#she has this really dark power and is so revered and shit but she’s just like guys what if we were all friends :( | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

livums · 2 years ago

Note

Happy STS (or answer whenever if ya want), Liv! For any WIP, talk about piece of lore you’ve been waiting for an excuse to share. And whether will it be mentioned in the story or not. Sending good ☆☆ vibes ☆☆ and good luck to you. - ✨️ (@enchanted-lightning-aes)

Hi Enchant! ty for the disclaimer bc idr the last time i got to an ask the day it was sent to me lmao... such is life.

I'm Demigodsposting again.... lol.

in this post i talk through the fantasy sexism. so now people can actually tell me if this sounds like regular fantasy sexism (which I dislike). or if it's worse, I guess,

so cw misogyny, fantasy sexism + gender essentialism

i wanna talk about the Church of the Sonnelic Host--the so-called "New Faith" (they don't like being called that, because they're not really new at all. lol).

Anyways what I'm about to ramble about is a very important piece of lore in the story itself so hopefully talking through it will solidify it in my shit memory!

For the Sonnelic faithful, the god-of-gods is the Sun. I have been saying that he's like their Zeus. which is such a cheap comparison but also it's so easy and actually kind of real. lol.

the Sun is one of many Stars that exist within the grand assembly that is the Host. As far as His earthly worshipers are concerned, He's the Best and Mightiest and most revered out of all of em!

He is the model for ideal masculinity in the Sonnelic faith. More on that later maybe.

He has three Consorts! The Star, the Moon, and the Earth.

The Star is, astronomically, the closest stellar neighbor to the Sun*. Metaphysically, she is nearly his equal in might. His tie to her is a boon to his influence among the rest of the gods of the Host. The Moon is the moon! She is treasured by the Sun for her enviable beauty. That she is tied to him makes him enviable too! The Earth is, in the eyes of the Host, strikingly unique in that it can harbor life! Like, complex life. Like people! But, certainly, it was not always habitable. The Sonnelic faith holds that, had the Earth not been "tamed" by the Sun, it would become inhospitable to life (human life, most importantly). So it is believed that the only thing preventing the Earth from actively trying harder to kill people is the unrelenting force of the Sun. thanks man.

The Moon and the Earth (and beings like them that exist elsewhere in the Host) are far more susceptible to the cold and empty darkness that we would call space. Proximity to more powerful beings like the Sun and the Star prolongs their existence and staves off... what is essentially entropy, I guess.

*bearing in mind that this Sun is not necessarily... our real-world sun.

So yeah! That's the, I guess, cosmology of the Sonnelic faith! It doesn't map perfectly onto the astronomy we know, and it's not really supposed to, so, lol.

So the faith holds that once upon a time, the Sun came down to the surface of the Earth from the Stellar Stratum in the guise of a human so that he might enlighten man as to their Place in things, the nature of the universe, blah blah blah. One man served as the First Hierophant, and was largely responsible for establishing the Sonnelic faith as an organized religion.

At this point in history, mankind had been, depending on who you ask, terrified of and beholden to the Fae. They continue to be the only source of magic in the world--this tempts man to bargain with the creatures. And Fae are notoriously capricious, spiteful, and easily-offended. at least from the perspective of man. While Fae can just as easily be benign and reclusive creatures, many people know of at least one town across the river or so who fucked up and had their fields decimated or their livestock disappeared or their homes burned by a Fae bargain gone awry. It was a scary time!

Most can agree now, though, that whatever the dynamic was between man and Fae--it was not man who was in control.

Enter the Sun.

The inception of the Sonnelic faith came as a lifeline to many humans who were, like, chronically scared. The Sun sought to instill in man the following:

Safety can be ensured by establishing a cultural order (in this case, the establishment of the organized Sonnelic faith). The Earth, as His tamed consort, is His gift to man--it is not right that they should live in fear of it. By extension, it was not right that they should be in fear of the Fae, either. The Fae, according to the Sonnelic faith, are a resource that can be tapped and utilized as man sees fit. Like fertile ground, or fresh water, or wood from the trees.

The first independently-magic weapons are becoming more and more popular--they are said to pulse with Fae blood.

Culturally, the Sun and His Consorts have a major influence on the ways that many of the people of Brennenhaugh approach intimate relationships, particularly marriage prospects.

Men are ideally modeled after the Sun Himself. While Brennenhaugh is still largely a monogamous culture, the people have integrated the idea that a desirable man is one who could, in theory, physically protect however many women he's got. Not from entropy this time, but from like, physical threats most iconically.

The purpose of a woman in a relationship is to embody desirable qualities in such a way that reflects well on her man, to whose status she is ultimately tethered. She can accomplish this in one or more of a few ways:

Physical power. A woman who displays great physical might is highly desirable. However, according to the faith, she should never be stronger than her man is. If a woman can reliably best a man in a fight or other chosen demonstration of physical prowess, he is considered too weak to marry her, and she becomes available for a stronger man. Beauty. So beauty standards are a whole thing but, aside from that, there are a few aspects that comprise this concept of desirable female beauty that have nothing to do with one's natural features at all--a "beautiful" woman is one who is generally quiet (possibly to the point of aloofness), demure, and who demonstrates a degree of... i guess the word is 'neediness'? Asking a man for help with anything is a bit of a loaded gesture in Sonnelic culture. This last one is much more niche--but girls raised in the Sonnelic faith who demonstrate an unwillingness to abide by its strictures are also, kind of strangely, prized within the faith. They serve a different role--in the eyes of the faith, it is not unnatural for girls and young women to have a phase of rebellion and disregard for convention. Young men of the faith are invested in pursuing such women, because successfully taming one in marriage is seen as one of the greatest accomplishments a man can achieve.

So there's a lot of queerphobia that gets wrapped up in this as well, but I don't really feel like talking abt that right now and this post is truly so long. lol. In short, the Sonnelic Church considers a lot of things that deviate from its gender/relationship ideals to be "phases"--permissible, developmentally appropriate, but only for a time.

Ok and that's about it! That took so long for me to write LOL. I felt so silly writing down a lot of that shit but then I remind myself that the point of the story is women claiming agency so.... ok. ok!

Ty again for the ask! 💜💜💜

#writeblr #asks #amwriting #storytelling saturday #storyteller saturday #sts #{roses there are many}

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minefield-of-a-ninja · 2 years ago

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Summary: He’s been alive for more than a hundred years. After everything he’s seen and done, what he really wants is to dream.

Characters: Soldier Boy/Benjamin Grace x multiple readers/characters

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, dream sequences, bondage, dirty talk, name-calling, this will eventually get dark and each posted part will have its own warnings

Words in this chapter: 1,200

Author’s notes: Ben's full name is the product of too much research on my behalf (see end notes) and a dash of star-spangled fuckery. I also tweaked his dad's middle name, so I'm not writing fanfiction about a real-life steel tycoon. lollll

@deans-spinster-witch sent me a request. This is the result. There will be multiple parts to this story.

Thank you, @brrose-apothecary, for enduring my brain worms.

SUSPENSE

Benjamin Franklin Grace spent the first 25 years of his life failing to meet his father’s expectations. He was small for a boy, bad at math, and slow on the track. Ben grew into a tall, broad-shouldered young man with the face of an angel and a quick enough tongue to talk the boarding school dean’s wife into bed.

Eugene Victor Grace, who never let a day go by without telling his son he was a fucking disappointment, turned his back on him forever after he was expelled. Not even after Vought infused Ben with a serum to create a living, breathing superhero did Eugene accept his son.

Soldier Boy was the Strongest Man Alive, the hero of heroes, and the face of America. For 40 years, he was feared and revered, the Ace up Vought’s sleeve for every dirty deed, and no one feared him more than his own team.

He was ambushed and fed to the Ivans, where he became an experiment. He was poked and prodded and tested. They shoved a bomb inside him and turned him into BCL-RED because they couldn’t kill him.

Now, Colonel Mallory wants to dissect and redirect him for some greater purpose. At one time, he meant to care about politics and pomp and circumstance, but he never really did.

If Mallory can figure out how to manage it, more power to her, but he sure as shit doesn’t know how to control it, let alone wield it, and he doesn’t care. (Except for his kid. If he had a chance to put that sorry excuse for a hero to bed forever, he’d do it.)

He just wants to be free to eat and fuck, drink and snort, to smoke — whatever, whomever, whenever he wants, as often as he wants.

These days, the only thing he has to look forward to is sleeping because when he sleeps, he dreams, and when he dreams, he dreams of his ideal life.

He’s sprawled in the wood-carved chair his dad made when he was still a boy at home. Maybe his dreams remember the chair differently because he’s sure his dad didn’t make it for anything like this.

He watches as she tongues his tip, swirling around, then swallowing him down.

Her mouth is slick and scorching, dragging along every millimeter of his cock. He slides one hand into her bright blonde hair and grips her skull tight before thrusting. A deep grunt emits from her chest and throat, and he groans, massaging her scalp and brushing a thumb over her soft cheek.

“Good girl.”

Cerulean, wide and wet eyes flick up to meet his. Her full, pink lips are stretched tight, and her throat convulses around him. He cradles her jaw in one palm and the back of her head in his other, firmly gliding over her tongue and down her throat.

Her mouth feels like that first, warm dip in a hot bath. Every slide is fucking ecstasy, and he just keeps going, unhurried and steady. “You want my cum, sweet girl?”

She nods and blinks, moaning and sliding her hands up his thighs.

He grins, slipping his hand from her jaw into her hair to match the other. “Hold on, then, so I can fuck you good.”

He drops his head back to the chair and grips her tight, pulling her to her knees, then thrusts harder, faster, making her gag and drool.

“Fuck, yes, take it.”

She doesn’t whine, squirm, or tap out; she takes it just like he wants.

He rails into her, groaning and huffing air until he’s shouting out loud and twisting her hair in his fists.

When he comes, swearing to God, she’s choking and moaning.

“Motherfuck!” He sits up and pulls out of her mouth, still half hard.

She wipes the back of her hand across her mouth as he pulls her to her feet and into his lap to straddle him. He grips the back of her neck and dips his other hand between her legs.

“What a gorgeous fuckin’ mess you are.” He works the pads of his fingers over and around her slicked-up clit, and her eyes flutter closed as she settles into his rhythm. “Soakin’ wet for my cock.”

She nods and rolls her hips with a sigh, then turns her head to the side and kisses the inside of his wrist. ”I love your cock, Soldier Boy.”

He groans at her voice and slips two fingers up inside her, gripping her cunt in his hand and squeezing the heel of his palm against her swollen clit. He pulls her in for a kiss, swallowing her whine and sucking her lips between his.

“Now. Fuck my hand like the whore you are.”

He’s tightly bound to the creaking wood with a simple rope. He doesn’t even care that the chair and silk can’t hold him. If his brain gives him this kind of show, he’ll sit still for dental floss. He groans as the two exquisite women finger, lick, and suck each other.

Tinkerbell and the assassin surge together like a couple of juicy sex kittens. Shining righteousness and dark stealth mix the best of themselves with the other to make the perfect vision — lithe and trim, smooth and graceful. Watching them fuck is like witnessing a salacious ballet.

“She tastes so good. Sir.”

He tilts his head and smirks at the title. Annie January would never stoop to using a respectful moniker for him. His brain is a wild and wonderful place. He’s so hard it almost hurts — almost.

“Tell me about it, princess.”

Kimiko clutches the iron bars of the headboard in her fists and arches her back beautifully. She sighs as her counterpart rises to her knees between her wide-open legs, keeping one hand languidly toiling in the dark apex of Kimiko’s thighs.

Annie runs her fingers around her glistening lips to capture as much of her lover’s essence as possible.

“She’s sweet and salty.” She flicks her gaze to meet his with a vicious glint in her dark eyes. Her lids fall closed as she slides each finger between her glossy, pink lips, one by one, to suck them clean. “The perfect mix.”

He bites his lips and bucks his hips against nothing, no friction, no warmth.

Kimiko pushes herself up to sit and then kneels, facing Annie. She cups her jaw in her hands and takes Annie’s mouth with hers. They moan into each other, and he swallows thickly, twitching in the rigid chair.

He looks down at his lap to find that his cock is bound in a brilliant golden cage, connected to a set of chains that wrap the rest of his body with a humming current, undoubtedly under Starlight’s command.

When he looks up, they’re watching him and sneering.

“You knew this would happen.”

“Oh, fuck,” he moans, involuntarily thrusting and grinding. He’s painfully hard, harder than he ever could have imagined. His eyes roll back in his head.

“You love it, too.”

He opens his eyes, and they’re right in front of him. The heat from their skin and the smell of their cunts seeps into his bones. Annie grips his chin in her hand as she dips the other between her thighs before pushing her fingers between his lips.

“Good boy.”

NEXT PART: FEAR

End notes: A libertine is a person devoid of most moral principles, a sense of responsibility, or sexual restraints, which they see as unnecessary or undesirable, and is especially someone who ignores or even spurns accepted morals and forms of behaviour observed by the larger society. Libertinism is described as an extreme form of hedonism. Libertines put value on physical pleasures, meaning those experienced through the senses. As a philosophy, libertinism gained new-found adherents in the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries, particularly in France and Great Britain. Notable among these were John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester, and the Marquis de Sade.

Eugene Grace was the president of Bethlehem Steel Corporation (in Philadelphia) from 1916 to 1945 and chairman of the board from 1945 until his retirement in 1957.

Series Master List | The Boys Fic | My Master List

Please let me know what you think!

#flashfic 2023 #soldier boy smut

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mountainofgoats · 4 years ago

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Back in the Saddle

Midvale, a few weeks post-Phantom Zone. In an attempt to remaster the powers Kara spent months without, she and her two most important people make a road trip home to test her flight.

Or, I just want Kara to be able to fly for the joy of it the way Clark did in Man of Steel.

Read with “Flight” by Hans Zimmer playing. You won’t regret it.

/////

Lena knows the moment Kara emerges from the house up on the ridge. Alex’s eyes flick up, back down, then up again in quick succession. An entirely smug grin alights her face before she pointedly looks back down at her tablet.

“We’re going to have to have a talk about your affinity for making my sister new suits at some point, Luthor,” she says.

Lena feels her face heat up. “No idea what you mean.”

“Sure you don’t.”

Lena scoffs. “She needed a new one,” she hisses at the smirking elder Danvers. “The one she had was wrecked and there was no fixing it.”

“Agreed,” Alex allows, smile growing. “But this is what? The fourth one you’ve made for her?”

“One other! With upgrades!”

“Mmhmm.” Alex types a few more things into the tablet. Pulls out a USB and plugs it into the side. “Sure.”

Lena feels her face go hot. “What are you insinuating, Alex?”

Alex shrugs. “Not insinuating anything,” she says. She glances back up and smiles some more. “Just thinking you’re making a habit of making suits for Kara and I kind of appreciate it.”

At Lena’s questioning look, Alex elaborates. “Winn made her first one,” she says. “And yeah, it did the job, but it was-“ she waves her hand in a so-so gesture, wincing- “not the best. Prone to wardrobe malfunctions.”

Lena snorts. “Patriarchy.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Alex agrees with a playful two finger salute.

After a shared grin with Lena, her eyes travel back to where Kara must have made it down to the beach. “They’ve all protected her, the suits you’ve made,” Alex says. Her voice has gone quiet. Gone is the light teasing. She holds Lena’s eyes for a moment. “And I... can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

Lena’s eyes suddenly mist over, and her throat works against the lump that forms there.

Alex looks pointedly back down at her tablet, where she pulls up a video feed from one of the comm pieces resting on the boulder she’s made her impromptu HQ desk. She clears her throat. “I’ve never made sure you knew that. So. Now I’m telling you.”

Lena absolutely refuses to cry, but fuck if it doesn’t take a Herculean effort. She wrestles with the hot gratitude and affection boiling in her chest as Alex fiddles with the settings on the camera feed.

Alex glances up again, and her smile turns warm in a way Lena knows is reserved only for her sister. “Looking good, sis,” she calls. “Little weird without the cape, though.”

“Thanks! Lena made it!” Kara chirps from behind Lena. “Even has pockets! And yeah, I was going to ask you about that. Is there no cape, Lena?”

She barely dares to turn, but Alex is giving her one hell of a challenging look, and she’s still a Luthor.

And Luthors never back down from a challenge.

She turns her face just enough to look over her shoulder and immediately curses that particular Luthor trait.

Sure, she made the suit. But that in no way prepares her for what it looks like when it’s wrapped around Kara. The dark blue, almost black throws her golden hair, shimmering in the late sun, in sharp relief. The smooth material sweeps over the dips and curves of her shoulders and biceps, the dip in the high collar exposing slightly below the hollow of her throat. She approaches silently on the sand, the soft and supple deep maroon boots smooth and soundless. Lena had left the pants a little loose, a little more comfortable, but that did nothing to hide the muscle that bunches and releases rhythmically as Kara walks across the sand.

And she’s looking quizzically at Lena. Head slightly titled, blue eyes somehow even bluer against the darkness of her suit, the blue and red accents, and the reddish tint of the setting sun.

Lena rips her eyes away from the subtle dips in Kara’s abs and desperately wracks her brain to remember what question was asked of her.

“Cape, Lena?” Alex prompts with a shit eating grin.

“Right,” Lena coughs. She turns fully to meet Kara, hand already pointing to the belt slung diagonally across Kara’s chest. “I figured, since you’re not wanting to be in the limelight just yet, I should make it a bit more understated,” Lena explains. “Did you see the crest on your left shoulder?”

“Yeah,” Kara nods. “I like that it’s so small.”

“Press it.”

Kara’s eyes dance with curiosity, not leaving Lena’s, as she reaches up to press on the tiny S affixed to the dark brown leather.

At the press of Kara’s fingers, the nanites immediately begin to crawl across the suit, gathering and extending down her back and around her chest in a long, deep maroon cloak. Kara lets out a startled sound of delight, swishing the thick material and stroking at it with near reverence.

“More nanites?” Alex smirks.

Lena shrugs, tossing the elder Danvers a smirk of her own. “I mean, I do have an MO at this point. No sense in ditching it.”

“It’s great!” Kara exclaims. She swishes the cloak again, grinning happily. “I can put it away if I want! This would have saved me so many headaches years ago!”

She bounces over to Lena and wraps her up in a warm hug. “Thank you,” she says quietly. Only for Lena. “I love it.”

Lena squeezes her around the back, hands fisting in the material of the cloak, feeling herself flush with happiness. “I’m glad,” she whispers.

“That’s actually a pretty good idea, Lena,” Alex says as they break apart. She’s back at the tablet, tapping and looking over some sort of read out. “She was always complaining how the cape got in the way.”

Lena arches an eyebrow at Kara. “What about your cape tricks?”

Kara grimaces. “Much less useful than I was led to believe.”

Alex snorts. “Understatement of the century,” she mutters. “Okay,” she strides over to a Kara and gently fits a comm around her ear. “That has a GPS and camera built in. We’ll be able to see what you see, know where you are, monitor vitals-“

Kara makes a face. “Wait, if you can track me, couldn’t someone else?”

Lena shakes her head. “The crest has signals built in to interfere with radar. Any signal that’s not Alex’s will get scrambled to cloak you.”

Kara surges forward for another hug, and over her shoulder Lena sees Alex smile with an exasperated shake of her head.

“Always protecting,” she mutters.

“What, Alex?” Kara asks as she lets Lena go and takes a step back.

“Nothing,” Alex says. She inputs a few more commands on the tablet, then looks up at Kara. “So. You ready?”

Lena glances over to Kara for what she thinks will be a quick confirmation.

But in those brief seconds, Kara’s easy smile and eager brightness had darkened.

In the red glow of the sun, she stands with her face tilted upward. She gazes at the sky with unfiltered longing, but her hands are trembling. Her whole being quivers, wound tight like a spring, as if she wants nothing more than to hurl herself up to the clouds. But there’s a tightness in her eyes, something there that just... won’t let her. She just stands there, shaking, looking up with haunted eyes.

Alex reaches out, rests a hand on Kara’s forearm. “Hey,” she murmurs. “You don’t have to do anything crazy. Whatever you’re ready for is all you have to do. The rest will follow.”

Kara nods, but still she hesitates. “But what if- what happens if I can’t- I mean-“

“I caught you floating in your sleep two nights ago,” Lena says gently and Kara’s eyes - desperate, scared eyes - whip to hers. “You can do this. But only if you’re ready to. Okay?”

The near manic desperation in Kara’s eyes cools as they hold each other’s gaze. She squeezes Alex’s hand, takes a breath, and nods resolutely.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mutters, giving her shoulders a shake. “I’m good. I’m okay.”

Alex squeezes her arm, then lets go. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Kara has her eyes on the sky again, gives her shoulders one more fortifying shake. She flexes her hands, rubs them on her pants once. She glances over at Lena and seems to brighten at the reassuring smile Lena gives her.

“Okay,” she breathes. “Here goes nothing.”

She stills, closes her eyes. Breathes in deep, then lets it out slow.

She breathes once more, the tense lines of her face relaxing.

Silently, her feet leave the sand.

Alex reaches over for Lena’s arm and grasps it tightly.

Eyes still closed, Kara rises higher in the air, straight up. She turns in gentle circles as she ascends, up and above the ridge.

Alex is looking over the read-outs on the tablet, eyes darting back and forth with near frantic energy. “Looking good so far, Kara,” she says distractedly. “Vitals are good. You’re at a hundred feet now.”

“Feels good,” comes Kara’s voice through the comms. “I’m not even trying.”

Alex’s smile is so proud Lena wants to cry. “That’s good, kid. That’s so good. Two hundred feet now.”

Alex is still gripping Lena’s arm painfully tight, but she’s rocking up on her toes happily, shooting Lena fervent looks of pure joy.

“Knew you could do it, Kara,” Lena says into her own comms, taking Alex’s hand away from her arm but keeping ahold of it. She squeezes as tight as her own bubbling pride allows.

Kara’s finally in the air. She’s flying. It’s one more step closer to conquering the giant mountain they’ve been climbing since she got back.

“How high now, Alex? I’m not looking.”

Alex glances at the screen, then up towards where Kara is becoming a dark dot among the clouds. “A thousand feet. Still feeling good?”

“Yeah. Really good, actually.”

“Have you opened your eyes yet?” Alex’s voice is teasing.

“No. What if I’m suddenly afraid of heights?” Her voice is childishly whiny, drawing a chuckle out of Alex and Lena.

Lena glances down at the video feed from Kara’s earpiece and has to stop herself from gasping.

“Kara, I think you should open your eyes,” she says slightly breathlessly.

“I’m gonna fall if I do,” comes Kara’s tight reply.

Alex is also staring at the camera feed, watching as the view of the water recedes farther toward the bottom of the screen as Kara rises higher and higher. “Kara, you want to see it,” she says. “Trust us.”

Lena knows the exact moment Kara opens her eyes. There’s a tiny gasp through the comms, and the camera arrests in place. Locked on to the brilliance of the shimmering water, the watercolor of the clouds in the light of the setting sun.

For a moment, Kara hangs motionless in the air.

Alex is anxiously tightening and loosening her grip on Lena’s hand. Looking up to where Kara is barely a speck in the sky, back to the camera, then back up again.

“Kara?” she says, a small break in her voice. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” comes Kara’s breathless voice. “Yeah, no, I’m good.”

There’s another moment of silence, then “It’s breathtaking. I... I’d almost forgotten-“ her voice cracks, and she clears her throat -“How beautiful this planet is.”

Alex squeezes Lena’s hand so tight it hurts, and Lena brings her free hand to grip at Alex’s forearm.

Alex sniffles, swipes her eyes against her shoulder. “It has its moments,” she rasps.

For a few long moments, they three stay silent. Lena and Alex on the ground, clutching at hands and arms in barely restrained joy with the waves lapping nearby.

And Kara, so high they can’t even see her, hanging in midair. Silent save for her gentle, easy breathing and the wind whistling around her.

And then, so suddenly both Lena and Alex flinch, she huffs a breath.

“Wanna see how fast I can get around the world?”

Alex barks a laugh, exchanging a fond and relieved look with Lena. “Your record is what? Thirty four seconds?”

“I can beat that,” comes the cocky reply.

And god, she sounds so happy.

Alex scoffs. “If you say so.”

Lena pulls out her phone and sets up a stopwatch. “On my mark, then?” she says.

“Don’t break anything, Kara,” Alex warns, though there’s no bite in her voice.

“And don’t break that suit,” Lena chimes in.

Kara’s voice has a tiny edge of Supergirl - the first since the Phantom Zone - when she replies. “Nothing’s getting broken here except the sound barrier.”

A shiver shoots down Lena’s spine. She does her best to ignore why.

“In three, two, one-“ she taps her phone- “Go.”

BOOM!

The noise vibrates through Lena’s chest. High above, the sky seems to part for Kara as she rockets towards the sun, leaving a trail in her wake.

Lena and Alex crowd the screen, watching wide-eyed as the ocean zips by far below, clouds whipping past, the camera quivering with the breakneck speed.

“Oh my god,” Lena murmurs almost by accident.

On the screen, a dark line of land rapidly approaches on the horizon as Kara hurtles toward it.

“That’ll be Japan,” Alex mumbles. She checks the read-outs and nods to herself. “Vitals are still good. Heart rate’s a little elevated, but considering-“ she gestures to the screen with a wry smile.

Lena nods, barely holding back happy tears.

On screen, Kara slows just enough for the sound to come back. Air whistles through the comms, her breathing slightly labored, and she ducks her head to watch the cities blink far below.

She won’t break her record by slowing like this, but Lena doesn’t mention that. And neither does Alex. They just watch as Kara picks up speed again, camera angling strangely as she dives.

She shoots west, weaving in huge slalom turns. The camera angles and tilts as she looks across the water, across the trees and grasslands and mountains as she passes them. Cities and towns flash past like street lights on a highway.

On the screen, her GPS tracks her through the rest of Asia, across India and into Africa. It’s a far cry from the speed she’d shot off at, but she doesn’t seem to mind as she dips and rolls through the clouds, hand outstretched as if to catch the swirling vapors.

Once she reaches the distant coast, Kara dips so low her hand reaches out to skim the water. She sails over the waves, fingers dragging, until she finds a pod of dolphins playing in the white water. For a moment, she flies just above the waves with them as they leap and dance.

The camera jerks toward the sky, and Kara gives a loud, delighted whoop as she shoots upwards. Spinning and spinning so fast the camera is blurring with the speed.

And through it all, Kara is laughing. Huge, joyous belly laughs, arms outstretched and head thrown back as she sails back into the clouds.

At 40,000 feet, she slows her ascent. Like a ball tossed in the air, she hovers at a stop for a split second before she starts to plummet. She turns, belly down and arms outstretched as the ocean rushes to meet her.

Still laughing with outrageous joy.

“God I missed that,” Alex murmurs. Her voice quivers and breaks.

Lena doesn’t take her eyes away from the screen. She doesn’t want to miss a single moment of this. But she does give Alex’s hand a squeeze in agreement.

Because hearing that laugh, being here and watching as Kara rolls and dives through the air, is healing pieces of Lena’s heart that she didn’t think would ever even scab over.

Kara’s joy is infectious, like it had always been. And Lena finds that she’s soaking it in like a woman parched.

On screen, Kara shoots off with another mighty BOOM. Her GPS shows her hurtling across the US at breakneck speed.

“Not even close to her record,” Alex laughs wetly. “Guess we’ll have to try again later.”

Lena swipes her hand under her eyes with a chuckle, catching tears that neither of them really acknowledge.

And seconds later, Kara lands with a muffled thump. Sand flies under her feet, and the ground trembles.

But her face is flushed, smile radiant, eyes glistening with tears.

Alex takes a step toward her, but pauses. “You okay?”

Kara gives a sobbing laugh, gestures helplessly with her hands. But her smile is wondrous.

Alex surges forward and wraps her in a tight hug. Kara clutches back, hands buried in her sister’s jacket and face pressed against her shoulder.

After a moment, one hand reaches out, fingers wiggling invitingly.

Lena takes that hand in both of hers and holds on tight. Over Alex’s shoulder, Kara’s eyes crinkle with her smile, sparkling and overwhelmed. She squeezes Lena’s hand, then tucks her eyes against her sister’s shoulder with a huge breath.

In a way, Lena feels as if they’re all breathing that same breath of relief.

“I wanna go again.” Kara’s voice is muffled adorably against Alex’s jacket.

Alex chuckles and rocks Kara back and forth happily. “We can stay out here as long as you want.”

Kara nods. “’Kay,” she says. But she holds on to Alex tighter, fingers digging into her jacket. “But in a minute, okay?”

Alex nods. Presses a kiss to the side of Kara’s head. “In a minute.”

And that seems to suit all three of them just fine. No one’s quite ready to let go yet.

/////

I'm a sucker for the angst just as much as the next nerd but I needed them to just... be happy and together. Just for a moment.

#let them be happy for a minute #let kara fly for the joy of it for once #lena's thirsty #and alex is smug about it #everyone gets a hug #I wrote dis #supergirl #danvers sisters #kara danvers #alex danvers #lena luthor

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mermaidsirennikita · 2 years ago

Text

Caro's Immortals After Dark Cheat Sheet

Listen. I went through a thing this year. I read every single Immortals After Dark book, basically one after the other--and I haven't been the same since. This series has it all--vampires, werewolves, witches, royal politics, fated bonds, that time Lothaire mailed his heart to Ellie and she went "oh fuck that guy", a sorority house full of immortal warriors. It's probably my favorite romance novel series.

Which is impressive! Because there are many books! I recommend reading these in order, but I know that's just not possible for everyone, and some books have triggers that will make them... just not work for all readers.

With that in mind, I've made a cheat sheet regarding the lore of... the Lore, as well as each book, its hook, its tropes, and the triggers (that I remember--please double check on sites like Storygraph if you have something that's a real issue for you to read about). I've also included the books that, in my opinion, should really be read before each book, if necessary. Some people read these totally out of order as standalones. I couldn't do that, but I do think there are a few you could read in groups, potentially.

I also break down the people you really need to know about, as well as the general mythos so that you can ideally have an easier time jumping into a book if you so please.

These are paranormal romances--most of them are fairly high heat for traditionally published romance especially, and they are fairly violent. I.... have never had more fun reading a series.

Anyway, shit is bolded if you wanna scan because there is a lot of info in this guy. I'll probably make a separate post ranking them at some point.

Happy reading!

This series functions within the world of the Lore, where immortals fight each other and work within their factions for power, while remaining secreted away from human notice.

There is currently a major event crossing the whole series, called the Accession. Every 500 years, the immortals fight each other to essentially weed out their numbers. During this time, wacky events often occur, and immortals are more likely to find their fated mates.

Several types of immortals are more likely to find "fated mates" due to their mythologies.

Werewolves (Lykae): The Lykae are exceptionally earthy, and love food, sex, and family. They have an Instinct that guides them, and they struggle to contain their beasts during points of high emotion. The Lykae revere "matehood" above all else--it's basically their religion, and they live what they view as half-lives until they find their mates, who they recognize immediately based off scent. Once a Lykae finds their mate, they must mark them, which usually occurs during the first full moon after that initial recognition. Lykae MUST transform and "let the beast out of its cage" every full moon, so this usually involves a primal chase and animalistic sex outside, during which they bite their mate, leaving a mark that is invisible to all others but immediately recognizable to all other Lykae. The Lykae can only have children with their mate. Another fun and cool thing about Lykae is that they revere matehood so much that if you are like, a Lykae's sister-in-law, he will fucking DIE to keep you alive. Why? Because if a Lykae's mate dies, he just goes fucking crazy and will, unless locked in a dungeon or some shit, kill himself ASAP.

Vampires: Vampires are either born or turned. Either way, once their heart stops (which occurs at maturity for born vampires), they lose all sexual function and desire. Until they recognize their Bride (though to be clear, the Bride does not have to be female--nor does a Lykae's mate). The vampire is then Blooded, which means that their heart starts beating again, their dick starts working, and they are much more powerful. A vampire is not obligated to stay loyal to his Bride the way a Lykae is obligated to stay loyal to his mate, but it's hard to.... resist the pull. Also, a vampire MUST get off for the first time after being Blooded while having skin to skin contact with his Bride. Otherwise, he just stays in a state of sexual frustration and can't get off by himself or with anyone else. Vampires can breed, but vampire women must eat food of the earth in order to be fertile.

Demons: Demons are INTERESTING because they have horns (and sometimes wings, depending on the breed) that act as sexual organs...? Horns straighten due to aggression or arousal, they get swollen, you can use them to... steer the demon.... to where... he should go... But also, demons have fated mates!!!! Unlike vampires, they can fuck before they find their mates, but here's the trick--the orgasm is dry. The demon has a DEMON SEAL. The demon seal can only be broken when the demon is inside his fated mate. At that point, he can ejaculate, which is way more fun for him, and after that he can theoretically come inside and impregnate anyone else. Most demons stay with their mates, and they do have claiming bites, similar to the Lykae. Their bites involve a stunning sensation because demons are usually kinda.... weird... during sex, so you'll get your little bite and then just like. Come and be a bit out of sorts. While the demon is demonic. Fun!!!

Valkyries: Valkyries do not have fated mates, but I'm including them because there are like... a lot of valkyrie heroines in this series. Valkyries have three parents--their moms are warrior maidens who give a mighty battle cry when they die, and Odin and Freya take them up to Valhalla where they promptly put a valkyrie daughter in them. The valkyries are therefore all sisters. They tend to be fun, warlike broads who live in sorority-esque houses and give piercing shrieks that shatter glass. Their weaknesses are basically like... getting distracted by shiny stuff. And sometimes--big dick energy. Has felled many.

Other species include everything from succubi, the fey, phantoms, and more--but you'll most often see a werewolf, demon, or vampire (or a hybrid fo the sort) driving that "fated mate" shit.

Key Characters:

There is only one character, that, to my knowledge, has appeared in every book.

Nix the Ever Knowing: A 3,000+ year old valkyrie, the primordial valkyrie, who is probably steering the entire plot. She's a soothsayer who is incredibly bananas due to her inability to distinguish between the present, the past, and the future. She has been responsible for like... most of the pairings, and is incurring loyalty from various immortals along the way and fucking with alliances. She also is super hot and frequently wears t-shirts that she has custom made. A certain reality TV show host has a restraining order against her, but she got his number!!! Her solo book will probably be the last one. Nix has many sisters whom she lives with, because all valkyrie are girls and they all have two of the same parents (with three parents in total).

Lothaire: Not in every book, but a lot of them, especially up to his solo book (since then, he's been pretending to run a kingdom but mostly pile driving his wife). The Enemy of Old, 3,000+ year old vampire who is the "black king" to Nix's "white queen" on their weird chess board. Tends to set up other characters in horrible situations so that he can jump in and be like "oh, you need help??? Sign my ledger and owe me a blood debt and I'll save you". Is super insane, because like Nix, his concept of time is not great. Really into puzzles and not above being distracted by the right woman taking her top off.

The MacRieves: The ruling werewolf clan, led by Lachlain, King of the Lykae. Super sexy hot, very animal, have a fun Scottish stronghold and a fun Louisiana estate and a Canadian outpost...? Have been known to chase their women through the brush like "ALL I WANNA DO IS MAKE YOU COME IT'S MY PURPOOOOOOOOSE....!"

The Wroth Brothers: Nikolai (the leader!), Sebastian, (the smart one!), Murdoch (the slutty one!), Conrad (the crazy one!). Estonian warlord types. When Nikolai was dying on the battlefield he got an offer from a hot vampire (Kristoff, sexy Not-Evil? Vampire King) to become a similarly hot vampire in exchange for doing battle, and he was like "oh word let's go please also turn my similarly dying brother Murdoch" and he and Murdoch went home to find that most of their family had been slaughtered so they were like "hey Sebastian and Conrad please become vampires" and Sebastian and Conrad went "no" and Nikolai went "well that actually wasn't an offer it was a command" and Sebastian fled to his geek castle and Conrad ran off to be crazy in the woods so now the family is..... struggling.

The Woede: Rydstrom was the king of a demon plane and lost his crown to an ultimate evil and blamed it on his brother Cade, who was missing in action in part because he'd been fostered out BY RYDSTROM'S COMMAND LOL. For centuries since, Rydstrom (the responsible daddy one) and Cade (the sexy hitman one) have been trying to liberate their kingdom, and show up to bicker and hash out shit that should probably be reserved for family therapy.

The Dacians: Ssssh these are super secret vampires who live in the mist and can't find a king so Lothaire is hoping that he can just. Become that.

The Horde: Wacky red-eyed vampires who drink from the flesh and go craaaaazy because when you do that, you often take the person's memories. Whoops!

The Forbearers: Wacky clear-eyed vampires who do drink blood, but not from the flesh, which makes them less crazy. Led by Kristoff the Gravewalker, aforementioned Sexy Vampire King, who has yet to get a book but he will once he finds his Bride, oops LOTHAIRE PUT HER IN THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN AND FORGOT WHERE SHE WAS. The Wroth brothers are Forbearers, except for Conrad because Mistakes Were Made. Sidebar: the Forbearer heroes have a tendency to be like "YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE!!!!" about drinking from the flesh once they find their fated Brides because like. A consensual vampire bite is super orgasmic, ya know? Even Kristoff was like "meeeeeh we can just like, let the married guys do that because I know I will be when I find Furie (AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA BECAUSE LOTHAIRE MISPLACED HER) amirite fellas???"

The Morior: They've been around for like... three books, so I still don't fully get them, but they're like the Avengers of the Lore, I think? But they mostly wanna decimate all my favorites, so it's hard for them. However, they do have sex appeal. Especially Rune, the dark fey who has poisonous blood.

Books, in order of release/chronology.

The Warlord Wants Forever. Nikolai Wroth (vampire) and Mysty the Vampire Layer Myst the Coveted (valkyrie) This is a prequel novella, and it is significantly shorter than the rest of the books. I will add! That some aspects of the series lore have not *quite* been hammered out in this one.

One Sentence Tease: Vampire warlord meets femme fatale valkyrie who leaves him with a magical boner for five years--and he ain't happy about it.

You Should Read Beforehand: Nothing, this comes first chronologically--but it is one of the Wroth Brothers books, along with No Rest for the Wicked, Dark Needs at Night's Edge, and Untouchable.

Tropes: Alpha Hero, Enemies to Lovers, more experienced heroine with less experienced hero (he does get insecure about it), much femme fatale activity, EXTREME orgasm denial, a good kidnapping, fucking outdoors and then your sisters walk in while he's still inside you whoops, rough rough sex

TW: The most non-consensual this series gets in a very magical way. Myst must wear a magical chain the gods cursed her with; whoever holds this chain may control her, but nobody has been able to take this chain off her prior to Nikolai; Nikolai grabs the chain and tells her to stop without realizing what it does; he realizes what it does and immediately makes tells her to come. He does not force her to have sex with him, but he does.... get the party started... with the chain. To be very fair, in context........ he has his reasons.

2. A Hunger Like No Other. Lachlain MacRieve (lykae) and Emmaline Troy (vampire/valkrie hybrid).

One Sentence Tease: The one where he cuts off his own leg to escape his eternal prison after catching A SINGLE WHIFF OF HER.

You Should Read Beforehand: Nothing, really, but Nikolai and Myst do make an appearance post-Warlord. This book is a MacRieve book, obviously.

Tropes: Alpha Hero (none of these... are not that, some are just more than others), A Good Kidnapping, Submissive Heroine Discovers Inner Strength, Growly Mean Man Becomes Her Puppy, Virginal Heroine, Primal Chase, lots of extremely wolfy behavior (Lachlain is one of the most animalistic werewolf heroes in the series), Enemies to Lovers, Werewolf/Vampire Hatred Shenanigans, Big Guy/Teeny Fragile Girl,

TW: Lots of dubcon, Lachlain basically snatches Emma out of nowhere and takes her to a hotel shower and makes her jack him off in exchange for a call to her family within the first few chapters. To be very fair, she is inwardly pretty into it. He also later tries to get her drunk through... creative means, in order to make her deflowering less... jarring. Because werewolves.

3. No Rest for the Wicked. Sebastian Wroth (vampire) and Kaderin the Cold-Hearted (valkyrie).

One Sentence Tease: The hot vampire nerd guy enters a magical Amazing Race to win local emotionless badass--complications ensue.

You Should Read Beforehand: Nothing, though some Wroth bros backstory is told in Warlord. A Wroth Brothers book.

Tropes: Inexperience Hero/Experienced Heroine, Nerdy Hero, Heartless Heroine, Amazing Race But Make It Magic, Very Embarrassed By Impromptu Sexual Encounters with the Nerdy Vampire, Mile High Club, Secret Death Sentence, Refusal to Admit Fucking Emotions, Jealousy

TW: I mean, Sebastian does sort of non-consensually bite Kaderin in a club, but it is.... very hot.

4. Wicked Deeds on a Winter's Night. Bowen MacRieve (lykae) and Mariketa the Awaited (witch).

One Sentence Tease: A werewolf who's spent centuries trying to resurrect his dead mate is hit with unexpected lust for an all-powerful cheerleading witch.

You Should Read Beforehand: You don't have to read A Hunger Like No Other first, but you do get some Bowen backstory in that, plus the setup for his part in the plot.

Tropes: Widower Hero, Enemies to Lovers, Party Girl/Cheerleader Heroine, a lot of age gap emphasis (he's like 900, she's 23 and hasn't hit her immortality yet), some aphrodisiac shenanigans (immortals get super horny when transitioning into immortality... Mariketa is right in the middle of all that), MUCH FUCKBOY, Primal Chase, Light Magical Bondage, How Can I Compete With A Ghost, LOTS of Witchy Vibes,

TW: I mean, Bowen does in fact kill like five billion people and chase Mariketa through a jungle covered in gore being like "LISTEN IT'S THE FULL MOON WE MIGHT AS WELL ACCEPT IT AND GET IT ON" but that's standard issue werewolfitude.

5. Dark Needs at Night's Edge. Conrad Wroth (vampire) and Neomi Laress (ghost).

One Sentence Tease: Bloodlust-maddened virgin vampire falls in love with a fabulous hot ghost who likes to flash him her panties (as she should).

I Should Read Beforehand: You can read Warlord and No Rest beforehand, but it's not necessary. All of the Wroth brothers appear in this book, as do Myst and Kaderin, briefly.

Tropes: Virgin Hero/Experienced Heroine, CRAAAAAAAAZY hero, former sex worker heroine who isn't ashamed, dirty talk dirty talk dirty talk dirty talk, extreme devotion, everyone thinks he's hallucinating her at one point, just achingly romantic star-crossed lovers vibes because they can't touch

TW: I mean, Neomi is literally murdered by her abusive fiancee in the beginning. She's stabbed, it's quick. Otherwise, standard issue gore. Neomi and Conrad have a pretty consensual relationship, aside from her watching him shower a lot. As you would if you were a horny ghost.

6. Dark Desires After Dusk. Cadeon Woede (demon) and Holly Ashwin (valkyrie/human hybrid).

One Sentence Tease: A roadtrip romance between a sexy math professor who's doomed to carry the Dark Messiah and the mercenary demon guy determined to betray her.

I Should Read Beforehand: The Woede bros make some fairly significant appearances in Wicked Deeds and Dark Needs, but you could hack it without. A lot of Dark Needs plot points are mentioned in this one, because uh, Cade fucked up.

Tropes: Virgin Heroine/Slutty Hero, Trickery and Lies throughout, Nerdy Heroine, Roadtrip Romance, ~Let Your Hair Down And Live A Little Babe~, FWB, some pretty heavy breeding vibes due to Holly's role in the Accession

TW: Cade does lie to Holly for basically this entire book. I don't care, but a head's up. Holly is kidnapped by a demonic cult in the beginning that plans to rape and impregnate her--she stops them before anything happens. Lots of people are trying to get at Holly's womb in this one, and there is in fact a pregnancy.

7. Untouchable. Murdoch Wroth (vampire) Daniella the Ice Maiden (valkyrie). Technically a novella, but it's like... 300+ pages.

One Sentence Tease: Like, if Elsa fell in love with a hot vampire who can't touch her but CAN utilize an icicle in... interesting ways.

I Should Read Beforehand: All the Wroth brothers books, because this is the culmination of their familial arc and overlaps with them. So, The Warlord Wants Forever, No Rest for the Wicked, and Dark Needs at Night's Edge.

Tropes: Slutty Hero/Virgin Heroine, Frozen But with Porn, "Come with Me to My Siberian Palace", They Can't Touch But They Can Use an Icicle Dildo, So Much Sexual Frustration It's Actually Insane

TW: I mean, I guess Murdoch is a bit aggressive with her at points, but nothing big.

8. Kiss of a Demon King. Rydstrom Woede (demon) and Sabine (sorceress).

One Sentence Summary: Morally upright (?) demon king enters the ultimate edging contest with an evil sorceress and discovers that oh, he sure is a dom.

I Should Read Beforehand: Definitely read Dark Desires After Dusk beforehand. There's backstory, there's overlapping timelines, you see the same scene from a different perspective... it's a lot.

Tropes: Dom/sub shenanigans, edging, enemies to lovers, virgin heroine but she gave a lot of head in her day, villainess heroine/"good" hero, gentleman in the streets FREAK in the sheets, Don't Take The Girl dot Mp3 vibes, A Good Kidnapping, lots of restraints

TW: Oh, where to begin. Sabine kidnaps Rydstrom to seduce him and conceive his heir, chains him to a bed, continuously edges him to try to get him to agree to marry her and sire a legitimate heir. At one point she's pissed at him and has a bunch of servants bathe him just to fuck with his head.... Rydstrom subsequently vows to "get parity", which means he's gonna do every single thing right back at her. Also, Sabine and her sister are being held captive by their evil brother who lusts after Sabine, and Sabine has died a million times in the past, some of which is graphically described.

9. Pleasure of a Dark Prince. Garreth MacRieve (lykae) and Lucia the Huntress (valkyrie).

One Sentence Summary: Warrior woman who's taken a vow of chastity plays a game of cat and mouse with the werewolf determined to have her.

You Should Read First: A Hunger Like No Other. Garreth is Lachlain's brother, and the first chunk of this book directly overlaps with the latter part of Hunger's plot.

Tropes: Himbo(ish) hero, Alpha Hero, Vow of Chastity, Primal Chase (this is a chase heavy book), extreme devotion, roadtrip romance, Romancing the Stone/Indiana Jones vibes heavy, recovery after abuse

TW: Lucia was raped in the past by a different character and is recovering from this trauma. Garreth is very patient and gentle with her once he realizes that she needs some TLC. I mean, he still does chase her on the full moon and fuck her on a stone altar, but it is EXTREMELY hot. Lothaire shows up to steal someone's finger. This is not the last time he will carry someone's finger around.

10. Demon from the Dark. Malkolm Slaine (vampire/demon hybrid) and Carrow the Incarcerated (witch).

One Sentence Tease: Local partygirl witch sets out to deceive a seemingly-barbaric demon warrior, discovers he's actually incredibly sweet.

You Should Read First: You can pretty much read this one alone.

Tropes: Virgin Hero/Partygirl Heroine, Single Parent Heroine (adopted child), Jane/Tarzan, Language Barrier, Lots of Sensual Bathing, My Fair Lady But He's A Demon, The Father Who Stepped Up, I'm Lying To Your Fragile Heart the Whole Time, Vampire Boob Biting, Here Have the Heads of Your Enemies

TW: Malkolm Slaine was a sex slave as a child. This is not shown graphically, but it's discussed and it's a huge part of his trauma, obviously. He's pretty sexually aggressive to Carrow at first, but it's kind of more of a cultural lack of understanding/instinct issue. Malkolm is tortured largely off-page, the torture of other characters is discussed.

11. Dreams of a Dark Warrior. Declan Chase (reincarnated berserker) and Regin the Radiant (valkyrie).

One Sentence Tease: Flippant warrior discovers that the man who took her virginity has been reincarnated as her mortal enemy.

You Should Read First: You don't have to read anything first, but Pleasure of A Dark Prince has some backstory for Regin via Lucia, her closest sister. Some of scenes in Demon from the Dark overlap here; in particular, you figure out why they said Declan Chase was being punished for "putting his hand in the cookie jar", and uh. He sure did that.

Tropes: Reincarnation Romance, Villain Hero, Grovel Grovel, Addict Hero, Spunky Heroine, Inexperienced Hero/Experienced Heroine (in this life), You Really Fucking Fucked Up Man, Sensual Bathing, Dirty Talk, Sex Outdoors

TW: LOL WELL. In Aidan's original lifetime, he meets Regin when she is 12 and he is 30 and knows her father, the god Woden, has bestowed her to him. He doesn't plan on doing shit until she's well over 18, and she does depart pretty quickly, but that happens. Their first time (10+ years later) is very "no no yes". Declan Chase, the current iteration, is a heroin addict who tortures immortal creatures for a living and has been brainwashed to hate them. The heroine is in fact vivisected (not by him, under his nose, while he's been drugged) while fully conscious. Lothaire gets tortured but he super doesn't care. This one is pretty violent and intense, but an incredibly daring romance novel if you can get through it, imo.

12. Lothaire. Lothaire Daciano (vampire) and Ellie Peirce (human).

One Sentence Tease: The worst guy you know gets repeatedly emotionally kicked in the balls by a girl who ends up being way more than he bargained for.

You Should Read First: Lothaire does appear in almost every book prior to this one, and I will admit that the buildup makes the book better. Dreams of a Dark Warrior seems especially important to read before this one, though, as you get his POV and the events from that book do directly affect the events of this one.

Tropes: Villain Hero/Virgin Heroine, CrAZY Hero, Defiant Heroine, Enemies to Lovers, Morality Chain, How Do We Fuck Without You Popping Like A Grape, Mistaken Identity Issues, That "A Villain Will Burn Down the World For One More Kiss" Shit, Bloodplay Bloodplay Bloodplay, Blood BJ -> Blood 69, Drink Her Virgin's Blood, Blood Kiss, Wanna Lose Your Virginity On My Nice Couch?, A Good Kidnapping, He's Her Bitch Your Honor, Transformation, Grovel Grovel

TW: LMAO. Lothaire is a fucking dick and the book isn't shy about it. He kidnaps Ellie and plans to rip her soul from her body for like a lot of this book. He constantly mocks her hillbilly origins. Ellie takes it and dishes it back. This is a book about two people who are essentially trying to mastermind.mp3 each other, and a weird demonic goddess inhabiting the body of one of them being like "can you please stop coming on her while I'm sleeping" (he cannot). As a side note, Lothaire has a very traumatic childhood and his father does kill his puppy on the page. It's implied that his mother was raped. Lothaire beheads like five billion people in this book, I don't even know. His "mischievous youth" of skullfucking is mentioned.

13. Shadow's Claim. Trehan Daciano (vampire) and Bettina (demon/sorceress hybrid).

One Sentence Tease: Badass vampire assassin guy enters into a tournament for the hand of a princess, discovers that he should've checked her Amazon Wish List before giving her a bag of severed heads as a token of his affection.

You Should Read First: The plot of Lothaire does basically happen in the background of this book. I'd recommend reading it first.

Tropes: Mercenary Prince/Princess Classic, A Battle Royale for Her Hand, Cold Hero Goes Crazy For Her, Assassin Hero, Mild Love Triangle But Only In Her Head, Virgin Heroine, Mild Bloodplay, Public Fingerbanging, Orgasm Denial, Here Have the Heads of Your Enemies, "I Thought Sex Was Lame But Then I Had It And Actually It Rocks", Sad Masturbation

TW: Bettina is brutally beaten by a gang of evil angels in the beginning of the book. Trehan and Bettina's first encounter is like... a mutual confusion situation. No one was at fault, but still. Lots of violence and gore in this one because fight to the death and all.

14. MacRieve. Uilleam "Will" MacRieve (lykae) and Chloe Webb (human--OR IS SHE).

One Sentence Tease: Incredibly traumatized werewolf guy falls for the daughter of the man who tortured him, and that's BEFORE shit gets hard for them.

You Should Read First: Probably Dreams of a Dark Warrior, if thoust dare.

Tropes: Trauma Rama, Promiscuous Hero/Virgin Heroine, Everything Was Great Until We Found That Thing Out, Asshole Hero (but like... there are reasons), Alpha Hero, Defiant Heroine, Emotional Growth to the Max, Fucking Versus Making Loooove, CHAIN THE BEAST TO LIVE!!!!, And He Has A Sexy Twin, "I Must Now Save Her Life Through Deep Eye Contact Emotional Missionary Sex",

TW: MacRieve (the character) has the most traumatic backstory of any IAD hero, imo. He was raped by a pedophile groomer from the ages of 9 to 13 and thought he was in love with her. This led to his family being pretty decimated, and he has never gotten over it emotionally. He does not know how to function normally as a werewolf and can only have detached, rough sex. He is suicidal at the beginning of the book due to Dreams of A Dark Warrior's events (he was vivisected and succubi attempted to sexually assault him). Once he finds a thing out about Chloe, he is extremely angry (it is not her fault) and is a super big dick to her for a while. Leads to amazing emotional growth, but it is! Difficult!

15. Dark Skye. Thronos Talos (vrekener--think demon/angel thing) and Melanthe (sorceress).

One Sentence Summary: God warrior guy spent five centuries tracking down his former childhood best friend turned enemy--now that he has her, can he convince her to have sex through this weird sheet thing?

You Should Read First: Kiss of a Demon King. Lanthe is Sabine's sister, and they have a shared backstory. Dreams of A Dark Warrior may also explain some things.

Tropes: Childhood Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Virgin Hero/Experienced Heroine, Hero is A God Warrior With Antiquated Ideas About Sex, Of Course He's Also Kinky, Hero Has WINGS!!!!, Let's Fuck Through My Weird Religious Sheet Thing, Aphrodisiac By Way of Sex Planet, Breeding Because She's In Heat and He Can Smell It, WHOOPS! Baby,

TW: Thronos slut shames Lanthe throughout the book until he learns a thing. Thronos is drugged by a bunch of nymphs who try to rape him (they fail).

16. Sweet Ruin. Rune Darklight (dark fey) and Josie (vampire--or IS SHE).

One Sentence Summary: 7,000 year old sex assassin has poisonous bodily fluids--when he meets a vampiress who can drink his blood, it is PARTY TIME, motherfuckers!!!!

You Should Read First: Pretty much nothing.

Tropes: Sex Assassin Hero/Badass Heroine, She Gets Under His Cold Unfeeling Skin, He's Poison to Everyone But Her, 7,000 Year Old Man Falls for Local Millennial, Illiterate Heroine, Hero Has Sexual Hangups, Trauma Rama, Roadtrip Romance

TW: Rune was a sex slave in the past; this discussed, but not in detail. It's implied that his stepmother desired him, though she doesn't do anything to him... directly. Rune fucks nymphs for information and this is a pretty big issue between him and Josie because he refuses to commit to monogamy.

17. Shadow's Seduction. Mirceo Daciano (vampire) and Caspion (demon).

One Sentence Tease: Bros (TM) discover that they are in fact fated mates, but one of them is a noted lothario and the other basically grew up in Demon West Virginia.

You Should Read First: Lothaire and Shadow's Claim.

Tropes: Bisexuals Everywhere, Internalized Homophobia, Friends to Lovers, Uptight Loves Wild, Bounty Hunter Boyfriends, Local Idiot Refuses to Admit He's In Love

TW: Some of the language around the sex is a bit dated, imo; Mirceo has had a lot of sex but has never bottomed before and this is seen as a form of virginity? Which, I guess, and I can't speak to its relevance to men who fuck men as a cis woman, but it was a bit odd to read because Mirceo has again, fucked SO many people. Cas has a some internalized homophobia based on his culture and the kingdom he hails from. Mirceo does not, as nobody in the Dacian Kingdom cares about that shit.

18. Wicked Abyss. Abyssian Infernis (demon) and Lila (fey).

One Sentence Tease: Beauty and the Beast, but make it demonic and a reincarnation revenge grudge match.

You Should Read First: Maybe Sweet Ruin, but it's not a must.

Tropes: Reincarnation Romance, Beauty and the Beast, Lies and Trickery, Virgin Heroine/Monster Hero, Monsterfucking to the max, YOU CAN STAY HERE AND STAAAAAARVE, Being Blamed For Shit Your Past Life Self Did, Traumatic Horn Amputation

TW: I mean, Sian is pretty mean to Lila based on shit that is entirely not her fault, but otherwise this one is pretty lowkey.

19. Munro. Munro MacRieve (lykae) and Kereny (human).

One Sentence Tease: Everyone's favorite dad friend finally found his fated mate, and boy is he making some bad choices!!!!

You Should Read First: Definitely most MacRieve books, but certainly MacRieve (title).

Tropes: Responsible Hero Loses His Motherfucking Mind, Experienced Hero/Virgin Heroine, Time Travel, Bringing Your Love Back from the Dead, Monster/Huntress, Cucking Her Husband, OOPS!baby, Transformation

TW: This one is the most recently published, and honestly it's the most PC in many ways. There is a fairly traumatic birth scene.

#romance novel blogging #immortals after dark #book recs #may go back and add in the it's always sunny murder board at some point #because........ my god @ me

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fire-mage-719 · 2 years ago

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oh i am wildly interested in any god-related story, esp doing crimes (^:< if you're comfortable sharing, could you tell me more info on your oc story??

Oh, absolutely!

It's one of my MANY oc stories, but this one is close to my heart for a few reasons.

This started off with one of my DnD characters whose campaign promptly died, and I decided I loved the little bastard too much to let him never see the light of day again. So, with some reworking, I incorporated him into my main story world.

His name is Hodr of The Dark, a dark elf rogue. His fucked up backstory TM is that he was abandoned as a kid and picked up by some Wood Elves who were traveling the continent. So, he grew up on the road with them, learning to be a selfless, nice, and respectful person. Eventually, they get to this destination that seems totally normal- and Hodr lives there in this big community with everyone else. Once he's old enough, him and the other kids about the same age learn that they are, in fact, in a torture cult! The Goddess of Selflessness, Others, and Protecting the Weak has a little-known cult that lives in the middle of nowhere, who has been trying to use a loophole in the Goddess' selflessness policy by taking the torture that is cult-ordained for someone else yourself. So, generally in pairs, they take the other person's torture, and get a little bit of power because they're taking the suffering of someone else. Hodr is paired up with his best friend at the time, and refuses to let her take his part of the torture. So he takes double torture, and because he's not following cult rules, gets put in the cult slammer for "crimes".

Now you might be thinking. Hey, this is a bit fucked up! Yes, it is. But it's the only way this all works out so hold on just a hot second.

Now, eventually, Hodr has been taking on WAY too many torture things over the years, and gets sick. So the cult pulls his friend out, and finally manages to get her cult-ordained torture in, just with a new partner. But funny thing: she doesn't actually get hurt at all. And neither does the other person. The cult figures out that she's meant to be the vessel for their Goddess of Selflessness- so she is to be revered and treated well. The only reason they never found out after all this time is because Hodr has been protecting her for so long. The cult manages to convince her that, hey, this is a good thing! You can actually join the cult proper now!

Since the main reason she didn't go through with the torture stuff was A) She was a crybaby about getting hurt and was very afraid of it B) Hodr said he would protect her, she was totally fine with this way of entering the cult proper without having to get hurt.

When Hodr wakes up he's reasonably pissed. And decides, fuck it, I'm getting out of this shithole.

But, for his best friend to ascend to the cult proper, they do need one final sacrifice in her name. And who better to do it than her best friend, who has been doing it this whole time for her anyways? So, they leave Hodr alone to heal for a few months, to prepare for the big ceremony. And, during the ceremony, he manages to get out of the grips of the cult members, light a lot of shit on fire, and run. Not without getting a nice bit of his face burnt and smashing his head into the floor, but besides those few injuries, he's doing ok. Ish.

While he's running away, it's raining hard as hell outside. He's hearing things all around him, and a voice in his head, and he thinks at this point, with everything that's happened, he's gone crazy. Reaching the edge of a cliff, he falls off to avoid getting captured by some cult members, and falls into the ocean.

I realize this is taking really long lol so I'll start to shorten it down.

But Hodr wakes up on the shore a long ways away, hungry as hell and tired as hell. The voice in his head is still talking to him, but at this point, he just thinks he's crazy due to all the torture stuff. Little does he know (or care) that the voice in his head is the God of Self- the twin and opposite God of the Goddess the cult worshipped. But at this point, after years of being tortured, and never getting any help, Hodr is completely atheist and just thinks that his inner voice has an ego.

He starts to steal little things around the town he wound up in to survive, as he was pretty good at sneaking around and being quiet. However, he does eventually get caught, but by a member of the thieves' guild. This guy takes him in, teaches him how to be a rogue all proper like, and becomes one of the best members of the guild. His focus is on information and political things.

Hodr earns the moniker "of The Dark" because every person he's robbed info from, whatever, has never actually seen him.

The story itself is a bit complicated, but essentially a bunch of different things happen to establish Hodr as a character, his work, and the sort of things he does outside of that. He foils a few royal plots, gets a run in with some other magic people, and figures out who the real next heir of the kingdom is. This whole time it's been alluded to that as he's been working as a member of the thieves' guild, that the cult has been looking for him for some reason. So, he has to finish his normal, rogue theft jobs, while also making sure that the cult doesn't capture him- since he thinks that they're going to just try and kill him like last time. He doesn't know that they want to extract what is essentially the most allusive God in the pantheon out of his head to give them more power.

That was SUPER long. But one of my friends I talk to about my stories with says that all my stories are overly complicated anyways. But I love my boy, he's great.

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sprnklersplashes · 3 years ago

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au where jd and veronica meet at ram’s party (ao3)

He doesn’t even know why he’s at this stupid party.

Okay, scratch that; he does know. It’s because Claire said he should go. Because he opened his stupid mouth while trying to fill the awkward silence over dinner, and the first thing that came into mind was a stupid homecoming party at some stupid jock’s house who he doesn’t even know. And her face had lit up as though he’d just told her he got into Harvard, and she said, more than asked, “and you’re going to go”.

And he, apparently, could not tell her no. Not with those bright eyes and that big, big smile. Especially not when she dropped the little tidbit that his social worker would love to hear this. Claire is one thing, one weird, confusing thing, but Aimee is another, and she’s slowly wormed her way into his affections over the years.

So that’s how he ended up with Claire dropping him off, none the wiser about the book tucked into the waistband of his jeans, telling him to have a good time. He had waved, a half-smile (at best) on his face and watched with growing helplessness as her little Ford rolled down the street without him in it.

That was ninety-three minutes ago. And he’s been sitting in this corner for about ninety-one of those minutes. At some point, someone put a plastic cup in his hand. Whether he was meant to guard it or drink it, he doesn’t know. What he does know is that it’s been four whole songs since they gave it to him; it’s fair game. If they need another recalls, there’s certainly no shortage of drink here. Especially now that one of the jocks-Ram, he remembers vaguely-has brought out the kegs, and there’s an unmistakable smell of whisky around him.

Claire gave him The Lecture at the house, of course. Well, more than a lecture. It was more akin to a Don’t Drink And Drive commercial followed by a step-by-step guide of what to do if someone passes out drunk or ODs. He almost asked how she knew how to do all that, but worked it out for himself just seconds later. He’s not the first kid to pass through her house, nor will he be the last. He can only imagine what kind of shit she’s been called to before.

He shakes his head and buries himself back in his book. He’s not in the most comfortable of reading positions, the slight but persistent ache in his back can attest to that, but it’s the quietest spot in the house unless he tries venturing upstairs.

And while his party experience may be limited, he’s smart enough to know what goes on upstairs. So he contents himself here, even if his spine is in danger of permanent curves and his reading is interrupted by sudden half-conversations.

“So it’s salt, and then lime, and then shot!”

“You’re doing it wrong!”

Like that, really.

He lifts his eyes a little, half-resigned to his fate for the next few minutes. One thing he’s learned since he came in here is that if something’s going on next to you, it’s far easier just to let it happen than try to ignore it.

Besides, it can sometimes be entertaining, and Claire doesn’t get cable.

And the scene before him is as entertaining as it comes. He recognises the girls standing there, even if they’re oblivious to him. He heard their names less than an hour into his first day and understood everything the minute he saw them. Every school he’s been to has had those girls, the ones his heart wants to mess with, but his head knows better. All-powerful, all-knowing, all-revered. It’s nothing new for him. Every town has a gimmick too. Matching outfits, matching headbands. This is the first time he’s seen matching names, though.

Heather, Heather, Heather… and Veronica.

The girl in the blue, that’s her. The odd one out. Maybe he didn’t understand everything when he saw her, but he understood enough. She looks the part, sure, blue bow on her dark locks, perfect eyeliner framing those big eyes. Blue blazer hugging her figure. They’ve done a number on her, but that doesn’t quite clinch it. See, she doesn’t walk as they do. Not with the same easy confidence, nor the assurance that the halls will part for them. She hops beside them, sometimes trying to copy them, sometimes not. She does a good imitation; he’ll give her that. She tilts her chin just right, remembers to keep her stride strong and her face cool, but give it time, and it slips. She’ll pull on her sleeve look over her shoulder. Fidget with the string on her notebook. Remind people that she’s human, not a goddess.

It pisses off the red one tremendously, and it’s kind of funny to him.

That’s the reason he keeps his eye on her.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

Veronica chuckles, a sharp contrast to the simmering rage on the other girl-Heather Chandler’s- face, and tosses her hair over her shoulder. He’s not seen her so bold before- granted, he barely knows her. He suspects he can put that down to the slight flush on her cheeks and empty shot glass in her hand.

“Really?” she asks flippantly. “Cause I feel great!”

“Hey, Veronica!” Another voice calls. A boy in their grade looks at her from across the room, swinging a plastic cup with a bit too much force. His eyes are bright, and he gives her a wink. JD shifts where he sits and turns his attention back to his book. It feels like a private moment.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches her wave back, waggling her fingers and giggling, and presses himself further into the wall.

Not like he cares what she does. Or who she does it with.

She turns around then, just as he makes the mistake of looking up. Her eyes catch his, and for a moment, he forgets how to act.

Her choice of partner might not interest him, but she certainly does.

Not like that, certainly not like that. Yes, she’s pretty, but he’s point the age where someone pretty will make him weak at the knees. Been around too much, seen too much shit to start getting worked up about pretty people. No, her pretty face doesn’t interest him. It’s what she does, how she acts. Sometimes he watches her, and it’s like two different girls battling for control over the one body. Like today, when he saw her sweetly promise what he presumes was an old friend that they’d have a movie night, only to let the Weird Sisters set her up minutes later.

He remembers the look on her face after, the silent, crushed regret, just for a moment. He had almost said something, a Baudelaire quote ready on his lips, but decided against it. He wrote it down instead, on the inside of the book now sitting in his lap.

So yes, she interests him. She’s walking a social tightrope, and maybe he wants to see if she’ll make it.

The tightrope shakes when there’s a new arrival; the girl from this morning, Martha, he recalls, dressed in a deep purple sweater, a lilac bow in her hair and a green glass bottle in her hand. Veronica’s face lights up when she sees her, forgetting the rules of popularity, and she zips across the room and throws her arms around her. Toying with the ribbon on the bottle. Laugh lines creasing her face. He almost feels guilty for watching something that feels like such a private moment.

When Martha hurries off to greet Ram, he feels even worse, and Veronica pales slightly.

He doesn’t look away, he can’t, and so when Veronica turns, her eyes directly meet his. It’s not often the car turns and looks at you when you’re unable to look away from the wreck. Judges you for being so fascinated. Begs you not to look.

Silently asks you for help.

No, he must be imagining that last one. He must be, because what would she be asking him for?

Yet even when he looks back at his book, he feels her eyes on him, and part of him wants to look back up. Sit in the wreck with her and do… something. Hold her as the car crashes, and if not shield her from it, at least be beside her through it.

He turns the page and curses under his breath. He lets himself wonder, for a moment, how much of this is merely interest. Maybe not as much as he thought.

Predictably, it goes wrong. Not to the surprise of him, yet to the surprise of Veronica, for some reason. She’s a smart girl; he shares a class with her, but her eyes bulge out of her head when one Heather pulls out the pig pinata, complete with fake glasses, a crooked bow, and a nametag with “MARTHA DUMPTRUCK” in case people didn’t get the memo. Either she underestimated them, or she was banking on wishful thinking. Or just didn’t think this far ahead.

Whatever it is, she didn’t see it coming. And Heather doesn’t see her reaction coming either. Doesn’t count on her ripping the pig from the other girl’s hands and tossing it in the pool, throwing an order for her to swim for it. Rebellion doesn’t sit well with this school’s queen bee. Neither does puke all down her front.

JD hides his smirk behind his book as her scream pierces the room. He has to give her this; Veronica knows how to make a statement.

“Lick it up, baby!” he hears her say, and he barks out a laugh. “Lick. It. Up.”

He doesn’t know when he looked up, but he must have because all he sees is Veronica and Chandler’s eyes blazing into each other, and then Veronica’s resolve cracking as each party guest turns away from her. Her strength slips away gradually, and once again, she’s left with those wide, scared blue eyes and her hand tugging on her sleeve.

He looks down again. He doesn’t care; he doesn’t. Not about this school, and certainly not about her. He didn’t even want to come to this stupid party, and while this was entertaining, it’s certainly not his business to be getting involved in. He’s just here to graduate, and no amount of sad eyes and bright, pretty girls is going to change that.

He tells himself that for about two seconds, and then suddenly he’s on his feet, the crowd parting before him. He ploughs through, not even sure what he’s doing until he is just behind Veronica. He can see her trembling up close, can see her steely expression slowly fall away, her eyes flitting anxiously around the room. Unsure of what to do, he puts his hands on her shoulders. She startles, like a wounded animal, but then leans into his touch. She’s shaking beneath her blazer, and it dawns on him how out of his depth he feels. He positions himself in front of her, shielding her as much as possible.

“Come on,” he says softly. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” If anyone has any thoughts on how he helps her to her feet and pulls her out of the room, they don’t voice them.

He doesn’t protest when she hides her face in his chest, and she doesn’t when he wraps his arm around her shoulders.

Somehow, they end up at the McDonald’s just five minutes from the high school. It feels as good a place as any. Veronica has been sitting opposite him for about ten minutes, silently munching on French fries with a forlorn expression. As far as making friends goes, he’s not sure if he’s had worse attempts.

It takes another five minutes for her to speak.

“Thank you,” she says quietly before looking up at him. Up close, he can see the telltale shine in her eyes, the smudged eyeliner on her cheeks. “For saving me back there.”

“Well, it was the honourable thing to do,” he replies, shrugging. She scoffs at that.

“Honourable,” she echoes. “Okay, d’Artagnan.”

“Hey, if I am anyone in The Three Musketeers, I’m Aramis.”

“Oh really?” she teases. “Because you’re the brooding romantic hero type?”

“Exactly.” She giggles, a pink hue on her cheeks not from the drink, and it’s surprising how it makes him feel. Even though it’s short-lived, it feels like some weird kind of victory, even when her face falls again. She taps her fry against the table. “Not sure how much honour I have left in me. Other than the honour roll.”

“Oh, you have honour,” he says. He leans back a little and gestures to her with his fry. “I mean, you saved your friend back there. That was pretty honourable of you.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, but her voice is hollow. Her shoulders droop, and she reminds him of a wilted tree during the autumn, the energy and life fading. He taps his finger against the table, unsure of what he’s meant to do here. They barely know each other, and his policy thus far has been keeping to himself to keep afloat. Minimum connections, minimum damage.

But she’s sitting there, with that look on her face, and it doesn’t sit right with him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks. It’s basic, and he cringes at himself, but it’s the best he can do. Her eyebrows raise in surprise, and she leans back in her seat, her hands falling into her lap. For a moment, he assumes she doesn’t want to say anything, and that’s fine. He’ll just bite his tongue and ask if he can walk her home. Then,

“I set her up.” It comes out so quickly that it sounds like it’s all the one word. “Martha. She’s-she was my best friend, and I set her up.” She closes her eyes and exhales like she’s trying to expel everything from her mind. She looks so deflated that JD struggles to connect her to the girl who strode down the hallway this morning, even with the cracks in her armour. “She’s a good person. An amazing person. She didn’t deserve that.”

“No, I’d say she didn’t.” Veronica huffs a bitter laugh. It wasn’t what she wanted to hear; he can tell that much. But she doesn’t protest it either. Just rolls a fry between her fingers like it’s a cigarette and clenches her jaw so hard it’s in danger of snapping.

“But that doesn’t make you a bad person, Veronica,” he tells her. She looks up at that, surprise flashing in her blue eyes, a silent question. He just shrugs. “I’ve met bad people. You’re not one of them just because you did one shitty thing.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Ah.” He holds up one finger to silence her and doesn’t miss the bemused grin on her face when he does. Nor can he help to grin back. Somehow the weight in his stomach he usually gets when he thinks about this doesn’t feel so heavy now. “We’re all born marked for evil. But that’s all it is, a mark. And despite an obvious misstep… you’re clearly keeping yours in check.”

She tilts her head slightly, the grin widening.

“Baudelaire,” is all she says.

“One of my personal favourites,” he says. He’s got it underlined in blue, the book sitting beside his bed. Some days more than others, he carries it with him.

Veronica leans back, one perfect eyebrow arched.

“So what is a Baudelaire quoting brooding mysterious loner who also apparently moonlights as a therapist doing in Sherwood, Ohio?” she asks.

“Rescuing fair maidens from the wrath of the head cheerleader,” he replies smoothly. It’s an obvious deflection. He’s an old hand at this now, batting away uncomfortable questions, usually with a snide insult, occasionally with a compliment. But it works every time, and it keeps his past back where it belongs. Works to maintain the brooding loner image. Only this time, it catches in his throat, and the discomfort that settles upon him is different.

“So I’m a fair maiden then?” she mutters, a girn cutting across her face.

He freezes, French fry hanging in the air. Heat rushes to his cheeks, despite the cool room and his jacket bundled up on the seat beside him. His words desert him, everything he built up from all his many books. Gone, all because a pretty girl batted her eyes at him, and she didn’t even know she was doing it.

Holy shit.

“I thought it would be unfair to call you a damsel in distress,” comes his reply. If she hears the hesitation in his voice, she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she just huffs a laugh and steals the pickle off of his burger, her smile never quite reaching her eyes.

They leave soon after that. They’re not exactly chased out, but they can’t help feeling they overstayed their welcome. Between them, they put together a decent tip of the bleary-eyed workers before heading out. Veronica gasps a little as they cross the threshold, her arms instinctively wrapping around herself. JD bites back a remark about her outfit; the tiny skirt and flimsy blazer hardly appropriate for the autumn weather, but she catches his eye nevertheless, and she rolls her own in response.

“Yeah, I know,” she sighs. “Believe me; there is nothing you can say that my mother didn’t already say to me before I left.”

“Oh, I wasn’t planning on saying anything,” he tells her. She pulls on her sleeves, a hollow smile on her face, and they walk in companionable silence for a while.

“Heather told me it would look good on me,” she muses.

“Well… it does.” She chuckles at that while he internally kicks himself.

“Thanks,” she sighs. She looks down at herself, and a sadness flashes across her face, one that he almost understands. She lets out a long sigh, her mouth moving in silent words. She doesn’t tell him, and he’s fine with it. He can gather enough. He hangs back for a second, caution holding him still, but the need becomes too great, and he slides his fingers between hers, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. If he has any regret, it dissipates with her smile, and he completely forgets it when she leans on him, her cheek pressed into his shoulder.

“Not still drunk, are you?” he teases. Veronica giggles and wraps her free arm around his, pressing their bodies together. JD’s heart nearly stops, and he wonders if she feels the same way. She shakes her head slightly, her hair tickling his cheek.

“No, I don’t think so,” she says softly.

All too soon, they reach the diversion of their two streets. Veronica uncouples herself from him as their steps slow down, her grip loosening on his arm but not quite letting go. Even when they come to a stop on the street corner, her hand doesn’t leave his.

“Well… this is me,” she says. Her eyes are cast down, looking at their clasped hands, but that doesn’t hide the fearful look on her face. Her lips are pressed into a thin line; her hold on him tightening.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine. Great.” Neither one are convinced by her voice, even less so when she looks up at him. “Thank you, Jason. For everything, I… I appreciated it.”

“You can… you can call me JD,” he says softly, a gentle grin on his lips. “Everyone else does.”

Her lips curl into a smile, her eyes glittering even in the darkness.

“Okay… JD.” There’s a brief pause then, a moment of brief silence, and his eyes fall to her lips of their own accord. She shifts slightly, steps closer to him, and JD becomes far too aware of every muscle in his body. She looks up at him, wide eyes and slightly parted lips, and his hands shake as he fights the urge to place them on her hips.

“Here.” She presses his jacket into his hands. He’d almost forgotten about it. He takes it from her, trying to ignore the way his breath hitches as their fingers touch.

“Thanks.” His voice is so quiet. He’s used to being quiet, but never like this. He clears his throat and tries again. “Are you going to be okay?”

Veronica sighs and runs a hand through her hair.

“Okay is a relative term,” she says. She shrugs, a resigned look falling over her face. “But… I’ll try. Try to make all this shit right again.” She swallows thickly, and he sees the resolve creep into her eyes. “Starting with Martha.”

“And you said you don’t have honour,” he grins. She just rolls her eyes at that, but he catches the smile on her face. Maybe it’s that smile, or the late hour, or both, that makes him bolder again. “Well, if you ever need a lunch table to sit at… you know where to find me.”

“You know I might take you up on that,” she says. She gives him one last smile before pushing open the front gate. “Good night, JD.”

“Good night, Veronica.”

He doesn’t hang around after she leaves, because he isn’t that kind of creep. But she hangs around though, in his mind, lingering even after he gets home. He flips through his Baudelaire in the small hours of the morning, only vaguely aware of how badly hell regret this tomorrow. He finds the quote he gave Veronica a few pages in. We’re all born marked for evil. He’s got it underlined, a scribbled annotation beside it. He’s read that quote a hundred and one times, analysed the hell out of it, used it to make meaning of his messed up life. But now, for the first time, it makes him smile.

Tomorrow, Claire will ask how the party was. And he’ll just munch on toast and shrug and say it was okay, pretending he hasn’t spent all night thinking about a bold girl with pretty eyes.

#idk how i feel about this but it exists and it's here #heathers the musical #jdronica #jason dean #veronica sawyer #heathers #heathers fanfic #jdronica ff

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thatfraudcassandra · 3 years ago

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I am a millennial born after EDSA. Cory Aquino, widow of slain senator Benigno Aquino was already president, and fallen dictator Ferdinand Marcos was on the brink of death in America. Years would go before Martial Law would imprint, but not enough for me to understand. It was not taught in detail during formal schooling, and elders would even go as far as to say that things were "quiet" then. I used to have a friend who revered the elder Marcos, and I followed their lead in repeating what I know now to be lies: that Martial Law was anything but a dark period of torture, disappearances, and killings, and that Marcos did it to protect the country from insurgency.

The Kingmaker starts out cartoonish. It flashes bits and pieces of Imelda Marcos' lavish lifestyle with creepy art renditions of her and her "royal" family and her walls of shoes. Nothing we've never seen before. Then it goes on to talk about this weird delusion that she has mothered the world? Seriously, she repeats this throughout the film, it's so bizarre. I came in knowing close to nothing aside from what shows up in social media about Imelda's ostentation, but her levels of delusion about matriarchy and saving the world were new to me. And yet here she was, the world her stage, spewing her version of how Martial Law years were the "best years of Marcos, because he was able to give the Philippines sovereignty, justice, human rights". She seems high on some good shit.

The documentary tries its best to present an objective view of the phenomenon that is the Marcos family, but knowing the basics--that thousands were killed, tortured, or disappeared during the 21 years that they were in power--it's a difficult task to be unbiased. They do a good job of calling Imelda out on her lies, but as activist May Rodriguez states in a sort of meta manner, "I don't have an answer for why we allow Imelda to even open her mouth". The documentary becomes a pulpit for the Marcos family to repeat their propaganda. There are only bits and pieces of the truth peeking out--when they interview Martial Law victims (in the hardest 5 minutes of the film, Pete Lacaba, Etta Rosales, and May Rodriguez detail their moments of torture, from rape, the San Juanico Bridge, to electrocution.), Leni Robredo's courageous battle against the son Bongbong, and the displaced Calauit community, but it feels sorely imbalanced when much of the film is so focused on amplifying Imelda's lies. She is filmed shoving money down people's throats, cooing over cancer patients, and lamenting how the Aquinos were "unjust, inhumane" towards her family.

But it does its job. I came out of the documentary knowing more than I knew before, more solidly resolved that Leni must run AND win, because anything else would just be a conduit for the Marcoses to slink back into power. And we cannot have that. Never again.

______

Other thoughts I have on my notebook (Kasi dami kong sinulat, sayang naman di'ba).

1. Imelda "misses the clout of the presidency. You can do so much." She isn't even trying to hide her narcissism here. Barf.

2. Those paintings. YIKES ON SEVERAL BIKES

3. Admitting on camera that their marriage was a political strategy, and that his presidency was "to maximize his wealth and talent". Thanks, Imelda. And here I was, the idealist, wanting my presidents to serve the country. Of course they just want to plunder.

4. Admitting that she had no moral compass and coddled dictators and strongmen, from Gaddafi to Mao to Castro. Also while we're on the subject, bakit sila galit na galit sa komonesta pero BFF sa Communist leaders? Duterte really fashioned himself after Marcos, ano?

5. Emo band name ideas: Diamonds in Diapers, or Bulletproof Bra

6. "I don't remember any bad or ugly or sad situations (in our marriage)" and then the film cuts to Dovie Beams. LMAO

7. "That is mothering." - her justification for her excessiveness. Is there a psychological complex named after her? Maybe we can call it the Imelda Complex, much like Freud's Oedipus complex. Hers would be reserved for megalomaniac mothers who think their life purpose is to save the world through buying giraffes and buildings.

8. There is no pressure like Imelda pressure. I hate that this documentary almost made me feel sorry for Bongbong bearing the brunt of the pressure Imelda put on him to restore the Marcoses to glory. Thank God I remembered he was old enough to know what his father was doing at the height of Martial Law, and I come to my senses. Also, what a sore loser.

9. LOL that campaign sortie with Enrile beside Imelda

10. The real tragedy in this documentary is that maid hopelessly trying to clean a mirror with a box of tissues

11. "Penniless" daw si Imelda. Pota

12. Dito pala galing yung meme about BBM complaining about having to fly home in coach. Haha. As an aside, compare BBM's desk to Leni's. Hers is full of books and a couple family pictures, while BBM's is full of portraits of him. Also, BBM mentioned in the documentary how "dealing with the public is a chore", tapos gusto maging public officer. ?????

13. If there is going to be one takeaway here, make it this: $5-10 billion plundered during the Marcos years. I'm not sure if that accounts for inflation, but $5-10B. $4B pa lang daw ang nakukuha. Let that sink in.

14. That Monet painting story was hilarious

15. The last 5 minutes of the film is wasted on Imelda repeating her lie: that the past should be forgotten, "in fact it's no longer there". I would have done away with that and focused on talking to the Martial Law victims, but this is a documentary about the Kingmaker, so we were given that.

#marcosnohero #marcosnotahero #hindibayanisimarcos #the kingmaker #movies i've seen #leni robredo #movies i’ve seen #movies I've seen

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sunjaesol · 4 years ago

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canon juke fluff based on “till forever falls apart” by ashe and finneas

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Raucous laughter disappeared in a snap as the door slammed behind her. Her feet stumbled from the sudden change, finding her balance again and then hopping towards the garden gate. She left a glitter trail in her wake.

Julie turned seventeen today. She knew it’d be special the second she woke up, Carlos blaring ‘Dancing Queen’ like a little shit before her alarm clock went off. It was the most brotherly way he could congratulate her and she loved him for it. (Not after she chased him though - who the hell did that?!)

Flynn came by during breakfast, phasing through Alex without realising as she placed a glittery crown atop Julie’s curls. It was plastic and clunky and the number 17 was pink and glowed in the dark. Luke sat on the kitchen island teasing her for it, Reggie helping Ray make pancakes and yelling he wanted one too. It was barely seven am and her day was the best.

At school, she was showered with birthday wishes and her Instagram flooded with messages of people that confirmed they’d come to her party.

Despite everything, her traitorous thoughts always ended up in the same spot. Luke. He teased her at breakfast, but he didn’t hug her like Alex and Reggie. He didn’t poof beside her as she walked down the driveway to quickly impart a joke or a secret or a lyric, something for her to mull about on the trek to school with Flynn. There was nothing.

On the one hand, it could just be pre-performance jitters. Luke took every gig a hundred percent seriously and got pretty intense if a lot of people were going to be watching. If he didn’t set the stage on fire in one song, he’d feel like he failed. So yeah, Julie allowed herself to think that was the case for his absentmindedness.

If only she didn’t know him so well. She knew it was something else entirely. She knew it had to do with her age; the fact that she aged. It was hard to not let it temper her birthday excitement, but all she wished for (just like when she blew out her candles for her sixteenth birthday) was for them to hide in her daydreams and be together without qualms. That he was hers.

Luke and her have made plenty of mistakes over the two years that they’ve known each other. Falling in love wasn’t one. She couldn’t believe that - even if he’d given her mixed signals since their fated gig at The Orpheum.

The party was a hit. Dad bought a big peanut butter chocolate cake and they played their best set ever, the studio decorated in an explosion of flowers and butterflies and streamers. Julie was in a glittery purple dress, the crown to match, each lyric coming from her lips laced with glee and pink lemonade. That perpetual thrill coursing through her as she danced with Reggie and hyped up Alex and - her favourite part of all - shared the mic with Luke. His aloof behaviour from before was gone then, coming towards her in that greedy way that made her heart stutter out of place.

Julie wondered if anyone ever believed he was a hologram prior to the band ‘moving to America’. How could they, when he’s always looked so alive and real and warm and with his eyes so intently on hers that it felt like he bore through her, straight to her soul.

Pushing through the sensation, she shot him a teasing grin and returned to the piano.

After the set, Flynn put her DJ skills to good use and put on a killer playlist. Julie danced until her feet ached, sang along until her throat hurt, ate cake until she was full. She was happy and seventeen. As the hours went by, more and more classmates trickled away, ending with her family hoarding the kitchen island as they ate the remnants of cake. All except one.

It hurt. Julie knew Luke was brooder - but on her birthday? Because he couldn’t handle it? Tomorrow, she'd be on her way to surpass them. First Reggie, then Alex and then Luke. Was it selfish of her for wanting to spend time with him? For wanting to dance with him? If just once? If Alex and Reggie could, why couldn’t he?

Without a second thought (or third, fourth, fifth - it was always and forever tethered to Luke), she stumbled out the front door towards the garden gate. Glitter stuck to the pavement.

The light was on in the studio, their safe haven surrounded by fallen decorations as if a storm had passed. Her bare foot kicked a balloon, a smile tugging on her lips as the purple thing drifted and bounced against the trees.

She slid the doors open. There he was.

“Luke?”

His back was turned towards her, head bent over the grand piano as he fervently wrote in his trusty songbook. More songs were theirs than just his in there, she knew, and it left her warm.

He perked up, head turning, a gentle smile on his lips. “Hey birthday girl. You look like shit.”

She laughed, coming closer, and watched as more glitter fell to the floor. She must look like a sweaty, exhausted disco ball. Despite this, a sense of calmness washed over her. Luke was here and he was smiling at her and everything made sense again.

“Thanks,” she jabbed. “You look even worse.”

Tensing his muscles, as if she hadn’t seen them before, he smirked. “Please. The sweat makes my arms look better.”

The smile stuck to her cheeks, stupidly enamoured by his silliness, and remembered a time when she didn’t allow herself to feel like this. But that was before the late night sessions in the studio, before he became corporeal, before he placed tender kisses on her forehead before important gigs, as if infusing her with the power to kill it, before he hung out in her room and before he allowed her to know more about 90s-Luke. (There wasn’t much difference. According to his stories, he was just as endearing then.)

Before one frustrated kiss between them, months ago, nearly blew everything up. If the band and their connection wasn’t so tight, she didn’t know what would’ve happened. They never spoke about it. Perhaps the knowledge that it happened, the idea that it could happen again, realising that her daydreams weren’t one-sided - it left her yearning. Who would blame her? She was seventeen.

The kiss had been a mistake, but that ‘stupidly enamoured’ feeling? It was only a natural reaction. She didn’t want anyone else.

Crossing the final distance, Julie tightly wrapped her arms around him. Luke held her close, face burrowed in her neck and letting his waning body spray and her flowery perfume melt together.

“You haven’t given me a hug today,” she whispered.

He nodded. “I know.”

She bit back a sigh. This couldn’t be a mistake too. “Why?”

“Cause you’re seventeen,” he muttered. “I can’t pretend you’re-”

“Younger?”

His palms curled around her, pulling back slightly to look her in the eye. The green, bright yet troubled, flitted across her face. Dejected, it dropped to the ground, as if the sight of her brought him wonder and ache at once. Could she tell him it was mutual? Could she-

“Able to be mine.”

It was uttered so quietly, she almost didn’t catch it. It was as if the world went off its axis, both precariously close to falling off the edge and Julie debating whether that would be a bad thing or not. If it really was that insane if it meant she got to be right here, in his arms.

The feeling coiled in her stomach, pushed itself up her ribcage, straight through her heart and slid past her throat. The words danced on her lips, lively and colourful and devoted.

And then she said it. “I love you.”

His eyes slowly locked with hers, a glint of uncertainty found beneath. The lack of surprise on his part would make her laugh had she not been so terrified to lose him completely, all at once. His fingers pressed into her skin, like she’d be the one backtracking her words and running out. Like he wasn’t the one with the ability to vanish from her grasp.

Luke exhaled and dropped his forehead against hers, gaze unwavering. Her instincts told her to shut her eyes, look away, maybe even bridge the gap, but they were so close to finally becoming something. Whatever that might be.

“Why aren’t you scared?”, he breathed.

Her nervous hands found solace on his cheeks. “I am scared. And it’s despite that. All I wanted today, Luke, was have you be with me.” And then her eyes clenched tight anyway, overwhelmed by the moment. “I’m scared and- and despite everything… I love you.”

Her vulnerability hanging by a thread, she watched as he processed her words. She had no clue if she said or did the right thing, though her hands were frozen in place. Her heart rate picked up when he mirrored her, calloused fingers slipping from her shoulders to her face.

Luke swallowed, hard. “I’m sorry that- that I’ve been distant. But I’m scared and not for the reasons you think. I’m scared cause-” His chuckle was like a candle awakening in a dark cave. “-cause I don’t wanna spend a minute loving anyone else.”

The previous terror washed away, a brilliant smile blooming on her lips at his confession. Her head tilted, allowing her nose to brush his and sigh when he didn’t pull back.

“I was scared cause I thought you didn’t want that,” he finished.

Her voice drowned in reverence. “I do want that. I want you. Until…” Shaking her head, she let out the truth. “Until the universe takes you back.”

The boy laughed, relief sagging his shoulders and pulling so impossibly close, so tightly it should’ve hurt - had euphoria not been bursting in her chest at the simple action. His watery eyes held all she ever wanted to see. Him. Honestly, truly, him.

“I-”, he stuttered, his own anxious smile stopping him. Her thumbs pressed into the lines, urging him to keep going. It softened, in that earnest way only he knew of. “I think I fell back on this earth to be with you, Julie. I think- I know I’m yours.” That incredulous laugh erupted from his chest again, so full, as if it’d been waiting. “I’m so glad I get to hold you.”

There was so much she wanted to say - that she was his, has always been his, that it was insane because they were so young, but what the hell was time anyway? Julie wanted to be with him, forever, until forever disintegrated like smoke between her fingers.

Now, she cradled his cheeks and he was warm. And he told her he loved her, in ways she never expected him to.

Instead of speaking, Julie kissed him. Her lips were sticky from soda and his still held the taste of lovesick words and lyrics, but it was perfect. Their mouths puckered from smiling, that damned kiss from months ago replaced by this one. It felt as if all her wishes, her restless midnight questions, all were granted by one simple touch. By his arms wrapping around her and hers gripping onto his jaw and hair. So tight, so close, as if the tides of Fate would pull the other away right this second.

But nothing happened that second. And the one after that. And again, again, again. They kissed and the universe allowed them to.

Julie didn’t think there was a more beautiful way to fall in love.

With a quiet thrill leading up her spine, she told him. “I think this year might be fun,” the girl grinned against his lips. “The first year of forever of giving my heart to you.”

His tender gaze rested on hers, relaxed hands caressing her back. Love was a good look on him. “Are you gonna say stuff like that now? To fuck with me?”

She giggled, glee bursting at the seams. “You started!”

“Yeah.” Luke trailed off, a dopey smile glittering his eyes. Just as he leaned in for another kiss, he stilled. “Oh! I was writing some stuff for a song!” Nodding at the discarded notebook on the piano, he asked: “Wanna work on it?”

Just like that, they were back to being Luke and Julie. Singers, musicians, writing partners, best friends, each other’s forever.

Propping the glittery crown on his head, she matched his fond expression and went to sit on the piano bench. “Yeah, show me.”

Julie would look back on that moment and smile. Two seventeen year olds, defying Fate and the Universe and everything in between, mocking the stars that yes, Luke and her did belong together. There was strength in knowing their forever was predetermined, that they knew it wouldn’t be eternal, but that that was okay. Every second mattered then. Every laugh became fuller, a kiss more passionate, a smile brighter. They spent a lifetime, counted in quick adolescent years, sharing their hearts.

For a while, Luke was hers. And forevermore would they be together - in the whispers of songs, in memories, in lingering cologne on clothing.

It was the sweetest, most adventurous romance of all.

But that wasn’t important now. Luke sat next to her, held his notebook out, and together they did what they knew best. When the clock struck midnight, all he did was kiss her again.

“You know,” he muttered, lips brushing her ear. “The things we said? Might make for a killer song.”

Julie’s nose scrunched up in delight, thumbing to a fresh page and clicking her pen. Nuzzling into his neck and interlacing their free hands, she swore she felt it. Their tether. It was real - just as real as him loving her and her loving him. It was there. She took a deep breath.

“Let’s do it.”

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@blush-and-books @bluefirewrites @unsaid-emily @willexx @ourstarscollided @constantly-singing @ruzek-halstead

#juke #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms #otp: i think we make each other better #i was supposed to make this when the song came out but i got sidetracked

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herelivesahobbit · 3 years ago

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Sooooo I FINALLY started watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer properly, after a few failed attempts over the years, but this time I'm getting really into it?? I Get It now, I never used to understand why it was such a cornerstone of popular culture and 90s tv, but it's THE template for the various supernatural shows and movies (pun not intended LOL) that came after it, I can see so many things that were homaged or outright copied in later media!

It has this unique balance of humor and realism with skin crawling horror and cheesy action sequences and genuine pathos, it's so well-done, the dialogue is so crisp, the casting is so perfect! The teenagers for once feel like actual teenagers. The supernatural elements are handled so well, they're just that perfect balance of look-it's-tv-and-we-dont-have-the-budget-so-lets-own-this-cheesy-shit and yet believably macabre, I love it.

My favorite aspect is the high school setting and the episodes set in and around ordinary school/town life, the whole "horror in the midst of normalcy" thing really works. Some of it is really dark too, and they don't shy away from exploring dark themes.

And I love Buffy as a protagonist, Sarah Michelle Geller is effortlessly charming and infuses Buffy with so much heart, and I like that she's the "chosen one" but she isn't over powered and revered, she gets her ass kicked sometimes, she takes time to learn new skills, she doesn't always "win" and her friends call her out on her bullshit. But she's also like really protective of everybody in a very "its the duty of the strong to protect the weak" kind of way and I love that vibe coming for a tiny 16 year old girl (it's very dany from asoiaf lol I just like it when physically small teenage girls scare the shit out of everyone around them, it's really satisfying). All of her friends and helpers are all fleshed out, interesting characters in their own right, and like I said before, perfectly casted, like every single person is very watchable on screen and you're rooting for them all.

As a fan of vampire media in general, this one has been on the to-watch list for a while and I was fully expecting to find it underwhelming and be all "god so what's the big deal about this" but ya know what. I really like it. It's better, in terms of writing, than all the vampire/supernatural shows that came after it with a better budget, with the exception of s1 and 2 of True Blood. Like, it holds up, for the most part, the twists and the turns and the monsters, all of it works. Well, I'm only just finishing season 1, so let's see what lies ahead.

Also 1000000% into the buffy/angel ship, I get it, I'm here for it, the chemistry is sizzling, sign me up for the pain, thank you.

#Buffy the vampire slayer #What should I tag? Hmm #Buffy #BTVS #Yeah I'll do this for future #Not me watching 1990s vampire shows in 2021 pike #I SHOULD have watched it long ago. But I never liked the 90s aesthetic I found it dated #But now it's kind of charming in a retro way #Pagers and boxy computers and what nit #Me.txt

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marimo-o · 4 years ago

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ok so im making a long ass post about Abzu (the game) within the context of mesopotamian mythology because I'm insane. It's gonna be a doozy and likely incomprehensible so <3 below the cut it goes! There's gonna be TONS of spoilers for the game, and, like, I guess for the mesopotamian creation epic, so. Play Abzu if you haven't and if you wanna read the Enuma Elish that's also cool. Good for u

(a note from afterwards: it's long. like, REALLY fucking long, holy shit. if you actually want to read the whole thing, be. prepared or something idk take breaks! the last two paragraphs (i know they're walls of text pls bear with me) contain most of the important information. like, the final hurrah of my brain after working on this for multiple hours! So if u wanna save time and avoid some of the redundancy, just skip to those last two <3)

So "Abzu" referred to two things; the fresh water people got from underground aquifers (also as the void-sea which was underneath the Sumerian underworld, Kur), and the deity; he only appeared in the creation story, Enuma Elish, because a big part of that whole thing was that oh no! He dies! And that's also a thing I'm gonna touch on (sorry about the lack of accent marks in advance, it's not available on my current keyboard^ ^;)

I'm gonna start off with a brief tale of what happened with Abzu the deity, and then move onto how both the deity and the concept relate to the game!

So like I mentioned, Abzu the deity only really appears in the creation myth. The story goes that the Primordial Soup divided into two beings, with Abzu representing the freshwater and Tiamat being the saltwater. They were married, and together birthed some of the first formative gods! Some of these gods, jealous of Abzu's power convinced Tiamat to kill him (or, I thought it was started by Tiamat growing resentful of the younger gods, one of those). Either way, Abzu was killed, and Tiamat ended up lashing out, creating the first "dragons", or perhaps becoming one herself; with "poison instead of blood". She is killed by Marduk, the god of storms and the child of Enki (one of the first gods created by Abzu and Tiamat), and from her body the heavens and the earth are formed. Imagine getting killed by ur grandson lol cringe /j

Now! The waters itself! This also brings Enki into the equation, who kinda took over as god of the waters in place of his dead father. He's also the god of creation, intelligence, crafts, mischief, and more! Very important guy.

Abzu refers to both the groundwater reservoirs that people depended on for both accessible clean water and for some agricultural work, and also to the void-sea beneath the underworld, where it is said that Enki rests. He had a temple at Eridu, a now-ruined city, and I remember hearing somewhere that he lived in a temple in an underground aquifer? But I can't find wherever I read that anymore so don't take my word for it. Anyway, the basics of Enki as a deity is: child of Tiamat and Abzu, widely worshipped in his time, god of the waters, generally a cool and important dude.

And now. Finally. We move onto the game. My head hurts.

So, for a quick (post-writing: lol it's not quick) overview of the game; you play as a funny little diver, who woke up in the middle of the ocean and, as the player, are given no clues as to who or what you are. You explore through the ocean levels peacefully at first, and with the guidance of a scarred shark (painted as a bit of an antagonist at first with the audio cues) you make your way to wells at the bottom-center of each level that revitalize the space around them; as they progress, many levels start out as barren, empty landscapes that give you a foreboding, nervous feeling going in, before using an energy from yourself to rekindle the life. Huge coral growths, seaweed, and a myriad of ocean animals spring to life. The player character can also ride on the sides of the bigger ones! The game also puts a big stress on unity between yourself and the environment; there's not a whole lot you can physically interact with, but you can play with the animals there and, like I said before, ride on some of the larger animals. There are also "meditation spots", statues where you can sit and explore the wildlife from more of their point of view, able to follow them seamlessly and see what the different kinds of fish and such are called. It's a calming experience, and really the most interaction you get with some of the more timid animals, letting you still see them up close even if you can't get there as the player character.

The story of the game is told via writings on the walls, which you can light up and access by solving small puzzles regarding connecting reservoirs of glowing waters, similar to that of the almost cosmic area you go to between levels; one thing I read described it as a kind of "rebirth area", which I can definitely see hehe!

At the end of the game, you've held the shark in its dying moments, you've discovered a strange factory that builds the weird triangular prisms that deliver anything that touches them a shock, the little flashlight dudes that you've found over the levels, and little divers that uncannily resemble yourself, and you've seen yourself disassembled to your funny little mechanical skeleton, weak and slow as you try to walk on land, before you are rebirthed from the void-cosmic-water area once again, fully yourself. There's a wonderful ending sequence where you swim through all these rivers, bringing life with you as you go, with the shark once again by your side. The whole game, you saw no land when you poked your head above water, just miles and miles of water, but you've travelled far enough to reach a reservoir. You cut the chains to a central triangular prism, and it grows over with moss. It gives me goosebumps just thinking about it, really, it feels like such a... grand gesture as you play through it. It feels personal.

Okay. Theory time. Finally, we're getting into the meat of it. Fucking hell.

So, imagine that you are this being. You're wandering an oceanic wonderland, observing and caring for what you need to, doing as any good little diver should. After a bit of poking around, you discover the start of the engravings on the walls; they tell the story of the people that were here before you, who built these temples and halls and used, or at least stored, the strange blue glowing "water" that you connect and move. It's a water of life, of sorts, one that they truly valued. You come to an impasse between areas, and this massive, scarred-up shark cuts in front of you. You're gonna stay hidden, that thing is terrifying! You try not to move. It doesn't spot you, or at least doesn't move to attack you. However, once it's safely out of view, you do follow it, and it leads you to a dark, desolate, empty chamber. This is wrong, you think to yourself. This isn't how it should be. There's a well, towards the bottom, and you approach it, taking... a fragment of light, from your chest, and imbuing that spark of life into the well. And, lo and behold, that intuition proved helpful, because the world around you springs back to life. Congratulations! You did it! And you continue to, as you work past puzzles and challenges and the appearance of these strange triangular mechanisms, that shock you when you get too close. These people worshipped a shark, as well, likely the same as the one you saw; the guide, now old and scarred, that brings you to where that spark is needed. Even later in the game, you see depictions of the triangular mechanisms, at first heralded as a positive, before these things are found to be the reason for this society's collapse. As if that wasn't perplexing enough, you see a depiction of a being that appears suspiciously similar to yourself, once again treated with reverence from the past civilization. In their hand is a ball of light, similar to the one shown when you revitalize the oceanic chambers. Well, that's certainly odd, you think to yourself. Perhaps this was a being that postponed the death of the civilization, or first allowed for those small chambers of life to exist in captivity instead of the open, natural landscapes you explored at the start. Regardless, it's now a relic of something long gone; but it still gives you something to think about. Later on, that strange coincidence of your similarities to that person are explained; you find a manufacturing plant, full of the vicious triangular mechanisms in each tight hallway, and right at the center of it all... multiple iterations of yourself, running down an assembly line, a spark not unlike what you saw before imbued into each of them. My, look at that; you've been responsible for part of this destruction all along, haven't you? Borne from that same ill that has been forcibly removing that spark from each of the places you've gone to. A bit inconsiderate of you, no? And yet... look at all the good you've done. You've rebirthed, revitalized, purified these ocean fragments, is that not enough? You are the keeper of these waters, regardless of the evil you had come from, despite the terrifying empty things may have reverted to. You, who trusted and followed the shark that seemed so scary at first. You, who followed it as it tried to attack a source of the evil, of the thing that was draining the oceans of their life. You, who held and comforted that shark as it lay dying, despite any fear you may have had. You, who attempted to traverse a minefield of those triangular machines, shocked over and over again and at the final moment, unable to make it to the finish line. You, who was rebirthed in full regardless by the oceans you'd cared for, by the void-sea you always returned to, to rest. You, who traversed a now-ruined citadel, temple, all of which had been flooded and had been dedicated to you. You, who brought life with you.

I hope you see what I'm getting at here. You're serving as a figure not unlike Enki, god and guardian of the waters. In the wake of Abzu, the avatar of the fresh waters, now confined to irrigation canals so as not to kill the younger gods, Tiamat lashes out. Her husband is dead, as far as she is concerned, and she goes to those younger gods to seek her revenge. The dragon, that which sucked the life from the seas and poisoned the waters. That which Marduk killed, to carve new life from. I would say that the shark is Marduk, even; given how the shark is the only one who is openly on the offense to those mechanisms, and who comes in at the endgame to finish them off, bringing new life with it. Even in how it all shapes up with the civilization before, in connection to the constructs; Tiamat was the mother of all in existence at that time. She was surely loved; but she turned hostile and violent. She could no longer be safely loved. And Abzu, both the glowing water we use to open doors and the light that we hold and the deep void-sea we enter between levels and father to all in existence, he was confined to small canals and reservoirs and put in a deep sleep so that he would not kill his own children. And by you, no less. Enki put him there. That is why you can use that water from the start; you lived in the Abzu, you came from it, and each time, that is where you return. That temple, now submerged and decrepit, is Eridu; the place where Enki was most worshipped. The other diver clones are the other gods, or perhaps the "dragons", now, that Tiamat had mothered. The smaller prisms definitely count in that "dragon" category; purely harmful beings that seek to destroy life. And in the end, indeed, you restore life; you and your son, upon killing Tiamat, return life to the world from her body. Perhaps you could not save those who once worshipped you, perhaps those structures will forever be in ruin. But there is no more danger, now; there is space to build and replenish. There is space to grow.

Fuck ok that was long as hell. Hi if u made it this far i love u. god fucking damn im never writing anything again after this. it took about as long as a full playthrough of the game, coincidentally!!

#my writing #abzû #abzu #giant squid studios #ancient history #the moss mumbles #im not joking this is horrible. like it's all just word vomit about sumerian legend -> the game -> the game again (but in second person)#and THEN we get to The Point. god christ

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sylph-feather · 4 years ago

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Summary: Danny had known the rules— that being beaten would lead to transfer of the crown, instructed to him by their ominous guardians— but he hadn’t exactly considered all the implications of that.

For: @ghost-strawberry

Prompt: (Danny is ghost king hc) Danny loses a fight with Sam and the title of ghost king is transferred to her, despite Sam not being a ghost.

Words: 3,344

“Haha!” Sam barked triumphantly, standing over her defeated enemy in a display of dominance while stomping a scary combat boot, “I won.”

Danny let out nothing but a low keening sound, slumping on the Nasty Burger table and leaving his arm in its defeated position.

“Darn,” Tucker chimed in, “I thought that with all the ghost fighting and workouts you’ve been doing, Sam finally would stop being the reigning arm wrestling champ.” He paused, melodramatically draping a hand over his forehead and intoning, “alas.”

Danny only repeated the same mournful noise, all the sentiment of my arm is going to bruise and Sam will never let this go packed into a drawn out moan.

Before Danny could construct his complaints into something that took the form of language, there was a great burst of green fire that ensconced their cheap, plastic table. In the time it took to flinch, the ghostly flames had already washed over the group— and… done… nothing?

No, that wasn’t right— it hadn’t hurt them, to be more accurate. Their table, and the tile around it, looked like someone had carved a circle into the floor, taken everything within that circle (read: the trio, several overly greasy foodstuffs, and three shakes) and dropped it right into the Ghost Zone, if the swirling green abyss was anything to go by.

(Back in the human realm, the patrons of the Nasty Burger were left with their own overly greasy foodstuffs visible in their mouths held ajar as they stared at the smoldering circle that once held three teens and cheap fast food chain restaurant seating— horribly cheap plastic booths on a table that maybe had the suggestion of meeting bare-minimum sanitary requirements. A lone green flame died out, and acrid smoke wafted away. Same shit every day, a tired cashier thought).

Before them: the Coroners. Dark-colored ghosts with a litany of dark colors with glowing green antlers that twisted into the suggestion of the shape of a crown, and gnarled hands that all had the same mark of a skull on each knuckle. Between the name and the appearance, they were very ominous, to say the least.

Danny recognized them from the last time he met them: his own coronation.

Sam and Tucker, who were not there for that ritual because it occured after the fight with Pariah, were just as confused and scared as Danny was the first time. “It’s ok!” he yelped at his friends who were readying their on-hand Fenton weaponry. “I know them. They’re the Coroners.”

Sam shot him a look that said that is anything but encouraging, and Danny winced.

“They… do… the coron-ing,” Danny said slowly, because he didn’t know how else to phrase it. “Like, the monarchy ruler stuff.”

“Down with the monarchy,” Sam intoned almost instinctively, but still pocketed the lipstick laser once again, settling down and taking a more casual sip of her strawberry shake.

Tucker, meanwhile, just kept his shaky hands locked around the box of fries, determinedly not looking at the wraith-like creatures that had deer skulls sticking out of dark garb.

Sam paused in her slurping, considering the Coroner’s job in her mind more thoroughly. “I guess it makes sense, ‘cuz the Ghost Zone doesn’t have a pope to do it,” she admitted.

Tucker relaxed, and snorted. “Ghost pope.” The idea (mixed with the special breed of hysterical comedy that comes with stress) elicited great humor.

Fear abandoned, now they just looked confused. Danny was too— because, “why are you here?” He frowned down at himself. “Are you, uh, rebelling? Or do you have an important message? Or…?”

That was one-third of the Coroner’s jobs: rebellion. Or, more accurately, inciting rebellion. To understand, one must understand two-thirds of their job: the second third was that someone had to pass down the Ring of Rage and Crown of Fire. After the defeat of Parkah, the ancient ghosts were very grateful that Danny had taken it from Pariah Dark after his reign of tyranny, given that he had destroyed them… because of the first third of their job. See, the Coroners were also supposed to act as some representative electoral body of ghost-kind in deciding who passed a somewhat okay-ish ruler, and if that didn’t work out, they usually incited rebellion against said tyrant, or inevitably did so when a once kind ruler became glutted with greed and violence.

So Pariah trapped them, which (admittedly) was a rather sensible plan, and (also admittedly) a major design flaw in the ring and the crown. After all, given the requirement for the initial rights to ring and crown were to battle and defeat its previous user to gain access (it could be peacefully passed, but that option had never happened), and really, nothing of the Coroner’s judgement would make an impact outside of someone saying no— that is to say, the ring and crown wouldn’t just poof. Thus, it seemed reasonable to assume that the battler would continue, well, battling for that power.

The last third of their job is significantly less exciting— as Danny put it: messaging. It simply was to act as ghostly servants; knights, mailmen, whatever the King and the ghosts that needed the King may require. Danny largely told them to use their own discretion in solving conflicts, because he was just one teen barely keeping his grades above Cs, and then left them to it.

So yes, Danny was kind of worried that somehow, such a dramatic summons would be some kind of ominous warning on the way he was being a king— which, to be fair, he was barely being a king at all— due to the aforementioned second-third of their job.

The largest one with the most elaborately twisted antlers pointed a long, bony finger at Sam. Its voice, which sounded both grand and incredibly spooky, boomed thusly: “this human has bested you in battle. Thusly, according to the sacred laws of the Ring of Rage and the Crown of Fire, she shall be bequeathed the title of ghostly monarch. Ye, Danny Phantom, halfa, who have bested Pariah Dark, have lost to Sam Manson, human, and cede your title as ruler.”

In a circle, the thirteen wraiths whispered, “and the cycle continues.” It was murmured slightly out of sync, but it gave less of an impression of untidiness or lack of professionalism, and more of an ominous feeling, like there were many more voices than just thirteen.

Danny was slightly less freaked out than Sam and Tucker by it, given they had said a similar thing when he was coronated, but with far less spooky fanfare, and more normal, excited fanfare. Mostly, Danng was spooked more by the suddenness of the thing, and the prospect of it.

In the hands of the largest one that was clearly the leader, the Ring of Rage and the Crown of Fire appeared in a dramatic swooshing of green flame.

Danny’s eyes widened. “She.” He paused, because he couldn’t really argue with that. It was— technically, sort of— a battle. And in the Ghost Zone, might made right and all that. Still.

Sam and Tucker stared, jaws agape. Between all the new info and now this revelation, their brains essentially bluescreened.

Danny, even though he was previously initiated, wasn’t in a much better state— all he managed to get out aloud was an incredulous, “it was arm wrestling?”

One of the smaller wraiths, its crown of horns barely nubs, drifted forwards to their Nasty Burger island that was adrift in the Ghost Zone, and asked in its voice of crackling dead leaves, “is this the manner in which you were beaten?”

Sam, herself, recovered from the mental “404” page, and her first reaction was to release a huge guffaw of laughter.

Danny slid forwards onto the table, thoroughly spent between embarrassment and confusion. All he articulated was a very, very long groan.

“May we, uh,” Danny said slowly, turning towards the head wraith and looking at the glowing points set in the skull’s sockets, “have a moment to discuss?”

Tucker made a vague noise between worry and agreement.

“So long as the queen wishes,” it bowed to her, deeply reverent.

“Wait,” Sam ordered, smile growing on her face. “If I were queen,” she said slowly, “would I be able to get rid of this monarchy?”

“Tis not a monarchy, my lady,” one of the thirteen said, antler crown bobbing.

The whole table of teens processed this for a moment.

Tucker burst into incredulity first: “you literally called her a monarch just a few seconds ago!”

“A title, nothing more,” a Coroner corrected. “Nay, you do not hold much sway over them, rather, it is they who hold sway over you, sending message to help resolve conflicts, be they fullscale fights or quarrels.”

Danny groaned, suppressed memories bubbling up: the many times the Coroners had come to him with arguments regarding ghost territories, many attempting to use Danny as a weapon or a diplomat or bodyguard or— so on.

Thus far, a handful of months into his kinghood, Danny had stopped one “fullscale fight” that bordered on a war. (...This was also related to territory, however).

Either way, that was a long way to say: the statement that it was just a title held up. The ring and crown didn’t actually really get him any political leeway with the ghosts— it was more of an… intimidation tactic that some ghosts fled from, because the ring and the crown were no more than power boosters.

Asides from that, all he got were updates on all the troubles in the Zone that supposedly needed him (most of which actually didn’t). The Ghost Zone was a lawless place, so a title of king was not worth much outside of sheer power display.

For the most part, the things had just served to place a target on his back, specifically, because any lost battle would mean they were his no more, and that the power would be passed to the victor.

Sam, seemingly on the same line of thought as he, hummed, “would ghosts know I was the… Ghost Queen?” At declaring herself monarch (even if it was apparently in name only), her face did a bit of an involuntary, complicated twisting motion.

Danny picked himself up from his pathetic slump, and aimed an intrigued-but-confused look at Sam.

Tucker caught on a bit faster— “so if the ghosts think Danny’s still the king, they fight him— but there’s no risk involved in him losing.”

Sam nodded, smiling a little sappily.

Danny just made a mushy “aw,” sound, seeming to consider it.

It was hard to read the expressions of the ghosts that surrounded the trio’s private, floating chunk of the Nasty Burger establishment, because said ghosts wore skulls… but they seemed baffled, though reluctantly accepting. It was all in the tilt of their heads and the pause of their voice as they said, “great Queen, whatever thou shall ask of us.”

Sam nodded again, then paused. Her face cracked into an eager grin— a dangerous grin. “Do I get cool powers from this?”

After receiving the crown, Danny had gotten a boost in his own powers; nothing new, just everything that was there was doubled. Double the size, the intensity, the spookiness, the everything. Needless to say, being goth and being active in fights as she was, Sam was excited for ghost powers. She was momentarily lost in visions of a sweeping gothic outfit, one of pure black with smokey edges, decked out in spikes, etcetera— in other words, “edgy.”

Tuck, meanwhile, had a far more practical askance: “hold on. She’s a human, right?”

Of course, it wouldn’t be the first instance of humans vaguely receiving or being influenced by ghost powers in some way; Undergrowth had done it, there had been that time with ghost mosquitos, and the one with that Egyptian staff, and the whole incident with the dragon-rage amulet… not to mention the halfas themselves, obviously. Still, it was not all that hope-inspiring to consider that all of them save for the halfas were essentially some degree of possession (or, at the least, something infectious and negative).

Aloud, Tucker continued to contemplate. “It’s not exactly reassuring to call them ghost powers, with uh, death. Involved.” It was a choppy sentence, but it got the point across; Danny was a special case, but even a half death wasn’t exactly desirable.

The glowing eyes of the coroners seemed to wink in amusement, insomuch as points of light could display emotion. “Ghost powers , says the queen.”

“Ghost powers,” the others echo— not ominous this time, because they are chortling, seeming to be one step away from elbowing one another.

Sam flushes a bit. “What’s so funny about that?” she grunts, offended.

The coroners all bow deeply. “We meant no offense,” speaks one from the crowd, and it is followed by a wave of nodding before any of the trio can tell which one was even talking. “We simply find hilarity on your naivete.”

“Elaborate,” she ordered with extremely thin patience.

“We were hasty in calling you the monarch yet,” the largest explained in its ancient, crackling voice, slow and thoughtful— annoyingly so.

Sam pinches her nose, understanding with perfect clarity why Danny had complained dealing with these pretentious, cryptic weirdos. “Elaborate,” she commanded once again.

“You are not the monarch yet, because you have not died,” it informed with great solemnity.

The Nasty Burger chunk floated in stunned silence as the trio absorbed that.

“Die?!” Tucker yelled, banging the table, upsetting both the fries and the silence.

“You have a fascinating and naive way of phrasing it, but perhaps ghost powers is not so far from the truth,” one of the antlered creatures mused, not really addressing the obvious tension or concern. “For indeed, the ring and the crown do power the spiritual energy—“

“They’re just ghost batteries!” Danny interrupted, baffled and surprised.

Sam herself then interrupted the interruption with a scoff, creating a horrible stack of domino-ing interruptions. “All this pizazz over just a power source that I can’t even use?”

“You are incapable of using it as you are now,” a coroner pointed out. Something in all their eyes glinted ominously, and their antlers seemed to shine with ethereal light. “You are disconnected while living,” one said. As a group, they began encircling the private bit of Nasty Burger, wraith-like cloaks brushing against disgusting tile that was glossy with grease of burgers long past. “But we will fix that,” the coroners intoned as one.

Danny finally took some initiative, fluidly erupting from his seat and transforming into Phantom in a singular motion. It felt just a tad ridiculous to he hovering over a Nasty Burger table that was ridiculously out of place in the abyssal green of the Ghost Zone, but that only graced his mind for a moment. Instead, the primary thought was one he voiced aloud: “are you going to kill her?” Danny may have been a C student, but regarding threats he was not slow on the uptake— he’d been in enough fights to get a good instinct. For their part, Tuck and Sam took it too— partially cowering behind Danny while brandishing their own Fenton brand lasers.

The dark spirits jolted to a stop, and tilting their many skull-heads quizzically— a nonverbal askance of why fight? All their minds were whirring, and the first theory from the group of coroners was this: “are you hungry for this power once again?” The group around chortled, a veritable cacophony like many dead leaves being kicked around by whistling wind. It was a taunt, clearly. “This is the natural order of things, halfa. You cannot deny it. You have lost. She has won, won spiritual power, power we take from you.” An enormous pressure of dread emanated from the threatening beings, seeming to push at Danny’s chest— it threw him off kilter in the emotional sense, but also the literal given that he was midair. “If you desire it returned to you, then beat her as she did you, as is the rites of the Ring and the Crown.”

“I’m more upset she’s gonna die!” Danny barked, a little sarcastic and a lot tense, gesticulating wildly as though that could free his limbs from the lead of supernatural fear. As he did so, his hands became enveloped in his own charging ectoplasm— like a snowball dragged through snow to gather more icy slush to its mass, so too did Danny draw the pure ectoplasm from his surroundings.

“I would like not to die,” Sam agreed quickly.

“If it counts, I’m thirding that motion,” Tucker put in as well.

The coroners pulled back, seemingly startled. “You… do not want this power. But you do not get to choose. ” Their antlers still held an ominous and powerful glow, which spoke to the fact that they had already made their choice in regards to the whole death thing.

Sam drew in a breath, preparing her “hell no” tirade— when Danny exploded into motion, wrapping a gloved hand around Sam’s hand that didn’t have a lipstick laser in it, and propped them sloppily on the Nasty Burger table. He held his elbow on the table and their chained hands up. Before she could process what on earth he was doing, he painfully but desperately slammed their linked hands down against the table.

Everyone was staring at Danny, ghosts and humans alike. Silence reigned— utterly baffled, confused silence. It was though a massive, unspoken huh? has slammed down onto the area.

“There,” he said, reedy desperation coloring his voice. “I won the arm wrestle match.”

Sam cottoned on pretty quickly— “oh no,” she groaned, “Danny, you beat me. You won .”

Tucker shot her a look— the emphasis was a bit hammy— but said nothing, only watched hopefully as the coroners seemed to enter something of a loading state as they processed the turn of events.

Then, startlingly, they quickly and fluidly bowed simultaneously. “Long live our shortest reigning queen,” they said with great solemnity, “and welcome back, our halfa King. Long may he reign.”

Needless to say, the trio’s sigh of relief was about unparalleled.

“If I am to reign,” Danny said slowly, recovering but still trying to sound poncy and official (rather than yell at them as he desired), “may we, in the future… discredit joking competitions?” It was delicately phrased, awkward pauses as he deliberately chose fancy phrasing, but it at least got the point across (even if Danny could swear that despite having skull faces and only pinpricks of light for eyes, the coroners were making faces at him).

The coroners stares at each other, cloaks rustling but no sound passing between them.

“Yes,” the largest said suddenly, “such a request is reasonable, for a half-human teenager.” With exasperation, it added: “you already were an exceptional case in your ruling.”

“And in general,” a smaller one piped up snarkily from the back, to be shushed by what was likely a superior.

“Right,” Danny clapped his hands together and huffed, relieved but still tense.

“Now, how do we get out of here…?” Tucker questioned, trailing off and looking at the abyss. He traced his fingers on the table, then his face lit up— “uh, can I keep this? It’s authentic Nasty Burger merch, technically, and it’s nor like they’re really gonna need it when it’s been diverged from this reality, let alone their store—“

Before he could continue, there was a snap from one of the coroner’s gnarled hands, and a great bout of green flames engulfed said hunk of Nasty Burger— for the second time that day.

When a very stunned Danny Fenton, Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, and smoldering, partially aflame with emerald Nasty Burger chunk snapped back into place within the mortal realm, a certain cashier stared balefully at the fused tiles and remnant ghost flame, thought same shit every day once again, and promptly asked: “do you want more to order?”

And thus, the status quo was restored, for better or for worse.

#phic phight #phicphight #phicphight21 #phic phight 2021 #phicphight2021 #danny phantom #phic #fic #my writing

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glenncoco4 · 4 years ago

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You Can Count On Me

A/N: Chapter 5

••••

She steps off the dirt path and onto the small dock. Her presence doesn’t even effect him, which is concerning. “I thought I’d find you here.”

He doesn’t have the energy to respond, his thoughts are swirling and the anxiety he’s been having about this situation is bubbling to the surface more and more each day, especially because of her. His cerulean blues stay focused on the ripples of the water surrounding his feet.

Kicking off her flip-flop, the brunette takes a seat next to him on the old dock, putting her bare feet in the cool pond water right along side his. She turns to look at him, wondering what’s going on inside his head and for a moment as the sun illuminates is silhouette, something inside her heart shifts. “Why’d you run off like that?”

“I guess I just got a little bit overwhelmed by it all.”

“All of what?”

“The thought of going off to college and making something of myself.”

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head in disbelief.

Marty quickly whips his head around, affronted by his best friend’s reaction. “I’m glad you’re enjoying my misery.”

She scoots closer to him, encircling his forearm with her own arms. “No, Marty its not...I’m laughing because you obviously haven’t been paying attention to what I’ve been saying for the past 7 years.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Don’t you realize what you mean to your mom, to my parents...to me? Marty, you’ve already made something of yourself. You are the kindest, funniest and best person I know. You changed my life; you’ve changed so many people’s lives.”

“Really?”

A soft smile crosses her features at the childlike hope in his cerulean blues. “Hey, have I ever lied to you before?”

“No.”

“Exactly. And I never will.” She states matter of factly before leaning her head against his shoulder, soaking in the beautiful glow of the setting sun cascading across the water with the person who makes her feel so safe it’s kinda ridiculous.

The tension in his body slowly ebbs away at his best friend’s words as the scent of lavender beautifully assaults his nose. Taking a deep calming breath, he leans his head against hers, knowing that whatever life throws at him, she’ll be there. He can count on that. “I know.”

••••

Stepping of the dirt trail and onto the old dock like she’s done so many times before, the brunette takes in the picture before her. There he is, clothes tattered, scars across his beautiful face, but he’s alive and that’s all that matters.

He turns around already feeling her presence ease the tension away from his battered body. His sorrowful blue eyes meet those of sweetly intense brown and the shine that glistens in them. Shaking his head in defeat, he realizes how close he had come to never seeing her again.

Kensi doesn’t give him a chance to say anything before she’s closing the distance between them, throwing her arms around him, she’s able to relax for the first time in four months. “You’re safe.”

His body clings to hers, hands grasping at her shirt feeling as though they can’t get close enough. That lavender scent that is so uniquely her fills his nostrils, immediately bringing him a sense of self. She’s here. He’s here. They’re here together and that’s all that matters. “Yeah, for now.”

“I thought you were dead.”

“Not yet. Maybe tomorrow.”

She pulls back, a cross between anger and hurt written across her features. “Don’t.”

“Sorry.” The blonde apologizes, regretting his words the moment they left his lips.

Without thinking, her finger finds the red scrape on his cheek. “Are you okay?”

The feel of her skin against his brings back memories of that night a few months ago. He wants that again so bad. So bad he can almost taste it, but there’s something he has to take care of before he can even think about moving forward with her. “I’ll be better when I catch Lazik.”

“Woah. Woah. Woah. What do you mean when you catch Lazik?”

“I have to finish this, Kens.”

Seeing the determination set in his soulful blue eyes she knows there’s no stopping him, but she’ll be damned if he thinks she’s going to stand idly by. “No, we have to finish this.”

“I suppose I could use some backup.” He smirks, earning a playful nudge from his partner.

••••

A resounding gasp fills the agents ears as the tech operator discovers who the third vehicle belongs to. “Car’s registered to Dale John Sully.”

Kensi tilts her head back against the head rest in exasperation when Eric confirms that her best friend’s undercover persona is indeed inside the warehouse, putting his life in even more danger than before. “Callen, that’s Marty’s alias.”

The team leader shakes is head wondering why he’s so surprised that the detective is indeed in another sticky situation. “Your boy just loves trouble, doesn’t he.”

She stares at the roof of the car for a minute, thinking about Callen’s words. “It’s funny, cuz when we were growing up, it was always the other way around.”

“Kens, I’m not so sure this is a good idea.” Marty looks around the backyard nervously as his best friend pulls out the power saw from her dad’s tool shed.

“What are you talking about? It’s just a little tree house.”

“Yeah, but what’s your dad gonna say when he catches us with his power tools?”

The brunette begins to pull out the sawhorse before turning around to meet the 13 year old’s worried eyes.“He’s not gonna catch us and you’re not gonna tell him either.”

He feels a unfamiliar thud in his heart when the challenging spark in her mismatched orbs meet his.“Has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you’re homicidally angry?”

“In fact they have and he was never seen again.”

Taking a deep breath, Kensi focuses on the here and now. Rescuing Marty’s ass, just so she can kill him herself for going in alone. “So what’s the plan?”

••••

The bald man turns to meet Dale’s eyes, a dark smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “You are surprised I have a wife?”

A shiver runs down his spine. “Everybody’s gotta have somebody, right?” The blonde answers as a sense of warmth and dread swarm through his body at the thought of his person, his somebody, his Kensi and how close they are to having at what he hopes will be forever.

••••

Callen watches as the shaggy blonde, presses the muzzle of the gun forcefully against the dirty cops jaw. “Deeks, look, he’s not worth it.”

Marty ignores the team leader’s statement as his anger continues to take control of his body. “Ask me again. Ask it again!”

Kensi watches on as a side of her best friend that she’s never seen before takes over. Thinking of how he would deal with this situation if their roles reverse, she does the only thing that would certainly bring her out of her rage. “Marty. Marty, put it down.”

As soon as his name leaves her lips a calmness washes over him and it suddenly hits him that she was there to witness what just happened. He empty’s the camber of the gun handing it off to the guys before looking for the nearest way out.

Seeing the frantic look of turmoil in her best friend’s eyes, Kensi places her hand against his chest, trying to bring him some sort of relief.

He shakes his head, trying to school his features as much as he can and does the one thing that never seems to work when it comes to her, not that he would want it to. He walks away from her without a word.

Finding a clear spot against the ally wall, Marty leans against the brick, sliding down until his ass his the hard concrete. He brings his knees up to his chest, burrowing his head into them as he finally lets his tears fall. The anger he’s been holding onto for so long, the pure shit that was this case and the most beautiful moment he’s ever experienced in his life all swimming around in his head.

He’s not sure how long it is before the familiar sound of her footfalls hit his ears. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t acknowledge her presence.

“Hey, are you okay?” She chastises herself for asking such a stupid question. Of course he’s not okay. She’s seen him come out of some pretty deep covers, but this one seems to be affecting him more than any other. Kneeling down in front of him, her hands find his, trying to once again comfort him the way she always has.

“I’d be better if everyone just left me alone.”

The bite in his voice tells her one thing, his walls are up and considering the emotional state he’s in right now, they won’t be coming down any time soon...even for her. She stands back up, shaking her head in frustration. “Understood.”

The sound of her footfalls getting further and further away finally draw him out of his “cage,” realizing that she’s not going to fight him right now even though she knows its what he needs. He can feel the strain in his throat as her silhouette gets smaller and smaller. “Kens...” He sighs in defeat as she quickly turns the corner.

This day keeps getting shittier and shittier.

••••

He brings his fist up to tap on the piece of wood once more, but just as he does it’s pulled open. A set of mesmerizingly mysterious eyes are suddenly staring back at him, leaving him at a loss for words. “I-“

“I thought you wanted to be alone.”

“I did, but...”

“But what?”

She’s upset, actually upset doesn’t seem to be the right word for what he sees staring back at him. Ever since they were kids he’s imagined this moment in so many different ways, this wasn’t really one of them. “I-I wanted to tell you that after that night we had...I never meant for it to happen.”

Kensi can feel her heart split into two at his words. The thought of this...them..of what they could be, it’s all suddenly gone. All the fight she thought was inside her has dissipated. She won’t let herself cry. She won’t. “O-oh, yeah, right. I-I understand.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, you were probably just in the heat of the moment and didn’t want to hurt my-“

Before she can finish her sentence, his lips are on hers, cutting her off. His hands come up, cradling her face, kissing her with such passion and reverence that it would put a Nicholas Sparks movie to shame.

Their tongues duel as if its their last moments on earth and this is goodbye. It’s a few minutes later when they have to pull back, both panting as the rise and fall of their chests brush against each other. “What was that?”

“It seems as though I’m not so good with the words, so I had to resort to other tactics.”

“Not that I didn’t enjoy those tactics, but you know you can tell me anything, Marty.”

“I know. I know. It’s just, laying it all there and saying the words out loud...to you, I-“

“Deeks, what is it?”

At the sound of his last name leaving her lips, he knows he better get to the point and stop being circuitous. It’s now or never. Chips on the table. All in. Taking one last calming breath, his hand finds itself back on her jaw, the feel of her skin against his sends a shock wave through his body. Conveying everything he possibly can in his eyes, he says what’s been sitting on the tip of his tongue and in some part of his head for 20 years now. “I’ve always wanted this one specific thing in life and I didn’t realize until recently what it was. I want you, Kens. I want you and me...I want us. You’re so much more than my best friend. You’re everything to me, Kensi and I’m so far past being in love with you.”

As his confession washes over her, everything stands still as her broken heart slowly mends itself together. This is so not what she was expecting tonight. “You-you love me?”

“I do.” His lips rise into a small smile. “I think the night we made love made me realize it even more.”

He watches as an unreadable look crosses her face as if she’s trying to size him up before turning around and walking further into her apartment. Seeing as though she doesn’t slam the door in his face, he follows her in, quickly shutting the door and becomes confused when he doesn’t see her sitting on the couch.

The brunette follows his movements as he walks further into the living room before she makes her next move. Coming up behind him, she spins his body around and pushes him onto the couch. Straddling his lap, she presses her heat against his. His arms immediately wrapping around her waist loving the feel of her body against his as her movements quickly bringing his member to life.

Slowly moving in, a soft blissful smile spreads to her face as her intense mismatched orbs dance with passion. “I’m in love with you, too.”

#Densi #Densi Fanfic #Kensi Blye #Marty Deeks #AU #Kensi x Deeks #You Can Count On Me #Chapter 5 #NCIS: LA #NCIS: LA Fanfic

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strawberry-characters · 3 years ago

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Lazuli

(La-zule-lee)

"Embodiment of Ultra Reality"

Gender: Cisgender Female

Pronouns: She/her/herself

Sexuality: Pansexual Panromantic

Species: Latias-Pheromosa hybrid.

Height: 3'11"

Age: Immortal, emotionally 20 years of age.

Description: A prankster who resides within the Ruins of Wonderlands. In her former life she was revered as a god, though now she's just a mere latias from Ultra Space who happened to still retain her reality bending powers.

Personality: Childish and mischivious, she likes to crack jokes and pull pranks on people, getting slight sadistic pleasure out of the latter. She's not going out of her way to hurt people however, she just likes to be a general nuisance to people.

In truth however, she only comes off as annoying so that people don't learn of her insecurities and therein abuse her. She finds it stressful to try and live up to the expectations of people and feels like she'll only be liked if she gives but doesnt get, so she makes sure no one likes her cuz, well, its easier to be hated then to be loved. She does appreciate kind gestures and those who enjoy her pranks, but in the back of her head she's tells herself "they're only doing this to try and use me."

Likes: Comedy, Slapstick Humor, Hilarious mistakes such as misspellings and unintentional move choosing, Fidget toys, Soft and Fluffy things, Large trees, bright colors, caterpies(loves to eat them), her Dad.

Dislikes: Matcha, Cinammon, Black Humor, Pranks or Jokes that results in the destruction of personal objects, Awkward silence, Getting wet, blow dryers, Dark Types, the word "better", Crabrawlers, dark colors, grubbins.

Summary

Category: The Eon Lissome Pokémon

Type: Bug-Psychic-Dragon

Latias Dex Entry:

"Latias is highly intelligent and capable of understanding human speech. It is covered with a glass-like down. The Pokémon enfolds its body with its down and refracts light to alter its appearance."

Pheromosa Lab Entry:

"UB-02. Code name: "Beauty." Properly known as Pheromosa. This UB was sighted for the first time following the incidents at Aether Foundation. This UB can reach speeds exceeding 120 mph in just an instant. This speed is greater than any other living creature that has been discovered to date. But its most distinctive features may in fact be its beauty and its powerful pheromones. Most any creature that squares off against a Pheromosa becomes confused, as if struck by the beast's beauty, and loses the will to fight. It is still a subject of research, but it's thought that Pheromosa may possess some sort of organ able to produce a pheromonal substance previously unknown to science."

Lady Azathoth's Page Entry "Lazuli":

"The former embodiment of reality... She was, and still always is, a really little shit. She embodied the fabric of reality, and therein bent it to her will, using it to cause chaos and misfit wherever she went. She's no longer such, but I still kept her reality bending abilities, since it's pretty much iconic with her at this point."

Ability:

Beast Boost: The Pokémon boosts its most proficient stat each time it knocks out a Pokémon.

Levitate: By floating in the air, the pokémon recieves full immunity to all ground-type moves.

Nature: Naive (+Speed, -Sp. Def)

Characteristics: Thoroughly cunning

Moveset:

Bug Buzz

Type: Bug

Category: Special

PP: 16/16

"The user generates a damaging sound wave by vibration. This may also lower the target's Sp. Def stat"

Quiver Dance

Type: Bug

Category: Status

PP: 20/20

"The user lightly performs a beautiful, mystic dance. This boosts the user's Sp. Atk, Sp. Def, and Speed stats."

Mist Ball

Type: Psychic

Category: Special

PP: 5/5

"A mist-like flurry of down envelops and damages the target. This may also lower the target's Sp. Atk stat."

Dragon Pulse

Type: Dragon

Category: Special

PP: 10/10

"The target is attacked with a shock wave generated by the user's gaping mouth."

Backstory:

A latias egg once appeared from an Ultra Wormhole and landed in a pool full of buzzwole eggs. When all the eggs hatched, one Buzzwole, Aedus, noticed the strange dragon-like pokemon that was swimming alongside larva. The others insisted that he got rid of the creature in fear of it potentially hurting someone, Aedus decided to keep her, naming her after the gemstone, Lapis Lazuli. Despite being an alien in the Ultra Jungle, she sat comfortably in her home, getting along with mainly the other organisms that resided in the area, though some loathed her for being associated with what was considered a pesky species of pokémon, and buzzwole who knew her father specifically outcasted her. One day, she ended up pushed into an ultra wormhole and ended up in the Ultra Desert, which housed a society where the beautiful thrive and the ugly perished. One such Pheromosa found her and brought her to their home, and while they were kind and understanding of Lazuli's predicament, they did stress her out due to them constantly trying to "prettify" her, failing to elaborate that those deemed unattractive will be executed to someone who lived a world where appearance was the least of everyone's concerns. She ended up disliking being forced into trying to succeed and looking her best, getting triggered upon hearing the word "Better". Once another Ultra Wormhole appeared years later, she leaped through it, desperate to leave the Desert. Thankfully, she ended up back in the Ultra Jungle and reunited with her father, though she was hardly the same afterwards.

Inspiration:

Design Wise: Early Flipnotes from MonstaYeen, Pinkie Pie from My Little Pony.

Concept Wise: Nothing really lol

Trivia

-One of my most earliest OCs, made her around 2015.

-MonsterYeen (formally known was WildLatias or Cloudy L.) played a big role in inspiring me to make Lovely, admittedly.

-She was originally just a straight up rip off of their characterization of Latias aka Cloudy, the only difference really being just the little symbol on her bead being heart-shaped. Over time, I started to develop her and eventually she deviated far away from her inspiration sources, the only thing remaining being just the markings on her neck.

-Applying Pheromosa to her wasn't really done until when Sun and Moon came out, and it so happened to be around the time when I redesigned Lovely/Lazuli to be yellow instead of red.

-In canon, She ended up gaining Pheromosa attributes during her time in Ultra Deserts.

-In one of her later iterations, Her ears were originally made out of metal and she was made up of jello, candy, and feathers.

-She was originally a pokésona and meant to be a mascot of sorts, though now she's just a stand-alone character.

-Lovely was her original name, eventually became her nickname as her real name was Lazuli, and now Lovely and Lazuli are two seperate characters with zero connection.

-You can't see it cuz of her hair, but she has a heart shape in place of a pentagon, this is actually the one design trait that has always stuck around since her creation.

#lovely #pokemon #latias #pheromosa #oc references #tw abuse

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border-spam · 4 years ago

Text

Leech Lord: Worries

Tyreen - Troy

Always. Constantly, inescapably, Troy.

He's smouldered in the back of her mind as long as she can remember, like a fever. She couldn't not worry about her twin, even as a child it was impossible to block out the cold tightness in her belly that would rise whenever they were apart for any length of time.

She couldn't play alone for an hour without a pang of concern, was he ok? He'd been in bed days... was there something he'd like out here she could bring for him? Maybe Mom would let them play rock soldiers on the mattress if she found some good ones, ones with the little shiny flecks he liked.

The gnawing bite when he'd set out to hunt and she'd be left home with Pop, when keeping him and dad fed was a real problem even without Mom around anymore, the fear that one day he wouldn't come back. He got tired so easy, he only had one hand to grip rock-faces with, he was stubborn... and the concern he'd not forgive her when she'd lash out with words she didn't really want to say after he'd return each time, lost as to how else she could vent how scared for him she'd been.

He nearly died within a week of hitting Pandora. A week.

She didn't like being far from him after, what if his heart started playing up again, what if he fell? What if he was having a weak spell and she wasn't around to pulse energy into his bones with a gentle squeeze of his cold hand in hers. What if he was pushing himself too hard while she was off-world, what if he wasn't sleeping so he could get that stupid stream recording finished for upload, he never listened! She couldn't trust him to stay safe, so she worried.

Always.

That never changed, but what she worried about did over time.

The fear turned sour - less a concern he was overworking and more he was slacking off. He'd not been meeting deadlines recently and she knew it was because he was getting lazy... what if he was whispering behind her back while she was touching base with Maliwan, plotting with his backstabbing Saints to usurp power to his own parasitical throne?

What if he was turning on her? What if he didn't love her the way she loved him anymore, what if he didn't care about their crusade, their holy right? What if he didn't believe she would reach the glory the universe owed her?

...What if he started saying no.

She worries about her twin constantly, and what would happen if he knew how important he really was.

Troy - his "Meds"

(tw: drug use)

The battered little tin is always in a pocket on his left.

Doesn't matter if he's in sweat-stained rags as he grapples with JK's vanguard in the barrack's arena, or full gold and silk regalia at an off world banquet, it's there, rattling quietly, just a hand's reach away if needed.

And when he needs it, he needs it.

The contents are an unorganised medley of chems. He doesn't plan or measure, that's the realm of addicts after all, and he ain't one regardless of what he's scared the people who know him might think. These are tools, not dependencies.

It's stocked with pressed pills and powder sachets stamped with bandit symbols based on instinct, how he's been feeling lately. What he's afraid will rise from the darkness.

The idea of not having it, not being able to run trembling fingers over the pitted surface as he hides the shake by slipping a hand into his coat when he's feeling off, is terrifying. It hadn't been that many years ago when the dented little box mostly contained painkillers and antibiotics, but that shifted over time. Now its purpose feels more sinister than holding back the waves of illness Pandora would throw at him. Now, the drugs help keep him him.

Mood stabilisers, anti depressants, tranquilisers. Hallucinogenic spore powder pressed into the God King's palm by a Bandit high priest with a bone carved mask and reverence in their touch. High quality Blow from that club he trashed in Promethea... The good shit, always clean, always sourced. He's a King - shady deals in alleyways are beneath what he's sweated blood to craft himself into.

Each hits different, clouds his brain and blow his pupils in unique sensations, and he knows his custom assortment by heart. Knows exactly which to snort in a private stall when he feels a rage that's not him creep up his spine in sponsor negotiations. Knows what pill to discretely pop under his tongue to calm the shakes that snake through his ribs on offworld trips, when the corporate suits around him have their bullshit begin to be drowned out by waves of hissing terror clutching at his guts.

"Anxiety", his specialist had said.

Bullshit.

He knows anxious. He knows anger. He knows fear... This is something else.

The drugs haze it away, uncoil the tendrils of something that's not Troy from his mind. Dull the link. Blur his sight and slow his heart - it's enough.

He hates that tin, but the worry of forgetting it one day keeps his hand slipping into that left pocket like a nervous tic, over and over and over.

The contents are probably killing him, but it doesn't matter, least it's his choice. Only Troy controls Troy.

Only he decides what act he plays.

There's no such fucking thing as ghosts.

Seifa - How she looks

It's a constant worry in the back of her mind when in public, that she's going to be outed. That the aesthetic she wears as Ur-Machina, or her sultry little trade-shark persona will fall apart and she'll be left a laughing stock.

The Sei she shows the world is a carefully curated version and that's how she's known.

That mask is how people recognise her character, it can't slip or it could mean people will see her for what she actually is, and THAT ain't acceptable in the slightest. Nuh-uh. She's been pretending to be someone of importance far too long now to let the reality of what a useless piece of junk she is be noticed.

She doesn't give a shit if it comes across as being vain, that's fine! That's easy to work with, part of the persona. Let them think the side glances at her reflection whenever she passes something shiny are outta pride, all she has to do is throw a quick smirk in and it's totally believable that she's checking herself out, not looking for mistakes.

Is her hair ok, does her foundation look rough? Jacket pulled up weird? Nah she's fine - good, check her skin next pass though cause she's feeling nervous and sweating off makeup doesn't do wonders when you're trying to come across as in control. Suck in the goddamn gut. Ass out, cock a hip - power stance. There we go.

She stresses ABOUT stressing about how much she worries.

Maybe it's not actually normal? She has no basis for comparison so can't be sure - this is how things have always been. This is how she survived, by knowing exactly how she needed to look to shift an outcome to her favor or broadcast a confidence that wasn't entirely real.

Keeps a sharp eye on friends, rivals, people she's interested by to see how they manage - does anyone else does this? Is it just her struggling so badly to keep a persona intact that other people don't even have to give a second thought to? She thinks it is... and that just makes her worry about it falling apart even more.

Sei isn't sure if who she is is the makeup and confidence she wears to match an outfit, or the person she is underneath when she's alone. Or, used to be when she was alone anyway, nowadays it's... nicer. Years together and slow steps they may not have noticed her tentatively making have helped her come to grips with how her friends seem to see her the same either way. She doesn't have to be groomed, dressed well, they see Seifa even if she's not sure she is.

Ven doesn't act differently if her hair is done or not, same way he's still Ven if he's in a coiffed updo or messy locks - she's still Sei to him if she's fully styled or looks like a Rakk nest, and it helped.

JK doesn't alter how they treat her regardless of a face of makeup or not, same Sei, same deep chuckled jokes from them or gentle wisdom on long night talks, it doesn't matter what face she's wearing, just like the mask they use has never changed who it belongs to for her.

Troy speaks to her with the exact same close respect or gentle mockery when she's in full ritual gear as when she's just standing in old socks and loose pajama pants she should have tossed years ago. She's not sure he even sees a difference really, or if what she is to him is something that's visual at all. Maybe she's an idea, or a presence. Maybe what Seifa is to him is what he feels when he sits close enough to accidentally brush against her side.

How he looks at her never shifts - it's her he's seeing, and she matters to him regardless of what role she's playing.

It's helped, having friends. Knowing they see her as what she is and not an act, but it's not changed the constant nervousness that goes hand in hand with acting in public as Saint Ur-Machina, or Seifa A'rosk.

Little steps... little steps.

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #troy calypso #tyreen calypso #calypso twins #seifa #leech lord #my hcs #my writing #fanfic

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bbugyu · 5 years ago

Text

a knight's honor + choi seungcheol

he hadn't expected rescuing you to be so simple, and you had been waiting for him in more ways than one.

part one | part two

wc.5868 | smut, flangst, royal au, princess!reader and knight!cheol, its like tangled meets shrek, i recognize that thats awful but i cant help it, this is (again) some soft dirty shit, title kinks, begging, overstim, kinda edging?, unprotected sex (its like ye olden times ok pregnancy was magic and stds were curses), pls have safe sex irl, cream pie, unrealistic representation of how virgins have sex but thats why its erotica, vague mention of sexual harrassment of minors (wanted to include this just in case), cursing (this should be a given at this point)

this was originally meant to be a goofy drabble based off of this post from @hansols-yoda-boxers and then i predictably got extremely carried away and wrote something way too angsty, only carried a couple of comedic elements, and then doused it all in porn with too much plot. thanks for the inspo, mercy!

seungcheol swiftly rode through the oversized halls of the castle, leading the dragon further from the living quarters. further from the tower. further from you. he knew you had waited for someone like him to arrive, and he felt awful for making you wait even longer, but dragons were far too long living to be slain. they were meant to be outsmarted.

his trusty steed galloped, only slowing to turn sharp corners, causing the dragon to crash into the walls as it tried to follow. the halls got narrower, and seungcheol said a word of encouragement to his horse as it neared a closed wooden door.

the door burst open with an explosion of splinter and hooves into a nearly empty dining hall, and the dragon crashed into the doorway and clawed desperately at the floor as it tried to fit its too large body through the narrow opening. as it realized its folly, it tried to back out, but the force at which it was chasing seungcheol had wedged its body further into the doorway than expected. he grinned victoriously, patting his steed's neck and urging it towards the other hall entrance as the dragon roared in his wake.

and again, he rode, as fast as his horse would take him back to you, his almost too long hair blown back by the speed. a smile creeped onto his face. had it really been that easy? they could be back to the royal castle by sundown. he was never one to brag, but he wondered how so many could have failed before him if all he had to do to succeed was lead the dragon away until it trapped itself.

he was a well revered knight at home. he was smart, strong, and he knew how to speak diplomatically. he had climbed ranks young, younger than any before him. the king had taken a liking to him years earlier, so much so that he had delayed seungcheol's mission to save his daughter in fear that he would fail. not because he didn't believe in him, no, seungcheol had always been their best bet by far, and he had argued to be sent sooner, but the king had always denied his requests. because no one in eight years had ever succeeded. because he saw seungcheol as the son he had never been given. because he refused to lose yet another child to the foul beast.

he flew off his horse at the base of the stairwell, giving her a reassuring pat and eyeing the stone walls that were stroked with bright colors and patterns. his fingers followed the painted seam of a leaf before he hopped up the first few steps, hand landing on the hilt of his sword, unsure if he would truly be able to save you without a fight. the stairs wound upwards, and seungcheol lost track of how many steps he had taken less than halfway. even still, the discomfort of the hike dissipated as he approached a large wooden door, and he took the last few steps quickly in anticipation.

he almost tested the handle, then thought better. he leaned against the door with a hand instead, listening. "princess?"

he heard wood shift against stone. "who goes there?"

your voice even sounded beautiful though the thick wood of the door, with a lilt that he almost recognized. "my princess, i am sir seungcheol, a knight of your father's table, and i've come to rescue you from this abandoned castle."

there was a pause, then he hurriedly backed away from the door as he heard approaching footsteps. the door swung open inwards, and he was doused in the sunlight that streamed from the room you lived in.

you were beautiful, he thought. even more beautiful than the legends said. perhaps they had tried their best, but seungcheol knew they hadn't seen you like he could now. he remembered when he was lucky enough to have met you briefly at a spring festival, back when such things happened in the kingdom. before you were taken and the happiness had left. he remembered the way you smiled and danced with him as only a child, but being viewed through his wide, curious eyes, wondering why the kingdom's only princess had held his hand and swung him around her in the plaza. his heart felt light as he saw the same features upon your face, matured and even more lovely than ever. he wondered if you remembered him, too, despite knowing that you had danced with likely a hundred others, though only some of them as young as he had been. he was so caught up in thinking about how he may be the first in the kingdom to see you since your taking, he hardly noticed the look you were giving him, one hand on the door and the other on your hip.

"you didn't kill her, did you?"

seungcheol blinked. "k-kill her?"

"penelope. the dragon," you specified, despite feeling as though you truly shouldn't have to. "you didn't kill her?"

his hand left the hilt of his sword, and he kneeled, bowing his head as he remembered who you were to him. "no, my princess. slaying dragons is not something i would do willingly."

you stared at him, his dark hair grazing over his eyes as he looked back at you in awe, and your gaze softened at his words of respect to the powerful race. no one had ever made it this far, not the entire time you had lived in this castle. when he had arrived, you were with penelope in the garden, and she spotted the horse riding dutifully towards the castle. you questioned her noises, then watched her gaze, quickly mounted her back and allowed her to take you back to your tower as the horse neared. you had heard penelope when she roared in the distance - the same roar she gave when you had to help her untangle from a chained chandelier last week - and you had wondered how he trapped her. how he outsmarted her. although, you thought. it was before midday, and penelope had always been slightly slower in the mornings.

nevertheless, there was a handsome man kneeling before you, with a proven heart of gold and a penchant for calling you his princess, and you had been feeling particularly lonely as the recent weeks dragged on.

you reached down for his hand, which he extended to meet yours. he kissed the back of your hand briefly before rising to his feet again, his eyes never leaving your face. "princess, if i may speak freely-"

"you may," you said, looking up to him expectantly.

"you are the most beautiful being i have ever laid my eyes upon. are you sure you're not a goddess?"

you felt your chest set aflame at the compliment. "sir seungcheol, if i didn't know you were a knight, i would say you were courting me."

you smiled when his eyes got big, realizing his mistake. "milady, i apologize, i did not mean to-"

"hush, my brave knight." his jaw clenched when you purred the words to him, pulling him by the hand into your living quarters.

he looked about the round room, taking in as much of it as he could. the ornate canopy bed opposite the door, against the only flat wall in the tower. where the walls jointed on one side, there was a steep staircase leading up to a lofted area, and on the other, a door. the windows were large and let in lots of light, one of which was pushed open to allow a breeze to waft through the room. large bookshelves curved along one side, with a ladder expertly positioned under the section you were currently reading through. the tall walls were covered in paintings, some old and sunwashed, while others were as vibrant as the blue sky, and many that fell somewhere between. a hobby you had picked up with time, he supposed, before he remembered the similar paintings he had seen at the base of the stairwell. had you been brave enough to venture down there, as well, when you had run out of space here? he noticed a table to his right, at which there was an askew wooden chair. that must have been where you were sat when he arrived, and he moved towards it, finding a notebook and a quill. he looked away from your neat handwriting, not wishing to invade your privacy, before hearing you shut the door.

"i've never had visitors."

he stared at you as you closed the small gap between the two of you. "i-"

"you didn't mean to visit, i know," you said, fingers running up the chainmail on his forearm. "you meant to rescue. but alas, sir seungcheol, i may have once been prisoner here, but the fearsome penelope has grown fond of me. i have been free to go for years."

he watched your face, his fingers itching to reach for you. "my princess, what keeps you here, then? so far from the kingdom that loves you?"

you exhaled lightly, realizing you hadn't spoken to anyone but a dragon about anything for far too long, much less these feelings. perhaps sir seungcheol wasn't the worst person to confide in, if he had made it past your tenacious penelope. "i was still so young when i was taken, but even then, my parents only ever spoke of me as a pawn for the kingdom." your voice was quieter than you intended, and you noticed seungcheol's shoulders tense, not wanting to react poorly to his king's action, but unable to not empathize with you. "i was a disappointment from birth for not being a son. all they wanted me for was to marry someone from a powerful family. that was my role to them, and the sooner the better. when i was taken, i was almost thankful." you thought a moment, and seungcheol watched you like he was on the edge of his seat. "fate bought me some time."

"my princess, i'm sorry," he paused, hesitating. "i didn't realize the hardship-"

"how old were you?" you asked, interrupting him before he could claim you had a hard life. you didn't. you knew that. you were luckier than most. "were you a knight before i left?"

he looked down at you, your eyes large as you questioned him. "n-no, i pledged because of your taking."

you smiled vaguely. "you joined to save me?"

seungcheol's eyes hid from yours suddenly. "yes, i suppose that is why," he said, adjusting his belt and the equipment that hung from it. your eyes flicked downwards as he cleared his throat. "it happened a week before my sixteenth birthday. i volunteered as soon as i could."

you watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed, still avoiding your gaze and instead staring at the paintings adorning the walls. sixteen was the youngest anyone was allowed to enlist, but none that joined that young ever got knighted. you thought of the dedication he must have had at such a young age, but you remembered that you had befriended a dragon at the same age. "you're not much older than i, then."

his lip folded under his teeth, eyes on a deep purple painting of the dragon - penelope, you had called her. "i know."

just then, the floor shook with a low grumbling roar. your eyes went to the window. "sounds like penelope escaped your trap."

seungcheol's hand went to his sword immediately, and you pushed his hand away from the hilt.

"please, sir seungcheol," you gave him a teasing look. "she only bites if i want her to."

he looked at you, hearing the gust of strong flapping wings approaching. "do you want her to?"

you smiled. "not at all."

you went to the window as the dragon approached, the tower being cast in darkness as her wings obscured the windows and shaking as she gingerly gripped it, her head poking in through the opening. he wondered how often she did that. if the tower was at risk of collapsing from her visits.

"are you okay?" you asked, placing a hand on her snout. "he didn't hurt you, did he?"

seungcheol swallowed hard as he watched you, doing his best to not show fear. he had spent six years training to, against his better judgement, slay the so-called "ruthless" dragon that had killed many knights before him, yet here you were, baby talking to it. and it was chirping in response. he allowed the two of you to exchange words and grunts for longer than he felt comfortable, but he truly wasn't in much of a state to stop you.

"well, go on, then," you said finally. "go take a nap, you had a hard morning, we shouldn't get any more visitors for a few weeks."

the dragon let out a gentle roar, and sunlight flooded back into the room as it left, flapping away. he approached you as you watched her, and he wondered if you intended to stay here forever.

"she only kills people with wicked hearts," you said quietly.

seungcheol stood beside you by the window, watching your profile. "she can sense them?"

you nodded, and he thought of all the brave men that had come before him only to never return. he had idolized them, once, when he was too young to understand, but he knew she was right. they only dreamt of the riches saving her would bring them. men the age of your father bragging that they would bring you back for you to be made their queen, giving them the kingdom. you would be indebted to them, they had said. he wondered how the men that had sworn to protect the kingdom and its inhabitants could speak such vulgar words about the one and only princess, especially when you had been only a child when you were taken. seungcheol was the youngest knight among them, the youngest to be accepted of any trainees, even to this day. bottom of the pecking order. he knew if he said something, he would never get the chance to save you for the right reasons. to try. to succeed. so he had kept his mouth shut for far too long. now, he thought, they had gotten what they had deserved.

"i've been waiting," you sighed, turning to look up at him, his gaze shooting away from yours on instinct. "for a man with a good heart. a man smart enough to be worthy of my hand."

seungcheol stared at the open window as you walked behind him, trying to understand your words in a way that did not mean him. "p-princess, i don't think i under-"

you tugged at the ties of his armor, remembering well the way your home army built it. he jumped, grasping at the metal chest plate before it clattered against the ground. "sir seungcheol, why don't you stay a while?"

he leaned the chestplate against the wall and spun to face you, brows furrowed. he had sworn to protect and serve you blindly, giving up any family he may have dreamed of having in the past. he had rejected courtship in favor of being fully prepared to die in an attempt to save you from your prison. and when he found you, my god, he couldn't have been more blown away. you were more stunning than he could have ever imagined, a radiance to you that was indescribable. he wanted to take you home, to the kingdom he called home. to your parents, the king and queen, and to reunite the royal family for the first time in nearly a decade. he wanted to see the way he had imagined your face would light up at the reunion. but you…

your hands landed on his chest, now only covered by a cotton tunic, your fingers splayed across the toned muscle beneath the fabric. "i've… never had visitors…"

your repeated phrase read like a plea, and his hands instinctively went up to hold you in comfort. your eyes met his again, and he begged to any god that would listen for a way to say no. but the way your gaze held his, your small hands against his pounding chest, the way your teeth briefly pulled back your lower lip…

he prayed for forgiveness for breaking oath before he raised a hand to your jaw, leaning down into you.

your fingers gripped at his tunic in anticipation as your lips met, and you sighed happily at the contact. his lips were soft and plush against yours, and you considered how lucky you were that the knight smart enough to reach you was also incredibly beautiful. his eyelashes brushed against your cheek before he pulled away, and he held your face near his.

"my princess, why me?" he searched your eyes. "i've already sworn my life to serve you. you could have any prince in th-"

"oh, hush," you smiled briefly. "my dear, sweet, noble seungcheol. you being the one to reach me has been service enough."

though seungcheol would never desire to oppose you, he disagreed. he had so much more to do for you. he pulled your waist into him, kissing you deeper. you moaned into his mouth, and he thought you sounded more angellic than any choir he had ever heard. his fingers dug into the fabric of your dress, and he wondered briefly how much you wanted from him. how horribly would he desecrate the oath of knightship for your sake? everything in him yearned for you, a feeling he had never fathomed before. how could he possibly say no, when your body was against his, begging for him to say yes?

you pulled at the strings holding his armguards, letting the chainmail and leather clatter to the floor on either side of you, and seungcheol watched you, swollen lips parted slightly, as you unthreaded the corset of your dress.

"seungcheol?"

his dark eyes met yours, an involuntary reaction to you calling him casually shooting straight to his groin. his hands were on your waist when his tongue shot out to wet his suddenly dry lips. "how can i serve you better, princess?"

you smiled slowly, pulling your hair away from your nape as you spun in his grip. "help me out?"

seungcheol's voice may have wavered slightly when he said "of course," but his motions were anything but hesitant. you briefly wondered if he had done this for any women before you, taking down their dress ties and coaxing the material off their shoulders like he did yours. or, perhaps, you thought excitedly. perhaps he just had a sister at home, or he had aided his mother in the past, and this would be something new for him, as well.

the tunic and corset fell from your form, leaving you in a thin slip and your undergarments, and you turned again, stepping out of the fabric around your ankles to push into seungcheol's chest, pushing him towards the bed in which you spent every night alone for far too long, your lips desperately seeking his. his fingers gripped around your waist, and he felt the warmth of your beautiful skin on his fingertips through the cotton material that kept him from seeing all of you, and it ignited something in him.

seungcheol slipped an arm below your hips to lift you slightly, swinging you over and walking you to your neatly made bed. his clothes, he thought. he had ridden through mud that morning. he sank to his knees as he placed you at the foot of the bed, not wanting to bring the taint of the outside world into the sheets you dreamt upon. you held him, down on one knee between your split legs, as his lips trailed down your neck, and his hands ran down the curve of your hip in a hurry. your hands never left his neck, his nape, his shoulders. you felt him tense at your vocal reaction to his touch. you adored the way he touched you. like you were a sculpture. a beautiful form in clay, and he had to swipe the pads of his fingers over every inch to make sure it was right. you were nothing less than perfection to him, and he had to make sure his sculpture represented the curve of your waist well, and the way it met your breasts, then down your spine and over your hip, feeling around your ass before running down your thighs. you sighed and moaned, making his fingers tense on whatever flesh he was grasping at those moments, and you wondered if all of it would feel this good.

"seungcheol," you said suddenly, hands cradling his skull as he paused his hushed praises of your collarbones to look up at you. "i'm not asking this of you as your princess."

a small smile tugged at his cheeks, dimpling them, understanding what you wished to clarify. "princess," he addressed, but with a dark tonal change that had you tingling for contact. "i'm not doing this as your knight."

you only managed to smile at him briefly before he dug his hands under your slip, pulling the cotton over your head. he tossed it somewhere behind you, but it didn't matter, because you didn't even have time to be annoyed that he was severely more dressed than you before his mouth dipped to your core.

you gasped, hard, the feeling of his tongue on your clit through your panties, and you grasped at his hair desperately. seungcheol only grunted when you stuttered out his name, and he only looked up at you, still tasting at you through the fabric. "christ, seungcheol, i'm sensitive."

he nodded, lulling you into a false sense of reprieve as he pulled away, but it almost felt like pity when all he said was "you taste too good," and all he did was pull your panties down your thighs. you didn't see where those got discarded, either, because you were too distracted by the stars that danced across your canopy, you back arcing over your bed at the feeling of seungcheol's tongue pressing into you, his lips latching around your sensitive hood and making you squeal out repetitions of his name, gripping at anything you could. his hands held your thighs up, out of his way, but in a position comfortable for you, letting you settle your legs where it felt best. he could feel your walls tensing around his languid muscle, and your grip on his hair, right at the crown of his skull, made him throb in need. you cried out loud, and if you were capable of coherent thought as you came hard, and directly on his tongue, you would have been asking why it never felt this good when you had gotten yourself off. maybe seungcheol was the answers to your prayers after all.

his eyes met yours again when you finally managed to open them, and he licked a wide stripe up your pussy. you could almost focus on his pupils, dilated in lust, and he tugged at the ties around his riding boots. he pulled you to sit up as he stood, pressing your lips together again. you moaned, tasting yourself on him, your arms instinctively draping themselves around his shoulders as he hurriedly undid his belt buckle. you adjusted your posture, and you were tugging at where his tunic was tucked into the belt he was stripping away from his body, pulling it over his head as soon as he dropped his equipment on the ground. you were on your knees at the foot of your bed, your hands skating up his gorgeous torso, still not over how insanely lucky you felt to have been found by possibly the most perfect man in existence.

then, when he shoved his pants down his hips and his undergarments went with it, you were absolutely positive he was the most perfect man in existence.

his member was hot and heavy, and you had to swallow to stop yourself from drooling onto yourself as you sat back. you reached for it, and seungcheol hissed at the contact as your fingers wrapped around the shaft. his lips chased yours, hips inadvertently thrusting into your hand while he kicked off his boots. when he stopped, so did you, and his eyes opened to look your face up and down.

"princess, this would likely be punishable by death if i were any other knight."

you knew he was right, but you now knew that the two of you held all the cards. the tiniest detail he had implied - only punishable if he were any other knight. your father liked him. and he had saved his beautiful daughter and heiress to the throne. anything could happen from here, and you two would end up on top. you smiled, only enough for him to barely catch it as he caught his breath, then kissed him briefly. "let's make it worth while, then, shall we?"

seungcheol's stomach clenched at your words, his grip on your hips tight. he gave you a need filled kiss before flipping you onto your stomach, lifting your hips until your knees settled at an angle on either side of his legs. he held himself at your entrance, gathering your leaking juices on the head of his already red hot cock as you moaned helplessly into your blankets, your full chest pushing into the mattress. your hand skated down to him, brushing over his fingers on your hip before he grabbed it and pushed your hand against your back. you whined, trying your hardest to push back onto him despite him holding you off.

"you'll hurt yourself, princess," seungcheol warned, eyebrows crinkling as he tried to stave off his want to snap full into your velvety cushioned walls, only dipping himself into you a centimeter at a time. you could only whine again, then gasped once when his full head popped into you.

"please, seungcheol, please please," you begged, tears threatening your eyes as they stinged with want. your fingernails dug into his hand. "i need you. all of it. please."

he groaned at your pleas, his hips jerking ever so slightly as you moaned in response. he let go of your hand to grip your hips with both hands, and you scrambled, using your newly recovered limb to push yourself back into his hips. you screamed into your blanket as seungcheol let out a choked moan, suddenly fully sheathed in your warmth. you were breathing heavily, mind swimming at the feeling of him stretching you out wide, and all the incredible places he was hitting. it hurt, slightly, but god it hurt good. he paused, praying to god he didn't cum just from the feeling of you around him - he needed this, and he needed a lot of it. he would never forgive himself for cutting it off early.

you were gasping as you pushed your palms into the bed, moving your body forward and pushing back again, really savoring the way his thick cock fit snugly in you, the way it fucked into a sweet spot you had never reached before. your babbling became less coherent as seungcheol recovered his ability to move, pulling you back into his thrusting hips with a pleasantly tight grip around your waist. he leaned forward over you, pinching at your nipples before letting one hand roam down your stomach to your core. you yelped, your elbows buckling as his finger brushed against your clit. you collapsed into the mattress, though he was holding your hips up to where his met them repeatedly, and you moaned, desperately trying to lift yourself off of your own face. his other hand pulled your hair away from your neck, gripping it in a loose ponytail as he kissed your shoulder blade.

"you're the most perfect thing i've ever seen," seungcheol said breathlessly. "the most perfect thing i've ever felt."

you pressed your neck into the blanket, desperately twisting and trying to see him as you were steadily climbing towards a second release. you wanted to say something equally as poetic and sensual, but when his dark eyes found yours, and you moaned in the same moment, you had already said the most sensual thing you could have. and then, you swore you saw a dark smirk on his lips before they hungrily mouthed at yours.

you squirmed beneath him gasping and curling your toes as he pounded into you, the sound of his hips against your ass echoing off the far wall vaguely. your release came fast and hard, the same way he fucked you through it, and seungcheol used every ounce of discipline he had to keep himself away from ending this as you pleaded for him to cum with you, voice cracking as he snapped into you.

you were somewhere between babbling and crying, your vision blurred from a combination of the way his cock felt like heaven and the moisture that had accumulated in your eyes from the orgasm, and your hand grasped at his as it clumsily rubbed against your nearly spent clit. you laced your fingers with his, pulling it up to your breast, and he rolled a nipple between a finger and a thumb until you were pushing yourself back onto him again, desperate for more of what only he could give you.

you could only gasp when he pulled from you completely, your pussy aching as it stopped accommodating for seungcheol's considerable girth. your hands gripped at his shoulders as he rolled you over again, and you easily aided him in repositioning you on the bed, giving him ample space to toss you around as much as he wanted.

you attached your lips to his neck, starting to crave him deep in you again, if only he would just let go. you wanted to feel him chase after his high with no concern for you. you needed to feel his cum stain your walls. your open mouthed kisses down his pulse as you begged for him to just lose himself in you, and god did that sound delightful, but he didn't want to be done yet.

his still slick cock bumped into your clit, making you squeal against his shoulder, biting down briefly. his arm nearly buckled, and you registered the reaction just in time to bite down on his pulse as he pushed into you again.

with his knees on either side of your hips, he was curled over you, pulling your thighs down to sink you onto his cock. you wiped at his hair, slick with sweat now, and you imagined how lovely he would look in your mosaic wash tub in the room behind your bed, lit by the moonlight streaming through the window as you sat on his lap, taking in as much of him as you were now. you hoped he would be okay with staying long enough to fulfill some of your wandering youthful fantasies. his lips landed on yours again as you gripped at his hair, noises falling out of you as he split you in half.

he sat up, making his member curve into you addictively, and your back arched slightly in reaction. he ran his hands up your torso, curving around your breasts, playing with your nipples, rolling his hips gently into yours as you let out some of the most explicit and seductive moans seungcheol could have ever hoped to hear. you rolled your hips over his and he grunted, brow twitching inwards as he stared down at you. you looked back up at him, then rolled them again, making him drop his head. you pulled a deep moan from him with another roll, and as you continued your motions, his cock bulging into all your pressure points, you were whining for release as he was letting out short gasps, brows knit together. he suddenly laced his fingers with yours, then pulled your hips onto his abruptly with his palm on your thigh, and you shook with pleasure as you felt hot rope after hot rope make a complete mess of your cunt, your walls pulling him deeper, cum seeping out around the dick that took up too much space in you.

"fuck," he groaned, wiping back his damp hair as your nails scraped down his chest. "i didn't want to cum."

your mouth was hanging open and your eyes were only half lidded, and seungcheol thought he had never seen a more appealing expression in his life. "i needed you to."

his soul returned to his body as your words sent a rush of arousal into his body again, and he briefly wondered if he would ever stop wanting to be in you. he pulled one of your hands from his chest to place too gentle kisses across your knuckles, and he pumped into you slowly, white streaks leaking out as his cock steadily refilled the space. he pulled out, using a hand on his cock to collect some of the leaking cum and pushing it back into you. you practically wailed, fingers digging into his thighs as your messy cunt pulsed around him.

"s-s-" you whined, the name unable to be vocalised as he pumped deeper into you. "sss- s-!"

"yes, princess," he panted, a hand wrapping gently around your throat. despite there being no pressure, the warmth of his hand on you made you groan. his voice was low and harsh, like gravel. "am i serving you well?"

"s-sir," you gasped, finding the title easier to force out than his name in that moment. "i'm-m gon- god, s-seungcheol, i'm gonna-"

the hand on your throat slipped between your neck and the plush pillow, lifting your face up to be directly under his, and you watched him glower at you with a gap between your lips. "then cum, baby."

and with his chocolate eyes on yours, you quaked below him, clawing at his back and squeezing him tight. soon his lips were a comforting presence on yours, and your toes curled aimlessly with the backdrop of your ceiling as your face burned red, embarrassed by his ability to egg you on so successfully.

"you are incredible," seungcheol said finally, kissing at your squeezed shut eyelids. "how lucky am i that you saw something in me."

your eyes opened slowly, heat still radiating off your cheeks from your orgasm. "sir seungcheol, i think we may have been destined to cross paths."

he thought of the brief time you had danced with him at festival. the reason he dreamt of being a knight. the way your father took favor of him. the way his entire adolescence had been spent training to rescue you. perhaps, he thought. perhaps you were right.

and whether you were or not, when his lips met yours again and his hand caressed your cheek, you were once again nothing but putty in his hands. his fingers felt like they were designed to specifically hold your body, and he was that much closer to believing you were his destiny.

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