#since they do got a little more story impact

[yeyayeya]

YO WTF

I KNOW IM AN HOUR LATE BUT WTF

Genealogy remake is happening guys trust

[bitchthefuck1]

have you watched the pjo show?

I saw the first 2 episodes when they came out at a watch party one of my friends threw, and as soon as they ended I realized I didn't particularly care to keep going. It wasn't like, outrageously bad by any means, I just don't think it gripped me enough to want to continue, and there were enough odd adaptational choices that I thought weakened the story that I lost interest. I might have tuned back in if the changes actually built to something interesting in the later episodes, but from everything I've seen it kinda seems like they just took the teeth out of the story, which was what I was worried about.

That being said, the cast seems really great and well suited to their roles, so like, if they improve the writing and pacing in the later seasons and stop sanding down all the rough edges, I might pick it back up. But otherwise, pass.

[shoyoist]

── 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐑 : VI.

content: 2.2k words ! fem reader, pit fighter!vi, fwb dynamic. sapphic content. part 2 to my series linked below! each chapter can be read as a standalone. top vi, edging, dirty talk, vi calls you 'princess', a little choking, one mention of hair pulling; fingering, cunnilingus, a bit of manhandling, some inner monologuing and angst. brief mention of past sex work. flashback to how they met.

SERIES MASTERLIST. part 1: home time.

— . ｡˚ ♡ you've been needing vi since you first laid eyes on her.

the first time you’d laid eyes on vi, she’d looked more wounded animal than woman to you. 

it was your first night at the pit. you sat a good distance away, clinking glasses with a couple of friends who all enjoyed watching brutes throw each other around way more than they should. when the renowned new regular stepped up for the next match, your friends had grunted, “oh here’s that bitch again. she makes these so boring.” “hmm? hey, i think her winning streak’s pretty hot.” “well, it’d be hotter if she played around with her prey a bit more.”

you weren’t really that interested, but the change in atmosphere was significant enough that you had to look up. through the fog of cigarette smoke and hookah fumes, you could see the fighting ring — illuminated brightly by a dozen, dazzling headlights.

and there vi was. she was walking the perimeter of the ring with a quick, light-footed pace like her hackles were raised, teeth bared and grit like she was going to use them to win.

with her back to you, you could see the complex patterns inked from her nape to the end of her spine, and when she raised her arms and braced for the signal to start, you saw how her muscles tensed and tightened. you weren’t able to look away till the fight was over and she was out of the ring — cold blue eyes holding no hint of pride in victory within them, busted nose dripping a stream of blood down her lip, flecks of red across her neck and on the swell of her breasts.

you started showing up again and again, after that.

vi interested you, and though you tried to remain nonchalant about it, you kept coming back to see her. watching her fight became a regular pastime to you. not even just a pastime. a sort of guilty pleasure. an obsession. you even stayed for the afterparty that followed the fights. you’d hang around with the other women who were there just to watch or to try themselves out on the dancefloor.

you eventually figured vi was here to fight just as much as she was here to make ends meet. in between watching her as she beat people bloody and swaying your hips for her to see, you mulled over the little information you had on her. you’d heard of all the stories of her, of course. one of the survivors of the clash between silco and vander. elder sister of the one and only jinx. was recently entangled with an enforcer, joined topside. betrayed all of zaun. bit the hand that had fed her all her life. got fucked over and thrown back into the pit. and here she was.

she fought with bare fists, hair and lips inked the same shade of black, some of it streaking her forehead with sweat, getting worse whenever she wiped her face. the skin over her muscles red with impact and pumping blood, her eyes full of a dead sort of rage. and she kept winning her fights. one after the other, she sent men to the ground. and she looked fucking good doing it.

you heard the other stories too. how she only fucked women. how she fucked them good.

and somehow, you started getting impatient. you wanted vi to notice you. you kept trying to figure something out. devise a way for you to stand out from the crowd; to really catch her eye.

but fuck, it was hard. like a wounded animal, vi seemed to be paralyzed by something that no longer existed. she fought, ate, drank, got lugged home by some fucker. she split her knuckles, spat blood, screamed. and she just didn’t fucking approach you. it was like she was trapped in a cycle. like you had to lure her out, with elaborately laid out traps. 

piece after piece of meat for the hungry, wounded and angry, dead-eyed beast.

you told your friends you just wanted a good fuck. you told them you wanted a feel of what she’s got. and it was true! there was nothing emotional here. you didn’t know vi, vi didn’t know you — and you didn’t particularly want someone who’d been lusting after a fucking piltie anyway. 

but that was what was nagging you. the thing that annoyed you more than anything was that a woman who’d gotten dumped by a topsider was somehow too far out of your reach. you felt you were better than that.

and as the weeks blurred, you started needing her to need you.

you didn’t consider yourself anything like a revolutionary. you weren’t a genius and you weren’t necessarily fueled by the desire to somehow avenge the undercity. 

but you’d gone through much. perhaps not stillwater, but you knew that it didn’t only take years in a stone box to drive a woman crazy. your own life full of fuck-overs and hardships had put a good pint of patriotism and dignity in you. and somehow, the fact that someone like vi who had arguably suffered so much worse than you had, was so enamoured by a topsider — an enforcer, of all topsiders — filled you with rage.

you saw vi as a powerful asset. not a herald or a beacon like jinx was, but something. something for zaun that was definitely not for piltover to craftily thieve away. there was a certain hint of betrayal that everyone tasted in their mouths when they looked at vi. it was strange to acknowledge how you felt — but you suppose you wanted to reclaim vi.

and as you watched vi fight, memorizing her moves, lost in the way she sucked spittle back through her teeth as she got up from the painted concrete, you saw her as what she really was. a weapon, carved out of zaunite stone with the loving hands of piltover’s cruelty.

she was gorgeous. a piltie could never see her the way you saw her. and you wanted her to see that.

your efforts are not without eventual success, though it was an arduous affair to get to that point. one night, after a barely-there win, vi finally makes her way to you at the end of the night.

“hey.”

you blink up at her, discreetly aware that your friends are fleeing their spots at the table you were sharing with them. “. . . yes?”

“mind if i sit here?” vi says, already pulling a chair out to take a seat right next to you. you’d raised a cracked cup of water to your lips, and you watched her from over the rim as she sits and rubs a bandaged palm at her chin, wiping blood off. she’s caked with sweat and grime, and her left eye is darkening with a bruise. she smells of beer already, and now that she’s up close to you, you catch the scent of cheap dye — something like ink or paint.

you can suddenly hear your pulse in your ears. oh. she's so hot.

“so, you here for the dancefloor or for me?” she breaks the momentary silence.

you don’t remember how the conversation went from there, really. all you remember is that eventually, vi had come back with you to your place. and you’d helped her clean up a bit — sudsy water and your last clean rag on her, half a roll of bandages for her split knuckles — before you were on each other.

vi pressed you to your sheets and ate you up like she was starved. 

your clothes are all off within minutes, pulled off by vi’s wandering hands. she’s stripped bare, too, only gauze and bandages covering her. her mouth searches you, your arms pinned to your sides by her unyielding grip on your wrists.

she kisses you up and down, sometimes soft and sometimes harsh, taking deep breath after breath of your skin into her lungs. she does this till you’re jittery, edging you till you’re so sensitive that you’re ready to explode. kissing, biting, nose nudging at your folds and tongue licking at your softer spots. covering you in inky kiss marks. rubbing it on your sheets.

you moan for her, whine her name, too embarrassed to just ask her to hurry the fuck up and make you cum — and you lay there and let her eat you up. you blush when she tells you how she knows you’ve been staring at her. you want to sink into your squeaky mattress and hide when she tells you you’ve got a lot of princess attitude, waiting so patiently till vi came up to you herself. 

“i’ve seen the way you look at me. y’ into me, princess?” she hisses into your chest, strong fingers wrapped around your throat. her other hand cupping your pussy, she slowly coaxes the air out of your lungs. gets you to beg for her before she slips her fingers in you.

this wasn't how you had planned for it to go. you'd wanted to do more. you had wanted to do the fucking. you wanted her to feel good at your hands.

you’re embarrassed by how easily she makes you fold, but she’s so hot. she's too fucking good at this. and she’s giving you exactly what you want. what’s a lonely, touch-starved bitch to do? “vi, fuck.”

“you’ve been wantin’ me for a while, huh?” she taps your cheek, one hand squeezing the plush of your right tit while the other toys with your cunt. “mhm,” you whimper. “weeks.” 

and the lidded look she gives you as she increases the pressure of her thumb on your clit is enough to make you see white.

that’s how it had started. a dance of nothing and nothing between you and vi. nothing as in, you didn’t know what it was, really. and nothing as in, you didn’t know what you wanted it to be.

your intention had been to claim vi for yourself. to show her that pretty things existed down here in zaun, too — that she should see how piltover has fucked her over. to convince her to stay down here where people were her family and places were her home. but as time went on, and as the number of entanglements between you and vi kept increasing, it started feeling more and more like vi had claimed you for herself instead.

vi was erratic. it would feel as if you were fixing her — like she was finally moving on from whatever had happened to her up there; then she would disappear for days. and she would come back battered, worse. sometimes she would sleep in your bed and it would make you happy, till she mutters a name alien to you in her sleep. “caitlyn. cait.”

and it makes you see red. you tell yourself you don’t love this woman. you tell yourself you just want her to forget that bullshit. you tell yourself this is your own little way of keeping your home and its people safely away from the ignorant, cruel toying of the luxurious topside. but as the days turn into weeks, and the weeks turn into months, you can’t deny yourself of it anymore.

vi makes you soft. she makes you want. 

sometimes she’s weak in your arms. sometimes, right after she’s done fucking you and done pulling your hair while you eat her out, she’ll be sighing into your chest, muscled arms wrapped around your waist as she sleeps on top of you. she makes you feel like you belong. like you have something here. which is fucking funny, because that’s how you want to make her feel. but you doubt you’re doing it successfully. you feel like the tables have been turned on you.

it’s fucking annoying.

you keep telling yourself that this won’t end well for you. you keep wondering if you should just ask vi to pay up. you remember clear as day, how you used to turn sex into a source of income. you remember how you made anything into a job. how you scavenged, leeched, fucked, killed, whatever — but that was when you needed money for a place to live in. when you needed food and water and clothes and a bed and you had nothing and no one and no means.

you just really hated the thought of being used. and you didn’t know what made you feel it worse — letting vi come and go like this for nothing, or to ask her to pay you like you’re someone up for hire.

“what do you think of me?” you ask vi, as the two of you lay together, mouths close enough to exchange breath. “i think you’re good, princess.” vi says, like it’s easy for her. “real good to me.” 

and somehow, that was good enough for you to keep going. you were good to her. became her pretty princess. her good girl. her distraction, her safe place, her home. whenever she wanted it, you laid her head on your chest and lulled her into a dreamless sleep with the beat of your heart. you traced the tattoos on her back with your fingertips, kissed her hair, told her she has nothing to fear. you told her you would never leave.

“promise?” “promise.”

until of course.

one night, vi just up and left. you had asked her if she would come again. and she had said she probably would. so, like a loyal little dog, you waited for her — a sinking feeling in your heart telling you that she was gone. that you’d failed, that your stupid little feelings were for nothing and did nothing. 

and of course, she didn’t come. you heard of some news here and there. vi was with jinx again. vi was doing some crazy shit. vi had gone back to piltover. it made you so angry. so, so fucking angry.

zaun nearly came apart at the seams. there was a revolution. like a storm that floods the trenches and takes everything with it. leaving the land bare, clean, up for restoration.

you, lost. alone. heartbroken and seething with humiliation and disappointment. left to pick up your pieces and rebuild yourself.

and the next time you saw vi, she was entirely changed. and the sight of her made you sick to your stomach like nothing ever did before. 

send me an ask to be tagged in the next part!

series masterlist.

previous part. / next part (tba).

[neil-gaiman]

This isn’t a question, but I want to thank you for your books and how they’ve impacted my life.

Over thirteen years ago, I read Neverwhere for the first time and it changed what kind of writer I wanted to be. I went on to read more of your books—my other two favourites were The Graveyard Book and The Ocean at the End of the Lane.

About 11 or so years ago, I asked you on Twitter if I could read Stardust on a Twitch livestream, and you responded, “Fine by me”. It was one of my best streams, and while life got in the way of me doing more, I still remember it incredibly fondly.

Ten years ago I had a baby, and while he was an infant, I read him, Fortunately, the Milk, in an attempt to read him a book. He didn’t seem interested. I decided I’d try again some other time perhaps. But I did resolve to get him to read The Graveyard Book someday.

Nine years ago, when I was a mother of a one-year-old, I posted a status on Facebook simply saying, “We do not forget.”

Two years ago, I went on holiday, and I downloaded the audio book version of The Graveyard Book from our local library. My eight-year-old son listened to it as he fell asleep, though he ended up missing some parts, and we shelved it.

Last year, he read Coraline and didn’t like it. That isn’t your fault. He read Charlotte’s Web and didn’t like that either. He just didn’t quite have the understanding for them.

This year, he read Coraline and liked it. I told him it was from the same author as The Graveyard Book. He lamented that he never finished The Graveyard Book, and I said he could always download it from the library again.

Then about a month ago, he and I went through a tough time. I was really stressed about life, he wasn’t doing so well either, and our relationship got strained. I was angry with him all the time. I needed a break from him, or I thought I did. But one day when he was at his dad’s I realised that I wouldn’t get this time back. That I needed to fix it. So I asked him if he wanted me to read to him at bedtime. Just like when he was little. And we settled on The Graveyard Book.

On nights when he got to bed on time, I’d read a chapter. It often meant stretching past bedtime, but I could never stop halfway. It had been years since I’d read it too, and I found myself remembering things I’d forgotten. I’d watch his dark eyes widen whenever things got exciting, and I loved when he would interrupt me with an important revelation. “It’s Scarlett! His friend!” he’d say. “The dog! The grey dog!” “I know what Silas is!” He would tell me that I did the voices so well, that it seemed to match each character so perfectly.

We didn’t read every night, but it was a treat when we did. One night we had an argument and he told me he hated me. That he wished I was dead. And that he wanted to be with his dad. I told him to go take a shower, and that I’d ask his dad to come get him. His dad said no, but agreed to talk to him on the phone. After the shower, my son apologised for what he said. I said okay, and told him to call his dad to chat. After their call, he asked if we would still have story time. I asked if he preferred that or to have some space. He said he wanted both, but wanted story time more than space. So I read to him. It was the chapter when Bod and Silas argued, and then apologised to each other. Halfway through that chapter, my son asked for snuggles. I said, what happened to space? And he said, “I want snuggles more than space.”

We were sad when it ended. We finished it last weekend. I cried as I read it. But it was a beautiful sadness. We’ve talked about it a bit since then, to process it. He says he would like to read more about Silas and Bod’s adventures and asked if there was fan fiction about it. I told him to look, and to write some if there wasn’t. Perhaps I’ll write some too, just for him.

Last night he was at his dad’s and I was browsing Facebook and sent him a couple of his old pictures. Then I found an old post. From exactly nine years ago. And so I sent it to him.

It brought tears to my eyes. I did not remember making that post, and I’ve forgotten a great deal over the years, but I hope I do not forget these little moments with my son. But even if I do, I have them written down here to remind me again.

And thank you. For the words you’ve written and the impact you’ve had on our lives and hearts. I hope that your life holds the same amount of joy and love that you’ve given to others with your words.

That made me so happy. Thank you. I hope you and your son keep growing together.

[back2bluesidex]

To Be Popular - JJK [Prologue]

Pairing: Social Media Influencer! Jungkook X Marketing Manager! Reader ft. Yoongi

Summary:

You love everything about social media - apart from the ever-growing number of social media influencers. You don't understand how these people gain followers and admirers just by installing a camera and doing very basic things in front of it. And you despise how some of them can do anything to gain fame, to be popular - even if it includes uploading their bedroom scene in pornsites aka people like Jeon Jungkook. But when your company launches a new product and your department head tasks you with signing Jeon Jungkook up as an endorsement partner - you have no choice but to chase him like the corporate slave that you are. However, things turn worse when you embroil in a dating rumor with him and have to keep the game going for the sake of everything. is it really for the worse or things will turn in a way you never expected it to?  

Theme: Strangers to lovers au, fake dating au, kind of enemies to lover au, angst, smut, fluff.

Full Series Word Count: 26k

Chapter word count: 1k

Warnings: a tiny little smutty scene, dirty words.

Masterlist | Patreon (For access to the complete series)

Taglist requests are open.

Minors, I am not responsible for what you consume online. So, act more rationally and stay away.

A/N: After brooding for a long time, I have decided to (alongside your votes) release one of the patreon exclusive, since no other stories are working out. Though this is originally a drabble series, I will release longer chapters here.

Chapter index: -

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |

Or read the full series right away on Patreon at a discounted price today!!

Your eyes zero on your laptop screen - the quality is just above what is called grainy. 

But you can clearly recognize those tattoos. Moreover, you can recognize that voice, even if he says nothing good but filth. 

“You whore!” a slap rings as if to punctuate the man’s breathy voice, “look at your greedy hole swallowing me up so good!” 

You look at what his voice is referring to. The place where his cock disappears into her, creating a lewd, wet sound, her arousal drips down the back of her thigh - your own thighs come against each other as an impact. 

Even though their faces are not visible in the 3 minute video, the whole country knows who they are. 

Social media influencer Jeon Jungkook and Youtuber Kim Doona. 

There are a plethora of reasons behind why you don’t like these social media influencers. If you have the energy to make a list then it will go like: 

1. These people think of themselves much more highly than they actually are. You mean, they are not even celebrities or making the country proud or something. What the fuck make them so obnoxious? 

2. They have an awful number of dumb followers. Why do people even follow them? For showing their makeup and skin-care routine? For screaming loudly at the gaming screen? For recording themselves eating, doing the most random shit every normal human being does on a daily basis? You just don’t understand why. 

3. These people are absolutely fame-hungry. They can do anything and everything to boost their followers even if the said actions aren’t really positive. 

Take an instance from the current scenario - two of the most popular social media influencers have dropped their bedroom scene at an adult site and it got monetized within a day. Nice move because they gained both money and fame 10x overnight. 

It’s not that you have paid to watch what you are watching currently - you would rather die than feeding into the delusions of these influencers. You are watching because you despise these people and there was a leaked version circulating on Telegram. 

You scoff at the screen but the wetness in between your legs scoffs back at you. 

You hate them, yeah, but it’s not like you are totally immune to the sexy scene they have portrayed. Especially the way Jeon Jungkook’s tattoo arm held onto the female’s waist, or the way his muscles flexed under the dim light, or the way his cock- 

“Y/N! What the fuck?” you scold yourself, slam-shutting your laptop with unnecessary force. You blame it on your temporary state of celibacy that has been forced upon you since your last break up. 

And the fact that you have a fat crush on your manager - doesn’t make things any less painful. 

So you decide to shut off your system for the night and go to sleep as you should have done long ago. You have work tomorrow and a meeting, being wet after watching some influencers fuck each other wouldn’t help you with your career. 

Or would it? 

Your jaw hangs ajar, threatening to touch the floor as Min Yoongi, aka the manager you have a fat crush on, presents the campaign plan of your company’s new product’s marketing. Everything was fine until Yoongi suggested influencer endorsement and if this is not a joke of the universe then you don’t know what it is because you can see Jeon Jungkook’s picture gracing the screen.   

“Jeon Jungkook? Why?” you utter these words without so much of a thought. 

Yoongi looks at you with his narrowed eyes, “why not? You know, he is really famous. He is trending currently.” 

“Yeah but the reason he is trending- well. I don’t think he is suitable for our brand image.” you press on. 

Yoongi chuckles at your constipated expression, “Y/N-ah” he calls you softly and a tiny part of your heart melts, “I am sure our brand image can go up with a few charitable works here and there. But the company wants a return of what they are investing in marketing. I bet signing up Jeon Jungkook will help.” 

“Y/N, you know we are already at a tight spot right? Our last campaign wasn’t as successful as we expected. The company may take steps if we don’t do this right this time.” calls Mrs. Lee from the other side of the table. 

“And before you ask me why him, why not the other influencers…” Yoongi chimes in again, “We are selling gaming laptops and this guy is addicted to games. He has more followers than the actual streamers. He is young, hot, and talented in many areas. In one word, he is perfect.” 

“You awfully sound like you want to date him.” You scoff at the man. He only chuckles. 

Yoongi tries to say something but a knock rings on the door. One of the staff opens the door only a little and says, “Sir, he is here.” 

Yoongi nods and says, “send him inside.” 

“Who is coming?” you place the question. Only for Yoongi to smirk as a response. 

When you are about to press more, the door swings open revealing the man who-should-not-be-named, Jeon Jungkook. 

Your eyes go wide as you take him in - all baggy clothes and a cute bucket hat perched on the top of his head. Bambi eyes scanning the room like a puppy brought to his very new home. As if he is not the guy who is going viral for fucking on camera and selling it to an adult site. 

He bows deeply and opens his mouth to greet, “Hello, I am Jeon Jungkook.” 

You feel your blood pressure raising at the thought of working with him. You will survive it right? 

You will have to. 

Permanent Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @armystay89 @ryryvna @purple-realms

[dawnchorus-if]

‎ ‎‎

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ Your sister is dead, murdered and mutilated and left to rot in a brothel like a sickly dog. You finally know your purpose: revenge.

DAWN CHORUS is an 18+ interactive fiction about death, love, and the song of new morning. Demo TBA.

You live in The Rocks, a decaying settlement in the shadowed outskirts of the kingdom, Cape Lyra. Once a cozy village, The Rocks has withered into a decrepit ruin since the assassination of King Cedric. Queen Lyra, for whom the kingdom was named, became consumed by grief and neglected the outer villages. Now, The Rocks is a place where even the birds come to die.

Desperate to earn money for the both of you, your sister ventured to Cape Lyra with her best friend, Jax. Only Jax returned, covered in your sister's blood, with a hazed description of her killer. Driven by the need for retribution, you and Jax set out for the kingdom, determined to find and punish the sick soul who took your sister's life. When revenge is your only remaining purpose, a life for a life only seems fair.

You hope.

‣‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎Fully customise yourself, from your name and appearance to your sexuality to your greatest woes and wants. Choose your approach to grief, to anger, to revenge—drown in your sorrows or push them aside in favour of a... different kind of vice. Curate a story that revolves around who you are, and what you'll stand for.

‣‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ Explore relationships with six different romanceable characters, and a multitude of other characters to befriend (or behead). Interact with a diverse cast of characters, each with their own impact to leave on the story. Just... be careful who you trust, some people might not be who they say they are.

‣‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ Find out what really happened to your sister. Hunt down her killer, or killers, and determine your own ability to play executioner on her behalf. Open doors to dark rooms in the royal family history, find out that there's a lot more darkness in Cape Lyra than there is light.

‣‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ Get involved in the politics of Cape Lyra. The people can only be neglected for so long before they start to revolt, right? What side of history will you be on? Or will you be too blinded by grief to care who gets hurt?

‣‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ Exorcise a demon, maybe.

DAWN, born amidst the morning birdsong, the cherished youngest child of King Cedric and Queen Lyra, and the heir apparent to the throne. They don't often get to see outside of Cape Lyra's walls, so don't fault them for being a little juvenile in their knowledge of the world, it's not born from a lack of desire. There's a youthful charm to Dawn, and a deep-seated eagerness to know more about the kingdom they'll one-day rule. [M/F, 22]

ASA KYNES, climbing the ranks as one of Cape Lyras most dedicated royal guards, Kynes is as formidable as they are resolute. You won't get past them very easily, they've got keen judgement skills, and you're up to something, they're sure of it. Kynes is loyal, and more than willing to lay their life down in servitude to the monarchy. Getting Kynes to open up is hard, but may be more than worth it. [M/F, 26]

JAX HANSLEY, your sisters best friend and now your accomplice in avenging her. Jax is royalty in The Rocks, charismatic beyond belief and has been teasing you since you were just starting to walk. Extravagant and always looking for something to do, you'll never find yourself bored around them. Plus, you couldn't get rid of Jax even if you wanted to, they're the closest thing to family that you have left. [M/F, 24]

CERYS SELINE, owner and face of The Rabbits Foot, Cape Lyra's busiest tavern. Cerys is a stern woman who works her ass off day and night, but there's a sweet undertone to the way she speaks: something nurturing. She's a pillar of the kingdom, well-connected and respected. There's more to her than meets the eye, sure, but for now she's more than willing to aid you in finding your sisters killer. [F, 26]

ARTHUR CASE, a priest who has been ousted from the kingdom for reasons he just won't speak aloud. Left with only one leg and crumbs of his faith, he's living in his late father's old church a short trek from the kingdoms gates. Pop in for a service one day, maybe confessionals don't always have to be one-sided. [M, 29]

??? — something cold in the shadows, and its eyes are on you.

DAWN CHORUS contains some heavy topics, such as graphic depictions of death, violence, drug use, explicit language and skippable sexual content. Classism is also a present topic. Readers discretion is advised.

reblogs r so appreciated and asks are more than welcome ^^

[nadvs]

better off (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating mature 18+

summary after having regretful break-up sex with rafe, you try to move on. but he can’t let you go that easy.

warning toxic relationship

» part one

» masterlist

Gulls squawk in the distance, circling the cloudless afternoon sky as you sit on your family’s docked boat.

Since you arrived at the marina, you haven’t moved, save for the boat’s gentle rocks as it sits on the water. Every so often, you hear chatter from people on their boats around you, but it’s been fairly quiet.

You didn’t come here to go out into the sea. You simply needed a change of scenery. Your bedroom has begun to feel suffocating.

And while it hurts to be alone, it hurts even more to be around people. You’re not yourself since the break-up. Having to keep up conversations reminds you of how much of a stranger you are to yourself now.

Life feels off without Rafe. Blurred.

The pages of the book in your hand are fluttering with the breeze, your pen held tight in your hand. You’ve been trying to focus on reading, but you can’t stop thinking about what happened two nights ago. The last time you saw him.

You regret the break-up sex. It was a relapse that hindered your recovery. He called you insufferable.

But it’s par for the course. He has a knack for making you feel like you’re a burden, a bother, as if you were forcing him into a relationship.

You blink away tears and look down at the words on the page. You had picked up this book about toxic relationships a week ago, but finally started reading it today.

As you expected, what you had with Rafe ticks all the boxes. Distrust. Control. Blame.

And one thing you read that stuck with you is how someone usually stays in a toxic relationship because it doesn’t always feel bad. The person you love isn’t all flaws, all the time.

It’s true. Rafe could be mean, but he had good qualities, too. He was fun. Reliable. Protective. Loyal. Hardworking.

It still wasn’t enough to make up for how cruel he could be. Your eyes travel over the last paragraph you read.

Break the cycle by understanding that this was not your fault. Whatever happened to them to cause their behavior was likely not their fault either, but you must accept that your love can’t break that barrier.

Rafe always hated crying in front of you. He only did it a couple times, muttering that he had to stop being such a pussy. You told him it was okay, but he just got angry at you for trying to console him. As if you were patronizing him.

He treated you the same way when you cried. Not every time, but when he was the reason you were upset, he would tell you to stop whining. That you were sensitive and needed to toughen the fuck up if you were going to be his girl.

It broke you, piece by piece. But if he talked to himself like that whenever he felt weak, of course he’d do it to you, too. Any negative emotion that wasn’t anger was disgusting to him.

You know his upbringing was tumultuous. From what little he told you, his father could be erratic and unreliable with his affection, kind to his son one moment, then clearly favoring his daughter the next.

And you often wondered if that’s why he couldn’t say he loved you very often. Maybe because he considered it a fragile promise.

You sigh to yourself. This is all you’ve been doing; trying to understand a man who can’t possibly love you, not really, because a man who loves you wouldn’t scream at you and call you names.

Break the cycle by understanding that this was not your fault.

You underline the words in red pen. You want this burned into your brain. You couldn’t fix him. It wasn’t on you to. But damn, did you want to.

You pull out your phone to take a photo of this part of the page, the stern of the boat and the dark blue sea and the edge of the dock in the background.

You had intended to just keep it for yourself, but you decide to post it on your story. It feels like a release to share a sentence that has such an impact on you, even though any followers who see it will probably tap through and forget about it in a second.

Plus it’s not like the person you’re relating it to can see it anyway. You removed Rafe from all of your social media and blocked his number. You’ve cut him out of your life.

You look out at the water again, wishing there was something you could do to ease the heaviness that’s flooding your body and wringing your heart out.

It feels like it’s going to hurt forever. It’s a tiring thing, caring about someone who throws you down and then treats you like you chose to fall.

Rafe tried to text you yesterday. We need to meet asap. He meant to make it sound urgent, when really, he just wants to talk about your break-up. It’s a manipulative move, but it’d get your attention.

But the text immediately came up as undelivered. You blocked him. And now that he thinks about it, he’s glad. Those moments of reaching out to you are moments of weakness. And they’re humiliating.

Especially because of what you said the other night. That if there’s any part of him that has a heart, he’ll leave you alone. Of all the things you’ve hurled at him, that had to be one of the worst.

He’s not a heartless asshole. He can act like one, but he’s shown you love time and time again, and you spoke to him as if he never has. It was a stab in the back.

Still, he can’t reign in his need to know whatever he can about you. He felt like such a loser telling Topper to send him whatever you post after you blocked him on everything. At least you didn’t block his friend.

Rafe is sitting on his bed when he sees a screenshot from Topper come through on his phone. Anxiety pricks his skin. Ever since you mentioned that you have someone new now, he’s dreading seeing you with another man, of even seeing a mention of him.

He knows you well. He’s almost certain you lied about having a new boyfriend. But what if you didn’t?

It’s a photo of a book in your lap, your hand holding open the page. He recognizes your family’s boat in the background. You’ve gone out on it together quite a few times.

It’s pathetic how long he looks at your hand in the photo. He’s a wreck, taking pieces of whatever he can to feel put together again, eyes trailing over what little of your body he can see.

You would sometimes put his ring on your finger, looking at him with that bright smile you once had reserved only for him. But that ring is back on his hand now, and the last time it touched you, you called the sex you’d just had a mistake.

Rafe reads the portion you underlined in the book. It makes an ugly mix of pain and anger settle into his core. This has to be about him.

Not your fault. Is that what you really think? That none of this is your fault? That you both crashed and burned all because of him?

He grits his teeth. He was right for what he said the other night. You really do think you’re perfect.

All of your mutual friends know you split up. They’ll piece together that this is about him in a second. There’s no way they won’t. It’s fucking humiliating.

Rafe has no control over his impulses. He never has. That’s why he finds his keys and drives to the marina to find you.

He parks beside your car. His blood is boiling as he rushes down the dock, boats lining the long, uneven boardwalk, but when he spots you, he stops in his tracks.

Your back is to the dock. You’re rubbing your eyes in a way that looks like you’re wiping tears. The book sits beside you.

He’s pissed at you, but seeing you like this makes some of the anger fade.

After coming down from one last cry, you turn to stand and finally go home after hours of sitting and reading. You pick up your book and set to step out onto the dock. And you lock eyes with the man who you’ve done nothing but think about.

Rafe’s mouth opens slightly, but he can’t speak. He closes what little distance remains between you and when he reaches you, his face falls even more once he sees how red your eyes are.

“What are you doing here?” you say.

Your tone is harsh. You look annoyed to see him. It makes anger burn through him all over again.

Rafe steps up onto the edge of the boat, making you shuffle back so he doesn’t bump into you. He towers over you, his eyes hard and cold.

“You think it’s all on me?” he mutters.

“What?” you say.

“That’s what it says, huh?” he says, looking down at the book you’re holding against your chest. “Your stupid little self-help book. Nothing’s your fault.”

“How did…” You look down, shaking your head. He must have found a way to watch your story. And he rushed over here to yell at you about it.

“It’s wrong,” he says. “And the way you’re posting that shit to make me look bad is fucked up.”

“You found out I was here,” you begin, your muscles tense as you stare up at him, “and you came to yell at me over a fucking story? Are you insane?”

“I’m not gonna let you embarass me like that. Delete it.”

“I didn’t do it to embarrass you. I didn’t even mention you,” you mutter sharply. “But you know what?”

You’re spent. You’ve dedicated your day to trying to start your healing process. And you have no more fight left in you.

A stupid post is not worth it. You take out your phone, open your story, and delete it right in front of him.

“There,” you say. You meet his eyes again. “You got what you wanted. Now get out of my way.”

You step to the side to brush past him, but his hand wraps around your forearm. His skin feels so warm and so familiar and so nice and you wish he would stop having this effect on you.

“Rafe,” you say, your tone teetering on whining. “Let me go.”

“You think this is what I wanted?” he says with a humorless laugh.

“What do you want?” you challenge. “To keep fighting with me? Why are you looking at what I post?”

“Why are you posting about me?”

“I already told you, I didn’t even mention you.” You rip your arm out of his grip.

“It’s pretty fucking obvious. Everyone knows we…” He can’t even say broke up out loud. His eyes dart down to the book you’re holding.

“What other bullshit did you read in here, huh?” he mutters. He takes the book out of your hand. Resigned, you let him.

Rafe leafs through the pages, his heart pounding, eyes tracking whatever you’ve underlined.

“You actually spent your money on this?” he scoffs, condescending you.

“You’re such an asshole.”

You consider leaving him here. You can just buy another copy. Spending time with someone so committed to arguing, so committed to making you feel small, is misery.

But then Rafe stops at a page.

He notices a sentence underlined and circled and starred. And he’s prepared to call bullshit on it, simply because you so clearly want to remember it. But when he reads it, he loses some of his composure.

His jaw tightens and he shuts the book, shoving it back towards you. You gaze at him curiously, wondering what he just read that obviously struck him.

“What?” you ask, your guard coming down a little.

The words he just read tumble in his brain. He’s still so angry, still wanting to hit you where it hurts.

“Didn’t work out with the new guy?” he asks.

You swallow hard.

“There’s no new guy. I lied,” you admit. “Just to hurt your feelings. Because that’s what we do, right? We hurt each other on purpose, over and over.”

The relief that washes over Rafe dilutes his anxiety. There’s nobody else.

“And you’re still going to take no blame at all?” he says, eyes fluttering down to the book. “You think it’s normal to lie like that?”

“You bring it out in me,” you retaliate. “And you’re one to talk. Have you ever said sorry to me? Once?”

Rafe always acted like taking any sort of accountability was an admission of worthlessness. As if a sorry was admitting that he’s a bad person.

“Have you?” he asks.

You tense up even more, looking up at him through sad, angry eyes.

“What do I have to be sorry for?” you say.

“For-” His own caught breath interrupts him. He looks away, pissed as hell that his throat is starting to feel scratchy. He can’t cry. “For always making me feel like shit.”

“You always made me feel like shit.”

“See?” He breaths a cynical chuckle. “You don’t even ask how. You just say I did it, too.”

You cross your arms, your book starting to feel heavy in your grip. You hate this feeling, the tinge of powerlessness when he brings up a good point.

“How, then?” you ask begrudgingly.

“You brought up old fights all the time,” he snaps.

“That’s not fair,” you say. “I did that because I never got an apology. Or any sort of closure.”

“Then, talk about it when it happens,” he says. “Don’t bitch about something from a million years ago.”

“I didn’t bitch,” you say sharply. “Don’t use that word.”

“You know I’m right,” he says. “I never knew when you were going to get pissed off. We’d be having fun and then out of fucking nowhere…”

He sighs again and looks down, his hands on his hips.

You want to counter that he was exactly like that. Because he was. He used to fly off the handle with no warning all the time. Maybe he walked on eggshells, but so did you.

You swallow your reflex to fight back. You’re sure it’s all the reading you’ve been doing about taking responsibility. You can admit you’re guilty of what he’s accusing you of.

Throughout your relationship, you’d be having a good time together and out of nowhere, you’d think of an old fight that was left unresolved and reminded him of what an asshole he could be.

Just like that, you can understand a part of his side. You had always thought of him as completely in the wrong. It was perpetually about winning or losing between you two. Black and white.

But maybe it’s gray. Because while you were wondering how someone who was supposed to love you could be so cruel, you were cruel in your own way. And you adored him.

“Talking about it when it happened was impossible. We never resolved anything,” you say. “And that weighed on me. I hated how you never said sorry. But I know I… blindsided you sometimes.”

Rafe blinks a few times, looking at you with a softness you haven’t seen in a long time.

You actually admitted to it. He doesn’t feel self-righteous like he thought he would. He feels better than that. Understood, for once.

“But you’d do something shitty and then just expect me to get over it,” you continue. “And if I cried, you made me feel sensitive and crazy for being hurt. But of course I was hurt, Rafe. I loved you.”

He licks his lips, his eyes boring into you, his chest starting to rise and fall faster. He didn’t miss the past tense.

“You don’t anymore,” he says, disbelief and desperation in his voice.

You stare up at him. And you respond honestly.

“I don’t know,” you say, your voice wavering.

“How do you not know?” he says tersely.

“Do you love me?” you say. “You never said it.”

“Yeah, I did,” he sighs. “God, you were always so hung up on that. Why did I have to say it all the damn time? I showed it.”

He was always tense about this. It’s hard to actually say the words. And he hates how bad you made him feel for discomfort he couldn’t control.

He never heard it growing up. He never had anyone to say it to. Then, with you, it’s like he was expected to say it every hour.

It made him feel inadequate, every time you pestered him for not saying it. Like he wasn’t enough for you unless he said three words.

“Do you?” you repeat.

There’s a tangled heap of feelings sitting on his chest. He’s torn between wanting to hurt you and wanting to win this argument and wanting to hear you love him and wanting to storm away.

His pride is too fucking heavy. If you won’t say you love him, he’s not saying it to you.

He doesn’t answer. And you realize his eyes are glossy.

“Are you crying?” you ask gently.

Typically, you’d pretend you didn’t notice because he loathes crying in front of you. It embarrasses him. But this isn’t a typical conversation.

“You really think we’re sick together?” he rasps.

You know exactly what part of your book he read now. You read that line over and over again. It’s better to be healthy alone than sick together.

“Yeah,” you say quietly.

Rafe can’t stop the tear that drops onto his cheek. Frustrated, he wipes it away.

“And you can make fun of me for reading books like this all you want,” you say, “but they really do help. I need to be healthy on my own first if I want to be healthy with someone else.”

Something that looks like fear flashes over his face.

“You want to be with someone else?” Rafe asks. “Who?”

You gaze up at him with a cocked head, actually feeling sympathy for his insecurity. He always bordered on hysteria over the idea of you with another man. He always was so sure you’d find someone more suited for you.

“No. Right now, it’s important for me to get better,” you say. “By myself.”

“And what if…” He shakes his head. “What if I get better, too?”

It’s the most vulnerable he’s been this whole conversation. Maybe the most vulnerable he’s been with you ever.

You search his handsome, pained face for any indication of this being a cruel joke.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

Rafe doesn’t know how to navigate this. You had each other at your worst, but you still fell in love. How happy could you be at your best?

“If I get better, too, are you going to want…” It’s too nerve-wracking to directly ask if you’ll want him. He feels like such a coward.

“You?” you say.

His jaw tenses in discomfort. You exhale shakily.

This doesn’t have to be a test of pride, a game of win or lose like it always was with him. You can be honest. Because you already had to say goodbye to the person who once made you the happiest you’d ever been, so there’s nothing left to lose.

“If we really are better,” you finally say, “yeah. We can try this again. If you want to.”

Rafe knows he shouldn’t, but he wants to touch you so badly that it’s hurting him. This feels too fragile, though. One wrong move could break this sense of amiability you two haven’t had together in ages.

“I want to,” he admits.

For the first time in weeks, hope blooms in your chest. You always thought he was so stubborn. That he didn’t think he had anything wrong with him, and therefore, nothing to fix.

But he’s willing to work on himself. And you are, too. Maybe this isn’t doomed after all.

“We’ll give it a few weeks, okay?” you say softly. “And after, we’ll talk and… see what happens.”

Rafe wants to ask if you’ll unblock him, but he’s opened himself up to enough risk of rejection since this conversation started. He accepts the discomfort of not knowing.

He can only say a tense, “Okay.” And he can’t cry in front of you anymore. And he can’t handle how confusing it is to feel hopeful and angry and sad all at once.

He leaves. Because the only way he can comfortably let out overwhelming emotions is through a fight, and that’s not an option right now.

You watch him go, left to wonder if this is just delaying further heartbreak, or if one day, you actually can be the people you need each other to be.

(part three)

[scribblesofagoonerr]

the pests are back in town | chaos fc

summary: someone at arsenal made a rookie error and paired the aussie pest and british menace together for media day and it's the usual chaos like always. pairings: chaos fc reader!monkey x kyra cooney cross x arsenal wfc chaos fc masterlist

“It’s a joke right? Tell me it’s a mistake?” You overhear Steph question as you walk nearer to them and you’re curious to know exactly what they’re talking about.

Kim sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I don’t think so.”

“Alright, I’m here now the party can begin,” You joke, hobbling through with your foot still in a boot and grinning mischievously when you spot Lia chatting with Kim and Steph, “Hi, Wallaby! Did you miss me?” You ask, slinging your arm around the Swiss woman’s shoulder with a slight difficulty of her being taller than you.

“Hi little one,” Lia turns to give you a side hug, “How did the hospital appointment go?” She asks, concerned.

“Doc’ is dumb,” You murmur in a low voice, your mood changing instantly at the mention of the appointment you had this morning that didn’t go your way like you thought it would.

You were kind of disheartened by your latest hospital appointment, you didn’t get the good news that you were expecting after all and you were still going to be sidelined for a while yet, since your ankle fracture still hadn’t healed properly yet.

That definitely wasn’t made worse by the fall you had when you and Kyra tried and failed to do a TikTok trend, but that’s a story for a different day.

“Here’s the menace,” Steph jokes, ruffing your hair, “I see you still got the boot on, eh?”

“Unfortunately, I hate it,” You huff while definitely feeling grumpy and deflated about the news, “Stupid doc reckons it’s still not healed properly yet– I just wanna play and I have no chance of it anytime soon, it’s not fair!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have tried that TikTok trend then,” Kim remarks knowingly as she gives you a pointed look you’ve been on the receiving end of too many times.

“What TikTok trend? I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about there, Kimmy,” You play dumb and shrug your shoulders.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Kim states while she purses her lips.

Shaking your head, you pull a silly facial expression, “Nope, literally have no idea–  What’re you guys lookin’ so… Irked about anyways?” You wonder, noting the weary looks the three of them share, “What’s going on?”

“It’s gotta be a mistake,” Steph murmurs, staring at the paper with a blank expression on her face, “Right?”

Before you can get a straight answer, Lia jumps into the conversation again, “It’s gotta be.”

“What?” You repeat the question, staring at them while still none the wiser.

“Nope it’s not,” Beth appears, peering over Kim’s shoulder and confirming what you’re already itching to know.

“Oh god,” Steph mutters, shaking her head in disagreement.

You blink, still utterly confused about the topic of conversation they were on about, “What… What is it?” You exchange looks between all 4 of the older girls, but none of them are giving you anything to work with, “What’re you all on about?”

“You and Kyra,” Lia finally decides to be the one to tell you the good news, “You pair are together for media day.” She tells you, biting her bottom lip and clearly bracing for impact.

“Seriously?” Your eyes light up in pure glee, “Yes! Winner!” You're practically vibrating with excitement, and if it wasn’t for your dumb ankle fracture then you would definitely be jumping up and down in joy.

You and Kyra? A dangerous duo on any given day, but today– on media day– things were about to get even more chaotic.

Steph groans dramatically, “We’re all doomed.”

“Who made the mistake?” Beth furrows her eyebrows and shakes her head, “These two together are a nightmare– The last media day proved it alone!”

“Hey! We’re not that bad,” You insist, huffing in offense.

“Yes. You are,” Steph deadpans, “You and Kyra are the worst when you’re together. Need I remind you of Melbourne?”

“Oh, but that was such a fun time!” You exclaim, grinning mischievously, “I don’t know about you, but I personally had a blast out there.”

“I think Kim is still reliving that nightmare,” Lia chips in amusedly as you sneak a glance at your captain who you swear shudders at the memory, “This isn’t a good idea.”

You pout, crossing your arms together, “Oh, come on. You guys seriously don’t think that much about us, do you?”

Beth doesn’t even think to hesitate, “No.”

“Absolutely not,” Steph shakes her head, reinforcing it.

You open your mouth to argue, but then Katie strolls over  with Caitlin while smirking, “Oh you guys just discovered the pests are together for media day?” She questions.

“This is a nightmare,” Beth shakes her head dramatically.

“Well that’s just rude,” You huff in response just as you spot your best friend and instantly perk up, “Ky! Guess what, we’re together for media duties!”

“What, seriously? Yes!” Kyra exclaims, letting out a cheer and definitely buzzing about the news.

“This is bad, so very bad,” Lia mutters to herself, shaking her head in disagreement.

You roll your eyes, exasperated, “Nah, nah, this is a great day!” You insist, “It’s gonna be wonderful. It’s like Christmas morning!”

Steph snorts, clearly amused, “If this is how excited you get for Christmas, you’ve got serious issues.”

You shrug casually, zero shame on your face, “Yeah, I know. I come with a lot of trauma,” You pause for a split second, “Dead dad, mum that abandoned me, blah blah blah,” You wave a hand like it’s not a big deal, “Need I go on?”

“Leah!?” Kattie furrows her brow in concern, “There’s something with your kid,” She glances around to look for the blonde, “I think she’s broken!” She jokes, dramatically.

“Oh no, she’s not broken,” Leah laughs in amusement, slinging her arm around your shoulder, “She’s just… Well, she’s Monkey.” She explains, shrugging her shoulders.

“See? I’m just– Hey, that was still an insult, Malfoy!” You grumble in protest.

“Monkey, we’ve already been over this,” Leah groans in annoyance, “Will you stop callin’ me that?”

“Nope,” You can’t help but smirk, “As long as you still continue to get wound up over it, definitely not.”

“Give me strength,” Leah mutters, rubbing her temples, “What’re you so happy about?” She wonders, noticing the cheshire grin on your face.

“Me and Ky are paired together for media,” You fill her in with a grin plastered on your face.

Leah can’t help but snort and shake her head, “That’s a joke, right?”

“That’s what I said!” Steph exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air, “Someone must’ve made  a mistake, right?”

“No, no, no,” Leah shakes her head promptly, “You two are… You’re trouble together, look what happened in America!”

“I think you’re overreacting slightly there Le,” You insist, rolling your eyes.

“Am I? Cos’ I think the fractured ankle really speaks for itself,” Leah deadpans.

“Urgh,” You groan dramatically, tilting your head back at the painful memory, “It’s bad enough I have this stupid cast, you don’t need to mention it as well.”

“Wait, does Kimmy still have your skateboard held hostage?” Kyra wonders, curiously as she wraps her free around your shoulder.

“Yeah she does,” The pout currently plastered on your face really just spoke for itself, “Le’s being the captain of the fun police and not allowing me to have any fun.” You mutter.

Leah clicks her tongue and shakes her head, “And risk breaking your neck as well? Yeah, not a single chance am I taking that risk– It stays at Kim’s out of the way since we can’t exactly send it back now.”

“But what fun is it if it just stays in the cupboard?” You don’t relent from this conversation as you huff dramatically, “How about…”

“How about we don’t revisit this conversation and forget about the skateboard instead, yeah?” The blonde cuts in with a knowing look.

“Monkey? Kyra?” One of the media team waves over to you both to get your attention, “We need you both.”

“We’re needed already?” Kyra furrows her eyebrows and shrugs her shoulders, “Lets’ go!”

Your eyes light up in glee, “Fantastic, be right there,” Before looking back at the huddle of older girls, “It’s showtime!”

“Don’t be a brat and get in any trouble–” Leah begins to say.

“I’m sorry all I heard then was blah blah blah,” You interject with a mischievous smile on her face, “Come on Ky, let’s go and find out what we’ve gotta do!” With that, you quite literally pull Kyra in the direction of where you need to go.

Katie chuckles lowly at the blondes’ facial expression, “You’ve got your hands full with that one, ain’t you, Le?”

“Don’t even go there,” Leah huffs and shakes her head in response, “That girl sometimes, honestly she’s so bloody cheeky, but I do love her dearly.”

“Hi, I’m Kyra!” Your Australian counterpart jumps in first to speak, introducing herself.

“And I’m Monkey– “ You start but get cut off with the cameraman giving you a knowing look, “What? Seriously, I have to answer my actual name? Oh for *bleep* sake!”

“Monkey!” You hear Leah scold from the other side of the room, which you’re honestly shocked how she managed to hear that so far away.

“Sorry, sorry, anyways…” You quietly mumble your name begrudgingly in front of the camera that’s rolling, “I can’t believe you guys just made me say that aloud. I hate you all.”

The cameraman chuckles from the other side, “Continue.”

You huff and dramatically fold your arms, “Alright, well yeah, we’re gonna play ‘How Well Do You Know Each Other?” You pause for a brief second, “This should be interesting.”

“Puts our ‘best friend’ knowledge to the test,” Kyra adds in, grinning teasingly.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes in response as you look at the cameraman, “How do we do this then?”

“One of you will read the cards aloud and answer, while the other sits further back with headphones listening to music,” The cameraman explains, motioning to the large bulky headphones on the table in front.

“Better be good music,” You remark in a cheeky tone of voice.

“Do you wanna go first?” Kyra asks, glancing at you.

“Yeah, sure why not… How hard could it be?” You smirk as you grab the cards in front of you, “Pft, easy, bring it on!”

With that, the camera stops filming for a second before it begins again with Kyra sitting on a chair a few feet away from you while you’re sitting on the chair in front.

“You good?” You question, Kyra responds with a thumbs up when she can’t hear anything and you giggle, “I could say so much right now…” You say, as Kyra continues to look cluelessly at you.

The cameraman chuckles, “Let’s get to the questions.”

You pick up the first card, “Where is Kyra from?” You read the question aloud and ponder thinking for a few seconds, “Australia, well Queensland to be more specific– Yeah I’m sure it is there!”

You switch out the card and scan your eyes over it,  “When is Kyra’s birthday?” You continue to read the next question aloud, “Easy, 15th February, 2002– You know you guys should really make these more easier for me,” You joke, grinning teasingly as you look directly at the camera.

Tossing the card aside, you flip to the third and final one, “When did Kyra make her debut for Arsenal?” You read the final one aloud, “Oo, this ones’ even better! It was last October, the first game of the season, which we unfortunately lost, but I was there,” You pause after giving your answer with full confidence, “I’m surprised I remember, cos’ I was sick, but yeah… her first debut was then!”

The cameraman chuckles, “That’s three for Kyra done,” He declares, turning the camera off and gesturing Kyra back to sit beside you, “Right, now we’ll film it so it’s Kyra reacting to your answers before switching roles. Sound good, girls?”

You wave dismissively, “Yup, no worries!”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Kyra adds, planting herself down in the empty seat, as she camera starts rolling again, “How’d you do?”

“The questions were so easy,” You joke, cockily, “Kinda wish I had more of a challenge.”

“You seem overconfident right now,” Kyra smirks, taking a glance at the questions, “Alright, first question, where am I from?”

“Queensland, and now I think… Why am I doubting myself?” You frown, taking a minute to wonder if you have got it right.

Kyra laughs, “That is where I’m from!”

“Phew, first one correct,” You wipe your forehead dramatically.

“Next one– When’s my birthday?” Kyra repeats the question aloud you’ve just answered, “You should definitely know this one, if not then… Well, I don’t think we can be friends.” She jokes.

You pretend to think about it for a second, “Yeah I’m positive I know this one cos’ we celebrated it,” You give pause for the dramatic effect, “15th February, 2002. The day after Valentine's Day. Bleugh– Shit, I’m gonna be kicking myself if it’s wrong now.”

“Monkey,” The cameraman interjects from behind, shaking his head.

You feign innocence and give him a sheepish smile, “Sorry.”

Kyra snickers at the fact you have no filter sometimes, “Nice, yeah, that’s right!” She exclaims, “You’re doing so well… You know me so well!” She retorts, playfully.

“Well I’d hope so since I’m your best friend,” You respond with an eye roll.

“Final question,” Kyra speaks up as she gazes at the last question, “Tough one– When did I make my Arsenal debut?”

“First game of the season against Liverpool,” You answer way too confidently and immediately pray it’s correct, “Right? I hope so, I was on me deathbed for that game!”

“Nailed it,” Kyra confirms, grinning.

���Yay, go me!” You fist pump the air as you do a little wiggle in celebration and the camera’s stop filming, “So, now we swap?” You clarify with the cameraman.

“Yep, that’s right,” The cameraman chimes in.

Nodding in agreement, the camera cuts while you switch positions so you’re the one stuck with the headphones, and at least the music isn’t too bad.

You can’t hear a single word that’s being said, but you’re just content to listen to the music, singing the song in your head as you do a little shimmy in your seat.

It’s times like this where you wish you could lip-read, it’s not the easiest thing to do though and your attention span wouldn’t last that long sometimes before giving up.

You can’t help but let your thoughts wander away at this current time, “Maybe I can buy more lego soon? I need to add to my collection– You can never have too much lego!”

At last, you're given the gesture of a thumbs up before removing the headphones and get up to sit on a closer chair with the slight difficulty of the boot currently on your foot.

“Was that easy for you?” You joke with your best friend.

“Piece of cake mate,” Kyra grins in response.

You pick up the cards and read over the first one, “First question, what is my favourite drink?” You read aloud, smirking as you know she definitely does know this answer.

“Energy drinks, duh? You love them!” Kyra answers with a knowing smile.

You beam a wide smile and nod, “I do, even if I’m not technically allowed them anymore— Mean Malfoy!” You joke, looking directly at the camera and scowling.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Kyra jokes with a wink.

“Exactly,” You retort with a playful grin, “Alright, next question then– You should definitely know this, and if you don’t then, well, we need to rethink our friendship.” You tell her, jokingly.

“Our friendship’s on the line over this?” Kyra clutches her hand over her heart and faux’s her shock, “Well then I guess I’d better get it right. You adore both Shrek and anything Marvel related of course, and if it’s anything else then I’m not having it.”

“Ding, ding, ding, correct!” You grin, “I have watched them way too many times to count, but who cares?”

“I knew it!” Kyra exclaims, “Phew, our friendship still remains intact.” She jokes with you.

“For now, just as long as you answer the final question correctly,” You continue to wind her up, leaning in dramatically, “When did I join Arsenal?”

Kyra bites her bottom lip in hesitation, “See, this one was hard to remember, so I guessed and went with age 9, so I know you’ve been at the academy before signing the senior team...”

You shook her head in disagreement, “Want a clue?” You joke, amusedly, “Leah’s known me ever since I joined, and that was…” You pretend to count on your fingers, “11 years ago.”

“Oh!” Kyra’s eyes light up in realisation, “So, you were 8 then? I was so close!” She exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air, “You’ve known her for 11 years? That’s wild! How’s she put up with you for that long?”

“Yeah, I know it’s– Hey, that’s cruel!” The realisation hits finally and you gasp, “Speak for yourself, you’re the Aussie pest.”

“Yeah, and you’re the British Menace,” Kyra jokes, grinning at you.

“Right that does it, this friendship is… it’s under discussion,” You shake your head dramatically, continuing to play up for the camera in front of you, “Two out of three, I suppose it’s not that bad,”

“I’ll take it!” Kyra shrugs her shoulders, “The last one really threw me off!”

You grin and wrap your free arm around her, “Awh, don’t worry. We’re still besties!” You exclaim, before attempting to wrestle her down to the floor as the older girls in the background catch wind of your antics, just as the camera stops rolling.

“Lessi is definitely the clumsy one in the team - she falls over all the time. I know that says a lot, considering I'm currently in a boot,” You say with a gleam in your eyes as a memory lights up, “Oh, oh! We have to tell them about, you know, what happened at training the other day!” You grin mischievously, already knowing the chaos you’re about to stir.

Kyra looks at you, clueless, “What happened at training?”

You snort, shaking your head in disbelief, “You don’t remember?”

“No, should I?” Kyra questions, further confused.

“Of course, yeah! About Malfoy,” You retort, a cheeky grin plastered on your face.

“Monkey, don’t you dare,” Leah warns, shooting her a look.

“I dare,” You smirk in satisfaction as you see the daunting look on Leah’s face, “You see…”

Her eyes narrow, and you can see the tension building in her jaw. Right as you're about to spill the story, Leah storms over and claps her hand over your mouth, cutting off your words so all that comes out are muffled noises, “Monkey, don’t push it,” The blonde warns in a firm tone of voice.

You roll your eyes dramatically, wiping at your mouth for emphasis, “I was just gonna get the fun bit as well, ” You shrug with an exaggerated innocence, using the advantage of your crutches  to try and keep her at bay so you can continue to yap like you wanted to do, “Anyways before I was so rudely interrupted about what I wanted to say… Oh yeah, Leah completely fell over the other day and it was hilarious to watch!”

“You’re such a menace sometimes,” Leah mutters in disbelief while shooting you a playful scowl.

“Yeah, but you still love me regardless,” You flash her an innocent smile, waving your crutch around in the air, “Come on, it’s okay to admit it that you do.” You add.

Leah arches her eyebrow in response, “It’s questionable sometimes when you come out with things like you do.”

However due to your own clumsiness you end up falling over in the process which causes Leah to instantly drop her annoyed act and immediately becomes concerned instead. 

“Oh my God,” Leah’s eyes widen as she watches you fall to the floor and rushes to help you back onto your feet, “Are you okay?” She questions.

“Ow, shit, that bloody hurt,” You grumble your profound language and completely forget that there’s still a camera rolling so that’s something the media team will have to work on editing out again, “Clearly I’m not stable on my feet, like I thought I was.” You continue to grumble, accepting Leah’s hand to help you up off the floor as you hiss in slight pain.

Leah tuts and shakes her head, her previous annoyance completely forgotten about now, “You really do need to be more careful,” She chides in a gentle tone of voice, “Or you’re going to make things worse for yourself my girl.”

“Yeah,  yeah I know, you don’t need to remind me,” You huff in response and use your crutches to balance your support to save you falling on the floor again, “I’m already stuck on these crutches for what feels like the foreseeable.”

“Exactly, that’s more of a reason to be careful little miss clumsy,” Leah retorts, once she’s made sure you’re okay before she takes the chance to rip into you a bit for your usual clumsiness.

Rolling your eyes in response, “Speak for yourself when you’re the one that fell over at training the other day.” You chip in again as she flash her a cheeky smile.

“Menace,” Leah murmurs now rolling her own eyes.

It’s only now that you realise the whole interaction has been filmed, “Wait… Was the camera still filming, like all of that?” You question.

“Yep,” A member of the media team responds in agreement.

“Urgh,” You let out an exasperated groan and shove your head in your hands, “Great, everyones’ gonna see my clumsiness. Fuck sakes.”

“Monkey,” Leah chides, shooting you a stern look, “Language.”

“English,” You reply while trying to feign your innocence, “Right, shit yeah, no swearing in front of the cameras. Noted…”

“Monkey, you did it again,” Kyra snickers in amusement.

Smiling in realisation, you look at the media time guiltily, “Whoops. I did it again, didn’t I? My bad.” You apologise to them, scratching the back of your head awkwardly, “I guess you guys’ are gonna have a fair bit to edit, eh? Well at least we keep things lively around here!”

© scribblesofagoonerr

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

GRAHHHHH I DESIRE CUDDLING & READING A BOOK WITH SHENHE, CLORINDE, DEHYA, AYAKA, XINYAN, FURINA, AND NOELLE

(Genshin Impact) Cuddling with Shenhe, Clorinde, Dehya, Ayaka, Xinyan, Furina, and Noelle

Whenever Shenhe cuddles with her S/O, she's generally meditating or focusing on how nice it feels to be so close to them.

But when S/O brings up the idea of reading together, she has no objections.

Shenhe hugs them from behind as they lay in bed, quietly reading along S/O's book as they snuggle closer to her and laying into her chest.

Truth be told it was a little awkward given the position, but after a while neither of them really cared. Shenhe less so than S/O.

(Shenhe) "...S/O, what are we reading?"

(S/O) "An adventure book about a knight, would you like for me to read it aloud for you?"

(Shenhe) "I would."

Shenhe just listens intently to S/O, all the while her hold on them not budging an inch as she relaxed more of her head into them.

Clorinde joins S/O in the bed, reading a book of her own as she sits next to them.

It's a comfortable silence, something that she greatly appreciates after the demands of her duties day to day.

Although both her hands remain on the pages, Clorinde still sits close to them, enjoying just having S/O nearby in her presence.

She won't say much unless S/O chimes in or asks where she is in her book.

Every now and then, she can't help her gaze shifting over to S/O, a small smile on the corner of her lips growing as she sees their cute focused expression.

Though she will get semi-flustered if S/O catches her looking.

(S/O) "Am I more interesting than your book right now?"

(Clorinde) "Hm, I would think so."

Both of them chuckle before adjusting themselves, with Clorinde sitting closer.

Dehya doesn't normally read, not out of lack of interest or that she couldn't, moreso that she never really had the time.

Either taking care of her equipment, talking to clients or her fellow mercs, or a myriad of other things.

But ever since meeting S/O, she began to take things a little slower, enjoying the finer things in life.

Inside her tent, S/O and Dehya laid together on a big enough sleeping bag, a lantern next to S/O dimly lighting the space so they can read.

(Dehya) "Can you even read in here?"

(S/O) "Hm, I have to squint a little but it's not the worst thing in the world. Want me to read out loud for you?"

She chuckled, rolling over onto her stomach and putting her head next to S/O's.

(Dehya) "Depends on how boring it is."

Truth be told, the book itself was never interesting to Dehya, it was a nice excuse to listen to S/O.

Ayaka's heart is beating a million times a minute in such an intimate space with S/O, but reading helps ease her giddiness (Slightly).

Ayaka doesn't always have time to read, but she greatly enjoys reading something more lighthearted and fantastical to escape her duties during the day.

And she's always interested in what her S/O is reading, doubly so if it's one of the genres mentioned above.

(Ayaka) "Dear, what is that title?"

(S/O) "That time I got reincarnated into a katana?"

(Ayaka) "...I-Interesting..."

She was too focused on trying to think of how that would even work to realize that she was leaning completely into S/O, her head resting on their chest.

The moment she did realize she'd shoot straight back upright, blushing and apologizing profusely.

Xinyan doesn't read since she's usually focusing on her music, unless a story particularly inspires her or if it came as a recommendation.

But she never read a book while so close to someone, let alone shared a bed with a lover.

(Xinyan) "Hm..."

(S/O) "Xinyan? What's up?"

(Xinyan) "Aw, it ain't nothin', just...Little hard to focus on the book."

(S/O) "Is it?"

Xinyan's eyes stare at the sheets instead of anywhere near S/O, finger rhythmically tapping on the cover of her book.

(Xinyan) "...Gah, I should just suck it up and keep readin'! I dunno why I'm gettin' all antsy over something like this!"

(S/O) "Heh, want me to read for you?"

(Xinyan) "D-Don't go teasing me, now!

Furina absolutely adores reading, excited to share the stories she's experienced with S/O or anyone else who would listen!

...As for reading so close to her S/O on the other hand, she doesn't hate it but at first it made it nearly impossible to focus.

Feeling the warmth of her lover to her side in a dimly lit room made her more sleepy than anything, always drifting asleep onto S/O's shoulder.

Which sometimes led to teasing, which after the first time she vehemently refused to sleep when they read together.

Only to miserably fail and accept her fate a few sessions later.

(S/O) "...Tired already?"

Furina just hummed as S/O bookmarked the page Furina was on, gently plucking the book from her hand and setting it on the table counter.

After doing the same with theirs, S/O adjusted for Furina to snuggle into their arm, latching onto them like a stuffed animal.

(Furina) "The book I'm reading is..." yawn "...Terribly dull."

(S/O) "Want to swap next time? Maybe I can fall asleep on you instead.~"

Noelle is always studying for her knight exams, even when she's about to sleep!

So it becomes all the more efficient (and sweet) to read with S/O, her focused expression present even when in casual clothing.

Leaving S/O with a gentle smile as they watched her.

Sometimes, S/O would test her knowledge for the written portion by taking the book and quizzing her.

(Noelle) "So the proper protocol for this situation is to...Ah, take the individual in for questioning!"

(S/O) "Correct! Though, I got to wonder, how many times has the Knights gotten calls about someone stuffing forty live chickens into their bag for it to be a segment here?"

(Noelle) "More than you think, I've seen it happen twice!"

(S/O) "Since when?!"

Both are too distracted to realize how close Noelle is to S/O, sometimes even unconsciously wrapping her arms around their waist.

Though they always figured it out when she threatened to snap them in half with her strength just squeezing S/O affectionately.

[burr-ell]

re: bh never having faced consequences, what are some moments/things they've done you think there should've been consequences for? i'm asking because i've realized these past couple episodes that i also fear they won't face any consequences for this, but i haven't been able to pinpoint why i feel that way yet

I don't think the answer is that they've done things that demand consequences so much as it is that a lot of elements of this campaign just don't coalesce or feel like they matter. Things feel important and relevant and cool in the moment and then don't get any kind of followup, nor do they have a meaningful impact on the characters. So much of this story falls to the wayside with no followup, if it doesn't have the wind taken out of it altogether.

A lot of plot points wind up mattering more to the fandom than they do to the characters—even good arcs, like the events of the party split arc, don't seem to have left much of an impact. There are fans who still bring up Hearthdell as a point against the gods or Vasselheim, but Bell's Hells have barely mentioned it if at all since episode 65. Laudna derides it as a "pissant town" with "pissant squabbles" and is far less interested in the village and its people than she is in her own trauma and feelings about the Titans. Ashton only brings up what happened there because they're still sore about being judged by an angel. There's still a chance that they call out Vasselheim's leadership for the whole mess, but at no point during Ashton's rant to the Exandrian Accord did they ever reference the blatant encroachment and attempt at a land grab. Molaesmyr fares little better; Chetney is the only character who ever brings it up, and when he does it's in the context of rattling Ludinus personally—a point that only he ever presses, even though Imogen and Fearne were also there. The fandom has been debating off and on about how much the nature of Predathos itself can be linked to Molaesmyr's destruction, but nothing has canonically explained it one way or the other, in part because the rest of the Hells just aren't interested.

It's also that lack of interest that leads to major NPC villains that are almost completely irrelevant to the story. It does not ultimately matter that one of Ludinus's generals is Otohan Thull or that the Malleus Key was defended by Ozo Cruth. The audience doesn't really know who they are, and they don't know because the party had no reason to care and didn't try to get one. Matt has indicated that there's a story to Otohan that will likely be revealed in a campaign wrap-up, and the same is probably true for Ozo, but in the actual story, all they are to the audience is a couple of overtuned stat blocks with swords, and the characters they killed might as well have been gutted by a pit fiend for all it mattered. About the only death that has any narrative resonance is FCG's, and it feels less like they sacrificed themself to kill Otohan and more like the story had to lose an interesting and engaging character to get rid of Otohan.

Even returning antagonists don't escape; both Ludinus Da'leth and Delilah Briarwood, important villains from their original campaigns, have been done a great deal of disservice in this one. Ludinus peaked in episode 51; his gambit with Vax and Keyleth was great, but the longer he got to keep monologuing, in a campaign already full of talking in circles about the same issue, the more insufferable he became. Even his death, karmic as it was, is cheapened by the almost-immediate implication that he's got a way to come back, which might make sense mechanically but is utterly exhausting narratively. Delilah, on the other hand, could have been replaced by an original character and nothing of value would have been lost; there's potential in an undead warlock whose patron is their own murderer, but any of the emotional juice of that story is outweighed both by how tiresome the pacing is and how overreliant it is on maudlin imagery and nostalgia for the original Briarwood arc. We don't learn about why Delilah is here or what her specific goals are until episode 77, 40 episodes after the party confronted her directly and gave her an opportunity to explain herself that she did not take. The corruption arc, again, had potential, but fizzled out as soon as a level 20 wizard dropped the soul anchor solution into their laps, with little actual impact on Laudna herself.

The actual player characters have, for the most part, barely substantively changed. Chetney has solved the mechanical problem of not being able to control his werewolf transformations and he does push big red buttons when no one else will, but he isn't really moving anywhere as a character. Laudna continues to do everything in her power to bounce back to the old kooky fun-scary bit from episode 1 every time anything interesting happens to her. FCG did actually have a great arc with an incredibly heartfelt and moving conclusion, but is no longer a meaningful part of the narrative and the party's grief over their death was not given the space to breathe that it warranted. Fearne has matured a bit over the course of the campaign but is still largely just as aimless and go-with-the-flow as she was in the beginning. Imogen, at the very least, started to take something close to an actual stance on the gods and what to do about Predathos, but every time she has to make a choice, she continues to ask someone else what she should do and then hem and haw when she's told it's her decision. Orym has finally let himself lean on someone else, but has otherwise remained static. Ashton had a very promising arc after failing to absorb the shard, but has since regressed into doing the exact thing they called themself out for doing: looking for someone to blame and wanting to feel like they were robbed. Moments like Shardgate and Swordgate, which in any other campaign would have been major watersheds, have become functionally irrelevant for all the impact they've had on the actual characters.

The elephant in the room here, of course, is Imogen and Laudna's relationship, which has been a millstone around the campaign's neck from the beginning. Shippers have accused critics of being motivated by bigotry, but the arguments deconstructing it are ultimately rooted in this very same issue: nothing that happens to them truly seems to matter. This is intertwined with the issues with Delilah, because every time Imogen and Laudna actually run into any sort of conflict or difficulty, it has something to do with that plot thread: Delilah broke the gnarlrock; Delilah was reawakened when Laudna killed Bor'dor and Laudna was extremely upset and traumatized about it; and Delilah was the one Laudna was listening to when she tried to steal and absorb Otohan's sword. All of those conflicts fizzled out as soon as the immediate surface issue was resolved: Imogen dropped the gnarlrock issue entirely; Imogen kissed Laudna and insisted that she couldn't be a bad person for killing Bor'dor, and Laudna completely dropped the subject; and Imogen, as soon as Delilah was sealed in the soul anchor, immediately took Laudna back after less than a day of mild distance and they went off to have makeup sex. It feels less like their love is so strong it can overcome any conflict and more like they retreat to the same way their relationship was before as soon as they possibly can. Even starting a romance doesn't seem to materially change anything.

There's no interest in unpacking anything that could cause a problem, either. Laudna canonically has no issue with Imogen floating the idea of siding with the Vanguard, even though it was a Vanguard general who killed Laudna in the street to get to Imogen; in fact, she refuses to take a hard stance for or against Imogen joining Predathos because she doesn't want to "hold Imogen back from her destiny". Prior to Laudna attempting to take the sword, Imogen told her explicitly "if you need [Delilah], then that's my answer"—and then instead of addressing that, Imogen blames herself for Laudna giving into Delilah by wondering if she should have given into her own toxic influence so at least Laudna wouldn't be alone. At no point have they ever had a difficult conversation about any of their underlying issues, like the actual material harm Laudna has done to herself or others or the fact that both Imogen and Laudna have repeatedly tossed aside their actual needs in favor of maintaining their status quo of unending support and presence in each other's lives. They both just attribute responsibility to someone or something else and continue to swear that they'll always be there for one another—just like every other conversation they've ever had. There's no challenge and no movement, not from them or from anyone else; nothing has ever upset the idea that this story could be anything less than idyllic, no matter the increasing evidence to the contrary.

A common refrain for a very long time, and perhaps one still around in some circles, was a desire for Character A and Character B to "finally talk", and not without reason. In previous campaigns, A and B probably would have talked. This, however, is a campaign centering on profoundly incurious characters with a narrative that is disinterested in those characters becoming genuinely invested in its setting or each other beyond a bare surface level. Of course they won't face any consequences for releasing Predathos when they didn't need to, nor will they face consequences for not communicating their incredibly risky and contentious plan ahead of time. Why would they? It won't matter. Nothing in this story matters, and that's the entire problem.

[aventurineswife]

so i know you don't want to write for sahsr right now so may i request a sagau where creator (also artist reader if you are ok with that) reader basically just adoring all the kid playable characters cause they think their just the cutest like the reader cheering on kachina as she makes her way through the night warden wars or the reader could name ingredients that diona could use for her drinks

Welp... 🧍‍♀️

I love that idea so much! It's really cute to think about the creator being absolutely enchanted by the kid characters in Genshin Impact, especially since a lot of them are so precious and funny.

As the creator, you are a being of incredible power and influence—yet at times, you can’t help but be utterly charmed by the smallest things. And nothing melts your heart more than the precious little ones of Teyvat, who always seem to be ready for an adventure (and often, mischief).

Klee

It all starts when you watch Klee during one of her explosive missions. She’s running around, her small feet taking her across the battlefield, her cheerful giggles trailing behind her as she launches bombs in every direction. And as much as the others cringe, you can’t help but adore her.

You find yourself cheering her on from your place above, your voice soft yet full of encouragement:

"Go, Klee! You’re doing great! You’ve got this, just a few more bombs and you'll show them who's boss!"

You can practically see her face light up, as though she’s hearing your words, her giggles growing even more infectious.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!" she cheers, as the explosions continue, and you think, maybe I’ll draw her with all those sparkles around her next time—oh, how fun it would be to make her look like a literal firecracker in my painting!

Diona

Then there’s Diona, your favorite little bartender, who may look small but holds her ground with her ferocious attitude toward anyone who dares to doubt her drink-making skills. You’ve seen her concoct all sorts of strange but (somehow) delicious potions, and you're there, in the background, naming all the ingredients she might use for her drinks.

"Hmm, Diona," you muse from your corner, a grin spreading across your face, "How about you add some mint leaves for a refreshing taste and a splash of lavender for a calming effect. A little honey wouldn’t hurt either!"

She pauses, glaring at the air for a moment, as if pondering the suggestion. After a moment, she huffs, shaking her head. “Hmph. You think you know better than me? Fine, I’ll give it a shot. But it’s still gonna be better than anything that idiot swillmaster makes.”

You laugh, quietly, adoring her tenacity. You can’t wait to paint her, maybe with some of the fresh ingredients floating around her, her tiny arms crossed in that cute, pouty manner.

Kazuha and Sayu

Kazuha and Sayu often wander the lands of Inazuma together, sharing stories of the world. But you can’t help but notice how small and innocent they both look, especially when they get caught up in their small adventures.

Kazuha, while wise and calm, becomes this beautiful and somewhat soothing sight as he plays his flute while Sayu, despite being a ninja, tries to keep up but always ends up sleepy or distracted by the clouds.

“Hey, Kazuha, you should totally give Sayu a ride on your back,” you suggest with a soft chuckle, watching as Sayu tries to climb up Kazuha’s back and ultimately just ends up lying down instead.

You adore their dynamic. Kazuha always smiles when you’re cheering them on, and Sayu often gives you a tiny wink as if saying, “I know, I know. I’m cute.”

Nahida

Nahida, the archon of wisdom, might be incredibly powerful, but she has a youthful curiosity that’s completely contagious. You find yourself constantly beaming as she gets excited over learning new things, always running around with a little notebook, jotting down facts about the world, or chasing after butterflies in the fields.

"Look at her go," you muse as you watch her from afar, your heart swelling with pride. "She’s so curious, so full of life. You can do it, Nahida! Keep chasing that butterfly! It's yours!"

She looks up from her butterfly chase, beams with her bright, warm smile, as if hearing your praise. There’s a part of you that can’t wait to draw her—capturing her joyful energy, her hair fluttering in the wind, and her little hands reaching out for the world.

Meanwhile, the characters who watch you interact with these little ones are torn between being endearingly amused and very confused.

Albedo, who sees you painting these adorable scenes of the children, may quietly ask, “Are you sure you want to paint them this way? They’re… quite a handful, aren’t they?”

Zhongli, ever the calming presence, merely chuckles, his hands clasped. “Let them be, my friend. You’ve captured their true nature in your artwork, as always.”

Diluc, on the other hand, simply raises an eyebrow when he overhears you cheering for the kids. He can’t quite decide if it's adorable or baffling, but he keeps his opinions to himself, lest you get any more ideas to paint him in some weirdly soft light.

Before long, you find yourself starting an entire gallery dedicated to your love for the younger characters. Klee’s explosive adventures, Diona’s sassy bartending, and Nahida’s innocent curiosity are now immortalized in stunning, vibrant colors. Every character is fascinated by your works—some even request copies.

And you know what? It doesn’t matter that you’re the creator, or that your abilities stretch beyond the limits of mere mortals. For these small, lovable, and endlessly adorable children of Teyvat? They will always have your heart.

[crimsoncandy04]

Okay so little known fact about me, I'm a shifter and I frequently use both spiritual methods and substances to shift into other worlds, and like when I'm in the world of Genshin Impact I sometimes see the most messed up shit but I never tell anyone cause idk why, and today since my adventure was actually kinda sexy I feel like I should share some of the stuff I learned and experienced.

Especially because you know it involved my favorite man Scaramouche.

Okay so the tea was that basically contrary to popular belief in our world, Scaramouche is VERY much okay with being intimate with humans and it's actually hard to put into words why but it can basically be summed up as this, he secretly REALLY wants a family still. And in his mind, as long as he got someone pregnant (anyone it didn't matter who as long as he found them attractive enough), then he believed he could just make them immortal when he became a god and then have an undying partner and child (which he also never stated openly but it was obvious that he wanted this in particular because he was both curious as to what it would be like to be a husband and because he kinda felt like a woman would be easier to control and shut away from the world because she would have a kid to take care of anyway).

But there was one issue in this lesser known fixation of his, Scaramouche was actually frustrated because he believed he might actually be incapable of getting someone pregnant and was just shooting blanks basically.

My adventure kinda involved seeing what would happen if someone actually DID finally manage to be knocked up by him, and it basically went like this.

Scaramouche had a little bit of a reputation amongst the fatui maids to be someone known for having slept with and then thrown away a lot of different women over the years. And it was kind of an unspoken thing that if he suddenly started giving a girl a lot of things to do and kept trying to get her alone that he wanted to sleep with her.

No one among the staff would DARE say it out loud but it was kinda obvious that the harbinger wanted a baby out of someone because anyone who had been with him before always said that he'd do the same thing and would basically fuck a girl raw for hours almost every day and would also keep her close for about a month or two as he had doctors give her certain medicines and herbs and stuff to try and make her conceive.

If she was a failure after a few months then she was completely tossed out and sent back to the kitchens. And then within days Scaramouche would be stalking the staff again because it was easier to take a maid without anyone knowing than it was a soldier or nurse.

And if he likes someone he'd put on his superficial charm and start trying to lure them into his bed.

Also no one ever snitched because according to his past victims, Scaramouche was EXTREMELY generous in the sheets. However big into overstimulation and watching the faces of the girls he coupled with.

And a LOT of maids secretly tried to look more appealing with makeup and stuff when he was around because who wouldn't want to be spoiled by a hot rich guy who just wanted you to give him a kid in return for the best princess treatment in your life?

And oh my god did he almost seem to actually smile once as the story played out and I watched him get the news that one girl was finally a success.

And was there ever some hating ass bitches when the rumors of his successful impregnation started going around.

So basically this girl was treated like a freaking goddess.

Scaramouche literally paraded her around openly with the best clothes and jewelry and even her own damn mansion in some secret location. Literally she was his everything it seemed.

And it was crazy because he didn't love her as a person whatsoever. She could have been anyone because Scaramouche just wanted a family he could make permanent and didn't care what woman's coochie it came out of. Just so long as it was his and he could keep her controlled and hidden away safely with mora and nice things.

I saw more stuff but my mind is going blank as I recenter my spirit and sober up. I'm sure I could remember it later if I tried but basically yeah.

Scaramouche is very self serving and doesn't care about who he has to use to get what he wants or how. And he secretly still longed for someone to spend forever with him, so unbeknownst to most people, he was trying to get someone pregnant and then immortalize them and his offspring once he achieved divinity and became a god.

I just remembered part two of my shifting journey so let me update.

The story went on to what would happen to the girl after irminsul occurred and it goes as this.

Now feeling immense regret for how disrespectful and borderline cruel he was to some of his past partners, Wanderer actively tries in secret to seek out the mother of his child and learning where she was and what her perception of history had been altered to was heartbreaking.

According to her she was sold to the fatui by her family to work as a cook and pay off some debt, her life wasn't too bad until she was taken advantage of by what she remembered as just one of her male coworkers, after she was proven to be with child she ran away from the fatui and eventually just found herself in Fontaine. Then soon after that, Sumeru.

And that's where Wanderer finds her again. He knows the actual truth and eventually decides to come clean to this girl about what actually happened. She doesn't believe him but Wanderer is adamant about being the real father and vows to the girl to try and do the right thing by helping her with the kid.

At least.

She agrees but only because she needs the assistance and Wanderer knew how to be charming enough to earn her forgiveness.

After that he would finally get the family he envisioned but because he failed to achieve godhood, he knew he would lose them someday. And he personally believed he deserved to feel that loss so he would stay with the girl and actually try to get to know her as a person as a means of atonement and also to punish himself for treating this girl like an incubator at first.

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Hey, idk if you're taking requests in more "dark" topics. But i was wondering if you could do this one.

A year ago i attempted su!c!de, a few weeks later i started self-harming. And even before all that, i had developed an eating disorder.

I never told anyone about the sh and the ed, my parents found out my theirselves. When i attempted tho, i asked for help, cause as a teenage girl, i was scared. A week after my attempted i had already gotten a therapist and a lot of support, but i still hid parts of my struggle (ed and sh).

I was wondering if you could do a WandaNat x reader daughter, based on my "experience".

It doesn't have to be exactly like it, but "based" on it.

I'm starting to struggle again and i just needed some kind words.

Tyy x

Fly, birdie, Fly

Note: This story will feature heavy topics based on the ask above. If you find any of these triggering please do not read this. However, I am so proud of you for being here today. You are so important. Like Natasha and Peter say in this story, the whole you leave will be impossible to fill.

Warnings: mention of past abuse, poor mental health, eating disorder, self harm, suicide ideation, reader was with HYDRA and needs a hug, good parents Wanda and Natasha, Peter is a great friend.

Word count: 3.3k

There was something about the night sky that you found freeing. The vast darkness combined with the twinkle of stars created a stillness. It was quiet. Peaceful. You sat on the roof of a random New York City apartment. You weren’t sure who lived here as your feet dangled above the city street. The coldness pricked at your skin. You liked to run your fingers over the goosebumps that formed. “There you are,” you followed the voice and saw Peter. He took off his mask and walked over to you. “Your moms are almost home. You need to get back to the tower.”

Peter was a good friend. He deserved better than you, but you gave him upgrades to his suit. On nights when the noise in your head got too loud and you needed to escape the tower, he made sure you were back before anyone found out.

Slowly, you stood up and walked to the edge of the roof. Your arms outstretched to keep your balance. “Birdie, this isn’t funny. Get down. We need to go.”

Birdie. It was the nickname the Avengers called you. When they found you, you were being experimented on by HYDRA scientists. They implanted wings into your back - white like an angel. Ironically, they gave you wings to the girl who wanted to fall. Sighing, you jumped off and onto the roof. Your ankles tingled from the impact. “Did FRIDAY report any injuries?” You asked as Peter slipped his mask back on, and you both climbed down the fire escape.

“None,” Peter answered. They were able to save the hostages.” That was good. You knew the mission was going to be difficult, but like always, they saved the day.

“Thanks for the save, Spiderman,” you smiled. You tried to give him a genuine smile, but it was hard these days. See you later.”

“Bye, birdie,” he took off, and you were alone. With a sigh, you pulled up your hoodie and started the walk back to the tower.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You managed to beat them back to the tower and start cooking. Your moms always liked to eat when they got back from a mission. Most of the time, they were too tired or hurt to cook. Cooking for them was the least you could do. Your attention got pulled away from the stovetop to the elevator. “It smells good, angel,” Natasha said.

“It should be ready soon,” you drained the pasta water and saved a little of it for the sauce. Wanda walked over to you and kissed the side of your head. “How was the mission?” It was the longest you’ve been separated from them since they adopted you. They always tried to have one of them stay behind. This mission was extensive, and the team couldn’t afford to leave one of them at the tower. They were gone for a week, and you hated how much you missed them.

“Good,” Natasha kissed the opposite side. “Tiring. I could sleep for 12 years,” you chuckled and looked over your shoulder. Natasha leaned heavily on Wanda’s back, her chin resting on her girlfriend’s shoulder. They tried to mask it, but you saw the signs of fatigue.

“Why don’t you go shower, and we can eat this in our rooms?” It was a way for you to make an easy escape, but Wanda shot that idea down with a quick shake of her head.

“We always have dinner together,” she gently patted Natasha, and the Black Widow grumbled but let go of Wanda. I’ll set up for a movie night,” there was no changing her mind when it was set to something. So you filled your bowl with as little as possible that wouldn’t draw their suspicion. By the end of the movie, your bowl was still full.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

It felt like a gift and a curse with the wings you were given. They allowed you to fly above the clouds and see the world uniquely. Then there was the cruse. The pain was unbearable when you kept your wings hidden for to long. But it was the nightmares that were the worst. Some nights, you woke up covered in sweat with a scream barely leaving your lips.

Tonight was not a nightmare that woke you up but the pain in your back. You buried your face in the pillow and bite your lip to stop the pained scream. The last thing you wanted was to wake up Natasha and Wanda. They were so tired, but the pain was awful. Silent tears raced down your cheeks as a pained whimper left your lips.

Suddenly, a gentle hand was placed in the middle of your back. You flinched away from the contact. “Sh, sweetheart. It’s okay,” Wanda’s soothing voice pierced through the pain. “You’re safe. We are right here,” you whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut.

“When was the last time you let them out?” You heard the sound of scissors cutting your shirt. Luckily, it was one of Natasha’s old SHIELD shirts. But the Black Widow asked you a question. You squeezed the blanket in your hand.

“Long,” you managed to squeak out. You could feel blood in your mouth from the wound you created on your lip. Natasha let out a disappointing sigh. You hated the sound. You hated that you were such a disappointment. “Not safe. Not safe,” you repeated. The process left you disorientated. Vulnerable. Even though you felt release from your wings being free, letting them free was almost worse. It was why you hadn’t joined the team on missions until Tony could figure out a way to lessen the pain.

“You are safe,” Wanda managed to sit you up, but the fabric of your shirt fell. She sat in front of you, and her forehead rested against yours. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”

“It’s gonna hurt,” you cried. This time, it was Natasha’s hand on your back. Hers were colder and rougher than Wanda’s.

“Yes,” the Black Widow kissed the side of your head. “But it will only be for a moment then it will feel better.” You gritted your teeth, the searing heat building between your shoulder blades. After so many times, you learned to block out the noise that came with this.

The first sharp crack was followed by the pain. It felt as if your spine was being torn apart. Then, another crack. You felt the warmth of your blood from the new wounds on your back. In your pain-hazed mind, you were afraid that you were going to hurt Wanda for how hard you were squeezing her.

When it was done, your body slumped against Wanda as she whispered gently reassurances in your ear. Then you heard it—the gentle flap of your wings. Natasha touched the feathers, and you felt them twitch. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I forgot how sensitive they are, but I’ll never forget how beautiful they are.”

You never found them beautiful. They were a constant reminder of the pain you endured and the choices made of you. “How are you feeling?” Wanda asked. You felt the bed shift as Natasha stood up and headed for the bathroom. You rubbed your forehead against her shoulder.

“Tired,” you mumbled. “Sore but better.” There was a weight lifted off your shoulders. It felt easier to breathe.

“You can go back to sleep once your mom cleans you up,” you nodded, and the bed shifted again, signaling Natasha’s return.

“I’ll be gentle,” she whispered, and the warm cloth was pressed against your back. It was instant relief. Your muscles relax more. “I think keeping them out for a few days is a good idea. Allow your body some relief.” Natasha scrubbed the dried blood off your skin.

“Okay,” you mumbled, too tired to protest.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Since that night, the couple were watching you closely. They ensured you ate full meals and your wings were out for an appropriate amount of time. In some ways, you were the healthiest you’ve ever been and hated every moment of it.

The voices in your head were getting too loud. Pain was the only way to quiet them and push away the darkness. It seemed logical to spend your time in the bathroom after you ate, throwing up the food you just ate. Or drag a blade against your skin in places they wouldn’t see.

You felt dirty, weak, and guilty. Wanda and Natasha were giving you a second chance, and you were throwing it back in their faces. It was so hard to deliver that you were deserving of their love and the safety they gave you. There was a sadness in their eyes when they looked at you that they tried to hide. But you saw it. Maybe it was better if you left, saving them the pain of watching you slip away.

Once again, you found yourself atop a New York City apartment. This one was tall. Tall enough that if you kept your wings enclosed, death would be insistent. You took one step forward and-

“Woah, woah,” Peter said behind you, and you pulled your foot back. “I need you to get off the ledge, birdie.”

“Go away, Peter,” you told him without looking away from the sidewalk below you. “Go back to the tower and forget about me.”

“I can’t do that because your moms are losing their minds because they don’t know where you are. Someone disabled FRIDAY so as not to track you,” it was easy to hack into Tony’s AI system. You left a note in the mess of a lab on how you did it so he could fix the problem. “I promised them I’d find you and bring you home.”

“Why?” You asked. He was silent as you heard his footsteps walking over to you.

“Because I’ve been silent for too long. I’ve seen you hurt, and I’ve said nothing,” you closed your eyes, wobbling slightly as you lost your balance. There was so much guilt in his voice, and you hated it. You were the cause of it. It would be easier for everyone if you were gone. “You are my friend. You are one of my best friends. I know you think leaving us would cause less pain, but that’s not true. The whole you would leave would be impossible to fill.” Slowly, you turned around. He wasn’t wearing his suit, which meant he rushed over here in a hurry and put himself at risk of someone’s knowing the true identity of Spiderman. He put himself at risk for you.

Next, you noticed that his hand was outstretched as he waited for you to take it. “Please,” Peter pleaded. We all care about you. We can’t lose you.”

It seemed cliche as if he read it in one of those mental health pamphlets in the health office. But you wanted to believe him. “Peter, I-” Then it happened. It was an accident; you swore by it. Your foot slipped. The world tilted violently as your arms failed to reach for anything. A scream ripped from your throat as gravity claimed you, but Peter grabbed onto your wrist.

“I got you,” he said as he pulled you back onto the roof. Your entire body was shaking as the adrenaline ran through your veins. “I got you,” he repeated and pulled you into a hug. His heart was pounding in his ribs. “I got her,” You weren’t sure when he pulled out his phone, but he told whoever he was speaking with where you were, but it all turned fuzzy. Peter saved you, but you wished he hadn’t.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The ride back to the tower was silent. Natasha drove, Peter was in the passenger seat, and Wanda sat next to you in the back. She brought a blanket with her, and it was tightly around your shoulders. You hadn’t stopped shaking, no matter how hard you tried to stop it. Wanda held your hand tightly in hers, afraid you’d slip out of her grasp.

The contact left your skin burning. You wanted to rip your hand from her, open the car door, and run. But you stayed. They deserved that much.

Natasha parked the car in the tower garage. “Thank you, Peter,” the Black Widow said. “I’ll come and talk to you later.” Your friend nodded and said his goodbyes, but his eyes locked with yours. They pleaded with you to be honest, stay, and fight. You had no energy to smile back.

Now, the car was suffocating. It was claustrophobic, as if the car doors were closing on you, and all the air was ripped from your lungs. “Sometimes,” you found your voice. “I wish I died on the operating table you found me on,” you admitted. “Death seems easier than living.”

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Wanda whispered. You kept your eyes trained on the center console. You couldn’t stomach it if you looked at them.

“I know you both love me. I know the team cares about me. I have a place here in all this, but I’m just-”

“Tired,” Natasha finished your sentence when your voice failed you. Finally, you looked at the redhead. Her green eyes were glossy, and a sad smile was on her face. You hated that you were the cause of the pain. She reached for your face and placed a gentle hand on your cheek. Even when you flinched, her smile never faded. “Our words won’t reach you with those negative thoughts racing through your read, but your mother and I are going to fight for you and remind you every day how much you are needed here.”

Peter said something similar. The hole you would leave would be impossible to fill. How blind were you to the impact you had on their lives? “Mama,” you whimpered.

“It’s okay, dorogoy,” Wanda whispered. Your face turned into the crock of her neck and your tears stained the fabric of her shirt. Your quiet cries turned to heartbreaking sobs that shook your body. But Wanda held you strong, steady. Her heart remained constant even when you felt the slight hitch of her breathing.

“I’m - I’m scared,” you cried. “I wanna die.” With your confession, Wanda held you tighter.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Natasha wasn’t sure if the emotional outburst or the usage of her girlfriend’s powers helped you fall asleep. But you were out against Wanda, your hands twisted in the fabric of her shirt. “Let’s get her to our room,” the Black Widow spoke softly. Wanda only nodded. Her eyes were unable to look away from you. By the grace of a higher power, Natasha managed to lift you out of the back seat. You were lighter in her arms. She knew you were limiting your potions, and now she was kicking herself for not saying something sooner. The Black Widow was so scared to push you away. Now, she feared she was too late.

Thankfully, she made it to their room without alerting the rest of the team. She gently laid you down on the bed. “Should we change her out of these clothes?” Natasha asked as she looked at Wanda. Her girlfriend was quiet and gently sat on the bed’s edge to avoid disturbing you. “Hey,” she squeezed her shoulder. “Talk to me.”

“I feel like if I take my eyes off of her, she’s going to disappear,” Wanda huffed. “I’m a mind reader. How did I not see this?” Natasha sighed and moved to stand behind her. Wanda’s back was flushed against her front.

“Maybe we did see it, and we didn’t want to accept it.” Again, Wanda was quiet. There wasn’t a good way to respond to this. “Stay with her,” Natasha kissed the top of her head. “I’m going to go check on Peter.”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Wanda sighed deeply when Natasha left. A crushing weight lay across her chest. Every breath she took hurt. It felt similar to when she first arrived at the tower while grieving for her brother and country. Grief was suffocating her—grief for a little girl that she loved so much and was hurting.

She stood up and walked into her bathroom. When the water from the sink warmed up, she splashed it on her face. All she wanted to do was scream and cry, but she needed to push all that down to be there for you.

Wanda was the one to find you. During her time at HYDRA, she heard whispers of other facilities that were experimenting on other kids. The Avengers were working on stopping them. A lot of them were abandoned. Until they arrived at the facility when you were held captive. The security put up a fight, but they were able to secure the building. Wanda found you strapped down to a table. Bloody and bruised and barely conscious. You flat-lined a few times on the way back to the tower, but Bruce was able to bring you back. All Wanda wanted to do was protect you.

When Ross discovered what you could do, he threatened to send you to the RAFT. Everyone was scared of the wings, but not her or Natasha. The couple saw you as a scared girl, and adopting and protecting you made sense.

Once her face was dried, she returned to the room. “Oh,” she jumped when she saw you were awake and staring at her. “You scared me. I didn’t expect you to be up.” She hoped her magic would keep you asleep until the morning.

“Nightmare,” your voice was raw and rough. “Why am I here?”

“Your mom and I wanted to keep you close,” she said, closing the distance and sitting on the bed next to you. Do you want to go back to your room?” The idea of being away from you terrified her, but it was your choice. So much of your autonomy was taken; she never wanted to force you.

“Wanna stay,” Wanda smiled, and you took her hand. Sometimes, Wanda forgets how young you are. You acted so much older, hardened by the horrible circumstances you had to endure. Now, you looked smaller, younger than only 17.

There was so much she wanted to say to you to convince you to stay and fight. But Wanda understood that pain as well. Living seemed so hard; death seemed easier. With death, you would never see how much your life meant to them. “I get it,” Wanda spoke softly. You looked away from her hands to look into her eyes. “The feeling of dread that just follows you. Like a blanket. It can be suffocating,” you nodded. “I’ve learned to let others help hold the weight. It makes it easier to breathe.” You frown and bite your lip. You habitually pitted your lip so hard it would draw blood. Wanda gently used her thumb and touched your chin to get you to stop.

“I’m scared,” you whispered. “What if I’m broken and I can’t be fixed?”

“You are not broken, sweetheart,” Wanda squeezed your hand. “You are healing, and healing isn’t always linear. There will be ups and downs, and sometimes you will fall. But your mom and I will always catch you. When tears fell down your cheeks, Wanda pushed them away, and she expected you to flinch. Instead, you leaned into her touch. Progress was good. “However, you need to want to be helped. All your choices have been made for you; you must make this one.”

Your eyebrows scrunched together as you thought it over in your head. It felt like an eternity until you sighed. “Help me,” you pleaded. “Save me like you saved me from those monsters.”

“Always.”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Again, you sat on a roof. This time, it was on top of the Avenger tower, and you weren’t alone. There was music, laughter, and a warmth that filled your chest. Peter sat next to you and handed you a root beer bottle. “Alright, birdie?”

“Yeah,” you clicked the bottle against his. “Alright.”

You weren’t afraid of falling anymore because there would be someone to catch you.

[potatoplace]

So Long, London

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

the 1 (part 1) | betty (part 2)| next part

the 1 masterlist (alt endings) | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: An illness spreads through Velaris, primarily impacting new mothers and their young, and you and your child are not spared. Azriel continues to make questionable choices, even as your life lays in the balance.

Warnings: suicide attempt mentions, illness leading to disability, infidelity, Azriel is as expected for this series...

Words: ~5.6k

Author's Note: So I reaaally wanted to get this out in one part, but I have cute fluffy plans for Reader's future in the Day Court. This should be the last of the full on angst in this ending of 'the 1,' after this installment it should be primarily happy times! Also... Can I just say how sorry I am to Azriel? Because in this series I cannot seem to give him one redeeming quality. He's just a total piece of shit the entire time. Aaaanways. I hope you guys enjoy this part!

18+ only pls

💙🤍💙🤍💙

It was nearly eight months since Nova’s birth when a mysterious illness ravaged Velaris, primarily effecting young children and their mothers.

And you and your precious baby girl were no exception.

Nova had stopped sleeping for longer than an hour, and refusing all solid foods. She was barely taking the milk you tried to ply her with, her tiny mouth refusing to suckle on the bottle you offered her.

You weren’t feeling much better, and by the time you managed to struggle your way to Madja’s clinic, you were on the verge of passing out.

Your mate was nowhere to be found, and no amount of you tugging on the frail bond summoned him to your side, brought him to comfort you and help care for your baby.

You just barely made it inside the door, Madja’s worried face greeting you as she took in your weakened state, the crying babe in your arms, the lack of your mate by your side. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and just before you fell to the floor Madja was able to take Nova from your arms.

When you woke later, your head felt stuffed with cotton, your lungs and throat burning in pain.

It almost felt like the bond was broken again.

“Oh, thank the mother Y/N, you’re awake,” Feyre’s worried voice said, a cool hand running across your forehead.

You cracked your eyes open, squinting at the light above you.

You were back in your room in the River House.

“Nova, is she-” you started to ask, attempting to sit up, but Feyre shushed you and gently pushed you back into the bed.

“Nova is fine, she’s recovering well so far, and she’s even taking soft foods again. You got her here in time,” Feyre said softly, and you let out a relieved breath. Nova is safe. “Madja managed to make a medicine to combat the illness, though it appears to be more effective in children. I was more worried for you, if I’m being honest…”

Feyre’s eyes were watery as she looked down at you, and the situation was so similar to after you had attempted to take your life, the only change being that your other two sisters were missing.

Not for long, though, as your sisters entered the room in the next minute, Nova in their arms.

She looked to be doing so much better than before, her cheeks their normal rosy red and her cute little lips curved up into a smile, which only widened once she saw you, her beautiful hazel eyes growing larger. Her tiny hands reached out for you, wings fluttering as she tried to leave Elain’s arms.

“Can I- is it safe for me to hold her?” You asked, hoping more than ever before that you would be able to. The last time you had held her, she had been so sick, you needed to feel her healthy in your arms again. You pushed yourself up to lay against the headboard, surprised at how tired you were from that action alone. Your lungs and throat felt like they were on fire with each breath, and Feyre quickly gave you a sip of cold water to soothe it.

“I don’t see why not, she won’t be able to get sick again with the medicine still being administered,” Madja’s strong voice said as she entered the room behind your sisters, making her way to your side. Feyre scooted back to give her space to examine you, and Elain quickly placed your precious little girl in your arms.

And everything felt right again, her adorable face staring up at you, hands grabbing at your face. Even as your arms ached from the weight of her, you welcomed it as long as you had her.

Your sweet, guiding light. Your reason for being, ever since you had fallen pregnant.

“Do you know where Azriel is?” You asked quietly as Madja waved her hands over you, examining you with her magic.

You could practically feel the anger radiating off of Nesta at the question, and she snarled, “No. In the night and day that you’ve been unconscious, the stupid bat hasn’t managed to show his face here once. You would think that his mate and child being sick would warrant an appearance from whatever bullshit he’s busy with.”

You sighed, but nodded your head. “It’s alright, I’m sure it’s something important. Nova is the most important thing to him in the world.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and scoffed, but Elain placed a gentle hand on your leg.

“I’m sure you’re right, Y/N. And I’m just so happy that you and Nova are doing better, we were so worried for you,” she said softly, tears in her eyes. “I can’t stand the idea of losing either of you.”

You smiled at Elain. The two of you had gotten nearly as close as you and Feyre in the past two years since… Everything happened, and you were delighted to be her confidant as she pursued the bond with Lucien, loving to hear about how much they actually had in common, including their love for nature.

It was so nice to hear about a happy courtship for you sister, one that you had nothing to be jealous about.

Except… Maybe the way that Lucien looked at her, like she was the sun that his world revolved around.

Azriel had never looked at you like that, not even during the mating frenzy…

You looked back at Nova, her hands now tangled in your hair and a beaming smile on her face, chubby cheeks nearly covering her eyes.

Nova was your sun, that was certain.

“Well, Y/N, I’m going to advise that you stay on bedrest for the next few weeks, I want you to fully recover from this. Your lungs have been damaged by the illness, and I want to prevent any more form happening,” Madja said sternly, leaving no room for argument.

“Damage?” Feyre asked before you could.

Madja sighed. “Yes, I’m afraid there will be long-lasting damage to your lungs, Y/N. You may no longer be able to run, or walk for long distances. You should be able to carry on with most of your everyday tasks,” she added, as if to console you.

“But… I may never be able to run after my daughter?” You pondered quietly, the thought breaking your heart as you looked at her.

“I’m afraid that might be the case. But, once you’re fully recovered from the illness itself, we can start building your stamina up again. I do hope that you’ll be able to play with Nova however you want,” Madja answered, giving a soft smile to your cooing child.

You nodded your head, attempting to process the information. “Will Nova have the same problems?”

“No, the medicine was effective enough to stop any damage from occurring, and you got her here before she was truly in trouble. You did an amazing job of taking care of her, Y/N.”

Tears pricked your eyes at her kind words.

You had kept her safe.

But as you clutched Nova to your chest, your arms started to tire, shaking slightly.

Feyre, eyes tracking your every movement, noticed. “Can I hold my sweet niece?” She asked, and you reluctantly passed her over, though you were grateful for Feyre giving you an out.

“I’ll have you take this medicine once every four hours, and Feyre can charm the clock to ring for you so you can rest as much as you need,” Madja said as she placed a bottle on your nightstand, next to your water glass.

“That won’t be necessary, at least one of us will be with her at all times,” Nesta said, a hand squeezing one of yours. You turned to look at her, and you were surprised to see a hint of a smile on her face as she looked at you.

“Thank you, Nes,” you whispered. “So I just… Lay here?”

“You’re welcome to do anything that doesn’t require you leaving the bed, so anything like reading, knitting, or sewing would be fine, I suppose. Just make sure you get plenty of sleep, alright?” You nodded your head, and Madja gave you a warm smile in return. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair for now, but I’ll be back in a few hours to check on you again."

And then you were left with your sisters and Nova, who was currently playing with Feyre’s necklace, sticking it in her mouth and sucking on the edge of the moon shaped pendant.

“Feyre, has Rhys had any luck finding Azriel?” Elain asked after a few minutes of all of you staring at Nova, each minute more adorable than the last, in your opinion.

“No, Rhys said his mental walls are still impenetrable without hurting him, but he’s doing his best to track him down,” Feyre said quietly.

You knew where he was.

Or, at least, you had a good idea.

Your mate, your husband had a… Habit… Of spending the night at other female’s homes.

Especially since Nova was born.

It had never lasted past the morning, though.

“It’s fine, he’ll show up at some point,” you said with a sad smile, locking your eyes onto Nova. “Could you get in bed with me FeyFey? That way we can cuddle Nova together.”

“Of course, sissy. Nova missed you, even just overnight. She’s such a momma’s girl,” Feyre cooed as she crawled under the covers with you, laying Nova across her chest so she was looking at you. “I hope my little one is as attached to me when they grow up.”

“Oh, you know that will happen FeyFey. There’s no way that little baby won’t absolutely adore you from birth, with how wonderful you are with Nova,” you assured her, bringing a hand up to caress Nova’s face.

“I agree with you, Y/N, you and Rhys will be such perfect parents. Just look at how the both of you are handling your pregnancy so far!” Elain said excitedly, crawling onto the foot of the bed. “And I can only hope that if Lucien and I have children, that I can be as amazing a mother as you are, Y/N. You make it look so easy, and Nova is so perfect.”

You blushed, though it was hardly noticeable with how warm your cheeks already were. “Thank you, ‘Lainey. I know you’ll be a great mother, you always seemed to have the most motherly instincts.”

Elain blushed lightly and rubbed the back of her neck. “Well, it will all start with Lucien and I agreeing to get married and mated fully. But that seems like it’s just around the corner, and I really hope it is. I just know he would be a wonderful father,” she said dreamily.

“Cassian would be good father, I think. Though I’m… Not sure that I would be a suitable mother,” Nesta admitted quietly, crawling under the covers on your other side.

“Oh, nonsense Nes. You’ll be a great mother, too. I didn’t think that I would be the best mother, either, but all it really takes is seeing their face that first time. The first little blink, seeing their eye color, getting to smell that sweet baby smell… Every little moment is so special, you never want it to end. You don’t think you’ll be good at it, Nes, but you will be wonderful. I know you will.”

Nesta leaned into you, her face against your shoulder. You could feel her smile, even as she tried to hide it. “Thank you, munchkin.”

“‘Lainey, get up here. It’s not the same without you snuggled up with us,” you demanded, patting the space next to Feyre.

“Alright, I’m coming,” she said, rolling her eyes as she got under the covers next to Feyre.

Within a few minutes, after taking your medicine and surrounded by your sisters and your sweet Nova next to you, you fell into a deep sleep.

💙🤍💙🤍💙

“Where were you?!”

“I was busy-”

“Oh? With what? What could be more important than your mate and child being sick?! What could be so important you couldn’t answer your High Lord and Lady within an hour?! Let alone twenty four?!”

“They’re sick?!”

“Yes, you fucking imbecile! Why do you think we were constantly trying to reach you?! Why your mate was unconscious?!”

“I don’t know, sometimes she shuts me out-”

“Oh, don’t try that, Azriel. We all know that Y/N is the one who actually cares about the bond, you just saunter around acting like you do while you’re in front of us.”

“Where do you get off talking to me like that?!”

“Where do YOU get off treating our sister like trash?! If you didn’t want the fucking bond, why-”

“Enough! That is enough from the both of you. Y/N can hear you,” Rhys hissed, and the yelling quieted.

“Where were you, Azriel?” Feyre’s voice.

“I got caught up with some surveillance-”

“Oh, don’t bullshit us Az. We all know that you weren’t assigned anything last night, or this morning.” Cassian.

Silence.

“You- oh Cauldron, Azriel. I cannot believe you,” Rhys said, disgust dripping from his words. “Go in there and tell her. Or I will.”

“What?” Nesta asked. You could almost picture her looking between the two of them, a thunderous expression on her face. She always did hate being left in the dark.

You, though… You were in broad daylight, already knowing what Azriel had to tell you.

This would be the first true confirmation you had of his infidelity, though.

The door opened, the soft sound of the knob turning, and the gentle way he shut it behind him.

“Y/N, I…”

“Don’t, Azriel. I know.”

Footsteps, so quiet you could barely hear it. “You… You do?”

You sighed, rubbing at your chest to alleviate the pain that came with breathing. “Of course I do. Do you really think that your subtle? That your Spymaster abilities transfer over to your personal life? Because they never have.”

“Why did you stay?”

Another painful sigh. “Nova. She deserves two parents.” And I’ve held onto the foolish hope that you would one day love me for me.

“I am so, so sorry, Y/N. Really, you have no idea how sorry I am. I have been a horrible, awful mate to you, but I will do better. I will do right by you, I swear.”

You looked away from his hazel eyes, those hazel eyes that you love so much.

Because you love him. You do.

“Okay. Go get Nova and come to bed.”

Azriel blinked at you. “Okay.”

And that was that. Azriel got Nova from Elain in the other room, who had taken her away at the first sign of arguing. He peeled off his jacket and kicked off his shoes, then came under the sheets, snuggling up next to you with Nova on his chest, already fast asleep.

💙🤍💙🤍💙

The next month was spent entirely on bed rest, and still in your room at the River House.

Madja has told you it was fine for you to go back to your and Azriel’s home, but… You felt safer, knowing that your sisters were likely to be around, Feyre especially.

Your twin sister had been… Angered, to say the least, at Azriel’s treatment of you, though you’d calmed her to the point that she was mainly only being passive aggressive to your husband.

But once you were able to walk short distances, and manage a few stairs, you felt you had overstayed your welcome at the River House long enough.

Azriel had carried you home, followed closely by Feyre, carrying Nova in a sling across her chest.

You ached to be able to do that again, to be able to confidently hold your child even while standing.

The one good thing about bedrest? It gave you plenty of time to improve your knitting, sewing, and embroidery skills. Nova now had plenty of clothes for the next three months of growth, all fitted to work around her wings while keeping her as covered as possible.

You had already started on a large chest of clothes for Feyre’s expected child, wanting somehow to repay her for all the grief you had put her through over the past two years. And, it was nice to create something and see all of the joyful possibilities that could come with it.

Not that making clothes for Nova didn’t fulfill that for you too, but… It was more the lack of future that you continued to see with Azriel.

You want Nova to have her father in her life, that was true. Azriel was a wonderful father when he wasn’t busy with work or… Other obligations.

But as a mate…? You were left wanting, and hurt.

He did help you with your recovery, making sure that you got enough movement in every day and pushed yourself just enough to keep making progress.

But three months into you being home…

Azriel didn’t make it back in time for bed.

And you knew that you needed to leave.

Elain had come over the next morning, initially to say goodbye. She and Lucien were officially moving to the Day Court that evening, more than ready to start their life together in the court that Lucien would one day rule.

And so, you came up with your plan. Elain went to fetch Feyre and Nesta quickly, knowing that they would need to be told to make the plan a success.

You were on your bed, Nova in your arms when they arrived, bursting through the door frantically.

“You’re leaving?!” Nesta asked in disbelief.

You just nodded your head, running a soothing hand over Nova’s back.

“What prompted this, sissy?” Feyre asked as she sat down next to you.

You knew that they already knew. Or at least heavily suspected.

“Azriel didn’t come home last night… And I can’t do it anymore. Elain said that Lucien already asked Helion if I could join them when they move back when I first got sick and things were… Up in the air a bit.”

Nesta’s change in demeanor was instantaneous, going from disbelieving to thunderous anger, already prepared to burn your mate alive.

Feyre hugged you tightly and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m so sorry, sissy. But if this is what you want, I’ll do anything I can to make it happen. Just promise me you’ll come visit at some point? And of course we’ll come visit you and Nova as much as we can manage.”

“Of course, FeyFey, I wouldn’t dream of staying away forever… Just, if Azriel could… Not be over while I am, that would be appreciated.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll be having a talk with Rhys about possibly banning him from Velaris for all but court duties. I cannot believe that he would do this to you again.”

“Well, we should get packing up the things Azriel won’t notice, Y/N. Just in case he does come home tonight.”

You scoffed quietly. “Unlikely…”

Your sisters helped you pack up most of your and Nova’s clothing, along with all of your crafting supplies. When it became apparent that your mate was out again, tarnishing the bond between you, the four of you quickly finished up, grabbing all of Nova’s favorite things, including the baby blanket that Azriel had painstakingly made for her while you were pregnant.

Nesta stayed behind, having agreed to wait at the town house for Azriel to return, whenever that may be. As disappointed and betrayed as you were by Azriel, you still made her promise to not physically harm him more than a punch to the jaw. Or a kick to the groin.

Feyre winnowed your things first, then Elain, and finally you and Nova, held tightly in your arms as you sped through the fabric of the world for the first time in over two years.

And hopefully the last time, as you had to quickly pass Nova off to Feyre, your lungs on fire from the pressure of winnowing, a long coughing fit overtaking you.

Once you had recovered yourself, you finally had a chance to take in your surroundings.

The hall you had landed in was grand and bright, made of shining marble that reflected the sun's rays beautifully.

In front of you was a male you didn't recognize, but the power rolling off of him in waves and the shine to his skin told you all you needed to know.

Helion, High Lord of Day.

"And you must be Y/N, Elain's sister. Welcome to the Day Court," Helion said warmly as he turned his eyes to you. "And this must be little Nova, Lucien has told me so much about this cutie!"

"Yes, it's lovely to meet you, High Lord. And thank you, truly, for what you've done for us. I... I don't know what I would have done, if not for your generosity."

"Oh, call me Helion, love. And it is no trouble at all, any family of Elain's is family of mine now. Plus... I heard some of what happened, and no person deserves to be treated as you were. I am happy to open my home to you and your little one for as long as you need."

Tears pricked at your eyes against your wishes. "Thank you, Helion."

"Yes Helion, thank you so much for helping our sister out. I am deeply saddened by the fact that I could not provide her with a home where she would be left alone by Azriel," Feyre said, clasping Helion's hands in hers. "And... I know it's a lot to ask, but would you be willing to ban Azriel from your court? I know that as soon as he knows they've left, he'll be out searching for them."

"It would be my pleasure!" Helion replied happily, a bright grin covering his face, radiating happiness like the sun. "I absolutely despise those who do not cherish their loved ones, and if I'm being honest... It would be fun to send him back to the Night Court by the scruff of his neck."

You couldn't help the quiet giggle that left your lips at the mental image you had produced. Nova looked up at you at the sound, her own lips curling up at the edges.

"Well, we should get the three of you settled into your rooms. Feyre, you're welcome to accompany us if you'd like," Helion offered.

Feyre shook her head. "I should be getting back, I still need to explain everything to Rhys. But if it's acceptable, I will visit in the morning and see how the three of you are settling in. Especially you, little Nova," she cooed at your child, who extended her hands to her aunt.

"That would be lovely, Feyre. Send a note ahead of your arrival and I'll make sure there is breakfast waiting for you, or tea if you come a bit later in the morning. Safe travels, High Lady," Helion said. "Oh, and congratulations on your pregnancy! I'll try to keep the news to myself."

Feyre narrowed her eyes playfully at him. "You'd better, High Lord." She turned her eyes to you and Elain, and gave both of you big hugs, and a soft kiss on Nova's forehead. "I'll see the three of you in the morning, alright?"

"We'll see you then, Fey. Winnow safely, okay?" Elain said.

"Oh, I will. Sleep well, and give lots of goodnight kisses to little Nova for me!"

And then she was gone, leaving you in the entrance hall with Helion and Elain.

"Lets get the three of you to your room, hmm? It's been a long night, I'm sure," Helion said softly, and began leading you to your new home for the foreseeable future.

🤍💙🤍💙🤍

Nesta was sat in the darkness of the town house, your former home, stewing in her rage.

How- how had Azriel done this to you again?!

First, you nearly died after he rejected the bond from the overwhelming pain it caused you. And yes, your choice to jump was your own.

But he had promised to you that he would be a good mate. That he would be worthy of you.

Then, you nearly died again while he was nowhere to be found, your child together also gravely ill until Madja had managed to create an effective medicine. And you were permanently harmed by it, barely able to navigate a set of stairs on your own.

And all because he had been out, fucking some other female while he left his mate and child at home during a wave of illness attacking that very population.

To think, you could have been given the help you needed hours earlier, and could possibly have avoided the disability following you now.

And after all that, you had still forgiven him.

You, her sweetest and most caring sister, the one who had never turned her back on any of you. On her.

Nesta knew that she had been an awful person to you, growing up in that rundown shack. And she had ignored you after turning fae, too concerned with her own changed body to bother to apologize to you.

In the time since your fall, Nesta had done her best to do right by you, to be the elder sister that you needed. While she wasn’t the best at comforting others, she was a good listener. She had payed careful attention to you ever since, doing her best to catch any concerning behaviors.

And when you were pregnant with Nova, Nesta had been nearly as protective of you as Azriel, taking the time to walk you to your favorite shops and make sure that you were eating properly.

That should have been her sign that something was wrong.

She should have done something, confronted your bastard of a mate. But there was no changing the past, only the future.

And Nesta would do her damned best at keeping you safe from harm, even a court’s distance away.

And that would start with ripping the Shadowsinger to shreds.

Verbally. You had made her promise to not actually hurt Azriel, beyond a punch to the jaw.

Nesta thought that a punch to the throat would be much more effective. And maybe a knee to the groin.

Just a little something to give him a taste of the pain that you existed in because of his mistakes- if you could even call them that at this point.

No, they seemed to be thought out decisions to betray your trust, to tarnish the bond that he had rejected and forced back to life.

Silver flames threatened to spill from her fingers, ready to burn the male alive, if only she would loose them on him.

Feyre had appeared in the town house about ten minutes after taking you, Elain, and Nova to the Day Court, a soft smile on her face.

“How did it go?”

“Oh, Helion already seems obsessed with Nova, and he was very welcoming to her and Y/N. I think it will be a good change for them. And he agreed to ban Azriel from his court, which solves the possible problem of him tracking them down and trying to force Y/N to come back. I know… I know that she’s serious about this, but she still loves him, even now. I was worried that she might take him back, if he begged enough.”

Nesta scoffed. “Unlikely. The fact that she left without even a note makes me think that she’s done with him, no matter what honeyed words he could try to pour in her ears. The main reasons she stayed after getting sick was to let Nova know her father.”

“I suppose that’s true…” Feyre sighed. “I need to go talk to Rhys, let him know what happened. And honestly, I want to see if he’ll allow me to ban Azriel from Velaris except for his court duties.”

Nesta shook her head, not believing that Rhys would cave to her request. “Good luck with that, Fey.”

“Thanks, Nes. Let me know when the asshole shows up, but I’ll come over as soon as I’m done talking to Rhys.”

“I will.”

Feyre left the house quietly, and Nesta was alone in the darkness once more, rage building a burning fire in her body as she contemplated just what she was going to yell at him.

Five hours later, when the sun had just began to creep over the horizon, the front door opened.

Azriel came into the sitting room, but upon seeing Nesta sitting in the darkness, he stopped in his tracks.

“What are you doing here?”

“I think the better question is where were you?” Nesta hissed, satisfied when a flash of fear crossed the Shadowsinger’s face.

Feyre, he’s here.

I’ll be over in a few minutes.

“I was out in Illyria, making sure there were no wing clippings happening.”

“Liar.”

“Oh? And how would you know, Nesta? Are you might High Lord or Lady? Do you assign me my duties?”

“No. But Feyre had already informed me that you had no work tonight, that you were supposed to spend the week leading up to Nova’s first birthday entirely at home. So. Where were you?”

Azriel’s wings twitched behind him, and he turned his attention to looking for something.

He didn’t find it.

“Where…?” He started, panic flooding his scent. “Where are my mate and child?!” He roared, stomping over to Nesta, who had stood from her place on the couch.

“Somewhere you will never see them again.”

And then Nesta struck, first a knee to his groin, followed up by a satisfying fist to his throat. She relished in the pained noises coming from him, summoning her flames once he had recovered.

“You are lucky that Y/N made me promise not to hurt you more,” Nesta seethed as she backed him into a corner. “You should be ashamed of yourself! Y/N was too kind to take you back, when all you do is hurt her! You never deserved her, you never deserved a mate at ALL! And Nova is lucky to not be raised by such a disgusting person, by someone who only lies and cheats and hurts others.”

Azriel was silent, his head hung low, even as Nesta could scent his rage.

“Azriel.” Rhys’s voice, filled with the authority of a High Lord. “You need to leave. You are no longer welcome in Velaris, except when explicitly allowed.”

Azriel’s head whipped to the front door, where Rhys and Feyre were standing, matching angered expressions on their faces.

“But I-”

“No. You have been given chance after chance to change how you act, how you treat members of this family. And I will not stand for you continuing to live here, even with Y/N and Nova gone,” Feyre snarled. “You can live in the Court of Nightmares or Illyria. But Velaris is no longer your home.”

Azriel’s eyes were wide as he looked between Feyre and Rhys, in disbelief at the situation. “Rhys, you can’t be serious-”

“Deadly. And this is an order from your High Lord and Lady: do not attempt to search for them. Y/N does not want you in her or Nova’s life, and you will respect that. Do you understand?” Rhys asked, but there was only one answer that Azriel could give.

“Yes.” His voice was angry as he gave in to his High Lord’s demand. “Will you at least tell me where they are?” He growled as he glared at the three of them.

“No. You do not get to have any information about them, unless Y/N permits it. You do not deserve to know where they are, what health they are in, anything. Azriel, you disgust me. Y/N has given you so many chances to redeem yourself, but you have disappointed her every time.” Feyre’s voice was deadly calm, but her hatred was bubbling beneath the surface. “My twin has been a saint to you, and you have done nothing but hurt her. The one good thing you have done is give her Nova. And if you ever hurt her again, I will kill you myself.”

Azriel gaped at her, and looked at Rhys.

“You should go. Pack what you want, but by the end of today, you are no longer welcome in Velaris,” Rhys said coldly.

The three of them stayed in the living room as Azriel went upstairs, their ears perking up at the gasp he let out when he saw your shared bedroom, emptied of your effects.

You were gone.

You were really gone.

All of your fabrics and threads, the thimble set that Nesta had gifted you, custom designed just for your birthday last year, the baby blanket that he had made for Nova, all of your clothes- they were all gone.

You had left him!

Surely, you weren’t serious. This was just a ploy to get his attention, to make him take the bond seriously again. His family downstairs must be in on it, just trying to go along with your wishes.

So he packed his bags, taking everything that was vital to him. He went into Nova’s room, where she rarely stayed, but her things were kept, and the pain hit him.

Seeing her room with none of her clothes or toys strewn about, none of the life in it, hurt. It hurt more than seeing that you had left.

He would find you. And he would bring you home.

You and Nova belong with him.

And he would show you that.

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria

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[starcurtain]

I wish everyone collectively understood aventurine’s character like you…things would be so much easier! I genuinely don’t understand how people keep getting his motivations wrong??? Could it be because some of the most popular Aven fanfics were written prior to his release? That could have contributed to some of the takes we tend to see about him…thoughts?

I struggled all day to come up with a concise way to answer this and couldn't think of one, so here, have a long-winded ramble:

I don't think early fic writers have much impact in the situation with Aventurine's character now, since most people can look at when a story was posted and go "Oh, this was before we had ____ information."

I think that Aventurine's problem is being a male character in a gacha game. Gacha game characters are designed to sell. Hoyo can sell female characters very, very easily. Give her huge tits and a visible underwear strap and you're good to go. I love all my guy friends, but I'm not gonna sugarcoat it: straight men are not the hardest audience to please. Hit a particular fetish (feet, spandex, dommy mommy), and you're gucci.

Nah, we all know why Jade's trailer is Like That.™

Male characters in gacha are harder to sell because women as consumers are a little harder to predict. Does every woman want a tall, ripped hunk? Shit, no, small cute boyish models like Aventurine are selling better now? Why?! Would a bad boy be more popular than a nice guy??? It's harder to account for women's tastes, especially because they are often (a little) less visually-oriented.

Hoyo is good at what they do though, and they've figured out that male characters sell very well when they possess at least one of two specific traits:

Endearing vulnerability/helplessness

Gay ship tease

Give a character both, like Aventurine? They might as well be printing money.

That sound you hear is Hoyo's stock prices rising.

So, from the very beginning, Hoyo is incentivized to create a character that appeals to people, a character people will want to crack their wallets open for. And they achieved this, first and foremost, by giving Aventurine traits that female players (in particular, but men too), find especially appealing: emotional and physical vulnerability.

We see Aventurine's pain. We sympathize with his grief. We identify with his struggle to make meaning of his difficult life. He's our woobie, blorbo, babygirl, whatever the hell they're calling it now.

He can't hide his suffering anymore. He's on the very edge. He's a dude in distress. He's surrounded by enemies! He misses his mama! He's been betrayed! No one understands him like you do, dear player!

The ultimate feeling evoked is: He needs to be saved.

When people talk about male power fantasies, I think they forget that women can experience them too, and "Emotionally vulnerable man that only I (or my favorite character) can fix" is actually a female power fantasy.

And from there it's really easy, right: the people who shell out cash to buy warps for their harmed-husbando feel like they've saved him; the people who are into mlm ships look for the nearest hot dude to be the savior Ratio was waiting for his time lol.

Morally and intellectually, this type of deep-down-golden-hearted, emotionally-wounded male character is very easy to digest. There is nothing to dislike about this type of character or role in the story: this character is a good guy who has just gone through so many terrible situations, whose victim status makes him endearing, and whose lack of agency means that any of the questionable or downright bad things he does are always the result of someone else forcing his hand, and never something he would have chosen himself.

His motivations are always clear and consistent: get free, heal, and live happily ever after.

Insert the Wreck-It Ralph meme: "Do people assume all your problems got solved when a big strong man showed up?" But to be fair, a big strong man did kind of solve Aventurine's problem, so--

Anyway, it's simple. It's straightforward. Morally, it's pretty cut and dry, black and white: Aventurine is our hero, which means everyone dictating the course of his miserable life is evil.

Hoyo is not remotely discouraging people from literally buying into this emotional appeal.

And trust me, I get it. I'll be the first to admit that hurt-comfort is its own entire genre in fandom because it is so appealing. People eat up Aventurine's tragic backstory like candy! The idea of watching a character go through hell at the hands of bad guys just to finally find a happy end is like the definition of everyone's favorite story.

In fact... people love Aventurine's suffering so much, they have invented whole new ways for him to suffer that aren't even in the game.

This is where we get all the headcanons that Aventurine was a sex slave, every single person he meets hates him because of his race, the Stonehearts are executioners holding knives to his throat, Jade enslaved him to the IPC with a lifelong contract, his material possessions belong to the company, the IPC is forcing him to take only the most dangerous missions where he is being required by his evil jailers to continually put his life on the line... You name it and I promise you, I can find a fanfic where Aventurine suffers from it. 😂

Bro can't even sleep in on his day off; life is so hard for this man.

Being serious: if the game is telling us that Aventurine is a victim... Why not make him the perfect victim?

Why not envision an Aventurine with no freedom, who bears no responsibility for any of the horrible situations he is in or any of the dubious things he does?

It's so natural to like that version of Aventurine, so appealing to see a totally powerless underdog use his own wits and charms to claw his way up to freedom. Or, if you're the kind who really relishes angst: It's even appealing to see Aventurine lose more. To delight in fics where he loses his wealth, where the IPC punishes him for past crimes while he's powerless to stop them... (I assure you, this is many people's cup of tea and the fanfics prove it!)

Ultimately, there's nothing wrong with liking characters who are exactly this straightforward! It's completely fine to embrace characters that are intentionally written to be morally above-board, whose primary role in the story is to generate angst by being a good person who suffers, or those characters who never show unlikable traits, bad decisions, or contradictory actions.

The problem is that that's just not who the game is telling us Aventurine is.

Hoyo may be capitalizing off people who love to envision poor Aventurine still living his life as a slave... But the game also needs to tell a complicated enough story overall to appeal to people who don't care about this specific husbando--Aventurine's role in the actual game's plot has to be interesting enough for almost everyone to appreciate it, not just Aventurine's simp squad. (Don't get mad, I'm in the simp squad with you.)

So his character doesn't stop at just being a pure-hearted victim who is still waiting to be saved.

Aventurine is not that easy to label, and I think the biggest struggle in this character's fandom right now is between people who prefer the even-more-angsty, still-a-slave Aventurine versus people who want a morally grey, self-destructive character instead.

To me personally, while I greatly understand the appeal of fanon!Aventurine and the joy of a really juicy angst fic where characters lose it all, I think that missing out on the depth that canon is suggesting would be a real loss on the fandom's part.

The character motivations that Aventurine shows in the game are complicated. They cancel each other out. They're basically self-harm! He makes almost every situation he's in worse for himself--on purpose.

He is a good person, but also a person who has done unspeakable things. He does have morals, but he's not above allowing those who don't have them to use him to their advantage.

He's both the victim and the victor. He's his own worst enemy. He's a lost little boy who's been making terrible decisions for himself since he was like eight years old, and a grown ass man who is barely managing to fake his way through an existence that destiny is not letting him quit.

This kind of character is a lot harder to embrace. He's done things that most people would find appalling--like willingly joining up with the organization that let his entire race be massacred. He's invented a whole new peacock persona to frivolously flaunt riches he doesn't even care about (Poison Dart Frog Self-Defense 101). He actively plays into racist stereotypes about his people to manipulate others through their preconceived expectations. He's made a mockery of his mother's and sister's hopes and dreams by endlessly trying to throw his own life away.

He has flaws! He bet everything he had on a ploy without doing his homework to find out if the people he was risking his life for were even still around. (Maybe he already knew, and couldn't bear to admit it, even to himself.) He's intentionally off-putting and obnoxious to everyone he meets (Poison Dart Frog Self-Defense 102). He terrifies everyone who gets close to him by (seemingly) carelessly throwing himself into the jaws of death without the slightest provocation.

He knowingly allows the IPC to exploit his power and talents for profit. Did everyone forget that his role in the Strategic Investment Department is asset liquidation?! Like, his actual day-to-day job is ruining people's lives. Canonically, Aventurine kills people when his deals go bad.

His motivations change off-screen in two lines of story text. We're told in one line that his biggest reason for joining the IPC was to make money to save the Avgin, then in the next line we find out that's impossible. And... then what? What motivations does he even have now? The whole point of his character arc from 2.0-2.1 is that he was on the edge of giving in to utter despair and nihilism because he couldn't even perceive a single reason to stay alive. He has no purpose in life before Penacony, and that didn't start with the Stonehearts at all??

People keep saying Aventurine was held in the IPC by golden handcuffs, but how do you tie down someone for whom profit is meaningless? What can you offer to a man whose only desire is to bring back something already lost forever? How do you imprison someone whose only definition of freedom is, canonically, death?

Working for the Stonehearts is obviously not healthy. But that's why Aventurine was doing it--because taking dangerous missions allowed him to put himself at risk. The job that he originally pursued hoping to save his people became a direct means to self-harm, and the IPC's only real role in that was just happily profiting off the results.

The journal entries for Aventurine's quests are there deliberately to tell the player what is on his mind, and none of it has to do with escaping from his job:

Like... Work is the least of this man's problems.

At really the risk of rambling on too long now, he's also just a massive walking contradiction:

Aventurine is among the most explicitly religious characters in the game, yet he's one of the only people in the entire game that we have ever seen actively question his people's aeon.

You might be tempted to think Aventurine's risky gambles with his life as an adult are a result of giving up after finding out about the Avgin massacre... Butttt no, Hoyo makes sure to tell us that even at knee-high in the Sigonian desert, Kakavasha was already willing to risk himself in a fight to the death against monsters because even back then he found his own life to have less value than a single memento.

He's the "chosen one" who will lead his people to prosperity... except they're all dead.

He's explicitly suicidal... andddd also a pathstrider of Preservation.

He wants to die... He doesn't want to die. He wants to make it end, yet goes to staggering lengths to continually survive. (Every plan risks his life on purpose--but every plan's win condition is also to live.) He life is the chip tossed down, but his hand is trembling beneath the table. When faced with an otherwise unsurvivable situation, Aventurine literally became a winner of the Hunger Games. He beat other innocent people to death with his own chain-bound hands just to come out alive.

He knows the IPC failed the Avgin and left them to die... and he still willingly sought out a position of power in their organization. Maybe he really is after revenge... but maybe not.

He starts his journey in the IPC with a truly noble goal in mind: to help his people using his newfound wealth and power. He's a good guy who did genuinely want to save the Avgin and repay all those who helped him. But once it became clear he was too late, once it was obvious he would have no use at all for that monetary wealth and power he risked his life to get... What did he do with it? Unlike Jade, we don't see him over here donating to orphanages. (I'm not that heartless; I'm sure he does actually do a lot of good things with his money on the side, but the point is that the game does not show us that--it shows us, over and over again, Aventurine putting on a wasteful, over-indulgent persona toward wealth. We've supposed to feel how meaningless money is to him, how meaningless everything is becoming to him.)

He outright refuses to use underhanded tactics or to cheat at gambles, which is meant to show us that's he's more morally upright than his coworkers. There's an entire exchange where he says that he'll never stoop to using manipulation the way Opal does. But... he doesn't have any issue fulfilling Opal's exact agenda. He was never remotely morally conflicted about denying the Penaconians their freedom by dragging Penacony back under IPC control.

He's willing to risk his own life, which is one thing--but he's also willing to risk other people's well-being. Topaz accuses him of constantly egging their clients on into dangerous situations; we've actively seen him shove a gun into Ratio's hands and pull the trigger with no care for how Ratio would feel about that on their very first meeting... Dragging the Astral Express crew into the entire Penacony plan in the first place was exceedingly dangerous...

To me, I just think it's vital to understand his character through the lens of these contradictions because they demonstrate the extreme polarity of Aventurine's life: from rags to riches, from powerless to empowered by multiple aeons, from willing to kill to survive to killing himself... He has quite literally lived a life of "all or nothing," and while he is the victim of many terrible situations out of his control, his arc as a character involves facing the truth of himself and the future his own actions are hurtling him toward.

Frankly, the Aventurine that canon is suggesting is a little annoying. You want to grab him by the shoulders, shake him, and say "Why are you like this?!" And he won't even have an answer for you, because he doesn't even know why he's still alive.

In the end, to me, this is so, so much more interesting. I can read an endless supply of hurt-comfort fics where Aventurine escapes the evil IPC and Ratio is there to fill the void in his life with the power of love and catcakes and be a perfectly happy clam online, but I want canon to continue to serve us this incredible mess of a man who constantly takes one step forward and two steps back.

Who is fully aware of his role as a cog in the grotesque profit-wheel of cosmic capitalism and still manages to say he never changed from the rags-wearing desert rat of the Sigonian wastes.

Who over and over again flirts with nihility but, ultimately, even if he has to wrest it from the grip of the gods themselves with bloody, chain-bound hands, chooses life.

[akariamai]

Claws, Blades, and Botanical Love

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!OC

Word Count: 1642

“Where are we going?” Logan asked in a steely tone as Wade forcefully shoved him into the discolored and slightly wrecked stolen car. It had been a day since the small celebration of the multiverse was saved and now, Wade was forcing him into another adventure.

“Listen up, my little honey badger of doom and gloom, we’re about to inject some much-needed joy into those dead fish eyes of yours. Seriously, would it kill you to crack a smile for all the lovely readers out there? They’re lying in bed, wide awake, thinking about your mopey ass at 2 in the morning. Give ‘em a little something to dream about, will ya?” Wade finished with a boop on Logan’s nose.

“What the fuck are you yapping about?” Logan snapped, slamming his fist onto the headliner of the car.

“Chill your claws, Logan. So there I was, doing my little multiverse hopscotch, trying to find the you that’s not you but is still you—don’t think too hard about it. And guess what? Every single one of you grumpy furballs has the same weak spot. I mean, color me shocked when I find out Wolverine’s out here simping hardcore for a mutant angel, Mother Nature herself with all her leafy green goddess vibes.” Wade paused, turning the engine on, before continuing, “And oh, wouldn’t you know it? She’s your soulmate, bub. Yep, the big bad Wolverine falling head over claws for Mother Earth. Who knew you had it in ya? And for my grand finale after saving the multiverse, I asked the TVA to track down your leafy soulmate right here in this universe. I know, I’m a hero. Now, where’s my applause, Logan? Or, you know, a little thank you pegging wouldn’t hurt either. Your call!”

Logan absorbed the information in silence. He gripped the side of his seat, knuckles turning white and claws threatening to come out, as the weight of the words spoken sank in. His breath hitched — a soulmate. The concept circled around his mind, relentless and overwhelming. He blinked rapidly, trying to focus, but the car seemed to close in on him. A soulmate. His soulmate. The thought pounded in his skull, echoing louder with each beat of his heart.

His eyes darted from one side of the car to the other, unfocused, as his breathing quickened. Every face he’d ever known flashed through his mind— mutants, friends, enemies— all blurring together in a desperate search. He released his grip on his seat to only grip it tighter, digging deep into his memory, trying to pinpoint who it could be. Who from his world could possibly be the one.

“Oh, I can practically hear the gears grinding in your noggin, Wolfie. Relax, it’s not like you’ve missed out on a soulmate meet-and-greet. You never met them in your universe—they kicked the bucket before your paths ever crossed. Just like the Logan of this universe bit the dust before he got his chance to meet them. So, no need to lose any more sleep over it, bub.” Wade reached into the hidden compartment of the car and handed Logan to file. “Alright, feast your eyes on this bad boy—it’s got all the juicy deets about your little sweet pea right here. Buckle up, Logan, it’s time to dive into the love story of the century!”

Logan’s fingers hover over the file, trembling slightly. He shallowed hard, his throat dry as he stared holes at it. His breath came in uneven gasps. The file lay heavy in his hands, a stark contrast to his tight grip as if it might burst into flames of open with a truth he wasn’t ready to face. He became a monster after the death of his friends — his family — a vicious and heartless animal with no regard for human life. He had a fiery temper and alcoholic tendencies. He hesitated, his eyes darting to and from the file, each movement slow and deliberate, as if he were bracing himself for impact.

The file contained a possible future, a future he was not worthy for, but he was a selfish man who wanted nothing more than peace. Once the file was opened, his eyes were drawn to a picture of a gardener, Flora Winters.

Flora was the right mix of grit and grace. She had this magnetic way of commanding the camera’s attention, her presence effortlessly filling the frame with a blend of strength and elegance. There was a subtle, almost intangible quality that made her stand out.

“Hey, Earth to Perve, are you done giving her the ol’ eyeball striptease yet? You haven’t even met her and you’re already panting like a dog left out in the summer sun all day. I can only guess what’ll happen when you’re actually in the same room. Actually, I can totally imagine it— and if you don’t mind, I’d love to join in on the bedroom fun!”

~~~

Flora Winters spends the day slicing into the strawberries she’s grown in her greenhouse, experimenting with different recipes to find the one that’ll make her taste buds dance. She plans to sell them alongside the rest of her crops. Her life is mostly mundane, except for the occasional boost she gives her plants with her powers.

She senses a subtle tremor in the grass—a quiet warning from the trees that someone is near, getting closer. She feels the presence of two individuals stepping onto her porch, brushing against the ivy draped from the roof, ready to knock on her door.

Cracking the door open just enough to peek out, she narrows her eyes at the two men standing there. “What do you want?” she asks, taking in their ridiculous outfits. One is decked out in a red-and-black bodysuit that looks like a walking dildo, complete with a mask that only leaves his bug-eyed lenses visible. The other guy’s in a yellow-and-blue getup that looks straight out of a comic book, his muscles practically bulging out of the suit. They look like they’re about to audition for the weirdest superhero team ever.

Logan’s heightened senses pick up a scent that calms the raging animal inside him. It’s subtle—like the earth after rain, mixed with blooming flowers and a hint of something uniquely her. For the first time in what feels like forever, a deep sense of peace settles over him, like he’s found something he didn’t even know he was searching for. Every instinct tells him he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

Wade practically bounces on his heels. “This is it, bub! Your happily-ever-after, complete with a side of rosebuds and thorns.”

Logan shoots Wade a withering glare. “Shut up!”

But Wade, being Wade, ignores him and keeps running his mouth. “So, Flora, you should know—Logan here is a real softy under all that muscle. Sure, he’s got the claws and hair of a kitty and the whole brooding loner vibe down pat, but deep down, he’s a big ol’ teddy bear. Just don’t tell him I said that. Anyway, I’ll just leave him here and pick him up after this little playdate.”

Flora’s eyes flicker between the two, her brow furrowing as she narrows her gaze. The walking dildo keeps yapping nonsense. The vines hanging from the roof pulse with energy, eager for her command to snap into action. The thought of wrapping those vines around these idiots and flinging them far from her home is very tempting. It would be so easy.

Her eyes dart to the door—a simple barrier she could slam shut if they don’t retaliate. She hears the dildo’s yapping and the other guy’s low growling. They’re not really a threat, more like oversized children.

“Enough with your childish bickering. I want names. Who the fuck are you, how do you know my name, and what do you want?”

Wade starts to speak, but Logan cuts him off, his voice low and growling. “The moron here thinks we’re soulmates.”

Wade jumps back in, grinning. “The TVA stamped it, laminated it, and probably put it in a scrapbook labeled ‘Destined Couples of the Multiverse.’ Ain’t love just precious—like a rabid wolverine with a bowtie! So, congrats, lovebirds. Now kiss, fight, or do both. I’m just hyped to see good ol’ Logan drop the whole grumpy routine and maybe—just maybe—stop looking like he’s got a permanent wedgie. Fingers crossed he cracks a smile without breaking a mirror.”

Flora crosses her arms and tunes out the rest of the nonsense. The vines behind the two men sway towards them like serpents, coiling around their bodies and lifting them off the porch. With a flick of her wrist, the vines hurl the intruders as far as possible from her farm. She hears their screams fade as she calmly shuts the door, ignoring whatever mess is happening outside.

Wade and Logan watch the farm grow smaller and smaller until it vanishes behind the trees. Logan lands flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him, silently cursing Wade for dragging him into this. Wade, not as lucky, ends up impaled on a lonely tree stump. “Motherfucker.”

Logan gasps, “That went well.”

Wade pulls himself off the stump, glaring at his ruined suit. “I knew I should’ve handled the chit-chat! This is what happens when you let amateurs do the smooth talkin’—awkward silences and cringe-level dialogue. Next time, leave the witty banter to the pros—me.” He points at himself with both thumbs before inspecting the lacerations in his suit. “Well, there goes my uniform! Ruined! You know how hard it is to play arts and crafts with my own skin-tight, butt-hugging suit? This is what my life has come to—reconstructing fashion disasters caused by homicidal landscaping and that damn Vine Vixen.”

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