I’m just sorry, okay? I had it removed as quickly as I could because I realized I’d made a mistake.”

Disbelief clouds your eyes. He doesn’t blame you. He wouldn’t believe himself either. It sounds like a trick, a farce to get you to trust him when you have every reason not to.

“You killed General Marvick and Captain Krut. You’re a rebellious, murderous monster. It’d be reckless of me to believe anything you say.”

“Ulgrin Krut was a traitor, both to me and to the Crown.” Not like pointing that out is going to make it any better. “And Poli…it wasn’t supposed to be like that,” he sighs, repeating his earlier thoughts. “Something happened with Lowren and…” he trails off, his shoulders pushing up in a sad shrug. “I wish I could take it back.”

That seems to deflate you a bit. Your chest sinks as you blow out a breath. Jungkook watches as your tongue swipes over your cracked lips. “What do you plan to do with me? What about Colonel Goris?”

“Well,” he slowly lowers his hands to rest on his bent knees, “Rit will remain bound in Helnite for now. He’s too volatile for me to let him roam free without it, but I plan to move him to a place that’s closer to Ripley so they can at least see one another, and it’ll be less likely that she tries to escape again.”

“So, you really are as cruel as they say you are,” you state plainly. “Might as well kill him. It would be the greater mercy.” He knows it probably seems that way. But, with how this conversation is currently going, he’s hopeful you’ll hear out everything else he has to say…perhaps change your mind on how you see him. “And for me?”

“You’ll be free to roam the encampment, no Helnite. Though, you will be watched and warded closely. If you try to make it beyond the outlying sentries, they have been instructed to prevent you from leaving…at all costs.” That has your hackles rising again, so he quickly presses on. “I don’t want to treat you like a prisoner, but I have a pretty good idea of what’s churning inside that head of yours. You think you know who I am, what I’ve done, and how I’m just a power-hungry son blinded by his need to dominate. All I ask is you listen, hear what I have to say about the last ten years. Hells, use your ability on anything you need…even me—“ you gasp, and he assumes due to the fact you know that using your Psion ability on another living being is strictly forbidden and goes against all the oaths that you’ve ever taken “—if you have to so you know the truth.”

“I’m not an oath breaker like you,” you sneer before dropping your hand, the dagger still gripped tight but with the tip now resting on the ground. “If you think I’ll tell you all the military secrets and information I am privy to, you can think again. I’ll read whatever objects you want me to. I’ll even listen to whatever bullshit story you want to tell me. But I won’t betray Poli by giving you everything I know, no matter what you say or do to me.” The promise comes easy, but for some reason, it tastes bitter on your tongue.

🖤🖤🖤

The only reason you’re agreeing to even listen to him is because you can’t shake what Goris said to you earlier. Use your skills, whatever you must, to get free, even if that means offering him your ear while still plotting his demise. Who knows, maybe you can learn something valuable.

“Can I have my dagger back, now?” Shadowsword asks, one of his brows quirking.

“I think I’ll keep it,” you state, fitting it into the holster in the top of your boot. It’s a bit bigger than the dagger you usually keep there, but the hidden sheath holds it well enough.

Shadowsword nods toward a changing screen on the other side of the tent. “Would you like something lighter to wear? Perhaps something to eat and drink as well?”

 It’s on the tip of your tongue to refuse his hospitality, but with the subtle burning around your eyes from sweat and how your chest hollows each time you drag in a too-warm breath, you decide to bite back the tart reply instead. “That would be great, thank you.”

He moves slowly as if he’s scared of spooking you. You watch as he gains his feet, his linen shirt falling open even more than it did earlier in the tent with Goris. Instead of looking away, you focus intently on making out the splash of black on his chest. It’s definitely the silhouette of a dragon, its head almost centered on his chest, its body covering his entire pec and disappearing over his shoulder.

You’ve seen plenty of Mave’s Signis marks, but never one so big or dark. Most marks are a good indicator of someone’s ability, a reflection of their inner self and their bond to their Reaver. There are other peoples, like yourself, who have different kinds of markings that denote their specialties. The runes on your chest mark you as a Psion. Though every Psion has their own unique marking, it’s always in the same place and the same color. The bigger the mark, the more innate ability one is said to have.

Noks, the bulk of the military foot soldiers, also have their own indicators in the form of red lines slashed diagonally across their cheeks. It’s said the red signifies the blood of battle and helps them channel their rage. You’ve seen them in action, so focused that even grievous wounds won’t stop them. The only way to keep a Nok from gutting you is to gut them first, and even then, you probably need to take their head off as a secondary precaution.

You clasp the front of your tunic closed the best you can as you stand up, only wavering slightly as lightheadedness washes over you. It’s been far too long since you had something to drink, and the heat is nearly unbearable. You push yourself to focus on crossing the tent to the changing screen, one step closer to hopefully getting that drink he’s offered.

“There’s a change of clothes behind the screen, a blouse, and some breeches. It’s the best I could find in something size appropriate. We don’t have many females around here, and the ones we do have more often than not wear fighting leathers, so it was slim picking for non-battle gear.”

Stepping around behind the changing screen, you realize with the way the lights are positioned overhead if he stays there, then he’ll be able to see your shadow in full as you change. You chew your bottom lip, contemplating asking him to afford you some privacy, but as Goris reminded you earlier, the body is just as much a weapon as a blade.

A short table sits off to the side, a shallow basin of water and a cloth sit beside a pile of folded clothes. “Thank you again,” you offer, anxiously cutting your eyes toward the screen. You can’t see him through the panels, not even a flash of his shadow, but you can feel his eyes locked on your form as you slowly shrug out of your ruined tunic.

It feels good to have the thick wool top off. The air in the tent is mildly warm but nonetheless refreshing now that your skin has a chance to breathe. Glancing at the screen, you slip the dagger from your boot and tug them off. You can still feel those eyes on you. So, as much as you want to shuck your fur-lined pants quickly, you take your time sliding them over your hips and down your legs, arching your back, and creating the perfect silhouette.

Keeping your eyes trained on the central panel of the changing screen, you pick up the cloth and dig it into the cool water in the basin. Your eyes flutter shut, and you try to suppress a groan of relief as you press it to your neck and swipe away the accumulation of sweat and grime, but something between a moan and a sigh slips out. A smile pulls at your lips as you hear a throat clear on the other side of the screen—so, he’s listening just as much as he’s watching. It’s tempting to continue with the show to eke out as much advantage as you can, but the rumble of your stomach has you tossing aside the cloth in favor of grabbing the clothes.

The breeches on the table are thin dark blue cotton, molding to your legs and ass once they’re on. They’re infinitely cooler and tuck nicely into the tops of your boots. You replace the dagger and then pick up the blouse. It’s a mossy green color with a cinched, banded waist that gathers with corset-like ties down the front. You purse your lips, giving the blouse a once over before pulling it on and securing the ties. It’s far more flattering than you anticipated, accentuating all the right areas.

There is a small commotion on the other side of the changing screen; hushed words are exchanged, and the distinct clinking of dishes. You step close and peer around the edge of the paneling, catching a glimpse of a smiling man in a rose-colored apron tucking a hand towel over the top of the apron and pointing to something on the large platter sitting on the table opposite the bed. 

“I smoked the cheese just this morning, and those are fresh apples right off the trade cart. You let her eat before you touch anything,” the finger that was pointed at the table swings to wag in Shadowsword’s direction. “Just because she thinks you’re a beast doesn’t mean you have to try and prove her right. This could be our last chance at—oh, hi!”

You hadn’t realized you were leaning so far out beyond the edge of the screen. Embarrassment warms your cheeks, and you school your features before stepping out fully and giving the man a tight smile. “Hello.” 

“Out,” Shadowsword shoos the man toward the tent opening. “Go.”

“Remember what I said, don’t make me sic Hoseok on you for being disrespectful!” the man spouts even as Shadowsword is pushing him out, both laughing lightly.

It’s interesting, maybe even a little surprising, to see such genuine lightheartedness in a place that’s been notoriously dubbed a blight of darkness on the kingdom for the last decade. You never imagined being in the rebel encampment, much less that the encampment would be so…normal—drab even.

“Please, sit, have as much as you want.” He gestures to the wooden table lined on both sides with benches. The tent is large, similar to standard war command tents you’ve been inside. The bed you woke up on is farthest from the entryway, the changing screen to the side of that, and the table closest to the entrance with various smaller tables, chairs, and a few trunks scattered in the remaining space. Stacks and stacks of books and papers are strewn across most surfaces, and an entire barrel of maps is stashed in the corner by the larger table.

You take your time approaching the table, allowing yourself to take in the tent's interior, tucking away all vital and essential pieces of information you can. The fact you can so effortlessly function now and file things away appropriately is like a drink of water all its own, but the metal pitcher on the table glistening with condensation beckons you still.

Sliding onto the bench on the opposite side of the table so your back is to a canvas wall. It’s the most advantageous seat, letting you continue to keep an eye on Shadowsword. You snag an empty goblet, give it a tentative sniff, and then pour a generous amount of water from the pitcher before gulping it down. It’s so cold it hurts, but the instant relief as it hits your stomach is like a soothing balm to the ache.

“It’s cold,” you murmur, taking a smaller swallow before refilling the cup. “Enchanted?”

“We collect it from small rivulets that come down off the mountain. Natural filtration through the bedrock and bubbles up here before emptying into the outlet to the southeast that goes to the sea.” It’s an easy explanation and makes sense to you.

It comes naturally to focus on the goblet in your hand and the water sliding over your tongue. The crisp liquid takes on the slightest hint of mint as you draw on the warmth in your chest, testing the validity of his words. The mountain's chill and the earth's integrity bubble like added flavors as you take another sip.

Calm clarity swirls within the mix of sensations, dripping from the goblet and supporting the water. Whoever formed and worked the metal to make this vessel enjoyed their craft and created it with extra care in mind.

So, he’s at least telling you the truth about the water and didn’t offer you a poison-laced goblet to drink from. That’s no guarantee he will speak honestly or have no ill intentions when it comes to anything else. “What is it you wish me to listen to, Shadowsword?”

His brow pinches as he draws closer, grabbing a chair and spinning it around to straddle the back and rest his elbows along the top. There is intention in the fact he chose to sit several feet away, close enough to talk but far enough away that he’d have time to react if you tried to take a jab at him…or for him to catch you before you could bolt for the loose tent flap over the entrance.

“Jungkook, you can call me Jungkook. I don’t really care for that name…Shadowsword, it sounds more like a curse.”

“You are a curse to many,” you say, dropping your eyes to the stretch of food before you. The large platter on the table has a plethora of different morsels, everything from cheese and meat to jams, slices of bread, and fresh fruit. “Are these really apples?” you ask, the word feeling foreign on your tongue.

There is a moment of hesitation that has you glancing up at Shado—Jungkook. You might not be able to hear his thoughts, but you can read the micro-expressions on his face well enough. He’s uncomfortable with what you said about him being a curse. But, he sighs and answers your question instead of pressing the other, “They are. Quite delicious, too. Very sweet, juicy, but still crisp. We’re so close to the border that it’s been easy to establish a trade route with Norkham.”

“I didn’t realize they would be so willing to trade with an enemy of the Crown,” you mutter, grabbing one of the fleshy red and yellow dappled fruits.

Jungkook lets out a derisive snort. “Norkham doesn’t care for the ‘Golden War’,” he scoffs, twisting the name the conflict between him and his father has been dubbed. “My gold is just as good as my father’s. But, unlike my father, I’m not scared of red fruits. Contrary to what is believed, they’re not poisonous. Well, most aren’t, at least.”

You rub your thumb along the shiny peel before bringing it to your nose and inhaling the slightly sweet fragrance. Letting the warmth settle in your chest, you open yourself to tasting not the fruit itself but its journey and memory. It’s passed through a few hands, always handled with the utmost care.

There is the subtle taste of fresh, clean water soaked into the soil and drank through the tree's roots that nurtured the fruit. Nothing about the apple tells you it’s dangerous. If anything, you pick up on the fact that it’s been paired and prepared with other foods that mean you no harm; the whole platter is safe.

With that in mind, you put the apple against your mouth and take a bite. Or you try to, at least, the skin is resistant and then snaps as your teeth sink in, surprising you. “Oh,” you muffle against the fruit, unable to hold back a laugh as you break off a chunk.

Sweetness bursts on your tongue, mixing with the mildly floral taste. It’s something you’ve only ever dreamed of experiencing. Your chuckle turns into a cough as you see the look on Jungkook’s face as he stares at you. His lips are curved into an easy smile, and his eyes are soft, like he’s enjoying watching you.

“It’s good, right? Apples are one of my favorites.” Your eyes track his as they flick from the fruit to your mouth as you take another bite.

He’s right. It is crisp yet still juicy. Your mouth floods with flavor. A drip collects at the corner of your mouth and slips down your chin. A flutter of confidence lights in your chest as Jungkook licks his lips before tearing his eyes from the juice on your chin and how you swipe your tongue out to try and collect it.

As with washing behind the screen, you’d spend more time playing your game if you weren’t so hungry. You gather some of the more familiar foods onto a small plate and begin to eat in earnest between more bites of the apple.

Right now, it’s hard to say how far you’re willing to take this game. Your training has instilled pretty much no boundaries regarding mission objectives. Though, due to your level of power, after you finished your fourth year of standard scribe training, you were sent to a specialist at The Serpent, the Mave-specific garrison on an island west of the capital.

The intention wasn’t necessarily to keep your potency a secret. Everyone knew you were pretty powerful. But, no one knew you were more powerful than even the Crown’s own Psion, who just so happens to be your cousin, Larzon. You haven’t seen Larz in years, and even then, it was only in passing at your graduation ceremony before you were promptly assigned to General—then Colonel—Marvick’s care.

What’s essential for you to remember is that you have an end goal; get out alive and, if possible, take Goris with you. He doesn’t deserve to be chained with Helnite, regardless of what he’s done as a war colonel. You know all about the casualties of war and that when it all boils down to it, each side thinks they’re in the right while the other thinks they’re wrong. War leaves very little room for a grey area, making it all simply black, white, and copious amounts of red.

“I have one question before I listen to whatever it is you want to tell me…” you pause before adding his real name instead of the one he’s been given by the Crown for his rebellion, “Jungkook.”

His shoulders roll back, and he tilts his head from side to side. “Sure, if that will earn me your undivided and apt attention.”

“Goris told me of your relationship to him. How is it you could so easily, so callously beat him to a broken, bleeding mess?”

A harsh breath hollows his chest as he shifts in his seat. “Easily? There was nothing easy about it. Callously? I’m sure you know all about doing what you have to in order to get what you need. I didn’t want to hurt Rit. I’ve considered him a friend for longer than I’ve thought of him as my enemy. Perhaps what I have to tell you will help you see that I didn’t enjoy it. It’s just a necessary part of the bigger picture.”

You can hear the genuine nature of his words. They sound like the truth, but you’ve not been around him long enough to honestly know how good he is at deception. All you have to go off of is everything you’ve read. The rebellion started when you were still in training, just before you began the additional time at The Serpent. It’s hard to believe that was a decade ago now. Though, it feels like a much shorter time. War moved at its own pace, chugging along whether you can keep up or not.

“Go ahead, let’s hear your reasoning behind the last ten years.” Your gesture toward him with a chunk of bread. “I’ll listen.”

“I’ll start from the beginning,” he says. “But first, I’d like you to have this.” Jungkook stands and moves over to one of the smaller trunks near his bed. He kneels, the soft scent of clove permeates the air as shadows slither out from seemingly nowhere. They undulate and cover the chest before an audible pop sounds, and they drift away, revealing the chest now open.

“What’s that?” you ask. He holds up a pin that’s a golden dragon surrounded by a crown.

“It was my father’s,” he murmurs. “It’ll show you the validity of my words when you’re ready to bear that burden.”

The pin is heavy in your hands. He settles back in the chair as you observe the dragon’s form. There are distinct, crusty splotches caught in the fine details. Even without opening yourself to the warmth in your chest, from the barely-there scent of hellfire and metal, you can tell it’s blood…old blood—dragon’s blood, shed in violence. You shiver, your eyes meeting his as he begins to explain.

🖤🖤🖤

Jungkook

It takes far longer to tell you everything than he thought it might. He hadn’t realized just how much there was. You didn’t ask many questions, just making noncommittal sounds when he revealed more sensitive bits of information. But it’s all out there now. You’ve heard it all…every gritty, unbelievable detail. Jungkook knows how hard it is to believe. If he was the one listening, he’d probably have laughed and walked out halfway through. The fact you’re still sitting there, idly swirling a slippery piece of rockmelon on your plate, gives him at least a tiny bit of hope.

“Let’s say I do believe you. What is it you want from me? How can I possibly help you?” You shove the plate away, leaning your elbows on the table as you stare at him with a pinched expression on your face. You pocketed the pin shortly after he started his explanation, and you haven’t touched it since. He wonders if it’s burning a proverbial hole in your pocket. “If you haven’t been able to make a difference in ten years, what makes you think you can now?”

He’s been thinking about this, too. Since things went wrong with Krut at the turret in Fort Orit, he’s been scrambling to devise an alternative plan and the best way to utilize you and Rit to his advantage. In an idyllic world, he would have taken Poli as captive as intended. He had it on good authority that she would have listened to him without much persuasion.

What he knows that you seem not to is that Poli was more of a sympathizer than she appeared to be. It was the key Jungkook clung to, the fact that Poli Marvick cared more about the people—all people—than she did the Crown. The first mention of innocent lives being on the line and she would have been like a bee drawn to a flower, unable to resist the powdery grains of justice.

Though, he knows bringing that up right now will just shut you down. You might be willing to listen to his bizarre story, but you wouldn’t entertain the thought of your precious friend being capable of being a rebel sympathizer…not yet, at least. Ulgrin Krut is another story. You relented on that pretty quickly. He’s curious about who else you could easily see being a weak link in the Golden Chain of command. But that’s a thought for another time.

“You’re the most powerful Psion I’ve ever encountered.” That’s the crux of what sparked his near-instant obsession with you and what’s been fueling his possessiveness. You represent the hope and opportunity he’s been desperately searching for—the answer to finally putting a stop to a decade of struggling. “You have the ability to discern fact from falsity. That in and of itself could help sway the tide of my cause. If you believe me and stand by me and say it’s true, they’ll believe you.”

Your laugh surprises him. “You can’t think it’s that simple, can you? You realize they’ll think I’m just as daft as you are. They’ll think I’ve been corrupted. Just because I’d say something is true wouldn’t make it so. Having the power I do doesn’t mean I can’t still lie, too.”

“Perhaps, but if I could just get into the palace, I know where there is evidence that can back up my claims, and no one would be able to argue it. Just as that pin in your pocket can help you understand, what’s in the palace can make everyone understand. That’s really what I needed from Krut and what I now need from you. Help me get into the palace, and I’ll prove it all to be true to the rest of the kingdom.”

“Are you just going to beat me into submission? How are you going to make me agree to help you?”

This is something he hasn’t quite figured out yet. He’s not sure what else he can offer you other than the freedom to use your power as you want to find all the answers you need. So, he starts with that. “As I said before, you’re welcome to use your power on anything or anyone you wish. But please start with the pin.” You flinch when he says anyone, but not as hard as before.

There isn’t a lot of public knowledge about Psions for apparent reasons. But, one thing he does know about all of them, including you, is that finding the answers and retaining factual information will always be your first goal. It’s something he’s kept in mind every time he’s brought it up, offering that small nugget of temptation. It’s forbidden, taboo…but maybe, just maybe, he’s piqued your curiosity enough that you’ll be too curious to resist.

“What is this supposed to show me?” you ask, finally pulling the pin back out. It catches in the overhead lights, glinting like a guiding star that will lead you to all the answers you need.

Jungkook licks his lips. This could be the moment of truth. “My father was wearing it the day I confronted him.” He hopes he’ll get to see your gift in action. Watch the realization steal across your features as you see his words for the truth they are.

“What an innocuous little thing. Who would guess it could potentially lead to the end of a decade-long war?” The words are spoken softly, as if you’re talking more to yourself than to him.

He feels like he’s viewing a private moment, but no matter how intrusive it feels, he can’t seem to look away. Jungkook is realizing that it’s not just your power that’s alluring. There is an exotic quality to you that is calling to his inner desires. He’s never noticed it before, but the color of your eyes seems to shift, never staying the same shade of brown, green, or blue. In fact, if someone were to ask him what color your eyes are, he’s not sure he could answer them.

If there ever was something he wishes he would have paid more attention to, it’s the history of your kind. Being the crown prince, he had access to any and all information available, even to the more obscure texts and subjects, like Psions.

You caress the ring of gold surrounding the dragon, like you’re stalling or perhaps putting off reading the pin with your ability. It’s obvious the dark rusty-looking splotches are blood. Anyone would be able to discern that. But, he’s reasonably sure you can tell it’s not just any blood but the blood from a dragon. Dragon’s blood has a distinct smell to it, even after being dried onto a chunk of metal for a decade. It’ll still smell subtly like brimstone and hot metal.

The pin has sat in that enchanted chest for almost the entire time he’s been in exile. It was on a whim that he put it in there, thinking that one day when he finally meted out justice to his father, he’d perhaps melt the pin down and turn it into something else. He came by it by accident, anyway. Now, it’s a talisman of the truth and maybe an indicator that he was meant to tuck it away for all these years; for this very moment. 

🖤🖤🖤

You can feel Jungkook’s eyes on you as you take a deep breath and let it out slowly. There’s an urge to meet his eyes to gauge his reaction, but you push away that distracting thought and let your eyes go unfocused as your fingers tighten around the pin. The first thing you feel is bone-deep indifference, then a brief flit of hope, followed by anger so malevolent it makes your teeth ache…the emotions and feelings ingrained in the pin sweep in, painting such a clear picture for you.

————

“Father, call for the healer!” Jungkook shouts, cradling the large adult blue dragon’s head. Blood leaks from its open mouth, soaking quickly through his green flight garb. “Onyx, get back!” He shoos his juvenile dragon away when it becomes too curious. “Father! Father, please!”

“Jungkook, come away from the beast. Leave it be. It’s too late.” The fact the dragons are beginning to die after barely ten years of service has been an unforeseen nuisance.

The wild-eyed teenager lumbers to his feet, blood-covered hands trembling by his sides. “Leave it be? It’s the sixth dragon to die in less than a week! You said the new bonding was safe! If it’s safe, why are they dying?”

“Just terrible coincidences, nothing more,” King Jeon mutters, internally rolling his eyes as his son quivers beside him. “That’ll be all for today. You’re dismissed.”

Jungkook swings around and grips the front of his father’s robe, fingers pinching around the golden pin denoting his status as king. “But, Fathe—“

“You. Are. Dismissed.” King Jeon holds up a hand to silence any more protests. “Now.”

“Yes, sir.” Jungkook jerks his hands back, turns on his heel, and stalks away. It’s evident that Jungkook is becoming far too curious about the recent deaths. He can’t find out the truth, no matter the cost.

Moving to the parapet, King Jeon glares out over the wall surrounding the dragon corral, the large stable-like building that serves as a coop where the Reavers reside when their Maves are attending to other duties. Tearing his eyes from the expanse of the sprawling capital city, he casts an indifferent look at the large blue-black body still bleeding on the ground of the training pit.

The scuffing of boots draws the King’s attention to the dark doorway of the dragon corral a moment before Fenrin appears.

“Your Grace.” Fenrin bows deeply, sweeping his arms out to either side. “I come bearing fortunate news.”

“Speak plainly, Fenrin, the hour is late, and I’d like to retire to my wife’s side before dinner.”

Fenrin straightens to his full height, towering over the king by a few inches. “We’ve found a strong Brute close to the Western Garrison, fresh from The Steppes and powerful if his build is any indication. He’ll do well for you.”

“Would be better news had you told me we finally found a way to keep them from dying,” the King mutters. “Very well, Fenrin. When will you have the beast ready?”

“Just a few days' time. Sooner if we leave now, Your Grace.”

“Make it so.” The King flicks a dismissive hand, turning before Fenrin can bow in departure, and briskly closes the distance to the postern door leading into the main living quarters for the royal family. He stops just before disappearing inside, glancing over his shoulder. Fenrin is staring at the dead dragon, his face blank and devoid of emotion. “Oh, and Fenrin?”

The man cuts his eyes up, an oily smile sliding onto his face. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“See to it that’s taken care of,” he says, jerking his chin toward the scaly body. “Same as the others.”

The palace is divided into different sections, the living quarters one of the most guarded interior spaces. He passes several guards, all dressed in their golden armor. The few Maves that are attached to the capital are currently doing rounds across the city, patrolling the skies before the sun goes down. Luckily, the blue dragon’s Rider is presently undergoing additional tutelage at The Shield. He won’t know the dragon’s dead for another fortnight. By then, a new dragon will be ready for him to bond, he’ll forget all about the other. 

“Your Grace,” one of the liveried servants bows as King Jeon enters the parlor that leads to his sleeping chambers.

“My wife?” he asks, glancing around the open space. When the Queen isn’t leading tutoring sessions with the younger ladies of court, she spends her time tucked in the window seat of the parlor reading or working on needlepoint. It’s too late for the classes, yet she’s not relaxing in the window seat either.

“In the garden, Your Grace. She wished for a bit of fresh air.”

He nods, moving toward the door leading to the sleeping chamber. The windows are open, letting in the sweet musky scent of the plum flowers that like to climb and snake along the walls of the palace.

Unclipping the stays holding his golden cloak in place, King Jeon lets it flutter to the floor where he stands in front of the cold fireplace. It’s been a long day, one warranting at least a chalice of the fire brandy that gets imported from Norkham. It’s rumored they use apples when making it, and that’s what makes it have that unique flavor and burn. People say the burn is the poison of the fruit, slowly leeching into the drinkers' bloodstream—fairytale nonsense.

As he turns to head toward the small console table where a collection of liquor bottles is waiting, something in the corner of the room catches his attention.

“Jungkook, what are you doing here?” His son sits in one of the armchairs opposite the liquor table. Shadows coalesce in the corner, pulsing softly as Jungkook leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees: his eyes, a near mirror of the King’s own, glint from the darkness.

“You’re a murderer.”

The heat of anger fills King Jeon’s chest, making it expand. He grips the thick strand that attaches him to his Reaver, Vikmag. Lightning crackles along his veins, fizzing and sparking at his fingertips before he can reign it in.

“Watch your tongue, boy.”

“I overheard you and Fenrin. You thought I left like a good little soldier. Father, you shouldn’t be so loose with your tongue lest you reveal your madness to the world. I guess I’ll do it for you,” he snarls, launching to his feet. A wicked blade catches the light coming in from the open windows, poised perfectly for an offensive attack in Jungkook’s hand. “You said the new bonding was safe…you lied! You knew they were going to die. You knew they’d grow sick and weak. You’re a monster! They’re sentient beings, for gods’ sake. They have souls, and yet you still force them to bond!”

“You insolent fool, you think you know so much, but yet you know nothing!” King Jeon sneers.

“I know you’re willfully killing beautiful beings. And for what? So you can stay alive while your dragon dies? So you can reap the benefits of their power even in death? Are you so greedy, Father?”

“I knew you’d never understand. Nothing I say will change how you feel. So what if the new bonding kills the dragons, it’s better them than us.” The King sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, tilting his head toward the ceiling.

It’s the perfect opportunity. Jungkook lashes out, blade and shadows striking. The room fills with the rumble of thunder and a flash of brilliant light. Heat sears across skin, blistering flesh beneath green cloth. A second strike of lightning rends through the open space between the two men, the pressure of the electric power directing the wave of shadows and the small blade.

In a large, concussive blast, the two combating powers slam into the center of the room. Wood and feathers spray into the air as an entire half of the bed takes the brunt of the strike.

As shadows swirl and fill the room, swallowing the erratic snaps of lightning and rolling cracks of thunder, the cold edge of a blade parts warm flesh. The King jerks back, hand flying to his cheek and sliding through the blood dribbling down his face. 

Jungkook lunges again, swinging the blade for another swipe, but King Jeon jerks again, the dagger missing his face but biting into the muscle of his chest. Fabric rips free, a slight weight tangling it around the blade.

“Your Grace!” the words echo from the parlor before a flood of guards pours into the room.

“Seize him!” King Jeon screams, stumbling backward.

Jungkook and his father exchange one last look before Jungkook snags a small whistle from inside his bloody top and then sprints across the room, golden soldiers close on his heels and flings himself out the window.

————

The golden pin falls from your limp fingers, landing with a soft thud on the ground between your feet. It’s hard to tell whether it’s sweat or tears coating your face. You swipe the back of a trembling hand over your eyes.

“W-why haven’t you...why haven’t you sought out a Psion before th-this?” Your voice warbles, and you have to swallow hard a few times to keep from losing the food you just ate.

It all feels too raw, far too real. You’ve never experienced something so visceral when reading an object. Your body aches. Your cheek burns, even though there is no cut there. There’s a fiery line that feels branded across your stomach. It’s like everything from that day is imprinting itself upon your body with phantom pains.

“Psions are rare. It’s not like I could have requested one from the capital. You’re part of a coveted kind, precious and protected. Had it not been for—“ he pauses, not needing to remind you how you came to be in this encampment. “The important part is you’re here now, and you’ve seen the truth.” Your bleary eyes slide up from where they were gazing at the pin on the ground to land on him. He tugs the bottom of his shirt out from where it’s tucked into the tops of his breeches and then pushes it up to expose his stomach. A long, puckered scar slashes his otherwise pristine skin. “His lightning strike nearly killed me. All because I found out the truth.”

You wet your dry lips, staring at the bubbled skin until he drops his shirt back down to cover it. “So, when he discovered the new way to bond that doesn’t tether a dragon soul to their rider…it’s not—they really die?”

Jungkook blows out a breath. “I’ve been gathering as much intel as possible about it since that day. He was right. No one truly cares. Not the right people, at least. Everyone here,” he sweeps a hand out, indicating the encampment, “they held no true power out in the world. We’re all just a bunch of outcasts, the misfits, and the unwanted. But all the Maves and Reavers here are here because they believe me. We all have soul-bonds, we all know what that means and how sacred it is. After I found out how my father has desecrated and forsaken that...not even him having his own soul-bond can change that ultimate betrayal. All of the beings here know just as well as I do that my father is a cruel man with no regard for the beautiful lives of the dragon kind.”

“The Stepping Isles are sacred ground. It’s protected,” you insist, reciting words that have been ingrained in you through the teaching of the capital. “If you take your forces there, you can stop him from gathering more dragons.”

“We’ve tried sending parties to The Steppes, but the islands are controlled by the Crown and he has them on such a tight lockdown now that it’s nearly impossible even to get close to the Western Garrison. The few Brutes we’ve come across over the years have been ones that escaped into Norkham. The last glimpse I got of The Stepping Isles was one of a breeding farm. They’re mating the dragons and then forcing them to bond to Riders. It’s barbaric…yet no one is raising a hand to try and stop my father because everyone who has any sort of influence and power are the ones who are reaping the benefits.”

Even as someone who doesn’t know what it feels like to have a bond like that between a Mave and their Reaver, you’re still aware of how utterly atrocious this is. It can’t continue. The revelation settles deep in your chest. You’re about to forsake everything you’ve ever known to be true. You’ll be an oath breaker…something that churns your stomach sourly but not as bad as how the bitter tang of betrayal coats your tongue. You believed in the Crown, you’ve defended the Crown…now you’re going to destroy it.

“I’ll help you,” you whisper.

“What did you say?” There’s no denying the lilt of hope in Jungkook’s voice.

You clear your throat, sitting up straighter and meeting Jungkook’s dark, liquid eyes. “I’ll do it. I’ll help you.” Something deep in your chest cracks and bleeds with your words. Whether it’ll turn into a festering wound or a beautiful opportunity for growth, only time will tell.

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[rush-the-stars]

only

pairing: sukuna x half-curse f!reader (referred to as girl, daughter)

wc: a breezy 900 (unheard of for me)

cw: incest? it's not explicit but heavily implied. sukuna technically sired reader and she's a weird half-curse. but they're like non-human and kind of god-coded so. if that makes it better (it doesn't, you say? my bad then). use of "father" to refer to sukuna. toxic power dynamic.

a/n: um. look away. avert your eyes. etc. etc.

***

"do you think it's amusing to defy your nature? to defy me?" sukuna's voice echoes against cold stone, hanging in the air between you. sitting upon his throne, he is a god of death here, perched above the bones and rot of it all. the darkness whispers, slithering around you like phantom wings that brush your bare shoulders, your cheek. it could be the caress from a lover, the fading touch of a ghost.

"not amusing, no." you reply icily.

"do not take that tone with me, girl." he snarls, standing.

"not a girl," you reply bitterly, lifting your head, eyes glinting in the watery light. hardly human enough for that.

"don't test me." he snaps then. "and if you're going to stand at the foot of my shrine, address me properly."

"apologies, my lord."

in a blink, he is in front of you. thankfully, you are so accustomed to this, that you hardly flinch. except when he grabs your face in one, large hand. he squishes your cheeks. his claws arch around the bend of your ear, into your hair.

despite it all, you don't truly fear him.

his hold nearly shrouds your whole head and he pulls you up, closer to his dual-sided face. you lurch, scrambling to hold his massive wrist, to keep on the tips of your toes.

"that is not my title to you." his grin is feral, mean.

your eyes flash dangerously. your claws dig into his flesh—strangely you have always been able to mark him with little effort. ever since you were small, you were able to draw his blood.

"apologies, father." you spit.

(if you think about it, his own flesh rebelling, or perhaps—you, his only weakness.)

he lets you go and you drop like a stone, unceremoniously, and at his feet. you look up at him. the thin, slip of fabric you adorn swims around you in a glossy pool of ink. it falls from one of your shoulders.

"such disdain from my only daughter." he sighs, "such attitude."

his eyes—all of them—roam your form brazenly. the bare skin. the dips and curves of your body. you feel it the way a rabbit must know the feeling of teeth; sudden and frightening, and then altogether too late.

"such animalism from my only father." you hiss back like a little asp, "such—"

your voice catches.

he leers down at you, "such what?"

the word dies in your throat. you hate to name it, whatever he has for you, you hate to give it life. you hate that you can not, in such basic, human terms, encapsulate what he is to you. or you to him. you hate whatever this is. you hate what he is, or what you aren't. or could be.

you hate, hate, hate—festering with it, true to your name.

his very own little curse.

you hate most to let him win.

you turn your face away from him, chin up haughtily. "your lechery does not frighten me anymore."

"such a brave girl you've become." he laughs and suddenly all his arms are moving, reaching for you, and you've known them your whole life. he lifts you the same way he did when you were child. and now they linger, gripping the curve of your waist. the plump place of your thigh. "do you want me to praise you?"

"i thought i was here for punishment." you remind him, snippy and sharp, but careful to go lax in his grip.

when you fight and squirm, it excites him. so you play dead. you freeze like the rabbit, too.

he steadies you back on your feet. he stares at you for a long moment in a way that you cannot parse; all his eyes peering at you, prying at you, like they're trying to see under your clothes. under your skin. inside of you.

"for you, they might as well be the same thing."

he isn't even being cruel now, just honest. he's not leering at you. the frankness is worse, the honesty is damning. you lurch away from him, breaking the hold he has on you. your stomach turns. you bare your fangs at him, growling in warning, warbling like a curse.

he doesn't flinch.

"my praise of you feels like punishment to you, no?" he says lightly and you try to glare at him, but you fear horror is seeping through your expression.

he laughs again, rough. horribly fond.

"come," he says, turning away from you. he expects you to follow, "you reek of humans. you're done trying to live among them."

"you can't—"

"they'll never understand you. you will never belong to them." he says simply, and then he glowers, "and it's beneath you to try. come. i will not ask again."

he begins to walk. when you don't move, he looks over his broad shoulder, eyes darkening.

"they drove you out—they tried to exorcise you and i had to save you."

"it was only because of that six-eyes use—"

"i don't care. you should be ashamed and i should've finished the job for them since you are so weak—" he snarls.

(you—)

your head falls, chin dipping. perhaps in misery, maybe in surrender.

"now come, daughter of mine. you'll stay where you belong."

(—his only weakness.)

[zeebreezin]

hiii its @neathyingenue!! just gonna go ahead and admit i am hazy on some of harb's details. this is an au for beverley yeah? or is it him in the future

Hello my good friend MJ Neathyingenue!! Dw about it I’ve actually been meaning to make a semi-formal summary on him so!

The Scintillating Harbinger is the Sunless Skies AU of Beverley, so yeah technically it’s him in the future (the wonderful year of 1906), but also it’s not the only possibility of him in the futures. Thankfully.

In the Sunless Skies AU, Beverley’s search in London failed due to Shaw’s machinations (and boy howdy did he do some shit). He never found his Dawnlight suitcase bomb - but more importantly, he never found out that B survived the shipwreck they disappeared in. He left London assuming his life’s work and his best friend were both lost to the waves, and threw himself into his work as a means to cope. It helps up until it doesn’t, and then he gets weird about the New Sun to cope.

Fast forward a couple years, and he’s risen through the ranks enough to be working on the Clockwork Sun personally, and rises to the Skies with the rest of the New Sequence. Surprisingly (or maybe unsurprisingly) leaving his home and the only world he’s ever known Doesn’t help Beverley’s mental health. So he doubles down on his love for the sun - this is when the idea that he’s given up everything for it really becomes mission critical.

And then the Clockwork Sun starts glassing/Dazzling the senior engineers. By the time it’s Bev’s turn he’s kind of a mess. Insert the fic I just wrote here, where he manages to stall out his own death with a combination of blind faith and mastery of the Correspondance, binding bits of metal to his glassy side to make it usable. However this has horrible effects on his sanity and overall health, he’s in constant pain and isn’t even really aware of that fact anymore due to being high on that sunny supply.

In my mind, Beverley’s become to the Logoi as the Clockwork Sun is to a Judgement. He’s just stuck in a (somewhat) human body. Right now at least. That’s part of why everything on his ship is - effectively - bound to live in time with his machinery.

Now with insane levels of… everything, he doubles down into his work of making Judgement Light powered weaponry, a speciality that gets him Victoria’s attention. Bev even starts bending the trapping of Other Judgements to make his weapons of mass destruction like the Icarus looking ass he is. For stellar service during the Winchester War (read: war crimes), he was awarded both the Victoria Cross and a dubious position of importance. Legally he’s a captain (despite having way more functional power) of a research Locomotive, the Deliverance, not a war engine. He just… has permission to test the creations on board on enemies of the empire! That’s all!

He’s also still dying due to the damage to his body, but he doesn’t really care he’s got other things to worry about :)

The actual story of him involves his encounters with Shaw’s son, Everett, who he… really doesn’t like, considering his history with Shaw in this AU.

That’s the TL;DR!

[yabagofmilfs]

🌟

i saw this ask this morning and was like hm, what a lovely star. thank you? i had completely forgotten that i'd reblogged the director's cut thing lol. but okay, i'm here now. i'm on the right page.

very hard to choose a subject myself, but i think i will go with some backstory i had in mind for god's gift. (if that's not what you were looking for, feel free to send another ask, i know this one is kind of weird and dark!)

cw for extreme dubcon that verges on noncon (zhenya is in physical and mental distress and cannot consent, but feels positive about the experience in the moment).

this is probably a bit convoluted, bear with me as it only lives in my head.

i have some vague ideas about this being a verse where werewolves are known and in positions of power over humans. i think about their power being almost religious in scope, they're not quite deities but maybe they're on the level of the prophet in mormonism? something like that, where much of the inner workings of the pack are shadowy and mythologized to humans. in my mind, most if not all of the nhl players (and maybe most pro athletes in general) are wolves.

so sid is an alpha, not just in terms of dynamic but he's also the son of the alpha of his nova scotian pack and that makes him pretty powerful. he sees geno, a human, in latvia and is so overcome with admiration for his hockey that he basically has a religious experience about it. he feels immediately that geno is meant to be his, that geno is his true mate (and maybe this is something a bit rare and sacred to wolves), so he bites him on impulse. humans can't handle a wolf's bite, and so geno immediately starts getting feverish and fading in and out of consciousness.

sid calls his dad, and when i was thinking about writing this part i pictured it from zhenya's POV: coming to in a dark hotel room and listening to troy yelling at sid for being stupid and sid insisting that he had to because geno is his mate. already the bite is doing something to zhenya, because he feels a surge of fear that troy might separate them, and then is flooded with relief when sid comes back over to the bed and puts his hand on Zhenya's neck over his mark. (note of hand waving here: does the bite give zhenya the ability to understand sid, or does he just know more english in this verse than canon? idk.)

troy tells sid that he has to knot zhenya to make the claim stick, but there's a good chance zhenya might die if it doesn't take. sid is very inexperienced and is confused why zhenya isn't wet for him. troy growls something about him being an idiot child and throws sid a tin of vaseline from his gear bag. i think of zhenya in this scene as being somewhat aware but not very responsive or lucid. he feels like his body is lighting up when sid touches him. he's filled with warmth and though he knows something is wrong with him, he feels safe with sid.

after the knotting, they bundle zhenya into a car and onto a plane back to nova scotia. as time passes, it becomes clear that there are no lasting physical effects from the bite and that sid and zhenya are truly mated, but zhenya's mind will never recover. he remembers only snatches of his former life, which sid is jealously pleased about—he thinks it's a gift from god, a sign that zhenya's past life was a lie and his true life is with sid. because sid fervently believes that zhenya is his divine right as an alpha, he is convinced that with time zhenya's body will also bend to his will and provide him with children. and he's right. :)

[eternally-hypothermic]

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Can't Go Home

@badthingshappenbingo

Read on Ao3:

Chapter 2/2

Summary:

Dream can't get home. Hob Gadling wields ancient magic without realising.

The sea of dreams does not welcome him when he falls into it. He feels strangely lost in the darkness, but is unable to move and change it. If he did, he would touch upon memories he can’t bear to see. They are floating around him like bubbles of soap, so fragile that the faintest touch would burst them and drown him in turn.  

He tries to reach up, ever so careful with where he moves whatever it is he is reaching with, tries to find a light and pull towards it.  

His realm is filled with starlight.  

It shines over the bridge carried by hands over the water, it shines from the highest spire of his castle, it shines even in the deepest pits of where the nightmares dwell.  

There is no starlight when he reaches. Pain shoots through his being, shoves him aside, throws him out and down, he falls, the bubbles that drifted so gently before now turning into violent images, painful memories, and he does not have eyes he could close.  

Orpheus  

The dream of the first war humanity raged, twisted and terrifying, not his own but part of him, hands reaching from a grave to pull at his ankle, dragging him down, down down down- 

“You know, Jerry - my friend, the driver I mean - was like ‘wow, who do you have there?’ and made comments about which length I went to and all that… Meanwhile I felt like an idiot. I don’t even know your name, and I had no idea you were down there. Just… Strange dreams lately” Hob Gadling sighs, he is doing something and Dream does not fully understand.  

“Sorry, this is just weird. I don’t know if it’s okay that- but you looked cold, and you always wear layers so-” He bends his limbs, his arms, and then soft fabric caresses his skin. His physical body is in a different place, not in a memory, and he holds on to it with a force he does not know if he can keep up. His fingers ache, but it is the only pain he feels. The only sensation even, apart from the touch. Only when necessary. Only until the fabric covers him, and a blanket is pulled, tucked to the sides, cold and yet warm.  

“I kept dreaming about this rumour and went to investigate. But the young Burgess only locked up about a week ago, so…” he sighs deeply. “I would have come sooner if I’d known. I would have come there the moment they captured you. The old Magus went on and on about his devil in the basement, and I didn’t even think… I thought he was just… You know, old and grieving his son. Honestly, by the looks of him I would not have been surprised if he had his son locked up down there, resurrected like Frankenstein’s creature” Another pause. “I didn’t expect it to be you. Didn’t even think about it. I mean, I dreamt about you, but that’s not so unusual… I often do. I was afraid I’d… I’d never see you again. But there’s still 20 years to go for that” he laughs softly, “I thought I’d see you again never and then actually sooner. Though, if it meant all of this could have been avoided and you never captured, I… I gladly would have waited longer. Years and decades”  

There is a pause. Dream thinks maybe his grip is slipping, too afraid to avert his gaze from the darkness and too hopeful to remain.  

This is not the Dreaming. And it’s strange because he knows that Hob Gadling came to Fawney Rig, he knows that he took him out of there, wrapped in a coat, smelling of paper and whiskey, smells and sensations all so powerful for how long he spent without them. And he knows that this is not Fawney Rig, the house smells different, it feels different, he feels a pull to this place and yet-  

This is not where he is supposed to be.  

Starlight blooms above him, and he needs to reach for it again. He has a duty and he needs to get back to it, he has a purpose and a task, one that suffered for way too long without him. He can not remain where he is, wrapped and cared, he can not go here, as much as it is a soothing balm on his soul.  

“I… I don’t know if you changed your mind. At all, or a little, or even thought about it. But I do consider you my friend. Ha, maybe that makes you wake up. I mean, I don’t know if you need to wake up right now or if you need to rest, I have no idea, I just… I am just worried and babbling on, really. I haven’t even done much in the last century. I hoped to do something in the next few years, so maybe we could meet and ignore all of what happened? And I could just talk and you would just listen, and all would be normal and well. Maybe I’ll wake up and find out I got the Spanish Flu again and hallucinated all of this, and that Jerry is not real either… I guess everything is possible after all” He squeezes his hand a little tighter,  

“But I hope it’s real. If only for the sake that you are not in that place anymore. If only it means we can meet and have drinks again. We… We can meet more often, you know? Every 50 years? 10? Five? God I wish it was just every Saturday. I miss you between all the times 100 years have passed. You’re the only one who… Who knows. And who won’t call me absolutely mental. Who…” He sighs again.  

“The only one who cares. Or maybe, I am just making you perfect in my head and you’ll wake up and ask me how I dare, and how you were not actually- Naah, scratch that. If this fishbowl-business was planned, we’ll have to have a serious conversation. Once you can speak again, I mean” Another pause, this time longer, and the hand leaves his, though only for a moment, while Hob fusses with the blanket.  

“I need to find out what to do about that. Assuming… You are somewhat human. Which I don’t know. This is really not as easy as I thought it would be. But I have an anatomy book here somewhere. I could also phone Jerry to ask him to pick it out from the library? Maybe I will do that. You’re not going anywhere, right?” he chuckles, “No, I suppose not…”  

Silence fills the room. He left - if he comes back to find the bed empty, well, Dream can always apologise later. And so he reaches, extends his mind towards the starlight of this aspect of his being, his realm, this thing in the cosmos that is part of him, of what he is, his castle, his library.  

This time, he swims up. The bubbles swim like poisonous jellyfish around him, is this really the sea of dreams and nightmares he is the master of? It feels different, alien to his being, and he almost reaches the surface he thinks, when one of the bubbles bursts into his face-  

Unmake a universe.  

Remake it.  

The pain ripples through his entire being when he is stuck in a black hole that eats him, dreamstuff molecule by dreamstuff molecule, he is infinite but so is its hunger.  

He crashes back, deeper now, so deep into the void – breathes in water and memories, breathes in fear and panic that comes from him to begin with, but no struggle frees him, no light pierces the darkness and helps him, nothing around him but memories and-  

-a hand on his.  

Light filters through the water – beams of sunlight, the bubbles in the bottomless void glitter around him. And touch.  

“I’m going to call you Strider” Hob announces suddenly, “You know, if you were in there for so long, I am not sure if you know that. There’s a series of books - the Lord of the Rings. And a noble king, running away from what it might mean to become king, he calls himself Strider. It sounds a bit like Stranger, don’t you think? I debated calling you Steve just to annoy you enough to wake up, but you don’t look like a Steve at all. So… Strider” He pats his arm. “I can read it to you”  

No, no, he has to get back. How long has he been here now, if Hob- He has been away too long, needs to-  

He swims up, towards the surface again, the filtering light, but the closer he gets, the dimmer it shines. The darker it gets. He has never been afraid of the dark – why would he ever be? He is what people usually are afraid of in the dark. He is the monster under their beds, he is the fear in the wardrobe, he is the bad dream that started it and that will end it with a bang.  

But even he has to return to his home, to the darkness under beds and corners, even he has to go. Home, he thinks, I have to go home.  

Swims up, through ink and darkness. Home, destroyed and decayed but home, Lucienne, the library, Fiddler’s Green. Home, home where he can fix his mistakes, just hone.  

He hits unforgiving glass instead.  

You made a mistake, Morpheus. Say hello to your mother.  

You dare to suggest one such as I needs companionship?! He storms off in the rain. He is standing in the rain, cursing, heartbroken, sees himself walk away and disappear, while he keeps running, running, saying he means it and is sorry, saying come back, saying-  

“You know, I hate it when people give advice sometimes. I know they mean well, but they don’t even think about how maybe they just don't understand. At the university – that's where I work, I am a professor now - a friend asked me why I was so gloomy, and I suppose I must have been - sometimes, some days I just… I missed you. And I made something up about a friend who is abroad because I couldn’t- I just couldn’t entertain the idea you’d not come back�� he takes a deep breath, but it’s shuddering,  “And you know what she said? She said that the time you were gone would pass so quickly. That you’d be back before I know it. And I said, I know she means well but for fuck’s sake- It’s not like that. I didn’t curse or yell at her, just smiled, and you know what, I hate that I do that sometimes. It’s all this stuff in my head. I always watch you leave, Strider. I hate our appointments because I love them so much, because I genuinely enjoy your company, quiet and stoic as it is. And I miss you. I miss seeing you, meeting you - with you. And now, now- Now I feel like everything is changing. Scratch that, I felt that way when you left me standing, I felt like the world was about to end and no matter what, nothing could fix it. And you were gone. And now- now you are back, I found you, but you’ll leave again. I- You know how lonely it gets? Is that what you wanted from me? The whole time, you wanted me to… To go crazy with loneliness? Tough on you, because I have been lonely before I met you. And I still am. You don’t have to be alone for that. And now you are here but you are also not, and all is about to change, I can just feel it. Everything will turn upside down, and nothing, just nothing will make sense soon. You’ll leave again and I will be lonely again. I love life - I love living and the experiences I make, but you know what? You are part of that. I am selfish and horrible, this is a mistake or maybe it isn’t, I don’t care, if you are listening or not - I don’t care about that either. You- I have to say this. Because good lord - I missed you. I always do. Please just… Just come back. Wake up. There is still so much to see. So much to do. I have so much to tell you” The sound he makes could be a sob, or a cry, or something born of an entirely different emotion. Dream wants to reach out, the words don’t ignite anger or shame, they ignite compassion. Maybe he just never really listened before. Maybe he should now, properly. Maybe. He wants to send him to sleep, give him pleasant dreams and a good night, some rest to help him get back to who he is, that hopeful human Dream so enjoys the company of. But hope is not that simple, is it? Hope is an action in despite of the circumstance, a defiance against odds and ends. Hope is Hob’s entire being.  

And he can’t do anything to help ignite it again.  

He does not reach for the light this time. He stays where he is, curled up if he could, his mind making itself small, cowering, and he is a coward anyways for not facing what he himself did. He is the Dreaming. He should, but whatever he does, it always gives him the bad memories.  

It gives him the nightmares, the fear and horror and pain.  

He is all dreams. They are all him. And every bit of pain is his then too.  

Maybe he is just too weak to resist it now. He does not fight the memories when they crash over him like a wave, he does not fight when they fill lungs he does not have and take away air he does not need.  

“When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his elevnty-first birthday with a party of special magnificence-” 

He reads to him. He really, honestly reads a story to him, to him, Dream of the Endless, King of Stories. A story born of war and hope. A story he has never heard or felt before, but that he finds himself enthralled to listen to.  

The light filters through above him, but he feels it on his face instead of seeing anything. Eyes closed, he listens.  

Home, that is it. Something you’re willing to protect and support even if you have to leave it for that.  

Worth a try.  

Once the book is done.  

He pushes through the memories and dreams, unsure still if it is the sea of dreams or a nightmare of his own making, trapping its creator. Perhaps this dark and twisted thing is his mind - all that is left after it was taken (lost, misplaced) from him.  

He is back in the sphere of glass, but Hob Gadling leaves him there, he is back screaming his voice out, but laughter fills his ears. He is back and he is not, and he swims through it with burning lungs and a burning throat and reaches for the starlight above him, it’s so close he must touch it by now, he reaches, stretches his entire being- 

And hits glass.  

His hands splayed across the translucent wall that separates the sea from a beach of dark sand and darker water.  

His hands.  

The water fills his lungs, he does not have them, does not need them, why are they there, why are they filled, and he tries to reach beyond the glass, reaching reaching, desperately willing himself to grasp beyond, feel the sand beneath his fingers, the water, the doors to what is as much him as he is it, but can’t.  

It is so simple.  

He just can’t. 

The wall is only visible in his fingers that touch it, he pushes, bubbles of dreams and memories be damned to Hell and back and beyond, he kicks and pushes, and it is just there.  

It is just there, inches from his aching fingers, so close he can see the waves and the beach and so close that he feels as if he can hear the rush of them against the sand. His chest burns as it did in his glass prison, aches, so deeply, and he wants to scream but his voice is still lost. Is it where his mind went? 

He pushes against the glass that does not give way in the slightest.  

Is that Lucienne on the beach?  

Is she waiting?  

Can she see him?  

He opens a mouth he does not need to speak and wills his voice to return.  

But just like the simple “can’t”, it “doesn’t”. It does not come back.  

The burning gets stronger, his fingers tingle, he pushes them against the glass without any other motivation than desperation to do something, anything even. He pushes against it one last time, fingers finding no purchase, nothing to hold onto, and it-  

It repels him.  

He is too surprised, too confused by what is happening, does not even realise how far it pushes him back, how fast he is falling through the water, the sea of dreams, the river of his broken mind, just falls and falls, starlight getting as small as a pinprick, smaller even, he looks at it, stares, keeps on staring, can not look away, has to look-  

He crashes into his body, choking on saltwater and sand, his skin and hair dripping with water. He is on the floor in an unfamiliar room, someone is talking, but he can not hear. His chest heaves, soggy sand on wooden boards, it’s so hard, it clogs up his mouth but he can barely move.  

Blood and ink and water and sand, he can’t stop coughing the awful clumps out of his lungs, lungs, a body, yes, he had been freed, freed, but now he chokes again, once more, can’t-  

Then he is on his side, with warm hands on his shoulders and head, with warmth all around him, and he can feel who it is before he hears his voice.  

“-the fuck? How did you get dripping wet? Fuck fuck fuck- Strider how the fuck did you- Is that sand?! Did you cough up fucking sand? What the fuck-”  

Ah. Hob Gadling.  

He wills his eyes to open and manages a flutter, looking to the side where he kneels, hair askew, glasses on his head, tangled.  

“Fucking hell Strider!” He wants to comment how this is not his name, but it’s good enough and he is too exhausted to argue. “Okay, okay- First things… I’ll sit you up, yeah? Yeah…” He is moved before he can get his own arms under himself, and the room tilts in a way that makes a semblance of sense. Wooden furniture, a heavy dresser, a mattress behind his head which he is sitting against, flailing his arms uselessly because his body has trouble catching up with his mind that already realised that he is off the floor.  

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you- heh, that’s typical, isn’t it, you scare the fucking daylights out of me and I- Anyways, are you okay?” His brows are furrowed, his hands keep wandering up and down his arms, pressing, checking, and then one rests on his wrist and one on his chest.  

“Dream” he finally gets out, but his lips are numb and cold, and clearing his throat hurts, his voice is barely a raspy whisper.  

“You dreamed? Yeah, makes sense, nightmares- Does explain why you’re on the floor, does not the whole… Water-thing”  

“I-” he starts again, but Hob hushes him before he can explain.  

“No, don’t talk. You sound awful. Fuck, no, I don’t mean- I checked at the library, they say you need to relax your voice. Just… Just relax” He nods as if to himself and then with more vigour behind it. “Okay. You- You stay right here. I- I'll make tea”  

He leaves the room, a bedroom with colourful sheets and strange geometric shapes on the walls, with a bed in the middle of the wall, stacks of books on the floor and a framed sketch of two people in an inn on the bedside table. Dark wood and so many colours his eyes hurt. 

“Okay, here. Careful, it’s hot, but there is... about a ton of honey in there. That’s what you can get everywhere these days – honey! No problem, I remember when it was a huge thing to even find it. But- Honey. And mint, it’s mint with honey. No idea if it helps, but it might and-” He is rambling on, but Dream can’t interrupt. He sips what tastes like pure hot honey, and the sweetness washes the salt out his mouth. He should feel more, should he not? Confusion, determination. Sadness, anger, madness. Desperation. None of it happens, however. Are they truly all gone?   

“So what?” Hob finally asks and rubs his face, “You’re awake, you’re drinking tea, so that’s a start. Do I need to drive you somewhere? Prepare a ritual? Something like that?”  

Dream shakes his head.   

“Okay, then?” He sips his tea with a look. “Okay then- Can you return on your own?” Dream shrugs. That is the closest he gets. He honestly doesn’t know.  

“Fucking hell... Strider, you really don’t do anything halfway, huh?”  

“Dream” he rasps out, and Hob’s face immediately softens to the most gentle expession he has ever seen on it.  

“No, you’re not dreaming, Strider. I promise you that this is real. I came to the house and found you. You passed out on the way, but it’s all real” he reaches a hand to touch his arm, skin on skin, prickling like dew, “All real. Not a dream” It feels beautiful, even if it’s wrong. Dreams are real, the only reason why he himself exists is because Dreams are real. But there is a gentleness to Hob, a care he puts into each word that is a balm on his soul. Morning dew, he thinks, his touch is like morning dew in summer. In the fields of Fiddler’s Green, when a Dreamer has just left, has just arrived, a liminal moment. 

The moon is a bright round beauty in the sky, shining down on where Dream looks out the window later, after the evening has taken over, after the storm vanished and left nothing but clear skies. He is still in the bedroom, the only room he knows, the only room that exists even when the world is bigger – has so much more to it, he knows it does, but being able to stretch out his legs is an overwhelming freedom. Hob yawns, but he is still awake. He would like to tell him that he needs sleep, even if Dream himself considers himself not easy on that, but every time he sets up, Hob tells him to rest his voice. He is right, and he knows he is. Every time he closes his eyes, the sea of dreams laps at his chest, too high, too rough. He does not intend to enter it again, even if it pulls on him.  

The sand is gone off the floor, and he stares at the moon.  

“Do you want another chapter?” Chapter? “You know, of the book I named you after. What I’ve been reading to you. You look so tense, it might help you fall asleep” Ha. Sleep. He is the Lord of Dreams and Nightmares, he is Morpheus. He would never have trouble falling asleep, not when he is never awake, never truly in one realm or the other.  

Without a voice, he can’t tell that to Hob, who just shrugs and takes the book and starts reading.  

This time, the sea of dreams is calm around him. It only ripples with the words read aloud, every sentence a gentle wave. That he is drifting away to the words of Hob Gadling does not register until the calm waters around him gently nudge him in a direction. He hears them – he hears him reading still, even in the waters of dreams that whisper and chuckle to themselves. And this time, the bubbles surrounding him don’t pop. They don’t touch – they don’t pierce his skin. They touch him like silk, cool and gentle. Hob’s voice is far away, but in his ears still. Here and not here. He drifts – somewhere between the pages of a story he does not know, a story of cunning hobbits and gentle elves, of a war raging around a ring. Monsters and kindness. He stops, at some point, he must because Dream listens so intently, he feels the vibrations of his words, feels the reverberations of every name in his own physical form.  

There are no borders between the Waking and the Dreaming anymore. No glass separating him from his own being. Cool water soothing his aching throat, gently caressing his skin. As gentle as the blankets.  

He washes up on the shore of the Dreaming, drenched in water, crawling over the sand with no confusion and no surprise, with no fear. Relief coats him like the water does.  

“My lord!” Lucienne all but runs him over, “You’re home!” Yes. Yes, he is. Looking back over the beach, he can’t help but smile. Of course he is.  

“Lucienne” his voice still scratches, there is static in it but that will heal. “Lucienne - how is the realm?”  

It is shattered and broken, with more damage than he can feel at once, it aches in his being, a part of himself broken and shattered and still, the sensation of morning dew prickles on his skin. He’ll need his tools to rectify it, he’ll need his full power for it, and yet, with what he has, poppies bloom under his feet. He opens the first door in the palace to reveal the library, dusty and in disrepair, but back. It is not borrowed power, it is new – it is flowing through him like a ray of sunshine.  

He does not linger, for once. His purpose, his destiny is what he has to fulfill and search, but people outside of it another. Owing his life to Hob Gadling can simply not stand, but that is only an aspect of it. There is more – there is the readiness he came to his aid with. The way he held him, carried him, cared for him. The way he didn’t ask, demanded. The way he gave Dream a new name, the power behind him unknown to Hob Gadling who simply used it. Who wielded ancient magic without a thought, a guess, because he wanted to call Dream by a name. It didn’t heal his broken voice, did not return his tools to him, it did not cure everything at once. But it was water on the thirsty ground, was balm to a scorched skin. An act of kindness. A ray of hope. What would he have done without it?  

He returns to his place quietly, materialising on his bed in the dark. Has he been gone an hour? A minute? The bedside lamp shines yellow on the sheets, reflecting off of auburn hair and a metal ring. Reflects off the shiny cover of the book fallen out his hand.  

“You got me wrong earlier” he says softly into the dark. He is not sure if Hob can hear him, if he sleeps or not, and it is something he should know, something he can know, but chooses to close his eyes to purposefully. His voice is still rough, breaking in parts, but it’s there.  

“It is my name - Dream. Morpheus. But Dream to… who I trust. To my friends and family. To you, if you want it. If you prefer Strider, you are… Welcome to use it. I fear I have lost the privilege of choice when I held back my name for centuries. Before our meeting was so rudely interrupted by Lady Constantine, I was about to tell you” he sighs and looks up at the ceiling again, “I wish I could say that names just lose meaning the longer you live - that my kind is not susceptible to a simple thing as a name affecting us. But that is not true. On the contrary - we are even more attached to them. Dream is my name, and I have had many others. Dreamlord being one of them. But whoever has it, also has power. A mythical one, perhaps, but mainly the one to call me by it” he closes his eyes, “And call upon me. In refusing to share it, I might have…” he trails off without meaning to, and silence wraps around the room like a blanket, “I fear I have hurt you, in an attempt to shield myself from hurt. In the past, people who I let close often hurt me, or I hurt them, or we both did to each other. I… often felt it was best to keep myself hidden, for my own sake as well as for other’s. And that if I- if I just pretended not to care, I eventually would”  

“Did it work?” Hob asks quietly, and that he is awake and heard it all is not as important as how this is his only question.  

“Not at all” And he smiles and is glad for it.  

“I can’t die. If that is what keeps you from us being... friends, then… Remember. Hurt, and captured, yes. But I-”  

“I would come to your defence” Dream finishes quietly, “I would. If they captured you” Hob chuckles,  

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He smiles still, “How did you get home?”  

“You gave me the power for it. There is power in names. And it has been centuries since I got a new one” 

“We might get in trouble for copyright infringement – I didn’t invent it”  

“But you gave it to me. Further than that, you gave the prince of stories a new one. Even if you did not write it, you told it to me. With your own voice, your own intonation. You wielded an ancient magic without even knowing, and I have not the words to thank you” 

“Don’t tell Tolkien, okay?” he turns to his side, even in the dark evening bright-eyed and grinning, “Did I randomly stumble over the one cure?” We wants to say yes – the one ring. The one cure. The one Hob Gadling. But lies is not his domain, deception would only hurt him and that is not fair. Every Saturday, he had asked, let us talk, let us know each other, and friends do not lie.  

“No. It is one of several – one of many” he can’t help it, “But... Perhaps one of the most powerful ones”  

“If I saved your life... You should come to dinner. Next week?”  

“I have to rebuild my realm. Locate my tools. If I will be back by Saturday, I can not yet say”  

“Tragic. Take me, then. Show me your world – you already know mine. Stop by to tell me how it’s going” he reaches out, pauses before he touches his hand and then takes it only when Dream leaves it where it is, “Is it too much to ask?”  

"We can have tea in the Dreaming when I rebuilt. Until then, we shall spend your Saturday here”  

“It is a deal, Strider” It is not his name, but perhaps there are fitting elements about it. It feels like dew on his skin, prickling and gentle.  

“Perhaps it is”  

[blacksupremacy86]

Captain America: Time Alteration

Steve Roger’s is in the midst of war throwing his body onto an oncoming bomb throwing at me. Steve jumps into the air blocking me from getting hit and I go flying into the near wall.

I wake up hours later in some offshore,make shift secret base in the middle of the sea a door swing open. “Oh! You are up!” Steve aka The one and oh my Captain America says to me.

Apparently for my safety I am strap down to the bed with the memories of yesterday are permeating my mind the bomb goes off and Steve pushing me out of the way conking me out.

I saw a glimmer of light sparkle in his eyes I knew my hero, America’s sparkle man in tights and America’s ass in blue pants that pop.

A ass so right he could crack a safe with it okay…okay a bit of a exaggeration on my part but still come one I am sick I can do what I want.

What I want is the piece of man candy in mi eye line I want to ravish him but I must stay on target. He undoes the straps letting me go free.

“I am so…so sorry we have to finally be able to meet under such awful circumstances in life.”

“Why am I here? Shouldn’t I be in a general hospital or something.”

“We need to be brief on everything you that know could be helpful.”

“Like what could I know?”

“Hydra’s plans.”

“All I know is the created a time portal to new worlds.”

“It does more than that.”

“It shift reality”

“The world would bend to their will.”

I threw the folded to the side to his shock an awe of dismay crawls over his face with his arms crossing.

I want to rip his pants open and make sweet masks with his asshole but my eyes seem to wander off.

They land onto a weird shiny object I reach out for it a piece of the tesseract he found on the scene.

Using my feet I sweep pass camp as he goes go collect the assorted files of the folded on the floor.

Pick it up I close my eyes letting it settle on to my palms the shatter piece glows bright with excitement.

The light covers him in a blinding then me with the entirety of the room eyes and the sensors unnoticed.

“Oh Captain! I am only human.”

“What fiendishly evil plan are you deigning to concoct?”

“Mwahahahahaha! Fiendish?”

“I am taking advantage of an advantageous moment.”

“Premeditated maybe”

“Hardly? How was I to know you would be stupid enough to leave evidence in an open place?”

“Any who! Take a deep breath this will be all consuming.”

“Mwahahahahaha….kneel for your king”

“Welcome to the new world order bitch.”

Something is off I love the feeling when the smoke fades I am sitting on my throne in the throne room.

The shattered fragment is in my crown the cloud vanish out of my eyes lowering them to see Steve kneeling.

I feel a powerful energy over take me in total excitement, my hand on his head causes him to moan in pleasure.

Captain rises to his feet with a broad smile on his face, he gives salute and the places his hand on my chest.

He hands me a file with loads of pertinent information to disassemble The Avengers and prey on their weaknesses.

Every private government agency has been eradicated under my kingdom for a lifetime of submission.

“Master Lawrence the US is the last county to fall to you.”

“Do you understand your place now?”

“Sir Yes Master Lawrence I am at your will Sir.”

“I must shatter the last defense to the world.”

“The Avengers and The Justice League”

“Crush them, ruin them and end them.”

“Mwahahahahaha…precisely”

“Anything else I should know”

“I am awaiting for your command”

“You fought valiantly I’ll give you that “

“I lost though, my pride destroys me”

“I see the light Master Lawrence “

“You are a piece of work”

“Thank you sire!”

“Sir Yes Sir”

“Submit to me”

“Already have”

“I am going after them Master”

The end

[cloudsuniversencharacters]

Carrion!Cloud (Inspired by the reverse-horror game CARRION.) (Referred to as it/him; it/they, he/him. But use whatever pronouns ^^.)

(SPOILER WARNING: This page contains spoilers for the game CARRION. Click on Keep Reading if you either don't care about spoilers or have already played the game CARRION.)

———Overview / Story——— (Slightly based on the ending of CARRION.)

After the Monster had escaped from its containment unit and escaped into the world, it had shapeshifted into various of appearances, ranging from a blue pup with a halo to an small girl until finally it took the appearance of an Cloud. It presumably set off into the world to spread its mass, until it got teleported into this new world filled with various of people.

Carrion!Cloud takes on Cloud's appearance slightly. Acting strange and unusual often and acting like a cat, it doesn't really think to much about humans, thinking they are just a food source.

———Appearance———

Carrion!Cloud, alternatively Carrion has the exact same body of Cloud instead of an amorphous form; except Cloud's cloud fluff in now cardinal red, as-well as feeling squishy and weird; it feels exactly like flesh, it also pulses and moves which is not very noticeable. His clothes also take this effect, being drenched in cardinal red and very damp. He seemed to have lost his shoes since he or it doesn't have them anymore, or they got eaten in the Carrion Biomass. He's a little chubby since he is eating people and animals, but adds to his softness of his skin.

Carrion!Cloud has small tentacles swaying out of his skin, which react to an number of things like sounds; emotions; damage; etc. it or he can turn boneless if it/he wants to. It/he also has three Prehensile tentacles in which can either come out his wrists, mouth, or body.

Carrion!Cloud has red sclera and black pupils which can enlarge like a cat when either it is interested in something, or is excited.

He/it is 6'11" but can progressively get taller depending on how much biomass/flesh he has consumed, as-well as weighting in at 120lbs. He tends to also act weird or whatnot.

———Powers, Traits & Abilities.———

Parasitism: Carrion!Cloud can take control of other organisms like humans, animals, etc. Though, it might not work on everyone. he/it can either consume their body entirely or just leave them, possibly killing them or knocking them out temporilay.

Roar: Carrion!Cloud can let out a loud roar, which can stun the person who hears it, though it might not work often depending on the person. it/he can also detect hives that are either not infested with Carrion Biomass or ones that are currently infested.

Arachnoptysis: Carrion!Cloud can shoot a web out his wrist like Spider-Man. He can use this to flip on switches and such. Nothing else to say really.

Photokinesis: Carrion!Cloud can turn invisible, but this only lasts for a couple of minutes, but gives it/him alot of time to think. He does this by bending light.

Xiphorrhea: Carrion!Cloud can shape his flesh into blades, covering his body in them. He does this if he wants to get through per say a door for example or any other wooden/vent cover. This can also be used to cut through someone, not effortlessly though since the victim could survive this.

Acanthosis: Carrion!Cloud can grow large amount of spikes on his body, which can shoot out, but mainlly used when someone is to close to it/him. Again, nothing else to say.

Harpagorrhea: Like the Xiphorrhea Ability, this ability for Carrion!Cloud can shape his flesh into large and sharp harpoons of meat which can shoot out fast and pull back objects and even organisms. This can cause massive injury to human, it is impossible to live from this unless you are either lucky or very strong.

Keratosis: Carrion!Cloud can create a large and strong layer of an unknown substance around its/his body, but it doesn't allow it/him to use the Prehensile Tentacle. However, this can allow it/him to absorb damage, like explosions or fire, but this lasts for a short time.

Keratosis: Optionally, Carrion!Cloud can turn into worms when underwater only. This allows him to slip into small and tight spaces. Get your mind out of the gutter.

Finally, Carrion!Cloud can shapeshift into anyone he/it wants, though he/it doesn't do this all the time since he/it likes the body of Cloud.

[jamsofdeath0]

I posted 2,684 times in 2022

That's 2,684 more posts than 2021!

722 posts created (27%)

1,962 posts reblogged (73%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@strikerofdeath0

@daily-grian

@kugisakiss

@tired1mmortal

@tourettesdog

I tagged 1,227 of my posts in 2022

#danny phantom - 160 posts

#grian - 119 posts

#hermitcraft - 91 posts

#trafficblr - 67 posts

#detective conan - 66 posts

#my art - 65 posts

#deltarune - 62 posts

#mcyt - 61 posts

#3rd life - 51 posts

#traffic light smp - 44 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#the only reason conan hasn’t been found out is because the weirdest kids in school sensed that his weirdness was off the charts and decided

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

1,236 notes - Posted July 30, 2022

#4

Wheres the Dp x Dc Aus Where Danny HATES The Justice League.

He think they're a bunch a boot licking government dogs. Like he respected when Batman was a vigilante but the fact he just used his power and money to make what he was doing legal. Danny doesn't like that. He's had zero positive interaction with rich adults and government body's. He's leaning full on anarchist.

Green Lanterns a space cop? Space is cool and all but the cop part of the that equation. It's a no go.

Superman seems cool but he knows, knows in his bones, no ones perfect and anyone who makes their brand "I may be one of the most powerful beings on this planet but trust me because I'm nice" is hiding something.

He doesn't like Wonder Women's lasso or how ok she is with using it. He's took away peoples freewill through overshadowing and has decided he's against it. He understands that sometimes you need to use your full kit if worlds are in danger but over all not even the vilest should lose the right to control.

Aguaman is flat out a king and while he doesn't have anything strictly against the man he's against royalty on principle.

He doesn't have anything to big against Flash or Martian Manhunter other than they are a part of the Justice League but he still doesn't like them for that reason.

He figures they're all a bunch of power hungry people who named themselves the protectors of earth for fame, fortune, and government power. Or they're a bunch of a bunch of ppl who do want to help but decided they should pretend to bend to the laws. They despite being government now still operate like vigilantes and the fact they get away with so much law breakage just screams corruption. It doesn't help literally all of Amity Park sent distress notes and signals to the Justice League and they didn't even show up when the city got stolen into another dimension.

Even Sam isn't as against the league as Danny and Tuckers abit of a fan boy. Neither bring up the league to Danny bc they know if he gets started he could go on an hour or longer rant.

When Dani flew of into the sunset the first time Danny warned her against trusting any "superheros" that were legal. That the Titans seemed better than The Justice League but to still be weary.

This au could be phantom planet compliant or not but think about just how much worse his hatred would be if he had to wrangle his rouges, freind's and reveal himself to the the world all bc the "planets protectors" couldnt protect it. In the complaint au he fully blames them for any human experimentation that happens bc people know about half ghosts now. And when they show the Amity Park after the asteroid he's like "Anyone in the Justice League or associated his banned from Amity Park." And they're like "You can not do that" and he's like "Batman gets to! He gets to ban all meta's with no regard for the consequences! He gets to despite the spike in meta hate crimes it causes. Try and stop me!" (The meta hate crime is just fanon for this specific au) the league respect the ban bc they want to become ally's with this VERY powerful and VERY angry kid.

In the non complaint version the banning still happens but the league doesn't respect it. This causes lots of problems. In both of them discovering Amity's problem is what sparks the plot.

(he doesn't have a protection obessetion and he is trans in this au.)

1,240 notes - Posted July 30, 2022

#3

Ok so what about a dp x dc fic that takes place in 2004 like dp originally does where tim and Danny are forum freind's.

It's very important you know this is neither a "Bruce adopts Danny" or Danny/tim fic.

It takes place during Tim's Robin run but they've been friends since they were 8 and 9.

Tim is 13 and Danny is 14 they're original runs are happening simultaneously.

Now here's where it get interesting. Neither tell each other about the vigilanting. Danny's only escape from a young age from ghost stuff was internet forums and Tim isn't just going to spill Batmans secret. Tim does however talk about himself.

Danny knows Tim's parents are neglectful. He has half a mind to just kidnap him away to Amity. Ghosts can't be that much worse than Gothams rouges. Then Tim starts talking about Bruce and Danny is convinced Bruce is grooming Tim or something.

Tims like "My neighbor has kind of adopted me" (in more words and less explicitly.

And Danny's just thinking 'a rich adult with a son that won't talk to him, and another son that is dead has taken interest in a vulnerable child.' he says however "Tim I know you love Gotham but you can always stay with me. My parents wouldn't mind!" Like he's been saying for years.

Because he knows he can't convince Tim with his hero worship of Bruce other wise and not ever sam's parents are rich enough to to go against a Wayne.

Tim doesn't do the best job explaining he's the one forcing himself on Bruce.

1,624 notes - Posted July 31, 2022

#2

I don't know why ppl act like Amity Park should have figured out Danny's secret identity when it is by basic human understanding of the laws of the universe the the least obvious secret identity ever.

Reasons why someone wouldn't figure it out:

He's dead, how would he be that one alive kid?

They don't think Phantom has a secret identity at all.

Why would he be that one kinda pathetic nerd kid if he even did have a secret human ID.

His parents are ghost hunters, the leading Ghost hunters, surely surely they would know their own kid is dead.

2,297 notes - Posted July 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Marceline from Adventure Time is like the ultimate OC. She is a half vampire half human with Mommy and daddy issues but she has daddy issues twice cuz she had two dads.

Edit: y'all are really acting like I ate your first born or something in the notes so I guess I got to explain that this is a joke. A haha. I like Marceline.

33,144 notes - Posted July 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[maryhadalittlehobby]

Interview with the vampire Season S2E6 Liveblog

"Like the light by which God made the world before he made light"

Oh my God Daniel and real Rashid.what the hell are they doing together?! Does he is think Rashid is with the Talemasca at this point or does is he questioning him thinking that the vampires are have been tracking him this whole time?

I was not sure that I agreed with Rashid was with the talamasca but now we have Ragland James saying don't worry about Rashid so he's definitely one of them.

NOW Daniels  worried about making it out alive?!? after they've peace together the past? Was he just hiding his fear really well earlier in the season/series or did he just really think he did not have much to fear? I'm not sure.

"You fear Armand you should fear the other one"my guy they're BFFs Havent you heard👂👨🏼‍🤝‍👨🏿

IF I COULD SWAP BODIES!!!!

I love how they got this scene from the books between Louis and Lestat made it into TDV play

OK Roget 100% knows Lestat is a vampire, Louis is a vampire, and the theater is full of vampires. I wasn't sure how aware he was when we first met him.

How did the theater run for 150 years when our unholy family could barely stay in New Orleans for 30? Is lack of societal ties? Changing out members?  Is the coven keeping tabs on who visits the theatre and how often?

Everyone is like oh my God "how did Armand not know this, how did he not know that" he's not all-knowing!  He's powerful but he's not all-knowing and especially with wilful ignorance.  Specifically when he thinks he has a situation under control.  Santiago is plotting literally right in front of him. He thought if he could keep Santiago in his sights everything would be fine but Santiago is literally ACTING and telepathically communicating with his minions right in front of Armand.

I'm not sure why Louis and Daniel did not immediately confront Armand with their knowledge instead of Louis making a backhanded comments

Not Armand looking a little prideful when Daniel compliments his drink making abilities

Oh s*** Claudia did not play no games.The scissors in the throat fuck

Why would Madeline assume that Claudia was a vampire instead of a weird serial killer?

Sis said just a little snack before I leave. Was Claudia hoping Madeline would find her?

Claudia looking like a baby lion with blood all over her face.

Take off you clothes * me* passes the fuck out

Louis got a new hobby business. Armand, like Lestat, is being a little too dismissive for me.

Everybody is around sir! what the hell is this voyeuristic behavior?

Madeline asking if drinking blood was like drinking life itself reminded me of Lestats line in S1"You will be filled with all the life you can hold. You will see death in all its beauty?'

Claudia being like nah its just food fr. Never honoring the blood as she should if you will.

I would really love to know how much time has passed between this and Armand telling her to stay away from Madeline. Bewtween the shop incident to her reading Claudia' diaries. Then later how much time to they spend out of Paris before they come back.

I love this blouse and skirt combo Claudia has on. The symbols on the shirt remind me of koi fish. The shirt!I loved the colors. Reminded me of African American flag

Claudia's like telling Louis she didn't didn't cry, she just watched me kill and clean up the mess..girl that's not normal!

They are literally bringing Armand in on it?!Wow holy s*** and then ahhh! That's so wild that Louis thinks that he has such a hold Armand that he could force hand and influence him to bend the laws like this.

But at least they're asking and not breaking the laws first that counts for something. right? RIGHT?!

Does Louis not want Claudia to know he has the fire gift?Why does he use a lighter to light her cig?

This scene between Louis and Claudia feels like the first time they are truly siblings

The chrysanthemums on the wallpaper during Armands interrogation of Madeline 👀

Louis willing changing Madeline without Armand influence and seeminly no guilt behind it. This is one change from the books that I don't like actually. But I guess we still have Armando being manipulative in the 70s so we don't really need it in the 40s but I really liked what happened to the books in regard to the Madeline. But Louis being so human is so core to his character in the books. I don't know what his motivations or conflict is without it really...

God Louis and Armand are so hot together. Are you asking or making me?This is my favorite kiss between them even though its probably their least heartfelt

Louis does give us a hint to the year with the major events list -1949

Louis monologue on Madeline's turning was really beautiful especially Claudia being seen through Madeline's eyes. I thought that shot of Claudia in the sun was gonna be her haunting him but it was really beautiful how it actually came about

'Claudia In an impossible afternoon light she could not survive in.' So ironic. I took some closet cosplay pics in the sun as Claudia and was like I cant use these BUTwith this quote that was a perfect excuse to

She is a difficult one but one worth having. LMAO yeah right. Now if that don't sound like an implanted memory i don't know what does

Daniel telling Louis to Stand up!

I really liked the moment from the movies when Louis said (and I'm paraphrasing )'what I did in there that's the last bit of my humanity' and Claudia says 'good, now we are even'. It like that's what they're getting at on the show when Louis says I didn't feel anything, 'I thought it would feel like losing Claudia but I did not care'. It doesn't really work because we've seen Louis embrace being a vampire more fully in the show so him being cut off and hard before he loses Claudia or has to turn Madeline for Claudia- it's not giving.

At the cafe Claudia mentions Sweet Iris, Peony and Lavender as flowers they have grown .Goggling how long these plants take to flower, its been at least a year since they have been gone from Paris.

The family convo in the cafe was everything. And here comes Santiago strutting through the streets😭😭😭😭 This is the betrayal that Armand can never make up for  he called Santiago. This was the choice.

Kill your lover or f*** your mother👀 Coming for Lestats head

And there he is Lestat de Lioncourt-10 minutes to curtain and I'm not ready

Definitely the calm before the storm type episode. Again cheers all around for this amazing cast.

[acewithapaintbrush]

Splinter remembers the day like it was yesterday. Despite his best efforts to drown out the memories with cheap booze, unhealthy snacks and mindless TV-shows 24/7, he remembers every single detail of the moment Lou Jitsu ceased to exist and became… this. 

The noise of a machine powering up. The light of electricity coursing through his body. The feeling of an otherworldly substance on his skin and the pain of every molecule rearranging itself in his body. 

The memories are fresh, like a wound that refuses to heal. He has learned over the years to accept his new existence and he has even realized that, in a twisted way, he can even be grateful for everything that's happened. Without the noise and the light and the pain he also wouldn't have his pride and joy, his beloved sons. 

Splinter knows all that and he does his best to remind himself of it all, but sometimes the memories will still be too much. Too overpowering. Sometimes he will sit in his chair and stare at the TV without really seeing it and just drift in an endless sea of regret and bitterness so strong he can taste it on his tongue. 

But the fact that he does remember that day so well has actually also been his salvation more than once. Because when the noise and the light and the pain get to be too much, he also remembers what came after. 

Four little turtles, now strangely humanoid, rolling around on the floor. And some weird instinct (Survival? Parental?) urging him forward to scoop them up into his hands. 

And he remembers them tumbling around in his palms. And he remembers the red-eared slider looking at him and immediately holding his tiny arms out with the biggest smile. 

Leonardo. 

Leonardo reaching out to him. Already trusting, already more happy to see Yoshi than any of his prior acquaintances had ever been. 

Leonardo had reached for him first and it's that image that pulls Splinter back from the edge most nights. If Splinter had any recollection of Leo claiming that he was his "least favorite", he might have laughed. Or cried. 

Nothing could be further from the truth. 

And now he is kneeling here, on this cold concrete, and stares at a sky awash in unnatural colors. A portal has just closed and his son is on the wrong side of it. Has sacrificed himself to save them all. 

And Splinter reaches up. Ignores the noise and the light and the pain, and reaches his arms into the sky, hoping against hope that his son will reach back. That those arms will reach for him once more. That he can pull him out, just like his son has pulled him out of the deepest pits of despair over the years. 

But the portal is closed.

He can't reach him.

********

An hour later, April, Casey and him finally find his sons, and for a moment Splinter is convinced that his mind is finally broken beyond repair. Because right there, in the middle of a group hug, is Leonardo. Bruised and bloody and tired. 

But alive. And here. 

He stops in his tracks while April and Casey run forward, questions falling from their lips almost as rapid as the tears are falling from their eyes. 

Splinter doesn't hear a word of mystic powers and portals and last minute rescues. He can only stare at the child he had thought to have lost forever. 

Said child looks up and for a second something vulnerable flashes through his eyes as they find his frozen father. But then it's gone and he grins. "Hey Pops!" 

And he holds out one arm, the other still trapped by a silently weeping Casey. His hand shakes a little and the grabby motions of his fingers look more desperate than they are probably meant to be. 

But they are familiar and they are something Splinter was convinced he would never see again. 

He finally moves, rushes forward on shaking legs to the hand that is once again reaching out to him. He grabs it and bends down, his forehead pressed against their joined hands. 

"I got you.", he whispers, over and over. "I got you. I got you." 

His son has once again reached out first. 

And Splinter is never letting go again. 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It always struck me as significant how the others are just tumbling around but Leo immediately makes eye contact and holds out his hands as if to say "Ohhh new Papa, hello there!"

[natewriteslol]

Hey! Could i request the dorm leaders with an esper MC? Kinda like Mob psycho or Saiki k :) and maybe they don't really use this ability of theirs that much since in their world they're literally a teen who's trying to live a normal life(like Mob basically), so nobody knew about their psychic powers except Grim since the mirror said that he couldnt sense any magic in them(i'm pretty sure that psychic powers don't really count as magic but idk lol).

Feel free to ignore if you don't wanna write it! :)

 A/N: Ooh this was a fun one! I haven't watched Mob Psycho (I know about that fine ass blonde man-) but I have watched Saiki k and I loved it, still need to finish it tho jlafljhdas 

Characters: Kalim Al-Asim, Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Vil Schoenheit, Azul Ashengrotto, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia

P.S: I’m so sorry this is so long omg but I guess this is a strong comeback-

Warnings: none except for language

Riddle:

-You wanted to stay as far away as possible from him

-Riddle was part of the trio of people you wanted to stay away from: Riddle, Vil, and Azul

-Riddle paid so much attention to fine details that if something was up, he'd definitely notice it

-But unfortunately you were best friends with the two goobers of Heartslabyul: Ace and Deuce

-And Riddle had started to pay attention to you and your habits, and something was off with you

-It's almost as though you tried too hard to be normal, like Jamil

-And he could never let something like that happen again, so yes he was watching you

-One day you accidently slipped up and was irresponsible with your powers

-Grim was bothering you since he got into a deal with Azul for tuna and they were standing outside with the twins, since Grim lost

-You told him to fend for himself and teleported, however you didn’t plan where you would go

-And you teleported into the Heartslabyul dorm

-What sucks is that your teleportation power was literally flashy with a bright ass green light every time you popped in somewhere

-Just when you thought you were lucky since the whole dorm was uninhabited...except for Riddle who watched the whole thing

-He was completely shocked, he didn’t know what to say other than “What did you just do?!” 

-You explained to him, and that just pieced everything together

-How you solved overblots with such ease, and that one day you had a “strength potion to test for Azul” was such bs!

-Riddle ends up keeping your secret, since he values your privacy but if you do something major and mess up then he will tell!

-”I understand but please be more careful with your powers. I need to institute discipline and you are no exception, Y/N.”

-He really does care about you and doesn’t want you to be found out 

-Goes the extra mile to cover for you often, and in exchange you help him out with things :)

Leona:

-He didn't really care about you at first but as you started to hang Jack and Ruggie, Leona started to get more suspicious

-Your scent had proven that you had some trace of magic, but Leona just couldn't put his finger on it

-So he sent Ruggie after you for a couple of days

-If you were a threat to Savanaclaw, Leona would crush you

-But Ruggie had only reported back that everything with you was perfectly normal

-"Just give it up Leona, they're just an ordinary human. The scent is probably weird because they're from a completely different world."

-But Leona still had that feeling, so he was keeping an eye on you

-You had made a deal with Crowley to keep your powers secret to solve problems on campus (it did cut repair costs and handymen costs in half so-)

-Your new quest was to rid the forest of the Angolo fungus that was manifesting into living fungus blobs 

-The one thing that gave you away was Grim, as you both had to stop by the Greenhouse to read some info about the fungus

-The cat beast was being far too loud, not understanding why he had to go and mess around with the icky fungus

-You simply replied “It’ll be quick, I’ll just use Hydrokinesis and dry out the fungus since they’re mainly filled with water. They become fertilizer once dried so we can just leave them there.”

-And there Leona was, ears perked up once he heard your voice

-Hydrokinesis? What are you talking about?

-So he set off, following you to the forest

-You started to fly, turning the once green and lively fungus to brown dust while Grim napped against a tree

-Leona for the first time in the while, was left speechless

-Once you noticed him, you realized you had to talk to him

-Confronting him later on, luckily Leona didn’t spill to anyone 

-He promised to never tell anyone about what he saw, and had no clapbacks for what you had to say 

- Leona doesn’t even benefit from this secret...besides mayyybee one day asking for your help if his pride lets him

-By the Great Seven why does everything have to not be in his favor-

Azul:

-Another one who you have got to be careful around, since he’s incredibly observant

-More observant than Riddle

-Azul noticed that you’re an incredibly average person, and were incredibly relaxed even during the most stressful situations

-And almost every single time whenever you were in a tight spot, it works in your favor

-Just how is that possible? Solving overblots left and right? Every single time you disappeared the infestation of magical beasts are gone? 

-One day, you were getting picked on by a three guys, their stature far above yours and incredibly strong. How could you possibly win?

-Just as he was about to scoop in a save you, you slammed one of the men into the concrete, taking on the other two by electrocuting them, the blue lightning buzzing in your palms

-They were completely knocked out, dusting off your palms and picking up your things only to face Azul’s eyes

-After giving an explanation of what that was, he was still speechless

-Azul at first was incredibly shocked and then since Azul is Azul... later on realized this had benefits

-He could just blackmail you to be his new bodyguard!

-Oh how he always manages to bend life to his will-!

-So you could just wipe his memory... or turn him into stone...nvm

-You’re now Azul’s arch nemesis since you end up saving people from his scamming and you’re basically untouchable and there’s nothing he can do about it

-But he does find your great strength admirable (and a lil hot, I mean what can u say seeing someone floating in the air with electricity flowing through them is a nice look okay Nate shut up)

Kalim: 

-Oh Kalim my beloved

-He just thinks that you’re incredibly talented and a little mysterious

-You have your little quirks and he has his! Who is he to judge?

-Until one day you wanted to make the load lighter on Jamil, since the berries that Kalim had requested for were only in season in one country

-You decided to just teleport and then come back with the berries so Kalim wouldn’t be pouty 

-You were outside the door ready to teleport when last minute you felt a hand on your shoulder

- “Oh Y/N you forgot-!”

-And there both you and Kalim were, in a berry field thousands of miles away from the Scarabia dorm

-Kalim screams, falling to the lush green of the field

-What happened?! Where are we?! How did you do that?!

-You quickly gathered all the berries at light speed, making sure that you got back before Jamil realized that you were gone

-Kalim wasn’t scared of you, rather impressed that you were able to keep a secret for that long, he could never!

-You’re already super cool, and on top of this you have otherwordly powers!

- “It must’ve been stressful living your life like this! But don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret!”

-Yes he sometimes asks you to perform some of your powers for him, sorry Y/N-

Vil:

-While you were his friend, he was incredibly suspicious of you

-Even though you wiped everyone’s memory, he still had the faint memory of when he was in overblot mode of you blasting him with a beam of light

-Vil was incredibly upset as one of his assistants had mixed up his items, and left one of his vital skincare items on the set of where they were filming a new commercial

-It was being shipped and would take 3 days to reach NRC

-His mood was horrible and you had to do something about it to give grace to the Pomefiore dorm

-So you went to the second story of the Pomefiore dorm, ready to use Apport (the power to pull anything before you) 

-However, Vil felt incredibly guilty

-He was acting like a child and he shouldn’t have taken it out on the people who he loves and values

- “Y/N, how I was acting was incredibly inappropriate and- is that my moisturizer? How did you get it?”

-Starts freaking out as this was impossible as it was on it’s way from being shipped from another country

-This was the last straw for him ther was no justification for this that wasn't done by some form of magic

-He takes you to his room to make you sit down and give him an explanation for this

-Once you finished, Vil understood but was still freaked out

-He cares alot about keeping your powers a secret and will cover for you

-"So my aport powers need to exchange something of equal value so... I exchanged it with that Scucci purse over there-

-"MY LIMITED EDITION SCUCCI PURSE?!"

-He loves you, but you're dead to him, Y/N dear

Idia:

-Before he knew you, he didn't really notice anything off with you

-A little quiet sure but he minded his own business, he had bigger things to focus on

-Until you hung around Ignihyde more often for a project, fixing a huge generator by yourself for one of your partners for a project

-They took a break only after you told them that they could and apprehensive went to go get food and water

-Anyone with eyes could see that there's an overbearing amount of energy flowing through the fairly large sized cube

-Wait, you were wearing no gloves, you could get electrocuted! Why would have your bare hands on something like that?!

-Just as he was able to yell, it was too late, your whole body was flowing with the bright blue energy... and then you let go

-You were walking completely fine, you went and held a random wire on the ground, placing the electricity inside

-The static from your hair was gone, and you looked completely normal. . .

-Just what the hell are you?

-He did hours of research trying to figure you out, even sending Ortho to monitor you

-Yet there was nothing, you were just a “regular teen” 

-Was ready to get S.T.Y.X.S on your ass- (is that too soon to joke abt my bad overblot boys-)

-Until one day he caught you again bending electricity to your will

-Is incredibly impressed with your power (lowkey wanting to experiment on you)

-After he realizes that you can read minds Idia is so damn frightened

- “O-Okay I promise not to say anything, just don’t tell anyone what I’m thinking a-alright?!”

Malleus:

-You were one of the only people who he trusted

-Malleus had always detected some form of magical aura that was otherworldly from you and it never seemed to fade

-And it wasn’t often, but it was almost like you knew what he was thinking

-Whenever he was deeply upset he felt a twinge of energy from you, and then you would insist and help him out with his problems

-And he flat out says “Are you reading my mind, Y/N?”

-You had never been directly outed like this before, you felt horrible 

-You never read people’s minds unless it was very necessary

-whenever Malleus felt deeply gloomy you felt like it was important to just read his mind and help him with the problem

-You explained it to him and apologized, but he wasn’t upset

-In fact, he was smiling?

- “It seems like we have alot of things that we’re hiding from each other. But... you always had the best intentions whenever you used your abilities”

-He let out a sigh and reluctantly admitted, “And, I know that I’m quite stubborn with revealing my feelings.” 

- “I will keep your secret as long as you keep mine, Child of Man,” the dragon fae said, you both shaking on it

- “I always had a feeling that you were special, but I never thought it would be something of this caliber...”