#so instead they utterly despise each other

[hyacinths-in-a-storm]

Genuinely what was going through Iroh’s mind as he said that fighting the Firelord was the ‘Avatar’s battle’. Yeah I understand that history will see it as a power grab, but I think we have bigger problems than that. Like, I don’t know, THE FACT THAT SOZIN’S COMET IS IN A FEW HOURS AND THE AVATAR IS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND.

[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Updated: 2025-05-27

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Anthony Bridgerton stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy￨〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff￨〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt￨〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort￨〔S〕 ⇢ Suspense￨ ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship￨𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children￨🚫 ⇢ Content Warning

✑ Art is to Feel by peterpparkrr • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Synopsis: Anthony Bridgerton has only one goal for this upcoming social season. To find a wife. What will he do when a young woman with no desire for marriage comes waltzing into his life? 

✑ Not So Simple by atlabeth • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Synopsis: Coercing Lord Bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a Baron is very simple. that is, of course, until it isn't.

✑ A Beneficial Arrangement by fayes-fics • 18+ • 〔F᜶E〕 •

Synopsis: A marriage pact with a Viscount. What could possibly go wrong?

✑ A Bridgerton Captivity by heloisedaphnebrightmore • 〔A᜶F〕 •

Synopsis: Eloise and Benedict grow tired of you and Anthony avoiding each other. They decide to intervene in the most inappropriate way possible.

✑ A Lack of Convincing by benedictscanvas • 〔F᜶E〕 • ♥︎ •

Synopsis: In which you and Anthony attempt to wait to show everyone your love for each other, but you can’t quite stop staring at him.

✑ A Long Time by rubysunnday • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Synopsis: You've waited a long, long time for Anthony to finally declare he was ready to marry. However, by the time he finally decides to find a wife, you have run out of time, and Anthony is suddenly faced with losing you to someone else.

✑ A Sudden Arrival

✑ An Innocent Glimpse by kiaraldias • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Synopsis: A simple mistake turns utterly scandalous when you walk in on Anthony Bridgerton stepping into his bath—completely bare—unaware that your innocent fascination is unravelling him entirely

✑ Anthony's Darlings by imthebadguyyy • 〔F〕 • 𑁍 •

✑ Arrangement by jswizzlewrites • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Synopsis: Anthony and Y/N find themselves in an arranged marriage, but could it be more?

✑ Atonement by fayes-fics • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Synopsis: Anthony returns home early and catches you breaking his rules.

✑ Awakening by fayes-fics • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Synopsis: You experience an awakening a few days into your arranged marriage with the Viscount.

✑ Baby, Baby, Sweet Baby by iliveiloveiwrite • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Synopsis: Anthony and you enjoy first-time parenthood.

✑ Beginning Again

Synopsis: You were supposed to marry a horrible man to help save your family who were struggling with money problems. Instead however, a surprising hero saves the day for you.

✑ Bickering by ijustwant2write • 〔F〕 •

Synopsis: Anthony yearns to despise you and sweep you off your feet in equal measure.

✑ Birthday Cake by imthebadguyyy • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Synopsis: The Viscount tries to bake you a special birthday treat with his siblings.

✑ Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain by favefandomimagines • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Synopsis: Your marriage to Anthony was a dream; until it all went slightly sour.

✑ Bridgerton Blues, the by imthebadguyyy • 18+ • 〔F᜶E〕 • ♥︎ •

Synopsis: It's the first time after your wedding, Anthony sees you sporting the signature Bridgerton blue, and it does things to him that he can only express in a much more....physical manner.

✑ Card Games and Cocktails by iliveiloveiwrite • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Synopsis: You get a little too drunk after playing cards with the ladies. Thankfully, your beloved husband is there to take care of you.

✑ Care to Dance? by imagine-that • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Synopsis: Who'd have thought a dance with the Viscount could lead to such shocking revelations?

✑ Causing a Fuss by ijustwant2write • 〔F᜶M〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Synopsis: Prehaps you should have heeded your husband's advice to embrace bed rest during the final weeks of your pregnancy.

✑ Dear Anthony by vintunnavaa • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Synopsis: If you thought that having an unrequited crush on Anthony was troublesome, wait till you write and lose the letter you wrote for him. 

✑ Distraction by peterpparkrr • 〔F〕 •

Synopsis: What happens when Daphne asks you to distract her brother, Anthony, so that she can enjoy the ball without interruptions?

✑ Distraction by shelby-love • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Synopsis: Reader wakes up in a rush once she knew there are visitors, but Anthony seemed to want to make her reader stay in bed.

✑ Don't Believe Everything You Read by captainsophiestark • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Synopsis: A wannabe Whistledown is posting some awful rumours, but luckily for Anthony, his wife knows him well enough that she doesn't believe them.

✑ Don't Blame Me by peachpitfics • 18+ • 〔A᜶E〕 •

Summary: Daphne Bridgerton is your closest childhood friend, and her eldest brother, Anthony, is the love of your life. After avoiding each other for years, you both finally lose control.

✑ Enchanted by delehosies • 〔F〕 •

Synopsis: In which Anthony Bridgerton is enchanted to meet you.

✑ Every Breath You Take by anastasiareadsnwrites • 18+ • 〔F᜶E〕 • ♥︎ •

Synopsis: It's really happening, believe it or not. You are finally married to Anthony Bridgerton, the Viscount. Unfortunately, no one had prepared you for the marital act, leaving Anthony to guide you through it.

✑ Feeling of Nature, the by shelbgrey • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Synopsis: You and Anthony are in the midst of silent treatment after an argument. This was when your pettiness really showed, you'd stay silent and at the same time tease each other till the other one cracks.

✑ Five Times I Whispered 'I Love You.' by randomfanfics02 • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Synopsis: Being Daphne's best friend had its perks, growing up alongside the Bridgerton family, going to the balls with them, and falling in love with her older brother.

✑ Forbidden Desire by whispersoftheton • 〔A᜶F〕 •

Synopsis: {…}

✑ Four and One by imthebadguyyy • 〔F〕 •

Synopsis: The four times Anthony realized he loved you, and the one time he confessed.

✑ Free Falling by rubysunnday • 〔F〕 •

Synopsis: Sometimes the only solution is to swoon into the arms of your childhood best friend.

✑ Gamble by butterflybuckethat • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Synopsis: You and Anthony were always inseparable. However, with the season…

✑ Good Enough for You by heloisedaphnebrightmore • 〔A᜶F〕 •

Synopsis: Anthony has been acting as if he were your personal royal guard, not letting even one gentleman near you. Once Benedict joins you and teasingly steals you away, Anthony shows you another side of him.

✑ Healing by just-iimagine • 〔H᜶F〕 •

Synopsis: {…}

✑ Heir by ladysharmaa • 〔M᜶F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Synopsis: Telling Anthony she's with child after facing difficulties getting pregnant.

✑ Honourable by fayes-fics • 18+ • 〔F〕 •

Summary: Anthony gets hurt, and you tend to his injury.

✑ House of Bridgerton by mickisnotreal • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Synopsis: Everyone in the ton knows not to mess with you, wife of Viscount Bridgerton. bothering her also bothers her husband and gaggle of brothers-in-law.

✑ I Want That with You by ijustwant2write • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Synopsis: Anthony and his wife visit the Bridgerton house. While there, he sees her with his youngest siblings and realizes he wants to be a dad. When they go home, he tells her that he wants a kid.

✑ In Her Arms by violetwishestowrite • 〔F〕 •

Synopsis: Anthony falls for your motherly nature, and it's pretty clear to everyone that he's in love.

✑ It's a Bad Idea You and Me by rubysunnday • 〔A᜶F〕 • ♡ •

Synopsis: Y/N was ready to give her entire heart to Anthony Bridgerton. Only for him to shove her aside in favour for Sienna Russo. But, now, Sienna is gone and despite what Y/N keeps telling herself - Anthony truly does own her heart.

✑ Kisses in the Study by justdaydreamsandimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Synopsis: You are everything a sleepy and tired Anthony needs after a long day in the study doing his work.

✑ Little Bean, the by igotanidea • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Synopsis: {…}

✑ Meeting the Family by iliveiloveiwrite • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Synopsis: After courting Anthony for some time, it is finally time to meet the rest of the Bridgerton family.

✑ No Longer in Denial by iwritefandomimagines •

Synopsis: Anthony made no secret of not wanting to marry, despite it being more than clear that he is head over heels in love with you, his "best friend." Benedict, fed up with Anthony's denial, takes matters into his own hands by inciting jealousy from his older brother.

✑ Nothing Last Forever by rubysunnday • 〔A᜶F〕 •

Synopsis: Anthony Bridgerton refused to even entertain the idea that Y/N Elliot could become his viscountess. She was the perfect woman and a perfect friend. But that was precisely the problem. If he married her, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from falling in love - and he'd made a vow to himself, that that would be the last thing he'd do.

✑ Of Loathing and Longing by munsons-maiden • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Synopsis: You despise him, and yet, Anthony Bridgerton seems to haunt you at every revel you attend this season. Until an accident brings the two of you much closer than you would have thought possible...

✑ Overprotective by fayes-fics • 〔F〕 •

Synopsis: Anthony gets overprotective when there is an injury.

✑ Reunion of Sorts by ijustwant2write • 〔F〕 •

Synopsis: {…}

✑ Right Person, All the Wrong Times by wwinterwitch • 〔A᜶F〕 •

Synopsis: Both you and Anthony have been in love from the moment you met, but it seems nothing will ever happen between you. However, when you catch the attention of another gentleman, he realizes perhaps it's time to finally do something about his feelings.

✑ Rumour Has It by eufezco • 16+ • 〔A〕 •

Synopsis: There had always been rumours about you and Anthony, but what if they were true now?

✑ Ruse, the by writeroutoftime • 〔A〕 •

Synopsis: You and Anthony are in love, unfortunately, the Viscount refuses to deal with his emotions, leaving it up to Benedict to push his brother in the right direction.

✑ Since When? by writers-hes • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Synopsis: You grew up with the Bridgertons, and for the longest time, Anthony thought of you as a friend…since when did he look at you differently?

✑ Stolen Ribbon and Secret Smiles by writeroutoftime • 〔F〕 • 𑁍 •

Synopsis: One day in the park, you stumble across the two youngest Bridgertons, leading to a friendship with none other than their eldest brother.

✑ Storm, the by kiaraldias • 〔A᜶F〕 •

Synopsis: You had come for a simple visit—to see Benedict, to enjoy an afternoon in pleasant company. Instead, you were stranded… Alone… With Anthony.

✑ Stubbornly, Irritatingly by atlabeth • 〔M᜶F〕 •

Synopsis: It's not easy to help the Viscount find a wife when he continues to reject every woman you introduce. It turns out he has a better reason for it than you realize.

✑ Take My Hand by rubysunnday • 〔M᜶F〕 •

Synopsis: As much as you try to appreciate Anthony's matchmaking efforts, it's hard when he's the only man you want. Luckily, a fall in the lake allows you to voice your feelings in more ways than one.

✑ Tea and Crumpets by imthebadguyyy • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Synopsis: The Viscount, your husband, decides to join you in the kitchen.

✑ Viscountess by atlabeth • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: When you begin to doubt yourself, your husband is there to quell your thoughts.

✑ Viscount's Fiancee, the by heloisedaphnebrightmore • 〔A᜶F᜶E〕 • ♥︎ •

Synopsis: Being engaged to the eldest Bridgerton brother makes you the happiest person alive, occasionally so much so that it makes you act as though you were a foolish child. But all that giddiness is about to disappear upon your findings.

✑ What is This Feeling by favefandomimagines • 〔A᜶F〕 •

Synopsis: Love and loathing often ride a thin line…

✑ A Very Serious Conversation by kiaraldias • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Busy Days, Peaceful Nights by iliveiloveiwrite • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Dastardly Plan by aliesbienish • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Early Morning Cuddles by iliveiloveiwrite • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Every Piece of You by maaeveeee • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ First Born by vintunnavaa • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Future Viscountess by storieswithvenus • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Just Can't Get Enough by kiaraldias • 〔A᜶E〕 •

✑ Little Menace by multi-fandom-imagine • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Lover by rubysunnday • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Morning After, the by multi-fandom-imagine • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Oceans Away by favefandomimagines • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Our Story by jswizzlewrites • 〔F〕 •

✑ Priceless by butterflybuckethat • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Radical Ideas by thebadgerclan • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Selfish by leviathanspain • 18+ • 〔F᜶E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Shots Taken by butterflybuckethat • 〔F〕 •

✑ Sore by butterflybuckethat • 〔A᜶C〕 •

✑ Sunday Tradition by wonderlandprose • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Surprise by ladysharmaa • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Welcome Home by justdaydreamsandimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Anthony Being Jealous… by hauerhoetime • 〔F〕 •

✑ Anthony Proposing to You... by writeroutoftime • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Being Pregnant w/ Anthony's Child… by iliveiloveiwrite • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

See More: Navigation || Anthony Bridgerton Master Index

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[genderqueerdykes]

there really is a cultural pressure for transmascs & men to detransition, and it comes from all sides. it comes from the queer community too, not just terfs and cishet transphobes.

it took me a while to realize why transphobic people and transandrophobic queers utterly despise trans guys & mascs who are over the age of like 25- it's because it pisses them right off that we've resisted their attempts to make us detransition. it makes them so angry to see they were unable to groom that person into a life of self-shame and repression. it really seems like MOST people believe that trans men will just detransition eventually in life? people NEVER think about older trans men, only teenage trans boys and trans men in their very early twenties.

when i was involved with my local punk scene i was addressed with condescension, almost everyone around me didn't accept transmasculinity as a legitimate identity and thought that we would've transitioned by now in life. i encountered folks who would talk about transmasculinity with subtle disgust that made me feel like i was doing something wrong, and people who expressed overt disgust, saying in plain english that they were disgusted by breasts and vaginas because they were gay men. all along the way i was literally mocked for not having a penis, and one of my roommates started treating me differently once they found out i didn't have one (because they were attracted to me)

i've been on T for 9 years, and been out as a trans man for a bit longer than that, and i noticed as i've aged i've also attracted a lot of folks who have tried to deter me from identifying as a trans man, either through directly telling me that trans men are inherently dangerous, or by implying that women or another gender are safer, quieter, calmer, "less traumatizing to be around," etc. one of my exes told me they were terrified to date me (despite literally going out of their way to do so for over half a year) because they were scared i would be transphobic to them because i'm a transmasculine lesbian.

i received pressure from online friends to either detransition and become an intersex butch woman, or to something feminine adjacent or nonbinary. for years i dealt with a few friends who kept subtly hinting that i should stop identifying as a trans man or trans masc because of how awful transmascs are- going as far as to sending me screenshots of transmascs speaking, complaining about them and calling them whiny, annoying. talking about how all transmascs are entitled, how all transmascs take things too personally, how we complain too much, and so on.

people make no effort to make space for transmascs and men. i met 0 transmascs in my local punk community that i was able to stay in contact with. none. i met a few in passing but none that actually were introduced to me in a capacity where i could actually try to befriend them. it really felt like other punks in the scene were desperately trying to keep the transmascs apart at times. excuses were made as to why i couldn't hang out with other transmascs i liked, but i was constantly being forced to befriend transphobic cis gay men and transandrophobic transfemmes who outwardly expressed hatred and disgust of us. it really felt like it was on purpose... almost as if other members of this community wanted our attention, but never wanted us to give each other attention or a sense of community. like we were objects, not people to be included in the community for real. satellite friends, if you will.

i'll be honest with you. i was at my lowest at this point. i realized i wasn't just a trans man and that i'm a genderqueer person who experiences multiple genders, including womanhood and an "other" gender, which was great. however now i was being forced to completely stuff down being a man for the sake of other people. instead of folks telling me they'd rather not hang out with transmascs, folks rather just attempted to guilt me for identifying as such in the hopes i'd stop identifying that way. i was being told daily that trans men and mascs are inherently violent and terrible to be around. i was in discord servers where transmascs were being kicked constantly for getting even slightly upset about transandrophobia, or being unfairly targeted by staff.

it's violence, but nobody wants to call it that. i pulled myself out of there and am now able to contact other transmascs and trans men who are proud of who they are and have elevated me back into a headspace where it's okay to truly be myself. just keep in mind that if you feel like you're in that situation, you're not alone. people who attempt to groom others are often very subtle it's not always up front. they will start slipping in hateful sentiments very slowly and make you feel like maybe they're the ones who are actually right.

it feels good to be an almost 32 year old trans guy. there's nothing to be ashamed about there. people project their feelings on to my gender and that has nothing to do with me. it has nothing to do with you, either. people will just project on to you for whatever reason- hatred is usually the motivator there. if you encounter folks who keep trying to badger you out of identifying as your gender, no matter who you are, transmasc, transfemme, transneutral, trans anything- they are not good for you. they are not your friends. they do not accept you as you are and you deserve so much better.

[acid-ixx]

you say Dick is (already) unhinged and is going to be GRASPING at air just for a crumb of affection from (name). would he do those protective sibling stuff? like "street crossing! hold my hand." or holding to them on a (not really)busy sidewalk to "make sure they don't lose each other, don't want you to get kidnapped!"? would he miserably fail at being casually affectionate bc of how fcking nuts he is or will he be shameless in his charge with broken excuses for why he's trying so hard?

— masterlist !

dick is all of the above. he's the type to overcorrect his actions, the person who would suddenly remember his past mistakes — which is a lot: a lot of broken promises, uncelebrated birthdays, empty nights where he's ditched you in a fast food restaurant even though he swore that he'll come the next time; and he's aware of that, feels utterly repulsed at himself for his ignorance and leading you on, except he takes accountability for his actions in extreme ways — then attempts to reconnect with you despite your insistence that you never ever want to ever spend a second's moment with him.

but because he's so ridden with guilt, so utterly desperate for a crumb of your forgiveness and your attention despite seemingly having always been disinterested by your mere presence back in the past, he'll tend to overstep your boundaries, tries to make you see that he'll do whatever it takes for you to see him as your brother. he's got the older sister complex, except you multiply that, pair it with overbearing physical affection— the tendency to feel the need to always feel a part of you, your warmth, in his palms: whether it'd be a hand on your shoulders, or his fingers play with the ends of your hair while you walk by the streets; as a means to ground himself from spiraling even further from his own thoughts, as a way to assure himself that you're safe in his arms, at least, even though you absolutely despise him.

he doesn't play pretend like he's done nothing wrong, in fact, all his excuses to hold your hand when you cross the street, or pay for your groceries every time he pops up is added with, "it's 'cause i never did this for you in the past, baby bird. let me do this for you now instead. to make up for all of it."

and although he never says 'you've always wanted this, right? don't tell me you don't.' you can feel its sole implication at every moment where his baby blue eyes prick at your soul, stare at you with such intensity, such worry that you feel like he's nitpicking every small feature of you and burning it into his memories.

like he fears you'll disappear at the moment's notice, like an apology for never really looking straight at you, from back when you were just a small, naive child looking up at him.

he's miserable, downright shivering in his boots every time he has picked you up, tossed you over his shoulder, or even held your elbows. but at the same he never asks for your consent, never minds about your boundaries because in his eyes, it's what a rightful brother should do. as much as you tell him off, admit that you've moved on past seeing him as one, he still convinces himself that he's still your sibling, he's still the same guy you once looked up to; except now he's finally changed in the ways he's treated you in the past, made sure that you see just how much his affection will go on for the long run.

because that's how a brother should've been all those years ago.

so even if that means he'll have to constantly force you to sit beside him and cuddle up on a couch while watching a movie you've once invited him to watch with you, though having never continued with his promise to do so until now; even if it means his hands will randomly cup your face and kiss your forehead every morning, afternoon and night just for him to whisper, softly, under his breath, that it's been long overdue; even if you could always feel those eyes watching you even though you're alone, even if you think you are alone—

you just have to learn to get used to it.

[xechu]

[Honor & Vengeance] S. Geto - 夏油 傑

Pairing: general!suguru x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Series Warnings: please read my blog rules before interacting. 18+ mdni, explicit sexual content, depiction of gore and violence, mature themes.

Chapter Warnings: mature themes

Tags: historical au, non-curse au, marriage of convenience, slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut, angst, hurt/comfort...will take a while to get there though

Summary: the day of your marriage, and your husband makes it abundantly clear that he wants nothing to do with you.

a/n: quick intro to a new series I'm working on. I hope you enjoy and thank you so much for reading! x

Master List: chapter 2 >>

[Chapter 1]: Conqueror of Stars

Your husband despised you.

It was evident from the very first moment you met him, which also happened to be when he lifted your veil. Your nervous yet hopeful eyes locked with his, searching for a glimmer of reciprocated emotion, but instead, he returned an unmistakable flicker of disdain and repulsion. It escaped everyone else's notice, but you were certain those negative feelings were reserved for you alone to see. To the rest of the world, he played the part of a great man, absolutely smitten with his new wife.

Pragmatism was your double-edged sword. You didn't marry with the expectation of love, but you had also wished for a bearable marriage, so that you could appease your widowed father. It was never your dream to be someone else's wife. Your father's recent insistence on marriage had puzzled you, as he had never before seemed eager to send his only daughter away. Yet, sensing an unspoken burden weighing upon him, you reluctantly acquiesced to his request. Believing in your father's good judgment, you clung to a sliver of optimism that this arrangement could be tolerable. But now, it was clear as day that it would be far from it.

True love was a rarity in this world. If given the choice, you would have continued living life as you always had. Those lucky enough to find it in their marriage were considered fortunate but most people, yourself included, would never be so blessed. If there was one luxury that neither commoners nor nobles alike could afford: it was true love.

What you hadn't anticipated, however, was marrying someone of this caliber. Your family was middle class, an awkward in-between among the elites and the common folk. Among the commoners, you were regarded as noble, but among true nobles, you were merely a commoner. The vast disparity in status made it utterly inconceivable to find yourself here, exchanging vows with none other than the King's general, his right-hand man: Suguru Geto.

The Geto household was well-known throughout the lands, their name implicitly holding power equivalent to the King's own. House Geto produced the most seasoned general of each generation, their legacy etched into history, and destined to endure for many more generations to come. Many believed the God of War had smiled upon their bloodline, bestowing upon them his favor and blessings. Suguru Geto, however, stood out from the great warriors before him, and was said to have far surpassed his predecessors, emerging as the strongest general to have ever come from House Geto.

Those who witnessed Suguru on the battlefield described him as more beast than human. He was cold, precise, and calculating—whether in the war room or amid bloodshed on the battlefield. Fear and defeat were foreign concepts to him. He never faltered in the face of war and destruction. Everyone knows that the young general is the King's most prized weapon—sharper and more lethal than any blade. Where His Majesty sought control, Suguru was there to guarantee it. With Suguru by his side, King Sato had become the most influential monarch anyone had ever seen in centuries. Thus, the King himself named Suguru Geto the Conqueror of Stars.

Now, the glaring question remained: how had you, the daughter of a mere palace judge, come to marry the Conqueror of Stars?

Even if your father were to give up his entire fortune and pull out all the stops, it shouldn't have been possible to match you with the King's general. Suguru Geto could have had anyone, yet by some twisted fate, he ended up with someone far below his station.

The King himself attended the wedding, offering his blessings and well-wishes, reinforcing the importance and power Suguru held. Strangers swarmed to congratulate you both, acting as if they'd known you their whole lives. Suguru did most of the talking, his hand steady on your back—a gesture that might seem tender to others, but to you, it felt like a collar. His voice was firm but gentle as he played the part of a lovestruck husband to perfection. It should be no surprise to you that Suguru was able to don this mask of pretense so easily, after all, being convincing was an important art of war.

"Congratulations, General Geto and Lady Geto. May your marriage be blessed with love and everlasting happiness," a serene voice greeted the both of you. It was the King's fourth daughter, Princess Ayaka.

Growing up, you had heard rumors of your husband and Princess Ayaka's relationship. A tragic story of star-crossed lovers. The two were once regarded as the perfect pair, and there were high hopes that once they had come of age, a union would form. This union would have also meant elevating the formidable Geto family into royalty. But after tragedy struck within House Geto, Ayaka was forbidden from spending time with Suguru ever again. As the years went by, the two would occasionally see each other in passing within the palace walls, only able to silently convey their feelings with stolen glances and lingering touches. It was said that Suguru had loved her deeply, but the two were never destined to be together.

Everyone in the upper echelons of society had been aware of the tragedy that struck ten years ago, nearly making the Geto bloodline go extinct overnight. You remember your father bringing you to their funeral—though the two of you remained hidden in the crowd of nobles. You recalled the young Suguru's face because it had haunted you, it was your first time truly seeing what it meant for someone to have nothing left. You will never forget the hollowness in his eyes, the paleness of his skin, the dark circles under his eyes, yet he stood tall and remained emotionless, not a single tear strayed from his eyes even though no one would have blamed him for crying.

Suguru was the sole survivor of a meticulously planned assassination, and bore the weight of the Geto legacy on his shoulders at just the mere age of eighteen. Those who had to witness the aftermath of the assassination described it as an unprecedented brutality—one that was not even witnessed in battlefields. A cruelty so sadistic that even the King himself had to decree that no one is to speak of the heinous atrocity they had witnessed, in order to avoid inciting public fear. Nothing was spared, not even the servants, not even the animals, not even his younger sister who had not come of age yet. Suguru's survival, however, only seemed to solidify everyone's beliefs that he was destined for greatness, that the God of War had smiled upon him specifically, which you thought was an absurd belief.

"Thank you for your well-wishes, Your Highness," you politely bowed your head. "It is an honor to have you attend our celebration."

"I would not miss it for the world," Princess Ayaka smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "General Geto is a treasured friend. I am relieved to see for myself that he has found a respectable woman to stand by his side."

"Indeed," Suguru replied, his grip tightening around your waist. "I could not have asked for a more suitable spouse."

His words, as convincing as they sounded, only served to heighten your discomfort as you noticed the darkened expression that momentarily clouded Princess Ayaka's features. Those sweet words were deadly daggers in disguise. You couldn't help but wonder what thoughts were running through Ayaka's mind as she witnessed this exchange.

You don’t recall the rest of your wedding celebration. Everything was grand and much too overwhelming, leaving you feeling like an utter stranger looking through the window of your own wedding, rather than experiencing it yourself. As the festivities continued around you, a sense of detachment grew, which felt like a foreshadow–a precursor to the challenges that lay ahead in your new role as Lady Geto.

—

The guests begin to trickle out of the Geto Estate one by one as nightfall approached, the silence enveloping the once lively grounds. Though the summer air was warm, a chilling stillness settled over the estate. You looked to your husband under the clear moonlight, whose face was now like a winter storm—cold and devoid of life. His hand immediately retracts from your back, as if you were made of thorns.

“Suguru–”

“Do not address me so casually,” he said, looking at you with the same disdain he had carried earlier, “Let me make myself clear: you and I are only husband and wife in the public eye. Behind closed doors, do not expect us to be anything more than strangers.” 

You were momentarily stunned by the hostility. Though you had not expected your husband to treat you with adoration, you at least expected some common decency. 

“Haibara will show you to your chambers,” Suguru said without so much as sparing another glance at you, and then he hurriedly left, as if breathing the same air as you was poison.

Haibara had been the first person to greet you when you arrived in the Geto Estate. You had arrived by carriage after several days’ ride. Unlike Suguru, he was very warm and charming, but you recognized that at the end of the day, he was still Suguru’s right-hand man—you couldn’t completely trust him or let your guard down. And since your husband had made it abundantly clear that he will not respect you, it was inevitable that even the servants will follow suit, everyone within these walls was an enemy. It wasn’t just a small obstacle ahead of you, it was a mountain you’d have to climb.

You walked behind Haibara as he ushered you to your chamber, but something felt amiss, because you realized that the two of you were straying farther and farther away from the main house. There was a hint of nervousness and pity in Haibara’s usual cheery demeanor that didn’t escape your notice, but you continued to remain silent, allowing him to lead you to your destination. The two of you crossed a bridge that spanned over a small garden pond, the wood creaking under your steps, and at the opposite end of the bridge stood a modest guest house.

Ah. You thought to yourself. So this was how it was going to be. 

“This will be your new accommodation, Lady Geto,” Haibara nervously chuckled, “Lord Geto made sure this was built before your arrival. He wanted to make sure you had plenty of peace and space.” 

You nodded as you took in your surroundings. You could understand how most people would be insulted by the arrangement, but it was peaceful. It felt like summer here. A wisteria tree stood by the entrance of the guest house, you noticed the koi fish in the pond, and beautiful blooms decorated your surroundings.

This, you realized, was probably the highlight of your day.

“Thank you, Haibara,” you smiled, “It has been a long day for you. Please, get some rest.”

—

The harsh reality descended upon you as you sat alone at the edge of your bed, the moonlight trickling in from your window. Most men would have given into their primal desires—disguised as marital duties—even if only for the first night. But your husband abandoned you, cold and untouched, and made his disgust with you abundantly clear. With each moment that passed, you found your pride and dignity chipping away. You couldn't control the way your body involuntarily trembled, and the tightness in your chest growing with every reminder of his blatant disregard for you. 

You wanted to go home, you wanted to be with your father. The thought of him alone in your old family home pained you. He had not attended the wedding ceremony, his reasoning was because you were now another man's wife, you belonged to the Geto family.

This entire arrangement felt like a cruel game—its rules unclear, and its players driven by motives you didn’t understand. First, your father's sudden insistence on handing you off to another man. And then, it was your husband's immediate hatred towards you. If he had loathed the idea of marriage, then why did he go through with it? Why did he choose you?

As you lay in your bed, you resolve to reclaim your dignity. You had done nothing to deserve Suguru's unjust wrath. He had chosen you. No one had coerced him into marrying you. Which could only mean one thing: you had more leverage than you thought. Something he most likely hoped you wouldn’t come to realize. The revelation ignited a small hope within you.

It will be a long and grueling conquest, but you refuse to let him walk all over you. You do not require love, but you require respect. 

The guest house will be the strategy room, the Geto Estate is the battlefield, and your husband is the enemy general. 

After all, he isn’t the only one who is well-versed in war.

Writing © xechu - please do not redistribute, translate, or repost any of my works.

I do not own any of the photos used in this banner.

[fawnduubackup]

do you have any advice for a newly public creator dealing with the lingering psychic damage of a mean spirited bad faith interpretation of their work?

I know it's silly to get hung up on, but that doesn't keep the negative thoughts and hypothetical arguments from bubbling up once in a while

asking because you seem like the sort of creator who gets an exciting and unpredictable mix of adoration and bile, and yet you still seem pretty chill and extremely (admirably, inspirationally, deservedly) confident in the work you do

...or maybe the question is more like: you make good art; how do you know that you make good art? how do you keep knowing?

This is something I've had to deal with a lot recently and I'd be lying if I said it hasn't ever bothered me. In my early 20s especially I agonized over every bad faith reading someone could take on what I was making.

Eventually I realized there is no possible way to tell a story that appeals to every person on earth. Someone is going to absolutely despise what you are making no matter how hard you try but that doesn't mean it's not worth making. For every person who hates your comics and everything you do there is someone who cherishes them.

Over the years I've had a lot of really kind people reach out to tell me how much the stories meant to them or made them finally realize they were gay or trans. You have to let those messages shine brighter than the few bad ones even though the bad feel incredibly loud. Part of that comes from protecting your peace and just not engaging with bad faith messages. I also just in general have a rule of if I'm feeling really charged about something rather than post about it, I go talk to my friends instead. The people who know me best and can give me contextual advice and comfort. I don't want to encourage a space for people to pick fights and argue with each other or me.

As for confidence, I am confident in the stories because I cater the stories entirely to my particular taste. If I'm loving making it and having a good time it's going to exude confidence. If I'm holding myself back it's going to feel toothless. Characters have mess, no story is ever going to be perfect but if you have fun telling it and making it that's where the magic happens!!! I find peace in stories that are campy and messy and just someone having fun with it. If you set the bar too high for media you are 'allowed' to think is good, how will you ever clear that bar yourself???

Ultimately the answer to "how do you keep making art despite it all" is a good network of friends, cutting yourself off from negative feedback loops, touching grass, and just making your stories/art so utterly catered to you that you wake up with a burning desire to create despite it all.

[amazingmsme]

Appetite for Trouble

AN: day 12 is finally here!!! My favorite fic I’ve written so far, which is blatantly obvious by the fact it clocks in over 9k. The mischief prompt was literally perfect for my boy Asterios, I couldn’t pass it up! This is one hefty boi, so grab some snacks & settle on in!

Now with a sequel here!

Being a demigod, things had always been...different for Asterios. Growing up, trouble nipped at his heels wherever he went. People treated him harshly or with a short temper, while his own emotions remained unchecked. A peaceful dinner would soon become a screaming match once he sat at the table.

As he got older, Asterios learned of his heritage and the unwanted powers that came with it. He had always felt stronger when people fought in his presence, and despite how great it felt, he utterly despised it. It did nothing but tie him to his birth mother, and offer a legitimate reason for others to keep their distance. As he grew from a boy to a man, he managed to bend his powers to his benefit. A playful argument, some mischievous roughhousing, nothing too serious, but with just enough discourse to provide a decent energy surge. It wasn't easy, but he managed shift the crew's frustrated tension into a more lighthearted chaos on more than one occasion.

It all started one long, boring afternoon.

Most of them were gathered on the deck, lounging about while others idly performed their tasks. Polites was rambling about something that Asterios couldn't hear from across the deck.

Instead, he planted the seed of mischief inside Elpenor's mind: it would be really fun to tickle Polites right now. He won't even see it coming.

Asterios noticed when the idea took root in his mind. The way he sat up straight, eyes darting to look Polites up and down, as if sizing him up.

Polites felt the gaze boring into him from behind and turned around, cocking his head. "Hey, what's with the look?" he asked innocently.

"Nothin' I'm just bored. So anyway, on a scale of one to ten, how ticklish do you think you are?" Elpenor asked out of the blue. Polites froze, sputtering out an answer.

"Wha- I- uh- I can't say,"Polites said scooting away from his friend, a blush already spreading across his cheeks.

"Guess we should find out then."

"No, we shouldn't!"

"Why, you afraid you're gonna be a ten?"

"Yes- I MEAN NO! Elpenor, wait!"

But there was no time for waiting. He dug his fingers into his sides, causing Polites to flinch away with a giggly squeal. He fell off the barrel he'd been sitting on, and Elpenor pounced.

"Yep, I think you're just a lil nervous to find out how ticklish you really are, but that's okay! You're in good hands!"

"I'm ihihin fucking evil hands, lehehet mehe goooo!"

Elpenor faked a gasp at the obscenity. "Language! Where did you learn to talk like that?"

"From me," Odysseus said, walking up from behind. Everyone froze; a flock of startled sheep. The captain had a relaxed stride and a smirk on his face, so the tension eased slightly.

Asterios saw a golden opportunity and took it.

I should join him. It's been ages since I've made Polites scream for mercy.

Odysseus reeled back at the thought, blinking in surprise as he tried to casually look around. Was it just him, or did the voice sound like...

Asterios stood his ground when the Captain looked his way, squinting. Everyone around him was tuned in, looking away would be more suspicious, would it not? By the Gods, he hoped he was playing his cards right.

Odysseus looked away with a smirk. "So, you want a hand?"

"Odysseus, come on!" Polites whined at the betrayal.

"I'd love one!" Elpenor chirped happily, wrestling their victim's arms above his head as Odysseus sat across his waist.

~~~

Asterios waited a few days before he struck again.

Another bout of boredom stretched across the ship, ensnaring the entirety of the crew in its jaws. That just couldn't stand.

Asterios spotted Leander and Plutarch engaged in a sparring match, grappling each other in the middle of the deck. There was a rope loosely marking the boundaries of their wrestling ring.

Leander circled him like a shark, sporting a sly grin. Plutarch smiled back briefly before falling into a deep concentration.

Suddenly, he lunged forth, slamming into the larger man with all his weight. Leander slid back a few feet as he fought to regain control. He had height on him, but Plutarch had made it clear that they were pretty evenly matched in strength.

He dodged to the side, panting for breath before he was wrestled to the ground, pinned with his face against the wood, one arm behind him.

"Do you yield?" he asked playfully, stretching his arm back. Leander grimaced, but shook his head.

"Never!"

They made this almost too easy.

I bet if I tickle him, he'll change his mind.

Plutarch almost gasped at the intrusive thought, a pale blush dusting his cheeks. Until now, he'd made it a point to avoid their mischievous antics, but it would seem they've started to rub off on him. His hand hovered above the back of his ribs, hesitant.

C'mon, he can't even fight back. What's the worst that'll happen? So against his better judgment, Plutarch poked a curious finger between his ribs.

Leander jumped so hard, he nearly knocked him off his perch. Plutarch arched a brow and repeated the motion. He was rewarded with a rumbly chuckle and flinch to the side.

He tried to stand up, but Plutarch panicked and shoved his hands under his arms, scribbling haphazardly, but hey, that seemed to be working just fine. Leander flopped onto the deck, hiding his face in the crook of his arm while deep belly laughs escaped him.

Asterios couldn't help but smirk as he watched the pair tussle on the ground. Good, they need this. A little bit of mischief never killed anyone.

He winced as a shrill squeal filled the air, looking over to see that Plutarch had managed to pin his arms above his head, raking blunt nails over his exposed hollows. Asterios let a sly chuckle slip out, shaking his head fondly as he stood and vanished into the crowd. As far as he was concerned, his work here was done.

~~~

Asterios knew he had to wait to strike again, less anyone catch on. It was a close call the first time with Odysseus, but he supposed he didn't know. If he did, he was sure he'd have been keelhauled. It was just a coincidence. One that had him paranoid, and he mentally marked Odysseus off the list as a future pawn in this little game of his.

Over a week had passed by, the crew growing restless once more, and he was not immune to the monotony of sea life.

He was walking down the hall when he paused, noticing Perimedes walk into one of the side rooms for a physical checkup. Oh this was too good to resist.

As soon as the door shut, he turned down the hall and stood outside the door, listening. He crouched down, watching through the keyhole for any sort of cue to work off of. Sage, one of their resident medics, had Perimedes laid on his back on a wooden exam table. Sage felt around his neck and shoulders, and even from his limited vantage point, he could see the way Perimedes tensed at the touch.

Is he ticklish? Asterios planted the idea in his mind like a sprouting seed. Sage blinked in surprise and looked his patient up and down. He shook his head, continuing the physical. He moved his hands down to his stomach and gently kneaded towards the center of his belly outwards, right above the hip bones.

Perimedes grunted and twitched away, shooting a glare at the medic. "Watch it."

"Sorry, didn't know you were tickli-"

"I'm not," he cut him off defensively. Sage paused and tilted his head curiously. 

He's too cocky for his own good.

"I'm sorry, of course not. How silly of me," he apologized curtly before resuming the probing touch, this time intentionally trying to tickle.

"Hehey w-whahat do you thihink you're doing?"

"I'm just proceeding with the exam. I thought you said you weren't ticklish?"

Asterios stood up with a proud smirk, dusting off his hands.

"I'm not!"

"Then why're you laughing so much? You coming down with a case of the giggles?"

"Thehehe what?"

"Oh dear, I'm afraid you are. And there's only one treatment."

"No- no Sage, gehet awahay from me!"

Asterios turned back down the main hall, heading towards the upper deck as the sound of panicked laughter grew louder even as he walked away.

~~~

It was… nice seeing the others smile and laugh, knowing he had a hand in it. It’s not that he didn’t want to personally put his friends in their place, he just… didn’t know how. His tough, grim persona did well at hiding the fact that he was nothing more than some shy, awkward, guy. But it also helped him go unnoticed.

He leaned against the wall, watching Elpenor and Aridolis from afar. He wasn’t sure what they were talking about, so he tried to go about his plan in a subtle way.

Whatever Aridolis had said apparently sent him on a tangent. Asterios smirked at his chance.

I bet I know what’ll make him shut up.

Elpenor didn’t notice the smirk that spread across Ari’s face until it was too late.

“Nohoho wahahait! W-what dihid I ever dohoho to you?”

~~~

Asterios didn't notice at first, but he always felt great after these random bouts of mischief. He was bolder, stronger, lighter on his feet. He began doing hard, intense labor that was usually reserved for people like Eurylochus or Leander. He even beat both of them in an arm wrestling match, back to back.

Needless to say, the outwardly cocky demeanor from the usually quiet and stoic man was a noticeable enough change for his crew mates to comment on.

"So glad to see you finally come out of your shell! I knew you just needed some time," Polites chirped, winking at him as he walked up beside him and bumped their shoulders together. Asterios ducked his head and smiled, something dangerous lurking beneath it.

"You know what? I think I really am," he purred, almost on the verge of a growl. Polites eyed him warily, scooting away ever so slight. Because even the friendliest amongst them knew exactly what he was.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it! We're all brothers now, it's about damn time we started acting like it," he said, a hint of amusement lacing his voice. Asterios crossed his arms, leaning back against the railing as he looked at Polites with a softer grin.

"Seems like some of them already are."

Polites chuckled and shook his head. "They're all a piece of work, I tell you. But... it's nice to hear laughter on the ship again. Good to know they can still have fun."

Asterios felt his smile falter at the indirect compliment, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks.

"So how 'bout you?"

Asterios practically jumped out of his skin. "Huh?"

"I don't think I've ever heard you laugh, all this time."

He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, "Oh come on, that's not true! I laugh, I just don't laugh often," he clarified. "I'm not a giggly little bitch like some people," he added, looking him up and down. Polites scoffed loudly, jaw hitting the floor.

"Wha- are you talking about me?"

"And a few others," he couldn't hold back a sly chuckle. "There. See? I can laugh."

"Yeah, at my expense," Polites accused playfully. Asterios merely shrugged smugly.

"Yeah, and?"

Polites stared at him long and hard, fingers twitching by his sides before he shook his head.

"No, not today. I'll get you when you least expect it," Polites ultimately decided and started walking away.

The smirk fell from his lips, shoulders dropping as the color drained from his face.

"Wait- what do you mean? Polites, what do you mean?" he called out after him. He turned around to face Asterios, walking backwards and wiggling his fingers. Since when did Polites of all people get scary? Then he thought for a moment about who he grew up with and smacked himself in the head. Of course.

Speak of the devil, Polites bumped into him, and he smiled, slinging an arm around his shoulder. Asterios felt a chill run up his spine. He could see Polites say something that made Odysseus chuckle and glance his way.

He was fucked. Scratch that, he was beyond fucked. Asterios turned bright red and abruptly made his way below deck, shoulder checking Leander on his way.

~~~

Needless to say, he was nervous, but the more time passed, the more he relaxed.  Polites was easy going, he let him off with a warning this time; and he knew that his little guard dog Ody wouldn't attack without orders. He heaved a sigh of relief: he was safe.

For now.

He laid low for well over a month, but of course the mischief didn't stop. Arguments needed settling, pranks were pulled and required revenge, people were plain old bored.

Julien was lounging on the stairs to the upper deck, legs stretched out before him. His head was tilted back and eyes closed, seemingly enjoying the warm sunshine. Elpenor and Perimedes sat on either side of him, staggered on the lower steps.

He was one of the few other demigods aboard the ship, so Asterios would say they got along just fine. It was nice to know he wasn't the only one with divinity in their blood, making itself known through different ways. They both had wings; Asterios with his neatly tucked behind his ears, and Julian with a pair at his ankles. The crew was more than curious about the extra appendages, which was why Asterios almost always kept his hidden. Unfortunately for Julien, they remained in plain view. And right now, were well within reach.

"So can you fly with them?" Elpenor asked, eyeing them as his hand inched closer on the step. Perimedes smirked, carefully watching his movements and mirroring them.

"Not really, but I can hover and glide when I really need to," he answered.

"Oh, so they're just for show?"

Julien let out a slightly annoyed huff. "Sure, I guess."

"So why are they red like that?" Perimedes asked, causing him to tense up immediately upon hearing the question.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

Elpenor shot his friend a look, stomping on his foot to signal that was the wrong thing to say. Perimedes hissed in pain and shot him a look back.

"Well I think it looks great on you," Elpenor chirped, running his fingers through the downy feathers. Julien gasped and shot upright, tucking his knees to his chest while his wings pressed themselves flush against his skin for protection.

"Oh? What's this?"

Asterios never stuck around for long, regardless if he was the cause or not. As soon as laughter filled the air, he was looking for a way out. Don't get him wrong, he loved feeding off the unhinged chaos, but something about it all brought on a hot burning embarrassment and something else he couldn't quite describe.

Fear? Hell no, no way in all of Tartarus was he afraid of fucking child's play such as tickling. Maybe it was more of a fear of rejection? That he wasn't good enough to join their games, so he excludes himself before anyone else could.

Sound logic, but not quite.

Or perhaps it was uncertainty. He had no idea if he was ticklish or not, and he wasn't too keen on finding out. Yes, the others looked like they were having fun, but he had to remind himself that it's all forced and most saw it as a form of punishment and torture. So he wasn't about to let anyone turn him into a giggly little bitch, per his own words. 

He was frozen where he sat, his heart racing as he watched the pair team up against the other demigod. His wings began to tingle and he bit back a whine, shaking his head and pressing them deeper into the mass of curls. He could only imagine how awful that felt, and he did feel somewhat sorry for him. Not sorry enough to go help, mind you, but sorry nonetheless.

Julien kicked his legs out, barking out a laugh when Elpenor scribbled the base of the wing as he tried to climb backwards up the stairs. Asterios felt a shiver run down his spine and a blush spread across his cheeks. Perimedes grabbed his other leg in a headlock and he stood up abruptly, stretching to try and come off as casual before heading to the opposite side of the deck.

"Asterios! Come to help?" Elpenor called out enticingly, countered by the frantic screech of protest from Julien, "No don't!"

Asterios stood still when called, sparing a glance at the trio and wishing he hadn't, embarrassment swirling in his gut. He had to resist the urge to hide behind his wings, knowing he'd never live it down. He played it as cool as he possibly could, snorting in amusement.

"You fuckin' wish." He quickly went on his way, eager to get away from the scene.

"Wait! Hehehelp mehehe!"

Asterios knew better than to look back. If he saw the desperate face that matched the voice, he'd cave and go back to save him. The martyr, who would be thrown to the wolves in his place. No fucking thank you.

"Sorry, but someone's gotta get the work done around here. You have fun though! Maybe try fighting back or something," he called, without so much as a second glance.

Odysseus watched the exchange from where he stood at the wheel, humming thoughtfully. He made note of it for later, the pieces finally falling into place.

~~~

If only he'd known Odysseus was onto him. If only he knew, he would've never gone after him. He should've known better after that first time, when Odysseus shut him down with a piercing glare that bore into his soul. The captain was smart, much smarter than Asterios ever was, and more calculating.

It was a mistake to assume he'd be just as clueless as the rest of them.

It might've also been a mistake to use Eurylochus as a pawn, but he was curious! He just wanted to see if the first mate had a playful bone in his body, to see that stoic demeanor crack when Odysseus inevitably turned the tables.

He was standing underneath the main sail, struggling to reach a dangling rope. Eurylochus watched on with a poorly concealed smirk.

"Need a hand, Captain?"

"No thanks, I'm good," he dismissed the offer, still straining to grab the frayed ends. Eurylochus let out a low chuckle, shaking his head fondly.

"Whatever you say."

Asterios saw the way he smirked, watching the captain from the corner of his eye. It was too tempting not to pass up.

It would be so easy to tickle him right now, he left himself wide open.

He watched the way Eurylochus stiffened, seemingly studying Odysseus and weighing his options.

What the hell, he could use a good laugh.

Making sure he was still distracted, Eurylochus reached up and scribbled against his stretched ribs. He slammed his arms down with a borderline shriek, whipping around to glare at Eurylochus. There was a fire in his eyes and a danger to his smile. Eurylochus balked, unsure why he thought that was a good idea. He knew he wouldn't get away with a stunt like that, and he'd never do that in front of the crew because Odysseus would fucking kill him.

"Did you really just do that?" he asked, a smirk already playing at his lips.

"I'm sorry Sir, I-I don't know what came over me-"

"I do," Odysseus bragged.

Eurylochus arched a brow, standing a little straighter in confusion. "What?"

Suddenly, Odysseus grabbed him by the forearm and tugged him close enough to whisper in his ear, "I'll tell you later. Right now, just play along and laugh. Easy enough?"

"E-excuse me?"

"Sorry, but I have to make an example out of you." In one swift motion, he yanked his arm above his head, spinning them around to pin him against the mast. He adjusted his grip to the other hand before drilling his thumbs in the center of his hollows. Eurylochus threw his head back, lost to bouts of deep, rumbling laughter.

So obviously, he was more than reluctant when the captain called him into his quarters.

Eurylochus knocked on the door hesitantly before testing the knob. It was unlocked, and he stepped inside.

"Captain?"

"Oh good, you're here. Sit down," he gestured to an empty chair as he finished writing something at his desk.

Eurylochus did as he was told. "So, what did you want to speak about? I hope this wasn't a trap," he teased lightly. Odysseus chuckled, shaking his head.

"I can see why you'd think that. But no, unlike some people on this ship, I'm man enough to face a challenge head on."

Eurylochus reeled back, blinking in shock. "Sir?"

"The men have been more rowdy than usual, wouldn't you agree?" Odysseus continued as though he hadn't spoken. Eurylochus inhaled sharply through his nose and exhaled a deep, heavy sigh.

"That's one word for it," he mused.

"And why do you think that is?" Odysseus asked as he crossed his arms over his chest, not quite sitting on his desk, but leaning heavily.

"We've been away from home for years, and we haven't docked in months. Men grow bored," he reasoned. The captain shook his head.

"Men, or man?"

Eurylochus closed his eyes, letting out a tired, "What?"

"I think someone's been pulling a few strings..." This seemed to grab his first mate's attention.

"What?" he repeated, more serious and less exasperated this time. "What are you getting at?" he asked cautiously.

"Just think about it. We have demigods amongst our ranks; we don't even know everything they're capable of."

"You don't think maybe they're just having fun? We're in a war, Odysseus, let them laugh while they can."

"And were you "just having fun" when you pulled your little stunt?" he questioned smugly, cocking his head expectantly as Eurylochus snapped his mouth shut. "Or did an enticing little voice in your head make the suggestion?"

He gasped, staring at Odysseus in shock. "How did you-"

"I'm an observant guy," he said, cutting him off.

"So... who do you think is responsible?"

"Asterios, there's no doubt in my mind."

"The quiet one?" Eurylochus arched a brow. "Why?"

"He's the son of Eris."

"And that makes him guilty?"

Odysseus huffed and rolled his eyes. "No, everything else does. That just explains how he's able to do it."

Eurylochus leaned back in the chair, "Everything else?"

"You ever notice how he never sticks around to watch? But he's got this sly, smug look the whole time. And after a particularly hectic day, he gets stronger. Remember when he beat you at arm wrestling?"

"Don't remind me."

"I think he gets stronger afterwards. It would explain why he's suddenly so helpful around the ship."

"You've given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"

"I know I'm right about this."

"You better be, because you'll make an ass out of yourself if you're wrong."

"When have I ever been wrong?" Eurylochus opened his mouth to speak, but Odysseus cut him off, "Don't answer that."

The first mate mulled it over in his mind. ""Why are you so sure that anyone is behind this?"

"Because I know you well enough to know you'd never try and get me in front of the whole crew. You're smarter than that."

"Thank you?"

"But it felt irresistible, didn't it? The need to cause chaos? I felt it too, when I got Polites a while back."

"Which time?" he teased. Odysseus narrowed his eyes.

"With Elpenor."

"Yeah, which time?" he repeated tauntingly. Odysseys laughed and shoved his shoulder playfully.

"Oh shut up! Maybe it's not always his fault, but it's more often than you'd think."

Eurylochus sighed. "So? What are you gonna do about it?" A sinister grin slowly spread across the captain's face.

"Alright, so here's what I'm thinking..."

~~~

It was a day like any other, and Asterios had no reason to feel on edge. He sat with Leander and Plutarch, idly carving hunks of wood and brushing the shavings underneath the railing when the pile grew too high.

He was trying to carve a figurine of Cetus. Growing up, he had always been enamored with the sea monster constellation, and when his true parentage came to light, it made sense. Eris explained to him that the creatures in the sky were her pets, and Cetus had always been one of her favorites. She even said that when she would check in on him, Cetus would be watching from over her shoulder.

A fairytale to tell her child. If she wanted to fill his head with stories, she should've done so a long time ago. Yet, he found comfort in the presumed lie, and he didn't know what else to carve. Maybe if they really did watch him, this would make them happy.

Was he fucking carving this to impress his mother? He shook the thought out of his head.

He didn't pay much attention when the captain walked up from below deck. That is, until he called his name.

"Asterios, a word?"

He didn't sound... angry, but there was a dangerous edge hiding beneath his words. Asterios held his breath, not daring to move an inch.

"Yes?"

"Relax, I just want to talk."

That was never a good sign, and Leander and Plutarch were already exchanging curious glances. Fuck.

"Come, walk with me," Odysseus invited with a deceptively warm smile. Asterios didn't answer for a long moment before he caved.

"Yes Sir. No one touch my fucking carving," he threatened as he stood, brushing himself off. He followed the captain, trying to ignore the looks he received. He still saw the way Elpenor mouthed the words "you're in trouble," and he looked away, feeling heat rise to his cheeks.

Gods, did he have to take him all the way to the front of the ship? Yes they were "alone," but everyone could see him inevitably get chewed out and overhear every word.

"May I ask what this is about? Have I done anything wrong, Sir?"

"Oh I think you know exactly what this is about."

Shit. Asterios began to panic, but outwardly played dump.

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

This felt like a game, and he didn't like his odds of winning.

"Tell you what?" he asked hesitantly.

"I'm mostly just curious in how you did it. I can get the why, I just can't understand the how."

Asterios furrowed his brows, tilting his head in confusion. "Captain? Are you feeling okay?" He asked, playing up his concern for his wellbeing. Odysseus glared at him as he spoke.

"I'm fine-"

"Okay, because for a minute there, you were talking like you drank sea water or something- ow!" Asterios rubbed the back of his head where Odysseus smacked him.

"Now, you ready to listen?" he asked, waiting for him to nod. "Good. Because I'm not mad, I just want you to own up to it, okay?"

Asterios's heart pounded in his chest, but he remained still. "There's nothing to own up to," he lied. Odysseus sighed, shaking his head.

"You sure you don't just wanna do things the easy way? I'm serious about not being mad, I honestly thought it was kinda funny."

Asterios whipped his head over to look at him.

"Thought what was funny?" Asterios held firm to the act. He already came this far, backing down now would be a death sentence.

"Okay, don't say I didn't warn you." Odysseus cupped his hands around his mouth, taking a deep breath to shout across the deck.

"Wait!" Asterios cried, unsure of what he was about to say and took his last chance to explain. Odysseus lowered his arms with a proud grin. "Just- let me explain."

"Oh, please do."

Asterios looked around for any chance at escape, but both Eurylochus and Polites stood nearby on either side of the railing, clearly ready to grab him if he tried to run. Polites noticed him staring and he flashed a bright smile, waving at him with wiggling fingers. Asterios glared at him, cheeks dusted pink and jaw clenched tightly.

He flinched when Odysseus snapped his fingers in front of his face to get his attention. "Hey, your captain's speaking to you."

"Yes Sir?"

"I said I'm waiting."

Oh, what an asshole.

Asterios glared at him as he spoke, "Well, as you know, I'm a son of Eris-"

"Mhm," Odysseus hummed and nodded along, leaning against the railing casually. Asterios fought back a sneer.

"Since I was a child, I noticed people tend to fight in my presence. I've learned to control it somewhat, so that the crew wouldn't be at each other's throats," he explained, not quite looking Odysseus in the eye.

"Oh, so you're doing this for our benefit." Something about his tone set Asterios off, and he took a step back.

Odysseus was having fun toying with him. The look on his face alone was priceless; eyes wide and mouth hung open in shock, and he could see the feathers of his wings bristling beneath his hair.

"Yes?"

Odysseus grinned so wide, it nearly split his face in two. "In that case, let's go tell the crew what you so kindly did for them."

"What- no! You can't! Just fuckin' wait!"

Asterios physically felt the color drain from his face, the panic beginning to set in. Fuck, why was he telling everyone? Why couldn't he just chew him out in private, why did it have to be this public hanging of character? He would've preferred if Odysseys just drug him below deck and beat the shit out of him for daring to step out of line. That way, he could at least lick his wounds in private. Was he going to have to fight the captain in front of everyone? His mind was a whirlwind, and he couldn't keep up.

His frantic protests were ignored as the captain called his crew, "Hey everyone, Asterios has something he'd like to say."

"Shut up, no I don't!" Asterios hissed.

"That's no way to speak to the captain," Eurylochus warned, but he didn't have his usual stone cold expression, and his tone was lighthearted, almost teasing. Asterios didn't know if that made it worse or not.

Oh Gods, everyone was looking at him now, and his only chance at escape would be to throw himself overboard. He bit his tongue and stood there, completely still. Incomprehensible whispers murmured through the crowd as he just stood there, balking like a dead fish. If Odysseus wanted to humiliate him, he'd done it. But he knew this was nothing compared to whatever was to come.

"Asterios? You okay?" Leander asked, stepping closer to check on his friend. Odysseus held up a hand to stop him from getting any closer.

"Oh he's fine, just a bit shy. Aren't you bud?" he asked, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Asterios visibly stiffened and flinched away.

"Don't make me do this," he whispered, barely audible. Odysseus chuckled lowly directly in his ear, "Too late to back out now."

"Well can he get on with it? I got shit to do," Perimedes spoke up from the crowd.

"Oh I think you'll wanna hear this. But seeing as our friend is a little tongue tied, I guess I'll help explain."

Asterios felt like he was going to die. He certainly wanted to. Maybe if he wished hard enough, he could just fade from existence. His lips were pressed in a thin line and wide eyes stared at the floorboards on the deck to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze. His cheeks were steadily growing a bright pink, and his breath came slow and deep as he fought to remain calm.

Odysseus must've sensed his growing panic and was quick to try and put him at ease. A moot effort, seeing as he got him so worked up.

He squeezed his shoulder and shook him gently to loosen him up, a hearty chuckle slipping out. "Relax, will you?" he teased, enjoying stretching this out. "You're not in trouble."

"It sure seems like I am, Sir."

"What? Noooo, that wasn't my intention at all!" he feigned innocence, smirking when Asterios rolled his eyes.

"Trouble? What did he do now?" Elpenor snorted in amusement.

"What didn't he do?" he mused aloud, launching into his speech. "I'm sure you've all noticed a lot more pranks, tickle fights, and general mischief. Just this time last week, an actual food fight broke out in the mess hall. And you all have this little puppet master to thank for it," he proudly exclaimed, reaching up to ruffle his hair teasingly.

Asterios could only stand there and watch it happen. His face was burning, and he's positive he's never felt more mortified. He could hear confused voices murmur among the crowd, but his ears were ringing, and he couldn't fucking move, could barely breathe. It was like he wasn't even in control of his body.

He caught a sympathetic look from Leander, silently mouthing the words, "help me," but Leander only gave a subtle shake of the head from where he stood. He caught a glimpse of Perimedes and Elpenor peaking out from behind Polites, and all three of them looked ready to pounce.

"So wasn't there something you wanted to say to everyone?" Odysseus prompted, snapping him out of his daze.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, eyes darting up to look at the crowd before adverting his gaze.

"No, that's not it!"

Asterios furrowed his brows, "What? I-I thought-"

"You were going to say you're welcome," he corrected ever so helpfully.

Asterios could only stand there as Odysseus shook him by the shoulders once more, trying to get him to just relax, as if he wasn’t actively digging his grave. He remained tense, and the movement was awkward and jerky. He continued to look down at his feet, scared of what he'd see if he looked out at the small crowd gathered on the deck. Harsh glares with hateful sneers, knowing looks accompanied by a teasing smirk; he didn't know which would be worse.

He chanced a glance up and realized that the second option was much worse.

"So why don't you tell him how thankful you all are."

He tried to protest, to question what he meant, but suddenly the arm around his shoulders wrapped around his throat like a vice and slammed him backwards, onto the deck. He fought against him with everything he had.

"Fuckin'- let me go! I said I'm sorry!" he yelled frantically, flailing about to keep his limbs free. His panic grew when he saw Polites skip over and pin down his legs. Okay, maybe he didn't actually skip, but he might as well have, the smug bastard.

"Relax will you? We're just gonna give you a taste of your own medicine. You can handle a little tickling, can't you?"

"Nah, he looks like a screamer," Elpenor teased, walking up with Perimedes. Asterios blushed an ungodly shade of red because Elpenor of all people did not just fucking say that about him.

"Said the screamer!" he lamely shot back, wiggling his arms free from under the captain's knees where he was pinning him before continuing to fight for his freedom.

"Think I'll like you way better when you can't talk. Eurylochus? Mind making yourself useful and get his arms?" Perimedes asked, making a show of cracking his knuckles. He swore as Eurylochus wrestled his arms above his head, glaring daggers at the first mate.

He jumped when he felt someone sit down beside him, sighing in relief when it was only Leander.

"Leander, thank the Gods! You gotta help me, they're gonna kill me!" The smirk he got in return made his heart sink.

"On the contrary, I think a little laughter and fun will do you some good!"

"You asshole, you think this is fun?" he growled. He got a much more enthusiastic agreement than he expected, prompting his blush to spread. He closed his eyes, muttering, "Zeus, just kill me now."

"Oh don't be so dramatic," Odysseus rolled his eyes and poked his belly, earning a harsh twitch and a yelp. "Just tell us where you're ticklish, and this can all be over a lot sooner."

Asterios felt panic course through him, and he bristled. "I don't know!" he rushed out before he could think better of it.

Odysseus studied him with an amused look before the smile dropped, ever so slightly. "Holy shit, you're serious aren't you?"

Asterios stared at him wordlessly, mouth gaping open though no sound escaped.

"Aaaw, now we just have to tickle him!"

"Shut the FUCK up Polites, I swear I'll- mph!" Asterios clamped his mouth shut in the middle of his sentence as Polites began softly tracing his arches.

"I'm sorry, you were saying?" he asked innocently, scratching blunt nails against delicate skin. He squeaked and tried to jerk his feet away,

But they remained trapped. His chest shook as he fought to contain his mirth.

A shy giggle slipped out when Leander began poking between his ribs. He jerked away with each touch, squealing when he suddenly pressed into an awaiting hand in his other side. He looked over to see Plutarch smirking down at him.

"You're both trahahaitors! Hehehey wahait!" he cried out when they each attacked his ribs with a flurry of pokes. A sudden electric sensation at his knees had him kicking the deck and snorting. Whoever the hell had gotten ahold of his knees was a fucking deadman-

"Ha! I knew you'd snort if I did that!" Perimedes bragged, and of course it just had to be him. He swears he's gonna rip out his fucking tongue-

"I'm sorry, you're gonna what?" he growled, resting his hands atop his knees threateningly, making him flinch.

Asterios froze, closing his eyes because he couldn't bring himself to look at any of these assholes. "Please tell me I at least said that out loud?" The rest of the crew watched on in confusion,  glancing between the two.

Perimedes shook his head, sporting a downright sinister grin. "No, I'm afraid you didn't." And then he started squeezing his knees relentlessly, sending him into a fit of snorting cackles and shrieks. He continued to berate him, "So that's how you fuckin' do it? Get inside our heads with our own thoughts? Wonder what else we'll hear when we really get you going."

Asterios screamed when he scratched the backs of his knees, nearly kicking Polites off from where he sat on his ankles.

"Wait, let me ask something," he could hear Elpenor's voice, too close for comfort, and opened his eyes to see him sitting beside Eurylochus with a smile of his own. The horrible feeling at his knees stopped and he caught his breath in between shaky residual giggles.

"So was the wet blanket prank even my idea?" Elpenor asked, leaning in a little closer. A sly, proud smirk tugged at his lips as he remembered that one. Elpenor had gathered everyone's bedding in a barrel filled with sea water and snuck the wet sheets back into everyone's rooms, making their bed with unpleasantly damp covers.

His prolonged silence and sheepish grin told him everything he needed to know.

"I was proud of that one, you bastard!" he growled, digging into his exposed pits without mercy. He barked out a loud, wheezing laugh and felt his face burn hot with embarrassment at the sound. He tugged on his arms, but he was thoroughly trapped. He wanted to die, he sure felt like he was, and he needed to escape- or hide at the very least. It was pure reflex, to snap his wings tight over his face to conceal his blushing cheeks and tearful eyes.

As he expected, there was an uproar of teasing and laughter from his tormentors and their audience.

"Aaaaww, that was so cute!"

"He can't run, but I guess he can hide!"

"What's the matter? Is someone a little embarrassed?"

Oh, so they wanted to just straight up humiliate him to death. Decimate the carefully crafted persona he'd built for himself, and leave what was left of his dignity and sanity in shreds across the deck. He'd never be able to show his face again! He certainly wouldn't be leaving his room anytime soon, and if they thought he was gonna be nice to them after this-

Elpenor grabbed one wing and gently pried it back, chuckling at the downright terrified, flustered look on his face. "Why d'you look so scared? Just relaaaax, we're all having fun," he cooed tauntingly.

Asterios scoffed, "No, you're having fun!" He'd fucking kill him for even insinuating-

"I don't know, you sound pretty happy to me," Leander spoke up with that dopey ass grin he always wore. Okay, so he'd kill both of them.

"Thanks, didn't fuckin' ahahask," he growled, breaking off in breathless snickers as Leander pinched each rib.

"That wasn't very nice," he teased, laughing along with his friend's torment, wiggling a finger between the bone. Asterios snorted and jerked away, right into Plutarch's waiting hands on his other side. And the dance repeated.

Polites noticed Aridolis lingering closer ever so slowly and smiled, waving him over. “Wanna give me a hand?” he offered, focusing all of his efforts on one foot to make room for him.

Ari immediately perked up at the offer, sitting on the ground facing him. All the while, Asterios continued to thrash and yell out threats.

“NO! Ari Ihihi swear toho thehehe Gods, i-if you lahahay aha hand on mehehe I’ll kihihill you ihin your sleep!” he growled through shrill giggles. He heard a few of them chuckling at him, and he wanted to die. If he were being honest, Tartarus would be better than this.

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” Ari hummed as he joined the fray, raking sharp claws up and down his sole. Asterios was once again thrown into hysterics.

Elpenor still hadn't let go of his wing, and it twitched, trying to tuck itself against his head for safety. The movement didn't go unnoticed, and he smirked as he rubbed the soft feathers between his fingers. Asterios let out a shrill shriek, and the wing immediately snapped back, nestling under the hair behind his ear. He couldn't help but giggle at him.

"Aw, are you winking at me?" Elpenor asked and shot him a wink in return. Asterios turned a darker shade of pink and let out an annoyed huff, tucking the other wing away angrily. "Oh come on, you're no fun," he teased, grabbing one wing and prying it open.

Asterios shook his head, giggly pleas falling from his lips. "Dohohon't you dare! Elpenor, please!"  He tried to scrunch his neck and lean away, flap his wings, anything to get away.

"Oh these are a really bad spot, aren't they?" he taunted, wiggling his fingers closer. Asterios flinched away with a nervous giggle.

"They must be, if they got him acting like that," Odysseus added.

"I'm sure they are. Remember how bad Julien screamed? Let's make this asshole scream even louder," Perimedes cracked his knuckles as he spoke, and Asterios slammed his head against the deck in defeat.

"Can you at least have the decency to kill me in silence?" he growled, hiding half his face with his free wing, unable to look at them for another second.

"How can you still be so damn grumpy?" Polites asked, scribbling beneath his toes and earning a deafening shriek. Amputation sounded pretty fuckin' good right about now.

Polites gasped, letting out a laugh of his own. "Oh you are SO dramatic! You should hear him Ody, he's worse than you!"

"Oh I heard it that time," Odysseus taunted with a playful edge to his voice. He leaned in closer to whisper, "What's the matter? Thoughts going haywire? Can't keep a grip on your powers? That's too bad."

Asterios could only squeal and giggle hysterically as Elpenor pinched and rubbed the wing between his fingers. He snorted and arched his back when he scratched at the base, feathers ruffled and twitching with every touch.

"SOHOHOMEONE FUCKING HEHEHELP!" he demanded through a screaming laugh. Julien stepped forward with an amused grin, squatting down to better look Asterios in the eye.

"Sorry, but what makes you think you deserve it? I mean, maybe if you would've helped me back when I needed it..."

The irony was not lost on him. This was some kind of cruel, poetic justice for not helping his fellow demigod from a fate clearly worse than death. He should've saved him, if only to have someone on his side when the time came. But he was so arrogant, so sure that it could never happen to him...

"Shihit, I'm sohohorry, ohokahay? I-I should've hehelped when I hahahad thehe chance!" he pleaded.

"Yeah, you should've. But you have fun though! Maybe try fighting back or something," Julien repeated his words to him, rubbing salt in the wound. But in this case, it felt more like sugar; sickeningly sweet and sticking to his skin in an unbearable manner. The tickling also left him more dazed and jittery than any sugar rush ever could.

Asterios shook his head, begging him not to do this before he grabbed his other wing. He squealed loudly when they both attacked the base of the wings with quick scratches and soft squeezes. He snorted loudly, unable to even shake his head as they held his wings in place.

Surely, anything would be better than this  strange, unusual torture, this public humiliation. This downright defamation of character. Lesson learned. He'll swear off his powers if he makes it out of this alive.

Even in his frantic state, he tried to hold these thoughts close. But Odysseus had quietly been studying him, and the words found purchase in his mind. Did he really think they were doing this just to humiliate him? That they weren't  his brothers, dragging him into a game he himself started? That they would only care about revenge, and not the absolutely adorable sounds he was making, or the lopsided grin on his face? He'd have to make sure to set the record straight. In private though, he knew better than to call him out... again.

Meanwhile Elpenor and Julien sent him into a fit of hysterical giggles with the attention given to his wings. He snorted in between shrill snickers, blushing profusely and shaking his head. He heard Elpenor gasp and felt a poke to his cheek.

"By the Gods, you have dimples? Why didn't you tell us? You look so cuuuuuute!"

"Whahat? Nohoho I don't!" Asterios cried out in confusion between bouts of laughter. It's a good thing he couldn't fucking think, because otherwise he'd be downright spiraling after that comment. But even in his delirious state, he knew it was nothing more than playful teasing. Elpenor doesn't actually think he's cute, he's just trying to get a rise out of him. Don't listen to him.

"Uh, yeah you do."

"Poor thing, didn't even know he had dimples," Odysseus added mockingly, also deciding to poke his cheek.

Polites twisted around and leaned back to look, "Aw, I wanna see!"

"Just shut uhuhup! P-plehehease! Hehehelp mehehe!" he desperately cried out for anyone to take pity on him. He thought maybe he had a chance when he locked eyes with Sage, but the medic merely shrugged and offered a sheepish, not very sympathetic, grin.

In all the time they've been away from home, it had been a rare sight to see Asterios so much as smile. It was even more rare to hear a genuine laugh from the demigod, so they were going to take advantage of the sight while they could.

But they were rather mean in their attack, and Asterios quite literally couldn't even remember the last time he'd been tickled, so he finally bid his dignity farewell and threw in the towel.

"Ohohokay- OKAHAY! Please, you wihihin! Ihihi'm sorry! IHI'M SOHOHORRY! OHO FUHUCK YOU, STOHOHOP!" His giggly begging turned to screaming pleas for mercy when Elpenor decided to blow a raspberry at the base of his wing right as he decided to talk. Odysseus held a hand up, signaling them all to stop.

They let him go and he immediately curled into a giggly ball, tucking his arms and legs as close to him as he could. His wings were plastered to his blushing face, a bright smile just barely peaking out from under them. Residual giggles escaped as he slowly caught his breath, interrupted by the occasional hiccup.

"I ha- hic- hate all of you," he panted. Perimedes couldn't help but let out a condescending chuckle when he hiccuped.

"Now I think that was more than fair given the circumstances," Odysseus reasoned. Asterios lifted a wing to glare at him with one eye.

"That assault was a- hic- anything but fair!" Elpenor was unable to hold back his own laughter that time. Asterios silently cursed himself and tried to steady his breathing.

"Neither is using us as your little chaos puppets."

Asterios couldn't help but smirk, a sly chuckle slipping out. "Chaos puppets. I like that." The smile dropped from his face as he continued, "But uh, you guys won't have to worry about that anymore. Think I learned my lesson."

"Yeah, next time you wanna start a tickle fight, man up and do it yourself," Perimedes taunted, prompting Asterios to growl and kick at him, stronger than he really intended. But it's Perimedes, so he didn't feel too bad about it. Especially after that.

Asterios huffed, feeling his cheeks heat up ever so slightly. "I didn't want to start anything, that was the whole point of using you guys," he deadpanned, fighting the lingering smile on his face to glare at him.

"And how did that work out?" Polites asked smugly, propping his chin on Odysseus's shoulder from behind. Asterios blinked in surprise, not expecting him of all people to continue ragging on him. He grinned wider, flashing all his teeth, "Told you I'd get you."

"Yeah, and you look real proud too, smug bastard." His comment made them chuckle, and he found himself unable to stop smiling. But everyone was staring at him, smiling and whispering, and he still felt like he wanted to crawl under a rock and die.

Leander reached out to help him stand, but Asterios shoved him away. "Don't fuckin' touch me, asshole."

"Oh come on, don't be like that," he whined. Asterios sneered at him and stormed off to his room, ignoring the smirks, quiet snickers and teasing remarks tossed his way.

Yeah, he wasn't gonna leave his quarters for a week.

He shut the door, flopping face first onto the thin mattress. That had been horrible, unlike anything he'd ever been forced to endure. The worst part of it all was the embarrassment. At least the feeling stopped once they did, but the shame lingered thick and heavy. The sounds he made... No one would take him seriously ever again.

He tried to sleep, but found it surprisingly difficult. In fact, he felt wide awake, jittery, energized. It felt just like when he would stir up trouble on the ship, only... stronger.

Oh fuck them to Hades and back. He did not just get a power trip from... from that! He still wasn't completely sure how his powers worked, but he refused to believe it. He had to draw a line somewhere.

A sharp knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts.

Just great. Who the hell could that be, and didn't they know how to take a fucking hint?

"Get lost."

"It's me."

Asterios turned on his heels, eyes wide and staring at the door.

That motherfucker-

He marched to the door, swinging it open. He glared down at the captain, arms crossed, "Didn't you get enough?"

"I came to check up on you. You okay?" he asked, at least sounding genuine. Asterios snorted and leaned against the doorframe, subtly blocking him from entering.

"Yeah, no thanks to you assholes."

"You've had it coming for a long time, and you know it," he teased lightly. Asterios arched a brow, clearly unamused. Odysseus looked him up and down with a fond smirk. "So can I come in?"

Asterios barked out a loud, condescending laugh, "No."

"I brought a peace offering," he added, holding up a cup of wine. Asterios glared at him for a moment before accepting the cup, stepping aside to let him in.

Once the door was shut, the captain turned to face him, "Seriously though, I wanted to make sure you're okay. I know some of the guys can get a little carried away."

"Don't act like you're not one of them," Asterios shot back, sitting on the edge of his bed. Odysseus chuckled and shook his head.

"Yeah, I'll admit, I can go a little overboard," he chuckled, and Asterios rolled his eyes. "But you're not like, actually mad at us, are you?"

"What? No," Asterios was quick to answer. "No, it's not that." He was definitely feeling some type of way after that, but he didn't think it was anger. He was used to furry and rage, but this was something else entirely. It didn't feel great, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant either. Not that he'd tell him. It was confusing, treading these unfamiliar waters of, dare he say, friendship.

Odysseus softened, seeming to recognize his struggle. "It can be a little overwhelming, can't it?"

"That's an understatement."

"Heh, yeah. But, you'll get used to it," he said with a wink. Asterios froze.

"No I won't."

"Eh, you will. You're fair game now."

"I am not!" he half growled, half whined.

"What? I'm just being honest. Running away from tickle fights won't work forever."

Asterios stared at him, stuttering for an excuse, "Wha- I- no I don't!"

"Yeah, you just magically disappear when one breaks out, isn't that convenient?"

"If I knew it was just gonna be more of this, I would've just taken the wine and slammed the door in your face."

"So you don't deny it?" he goaded, tongue poking out between his teeth in a cheeky grin.

"It's embarrassing, what the hell do you want from me?" he snapped.

"Hey, I get it. But I'm just saying, you're not as subtle as you think. And, I don't know, maybe Perimedes had a point."

"Excuse me?" Asterios gripped the cup so hard, his knuckles turned white and he was staring at Odysseus like a trapped wolf: angry, scared and cornered.

Odysseus knew he had to tread carefully. He took a deep breath, bracing himself. "Sorry if this seems blunt, but were you just too shy to include yourself? That's why you made us do it, isn't it?" He knew from the look on the demigod's face that he was right.

"I'd shut the fuck up if I were you."

"I'm right though, aren't I?" he asked, cocking his head to the side curiously.

Asterios glared at him as he spoke, chest heaving with every nervous breath he took. He took a step forward, trying to appear threatening. "If you tell anyone-"

"I won't."

Asterios seemed to relax. "Good. Thank you." He adverted his gaze and took a sip of wine to busy himself.

"Don't mention it." He gave his shoulder a pat as he left, not commenting on the way Asterios flinched at the touch. He paused at the doorway, looking over his shoulder. "Oh, and Asterios?"

"Yeah?"

"You're our brother now. We care about you. And sometimes, that looks a lot like bullying."

Asterios broke out in a timid grin. "Yeah, I think I'm figuring that out."

Odysseus gave a nod before letting himself out.

Asterios fell back on the bed, sighing deeply. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all...

He'd always been a little bit dramatic.

[thekingofwinterblog]

You know what the most annoying thing about the Twists regarding the Elves in Inquisition was?

That all the twists, if taken on their own, would make for a really good story.

The reveals about Solas backstory and how him and his fellow God Kings rose, became decadent, warred with each other and fell, setting the stage for their transformation into the Old Gods is frankly speaking, some of the best lore that Dragon Age ever had, and lines up really well with how the world is structured while explaining how the Old Gods came to be, how the elves fell, and so on.

That the tevinter imperium when it conquered the nation of Arlathan was not the great imperial state lead by mighty mages their descendants liked to think they were, but instead a bunch of weaklings that needed years and years to take on one, measly city-state that had utterly obliterated itself in civil war.

There is so much great stuff here.

So where did it all go wrong?

The answer, is of course execution.

Inquisition overall is a great game... But man did it drop the ball so hard with the Elves that it's pretty much hard to believe that they will be able to tell a nuanced story about them in Dread Wolf.

Everything from the companions, to the world itself as the game presents , to retcons regarding mages that's there, not to tell a story about the elves, but to try and make the Templar vs mage conflict grey.

Starting with the companions, we have a great example of coming so, so close to greatness... and then falling right on it's face.

The game has two Elf companions, solas and Sera... and the contrast between them really illustrates the big picture with how incapable Inquisition is with trying to tell a nuanced picture with the elves.

Solas as a character is perfect. Love him or hate him, he is a fully fleshed out character with very clear, defined, understandable motives that makes sense to him.

And most importantly of all, his way of viewing the world is WRONG. The game acknowledges that he is wrong.

The entire story of where dragon age 4 is heading, is all about how the Dread wolf, for all his knowledge and intelligence and genuine virtues, is at the end of the day, a monster, who is willing to see the world burn to restore the Elves magic and immortality.

He is a racist, he is bigoted, and ultimately misguided. Despite all his development with the inquisitor, he does not manage to grow enough as a person that he manages to abandon his genocidal goals. And the game does not pretend othervise.

That is what makes the story of Solas rise to become the big villain of the sequel great.

There is no disconnect between the story, the characters, or the way the game wants us to view solas.

Solas is far, far more bigoted and close-minded than any of the dalish he so despises, and the game ultimately does not pretend othervise.

Which brings us to the opposite end of the elf spectrum with Sera.

Sera is a very disliked character by a lot of people, but by dalish and elf players/fans more than most.

Just like Solas, she is bigoted, racist, and ultimately misguided in her hatred of her fellow elves, whether they be city elves, or Dalish, or ancient elves.

And that frankly, would not be a problem if the game acknowledged that fact. If her character arc was about it, and either how she could not overcome her own issues, or actually managed to grow beyond them, she could have been a great character.

The problem is the fact that the game is not willing to handle this fact head on. Its not willing to come out and portray Sera as just as bigoted against her own kind as Solas is, and to treat this as a flaw.

Instead the game treats her as if her biggest flaw is that she's annoying, and not the fact that in a game that is in many ways about setting up the rise of the dread wolf, she is just as bad as Solas, just from a different origin point.

Sera should have been a mirror to Solas, both from a story point, as well as a thematic one, but unfortunately she is not.

Hell, she doesn't really overcome her racism either. The closest she comes to doing so, is basically burning out on hating the dalish and other elves in trespasser, not admitting she was actually wrong to hate them so much in the first place.

The game does not treat Sera's disdain for other elves and their culture as a problem, and it does not give a dalish inquisitor the option to tell her to go fuck herself on the topic that you are given with Solas if you really desire to do so.

You are given the option of kicking her out of the inquisition, but not actually stand up for the dalish or even city elves the way the player could against Morrigan's flemeth raised cruelty in origins, anders and Fenris obsessions with, and hatred for templars/mages in da2, or solas ideals in inquisition.

And thats a problem that really illustrates the bigger issue with the way Inquisition took what could have been a great story about the Elves and the reveals about their anceators, and frankly ruined it.

The dalish and city elvea were very thouroughly fleshed in both Origins, Awakening and DA2.

However, city elves largely managed to avoid being utterly destroyed by the narrative the way the Dalish were, for the simple reason that outside briala, we don't get much if any interaction with them at all, making them essentially a non show foe the game for the most part. They don't get a city elf inquisitor, and so we have no point of view to look at them from a pc perspective.

They got off much better than the dalish though.

Starting off with the arguably single worst thing in all of DAI is the retcon that Dalish clans, if there is more than two mages in a clan, sends off the third one alone in the wilderness to fend for themselves. This goes against absolutely everything that has ever been established about the Dalish, and worst of all, wasn't even an addition meant to demonize the dalish, instead being an addition to handwave away the obvious fact that the Dalish had a much better system than the human circles when it came to magic... Which in turn was made irrelevant by the fact the Avvar was later shown to have a much better and more effective solution to the possession question anyway.

It was, in essence, a pointless retcon, that overall only made the dalish look bad, and has now opened the door for the idea that most dalish clans acts like this, and will be portrayed so in future games.

Its bad, but unfortunately it was only the start.

The game goes out of its way to portray absolutely every single person who critices the dalish as having a point, that they brought on their own downfalls, even as they are being the most imperialistic, racist assholes imaginable, while the dalish inquisitor can only offer a token of defence for his people, a far cry from way origins allowed you to handle the same situation wheter your main ethnicity was ferelden, mage, city elf, dalish, casteless or dwarven noble.

But nowhere is it worse than the way the game handles the fall of the dales.

Now the actual lore you learn about it, is not bad. At all. I know some complain that the reveals that ameridan(and presumably other elves) worshipped both the creators and the maker, as well as the fact that the dalish unfortunately did have a bad relationahip with the rest of the world, in particular orlais, is bad storytelling, but i firmly disagree.

No the problem is the execution.

Ameridan is not wrong when he says that The Dales should not have distanced itself from the rest of the world, especially not in the face of a blight... But the Dales of his era were in turn not wrong when they argued that the Orlesians were little better than the imperium, and they would be completely right.

This is not a grey issue, its a grey and black issue.

Orlais was, and still is an evil, expansionist empire with 99% of its population living as serfs, that can be raped and beaten at will, little better than slaves.

The dales were the morally right side of the exalted march on the dales. No amount of new lore we learned in inquisition has changed that fact. We simply get the details fleshed out a bit more to add context.

Orlais was going to invade and enslave the elves anyway, as they proved through their actions against all their other, very much fellow Adrastian neighbors.

The problem is that you are not allowed to express this kind of point of view and stick to it like steel.

The characters you meet having the bigoted opinion that the dales ultimately brought on their own fate is NOT a bad thing in and out of itself... the problem is that you are not allowed to challenge that opinion the way you could challenge Lelliana's view of the dalish in origins, or the way you could tell both Anders and fenris to go fuck themselves on their extremist opinions all through da2, and ending that fuck you by killing them in the endgame.

And thats a real shame, because just looking at characters like cassandra's character development through Inquisition, you could easily have made a really compelling narrative put of a dalish inquisitor who stuck by his or her principles, and actually challenged the people they met's racist views on the dalish the way you could in origins, just with a more fleshed out and(unfortunately something way too many people just cannot emote to a character withouth) an actual voice to raise those arguments with.

I do genuinely like Inquisition, and i think it's overall a much better game than DA2... but man did they drop the ball with the elves so hard.

I feel so sorry for anyone who really got invested in the elves as their favorites factions, and i honestly don't think the elves will be handled particularly well in Dread wolf, especially as the only Dalish we are likely to see fleshed out will be the villains fighting for Solas.

[shattered-world]

They utterly despised each other in real life. And they're Irish twins, not actual twins.

They sure did! I did a bunch of reading after I watched the movie so you, my dear anon, are about to get a ramble of questionable organization that you did not ask for.

First off, yep. Irish twins; siblings born within 12 months of each other (neat term, I didn't know that). Caracalla was born in April 4th 188 AD; Geta was born a year later on March 7th 189 AD, 11 months later. Fun little fact!

Second, I don't know if it would be possible to overstate how much they hated each other. Like, wow. As far as I can tell, this likely partially stemmed from how their father dealt with their succession (although I am by no means knowledgeable on the subject, so take this with a grain of salt if you don't already know this lmao). Emperor Severus gave Caracalla the title of Augustus or co-emperor when he was 10, but Geta had to wait more than a decade longer even though he was only a year younger. I'm sure there was other stuff too, but I can't imagine he was pleased about having to wait— or that Caracalla was very happy with suddenly having to share power he'd had for 11 years.

They did almost reach a compromise of dividing the empire in two and each ruling half, but for a reason I don't understand their mother convinced them not to. Who knows, maybe Caracalla wouldn't have murdered Geta if they'd done that (I doubt it). They also split the palace between them and lived in constant terror of being assassinated, and for good reason given that Caracalla tried and failed to kill his brother, organized a peace meeting, and then had Geta killed in his mothers arms. Insane.

Also when their father died neither of them were in rome so they had to journey back and on the journey they never once stayed at the same place or shared a meal. And they only ever met in their mother's presence. And Caracalla declared a damnatio memoriae, attempting to erase his brother from history (he did a pretty good job too). And a lot of other things that are not relevant to this ask!

Side fun fact; Caracalla is a nickname! He was originally named Lucius Septimius Bassianus and then renamed Marcus Aurelius Antoninus. The nickname comes from a tunic he wore.

I can't imagine what the two would think of this fandom lmfao. Maybe they'd finally be in agreement re: killing us all. Thankfully, they've been dead for 1800 years and I don't think they care. Also thankfully, while the historical guys fucking hated each other and weren't actually twins, the ones I care about are fictional. Fictional, twins, very pretty (seriously their designs oh my god), and with a fascinating relationship.

Also, I'm choosing to take this ask in good faith, but if sending it to me was some sort of attempt to convince me to stop shipping them... sorry! Maybe direct your attention to things you enjoy instead of spending your time worrying about what others do; i guarantee your life will be more enjoyable. But if you did send it just to tell me some cool facts, I'd love to keep talking about them!

[moonpetrichors-blog]

I'm Low On Gas And You Need A Jacket

Tags: Eren x gn!Reader, Oneshot, After S4, Somewhat Angsty, Reminiscing On The Past, Second Person POV, Aftermath, Unrequited Love (Except You Just Never Had The Chance To Confess)

Warnings: None

But I'll soon forget the colour of your eyes, and you'll forget mine.

PTV inspired because of that one theory that Eren's eye colour always changes in the anime since Armin is the narrator and is forgetting what they look like. But what about your perspective?

guess yall could say he... collided with the sky? LMFAO

* ˚ ✦ 937 Words • Read below the cut

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-╰┈➤ ❝ [18/08/24] ❞

His eyes were the most stunning blue.

Or were they green?

You're not so sure. You weren't so sure when you forgot - when you forgot how his brows would pucker at the mention of titans, or how you could glimpse sparkles of gold when the warmth of the sun glistened across his skin just so.

His tawny complexion was speckled in freckles, youth carved into his features and demeanour irrespective of what he'd been through. There was something so utterly childish about him, and his ardent enthusiasm drove you up the wall. How could someone like him dream big but see so small?

Maybe that's why you fell for Eren Yeagar: he had a drive and a purpose, even if it was a suicidal one, as Jean would call it. He was belligerent and awkward, yet despite his abrasiveness, he loved profoundly for those he knew.

You were no exception.

At fifteen, you two clashed endlessly about every. Little. Thing. Contrary to what Eren would claim about you being obnoxious, he'd do it in order to capture your attention, and you'd do it deliberately to rile him up. One-upmanship in the ranks, continual sparring in training until you were exhausted beyond belief.

Jumping into crazy competitions and cursing each other out amid teamwork-assigned missions. Lord knows why you two were constantly paired together. That was simply how both of you were: two adolescents who were unfamiliar with how to express their emotions like other teenagers.

You despised the way his nose scrunched when he was determined, and how that dumb gold key dangled around his neck as a symbol of freedom. You two were far from normal, but who else in the corps knew what normalcy was?

Everyone allowed you two bicker like that, because at least even when surrounded by death and fighting, they could count on the simplicity of your relationship with Eren to remind them how you all still had your humanity.

There was one particular night when the two of you had accidentally snuck out past curfew at the same time, and instead of clawing the other’s eyes out, you made pictures out of the constellations and talked about what you hoped for the future.

At sixteen, he grew his hair out, and perhaps one could concede that he looked... pretty with it. Eren was a touch dishevelled, but being boisterous and imperfect was not unusual for him. You hated how unfair it was how this boy could be so beautiful.

You used to muss Eren's hair and make fun of him, but after the discovery of Marley, you became less unkind. The key around his neck had no longer represented freedom, but rather oppression. You attempted to ignore it, instead concentrating on the head it was attached to.

Eren was still an emotional skip fire, of course, but you could see something had shifted in him. But he was still Eren, and despite the external changes thrust onto you, he remained the same on the inside. A reliable constant.

Eren was reliable. Mostly.

At seventeen, that was undoubtedly the very last time you beheld the beautiful hazel-eyed boy you'd met and fallen in love with. They say that the eyes are the window to the soul, and you can still recognize that Eren is there, but he appeared to be inhabited by another completely.

He steadfastly refuses to let you reach him, but remnants of him are still present. He's just not as angry, loud, or opinionated as he was during training days. There were nights when you'd stargaze together as you used to, pretending to be foolishly young and dreaming on fallen stars.

He shifted at the age of eighteen. You, like everyone else, hung onto recollections of who he was. Were you stupid for scanning those blue pools of his, hoping that you might catch a glimpse of the old him? Probably. Eren made you feel silly at times, but not in the same way he did when you were younger.

This time, it was genuine. As opposed to your infantile bickering, he'd said things to hurt you on purpose. At least when you were younger, your bickering had held an endearing tone. Now his tone was just devoid of any sort of passion.

That's why, at nineteen, you couldn't bring yourself to despise the man he'd grown into. Because how could you? You were so deeply in love with him, so devoted, that you were unable to wrench your gaze away from him even as he ventured further from what you knew to be the right path. And that was meant to be with you.

If the eyes are the window to the soul, then why did his stare back at yours, so grey and lifeless?

If the key represented oppression, letting Eren's head roll was the key to freedom. You had cradled his head in your arms, sobbing uncontrollably because this boy, your dumb, beautiful boy, had given his life for his idiotic dream at your hands.

Because, perhaps after all, his lunacy was a constant in your life amidst the chaos of war, and being slain by you was one last selfish wish. To be just another set of bones to be laid to rest.

It’d been awhile since you visited his grave, the old age getting to you. You caressed the engraved stone, reminiscing again – forever left to grapple with your unresolved feelings towards him, forever nineteen. You wonder what he might look like if you could have grown old together.

You've forgotten what the colour of Eren's eyes are.

He'd long forgotten yours.

[maxdibert]

to be fair to Sirius, his hatred of Sev in their adulthood (and probably in their youth as well if we're being honest) is less about him being evil and almost entirely born out of pettiness and arrogance, as well as just naturally clashing personalities and opinions - he doesn't even initially believe Sev to be a DE, but he still hates his guts! it's delightful how utterly delusional Sirius can be when it comes to his relationship to Snape, how he convinces himself that the bullying of teenage Severus is somehow retroactively justified by adult Severus' choices. I love him, he's so interesting as a character

Well, of course, Sirius doesn’t hate Severus for anything related to the Death Eaters—that’s a totally absurd simplification. Sirius hates Severus because he turned Severus into the equivalent of the "Mudblood" concept his family had, meaning: "the other." He understood that hating Muggles or Muggle-borns was wrong, but he never learned to rid himself of the prejudices he was taught. So, instead of hating what his family hated, he despised what his family represented, and what better representation of everything his family stood for than someone who desperately wanted to fit in with Slytherin? Someone who, curiously, wasn’t pure-blood but half-blood, who just so happened to have a Muggle father, who was raised in a Muggle neighborhood, and who had just as much of a Muggle background as any child of non-magical parents? It doesn’t seem like a coincidence that he despised him so much, especially considering that Sirius was still an aristocratic kid, quite arrogant, and probably unconsciously couldn’t stand the fact that someone like Severus, coming from the very bottom, had the audacity to want to be something Sirius Black himself considered an abomination. And above all, I think it bothered him that Severus wasn’t an easy victim. I mean, Sirius was a Black, he had nearly noble blood, and his family was used to people submitting to them. Plus, he was popular, tall, handsome, and strong. And the poor, ugly, resource-less kid with no blood status, instead of whining and begging for mercy, stood up, defended himself, and challenged him. That was something he clearly couldn’t ignore.

The dynamic between them is very interesting because they both have the ability to get under each other’s skin. They literally can't stand each other because they have the same shitty character, except Severus is rational and introverted, while Sirius is impulsive and extroverted. As I’ve said, they’re a terrible combination. One is capable of deceiving the most skilled legremens of the last century, maintaining his cover in front of expert and skilled Death Eaters, and holding his own against anyone who stands in his way. The other survives twelve years in Azkaban, becomes a fugitive, and has the guts to sneak into the most protected fortress in the magical world—Hogwarts. And it only takes one word from either of them for the other to completely lose their nerves and they’d both jump at each other, tearing each other apart like rabid animals or like two stupid kids, however you want to see it. Honestly, I think we were robbed of some wonderful moments by not putting them together in more scenes because they were pure comedy gold, seriously.

[rulettebitch]

A part of us

Once, you and Charles Xavier were everything to each other—now, he’s a ghost at your door, stirring old wounds. But Logan’s words, raw and real, confessed a truth you couldn’t ignore. Torn between betrayal and confession, who do you choose when your heart is split in two? (This is Charles Xavier x Reader x Wolverine fanfic, with multiple endings)

...│Chap 16 │Chap 17 │Chap 18 │Chap 19 │Chap 20 │...

Chapter 19

What hurt Logan the most wasn’t the way Professor X was pleading, with raw desperation in his voice, or the way he clung to something unseen, begging for relief. It wasn’t even the way his screams echoed through the room or the undeniable truth of your lingering feelings for Charles. 

It was the realization that the past had been altered, and now, Logan wasn’t sure if you would ever be his.

In the timeline Logan had come from, you were supposed to nearly kill Hank. You were supposed to kill Raven. And in doing so, your relationship with Charles would have shattered beyond repair. In that future, you had vanished without a trace, only to reappear years later in Logan’s life. That gentle spark between you would have grown into something brighter, fiercer—a life built together. 

But now? That future was slipping through his fingers like sand.

Charles wasn’t supposed to keep loving you. Not like this. Not for this long. And for a moment, Logan felt utterly lost. His confidence in the future—your future, your family, your life together—was gone. Shattered. Because Charles didn’t just want your comfort anymore; he needed it. And that need wasn’t born of some fleeting desire or the need to feel superior. It was real. It was raw. It was everything Logan had feared.

It all clicked when Logan saw the way Charles touched your face, hands framing you with an aching tenderness, as if he had just realized he’d been tricked. He had been played, and for once, Logan wasn’t sure whether to be angry at Charles or at himself.

Why had Professor X sent him back in time? To save Raven? To save the world? No. 

The truth was in the way Charles looked at you now—his eyes wild, possessive, pleading. Logan had seen that look before, ever since you’d returned to him in the future. He’d dismissed it as lingering resentment, the ghost of an old wound from the day you’d killed Raven. But now it all made sense. Charles had sent Logan to the past under the guise of saving Raven, knowing full well it would bring you back to him.

Logan bit down on his lip, hard enough to draw blood, as he watched you walk away from them both. His fist slammed into a nearby column, the impact reverberating through his arm as he dropped to his knees in front of Charles. Tears burned in his eyes, his patience worn thin. 

How could Charles do this to him? How could he take you away so easily? 

How could he?

The rage burned hot and fast—but then, as quickly as it came, it flickered, lost in something deeper. Logan had been many things in his long life, but above all, he had been loyal. Loyal to Charles. Loyal to the cause. Even now, after everything.

Without a word, Logan lifted Charles into his arms, carrying him toward the wheelchair Hank was rushing over. He set him down gently, hands lingering at his sides, fists trembling. He wanted to hate him, to despise him for what he had just done—destroyed the life Logan could have had with you.

But he couldn’t.

Instead, all he could think about was you. The nights you’d spent crying, the pain that had haunted you, the lives lost to your untamed powers. The weight of your grief, your guilt, your body pressed against his chest as you sobbed.

And then it hit him. That future he’d fought for—the one where you were his—wasn’t just a life of love. A future with him, no matter how much he had dreamed of it, meant pain. It meant loss. It meant death.

And a life with Charles? It was already happening, right in front of him.

And maybe that hurt the most.

[anangelcanonlygosofar]

Why Did So Many People Hate Aziraphale?

When the ending of Season 2 happened the majority of the fandom lost their collective shit. They went utterly bananas. A main theme that I kept coming across was the strange and insulting sentiment that Aziraphale "rejected Crowley" or that Aziraphale "chose heaven over Crowley" or that Aziraphale "Was an arse for leaving Cowley", etc.

When I finally got around to rewatching Season 1 of Good Omens and then watched Season 2 of Good Omens and finally saw some context for the ending, I was/am even more baffled as to why people were so cruel to Aziraphale.

Why had they failed to hear what Aziraphale said to Crowley? Why hadn't anyone taken a moment to realize that Aziraphale respected Crowley's choice to not return to Heaven with him? Why did the collective fandom just completely ignore the WORDS, ACTIONS, and EMOTIONAL RESPONSES that Aziraphale expressed in the heartbreaking finale?

Maybe it was the simple fact they just couldn't cope with what they saw. Maybe the fandom needed someone to blame other than Neil Gaiman himself. Or maybe, the fandom just failed to take a moment to carefully comb through and observe the small, tiny details that are far more important than the big, dramatic moments that fill up the runtime.

However, what I noticed most is the total disregard for Aziraphale's lines in the last scene between Crowley and Aziraphale in season 2 episode 6. So this is where I'll Start.

HE WORDS:

Some of his dialogue was/are as follows:

"He said I could appoint you to be an angel. You could come back to Heaven and... and everything, like the old times. Only, even nicer."

"But Heaven...well, it's the side of truth, of light, of good"

"Come with me...to heaven. I'll run it, you can be my second in command. We can make a difference"

"Crowley, come back, to heaven! Work with me! We can be together! Angels..doing good!"

"I...I need You!"

"I...I forgive you"

Do these lines of dialogue give any indication that he rejected Crowley, or chose Heaven over Crowley, or that Aziraphale was being an arse?

No, they do not. These lines of dialogue clearly show that Aziraphale WANTS to be with Crowley so they BOTH can be angels DOING GOOD and MAKING A DIFFERENCE. Aziraphale wanted Crowley to be redeemed so that he could join Aziraphale in Heaven and be on the side of TRUTH, LIGHT, and GOOD.

Aziraphale didn't want to leave Earth WITHOUT Crowley, however, he was forced to because Crowley rejected AZIRAPHALE'S offer to come back to heaven. So instead of forcing Crowley to come back to Heaven with him, even after the awkward kiss, Aziraphale decided to let him go and sacrificed his happiness to SAVE THE WORLD FROM HEAVEN!!!!

It was not easy for Aziraphale to leave Crowley or even Earth or even his bookshop. He sacrificed EVERYTHING so he could fix heaven's broken system and stop God and the Angels and Metatron from repeatedly trying to destroy the Earth just to win a dick-measuring contest with hell.

Aziraphale doesn't like war. He despises war due to witnessing the rebellion in heaven AND watching the humans go to war and kill each other repeatedly for over 6,000 YEARS. What Aziraphale did was something nobody will ever be able to understand until they find themselves in Aziraphale's shoes.

It's not easy being an angel, who has been forced to "bear witness" and "not intervene in human affairs" because doing so will go against God's "Great Plan" which may or may not be a part of God's "Ineffable Plan".

Aziraphale cannot stand by and let Heaven destroy all life on Earth. Of course, he knows that Heaven isn't all truth, light, or good. He knows Heaven is broken and needs to be reformed. He knows that Crowley is right about Heaven being toxic. Just because he knows that Heaven is toxic and not as truthful, enlightened, or good doesn't mean he's not somewhat in denial.

It's not easy being trapped and suffocated by a cult-like institution whose sole purpose is to keep you from leaving the said institution. It's not easy watching humans committing atrocity after atrocity, and not being able to stop it. It's not easy watching God kill innocent people and children just because they can't get along.

Aziraphale has struggled to figure out what, "doing the right thing" is and how far he's willing to go along Heaven's/God's plans of destruction until he just can't anymore. All Aziraphale has had to keep him going along with Heaven's/God's plans is his faith that Heaven/God knows what they're doing and that complete destruction and devastation will never truly come to pass. Only to find out later that Heaven and God don't necessarily see eye to eye and that God themselves are super unreachable, even in a time of crisis.

Aziraphale has done EVERYTHING he was told and more and it still wasn't enough to keep another armageddon from happening. Since he can't completely stop it on earth, he HAS to return to heaven and find a way to stop it from happening from there, which may prove fruitful and pointless.

What most fans didn't register or realize is the fact that Aziraphale chose to return to heaven for very UNSELFISH reasons. A part of him knew Crowley might say no to returning to heaven with him, so he decided that if that was the case, then he would let Crowley go, so that he, Aziraphale, could fix heaven and permanently SAVE THE WORLD... something he CANNOT do if he stayed on Earth.

Why is this so hard for some fans to see and/or consider? Why is this something only a few fans actually talk about? Why was there so much Aziraphale hate when there shouldn't have been?

It's not Aziraphale's fault that he couldn't stay with Crowley. It's HEAVEN'S fault that Crowley and Aziraphale can't be together because they (Heaven) are too war-minded and emotionally stunted to realize how many innocent people will die just because they want to measure dicks with Hell.

HIS ACTIONS:

The second thing I noticed happened a lot was the initial total disregard for Aziraphale's body language and/or actions during the last scene of Crowley and Aziraphale in the final episode of Good Omens Season 2.

Throughout the scene, we see Aziraphale exhibit the following nonverbal cues:

---initial happiness

---confusion

---Distress

---Anxiousness

---restless hand movements

---pacing back and forth

---sadly looking around the bookshop

--etc.

These nonverbal cues show us that Aziraphale went from being extremely happy to an emotional wreck, especially after the awkward kiss.

Aziraphale excitedly told Crowley about his promotion expecting Crowley to be happy for him (Aziraphale), only for Crowley to grow irritable and angry. Which confused Aziraphale and slightly angered him, yet he still somewhat understood Crowley's response.

As the scene goes on you can tell that Aziraphale is desperately trying to keep Crowley from leaving at first, but relents after the awkward kiss and fully accepts he lost Crowley for now.

Aziraphale wanted Crowley to say "yes", however, it did not pan out that way. So Aziraphale gradually quieted down, shortened his verbal communication, and tried his best NOT to have a complete emotional breakdown in front of Crowley.

Not once did Azirphale exhibit any controlling behaviors or actions. When Aziraphale and Crowley came to an impasse and Crowley ultimately left, Aziraphale didn't even go after Crowley. He let Crowley go because going back to heaven to fix it and stop the second Armageddon was more important than fixing his relationship with Crowley, and because Aziraphale knew that when everything calmed down, and the 2nd coming was adverted, and there were no more threats then maybe he would be able to have a proper long talk with Crowley and explain why he did what he did and said what he said.

HIS EMOTIONAL RESPONSES:

Some fans also didn't really register how many emotional responses Aziraphale had in the last scene with Crowley in the season 2 finale.

Aziraphale went from ecstatic and happy to confused and slightly angry, to confused, overwhelmed, and heartbroken.

He started the scene excited and ecstatic about his job promotion and he was nearly exploding with joy when he initially told Crowley the "good" news. Only to become confused and a little angry that Crowley didn't seem happy for him and flat-out yelled at him.

At first, Aziraphale is stubborn and confused at Crowley's response to the supposed good news, yet he still listens to Crowley who eventually can somewhat incoherently say that he loves Aziraphale and wants to be an us.

As the scene progresses Aziraphale starts to restlessly fidget, heavily breath, and frantically look around as he realizes that the conversation is going south faster than the sinking of the Titanic. You can see on his face that he's trying to understand what Crowley is trying to say however, he just can't piece it together that well.

Aziraphale understands that Crowley does indeed truly love him. However, Aziraphale also realizes that he too loves Crowley in return and is now getting increasingly overwhelmed to the point that he can't form coherent words.

During the awkward kiss scene, you can see that Aziraphale slightly and very briefly goes to hold/caress Crowley's shoulder right before the rough parting between him and Crowley. At this point, Aziraphale is confused as to why the kiss happened, is overwhelmed by the fact he kind of liked the kiss and wanted another one but it simply wasn't the right time, and is heartbroken that he has to leave Crowley, but he doesn't know for how long.

CONCLUSION:

Throughout the entire scene, Azirphale actually struggles with Crowley's disappointment and anger in response to Aziraphale's job promotion, with the idea of leaving Crowley and returning to heaven alone, and with how the hell he is supposed to cope, let alone function without Crowley to talk to.

Nowhere in the scene does it suggest that the decision to return to heaven was easy or simple for Aziraphale. He struggled like a bitch and he still left for heaven heartbroken and without Crowley.

Yes, the ending was sad, but there shouldn't have been Aziraphale hate in the first place.

So I leave you with this:

So why the fuck was there so much Aziraphale hate?

[littencloud9]

hi, sending you more cuz i can <3

if you want to attempt jouzai..... jouzai + past crimes

and/or

kunichuuzai + ocean

HELLO!!! jouzai are so bad for each other i love it. hope i did your sillies justice bc WHAT is going on with them

—

Out of all the crimes Jouno has committed throughout his life, Dazai is the worst of them all.

A crime list taller than he is, an ex-Port Mafia Executive (sure, he isn’t anymore, but the fact that he escaped and lived to tell the tale speaks a thousand words), and devious intent that rivals Jouno himself. He is an amalgamation of the worst traits Jouno offers, and falling for him is like falling back into habits he had long swore out of.

It’s like facing a mirror of his younger self, hollow and wandering, searching for something to fill the void.

Despite his title, Jouno is not justice reincarnated. His friends, loyal and fearsome and kind, are better suited for that title. They don’t feel that spark of pleasure when listening to someone’s agonised screams. They weren’t stuck in a cruel and heartless criminal organisation before joining the Hunting Dogs like he was.

They aren’t pressing Dazai Osamu against the wall of their house, fingers wrapped around his wrists, lips inches apart.

Jouno is hyperaware of the distance between them. Normally, being so close to someone is utterly unbearable. A dust’s natural response to being disturbed is to disperse, after all, and Jouno’s body reacts no differently.

But with Dazai under his skin, No Longer Human taking its effect, he doesn’t feel that prickle of discomfort anymore. Instead, Jouno wants to bring him closer than ever.

“You’re taking awfully long, Jouno-san,” Dazai whispers. His breath fans over his lips. Jouno wants more. “I’m starting to think you just wanted to arrest me all over again.”

“I do,” Jouno replies, gripping Dazai’s wrists tighter. The way his fingers encircle his bones, as if to mimic a pair of handcuffs, only serves to prove his point further.

“Well? Go on then. Bring justice to the world, dog.”

Their lips crash together as Jouno hisses at him to shut up. He presses closer, leaving no gap for air between their bodies.

Justice, Jouno thinks. Is this what salvation feels like?

—

kunichuuzai!!! i love them so much. have some ✨ Pondering ✨

—

Kunikida despises the colour blue.

It doesn’t matter what shade it is. Perwinkle blue, navy, cerulean… They all remind him of that wretched case, one where he had to confront what it means to be idealistic—what it means to be himself.

It’s difficult to admit, but seeing a blue scarf still makes him tense up, even when he knows it can’t hurt him.

Though, recently, Kunikida finds that blue might not be such a horrible colour anymore.

He watches Dazai chase Chuuya around the edge of the shore, a water gun in his hands. Chuuya screeches bloody murder, kicking up waves and waves of water and splashing it towards Dazai in an attempt to throw him off. The sun shines down on them, not too hot, but just a gentle glow that lights up their silhouettes.

Under the sparkling sun, the ocean glitters. Kunikida sits under the umbrella he’s set up for himself, his eyes following his partners with every step they take.

They’re beautiful.

His finger brushes against something in the sand. When he looks down, he sees the button Dazai always wears on his tie. He picks it up, rubbing the surface with the fabric of his tank top.

The button gleams a sweet shade of turquoise.

He stares at it, eyes softening. This shade of blue is nice. It reminds him of warm showers and slow dancing in the rain and tight hugs after a long day. When he holds it in his hands like this, he can still feel the heavy thump of a heartbeat, strong and comforting.

“Kunikida!”

Kunikida looks up, gasping when a flurry of red whizzes towards him. Chuuya crashes into him with enough strength to knock him over, and Kunikida falls onto his back with a grunt.

“Oi! That’s cheating!” Dazai whines from afar. “You can’t use gravity to run away!”

Dazai still has his feet in the water, waving his arms around dramatically as he complains. Chuuya ignores him, pushing themself up on their arms, grinning down at Kunikida.

“Thanks for catching me,” they say. Their hair drips with seawater, landing onto Kunikida’s cheeks with a quiet splat.

He looks up at Chuuya, staring into their eyes. Full of life and power and adoration, and so, so blue. Kunikida gets lost in that sapphire gaze, drowning as if he was looking into a whirlpool instead of the ocean.

“Chuuya!” Dazai yells, finally breaking Kunikida out of his stupor. “Stop flirting with Kunikida-kun!”

“Hah?!” Chuuya’s cheeks flush, but they leap up, dashing back towards him. Kunikida watches them go and bodyslam into Dazai, sending them both tumbling with a splash.

His heart jumps unsteadily as he holds the button tighter in his palm.

Maybe blue can be a stunning colour sometimes.

[kyuriin-chan]

The Path Between Us | Tsu'tey

Chapter 12

Tsu'tey x OC (Avatar driver)

Words: 2.057

This is a story of love and war. Of sacrifice and hope. Of two souls finding each other in a world that threatens to tear them apart. 

Intro - Chapter-index

Tsu'tey clenched his fists at his sides, his sharp nails digging into his palms as he willed himself to remain composed. But it was impossible—not when Seraphina stood before him, her luminous eyes filled with confusion, searching his face for answers he wasn’t ready to give. The gentle glow of the bioluminescent forest bathed her in soft light, making her appear almost otherworldly, like a vision crafted by Eywa herself. And yet, here she was, real and standing too close, asking him questions he couldn’t bear to answer. 

“Tsu'tey,” she said, her voice softer this time, almost pleading. “Why are you acting like this? Did I do something wrong?” 

The words struck him harder than they should have, and his jaw tightened in response. If only she knew—if only she understood that it wasn’t anything she did, but rather how much she had unknowingly affected him. Every time he saw her with Ralo, laughing so effortlessly, his gut twisted, and something dark and unfamiliar stirred within him. He despised the feeling. He had never been the jealous type, never cared much about such trivial matters. And yet, the thought of her choosing someone else, of her standing beside another man—one who wasn’t him—was unbearable. 

His silence stretched too long, and Seraphina’s expression shifted from confusion to hurt. 

“Tsu'tey,” she pressed again, stepping even closer. “Talk to me.” 

His resolve wavered, but still, he couldn't tell her. She shouldn't have to bear the weight of his feelings. It was his burden to carry alone. 

“I have been… tired,” he finally forced out, his voice unusually strained. It was a weak excuse, a pathetic deflection, and he knew it the moment the words left his lips. 

Seraphina blinked, her brow furrowing. “Tired?” she echoed, disbelief laced in her voice. “That’s your excuse?” 

His ears flattened slightly, betraying his discomfort, but he kept his gaze fixed on a spot just past her shoulder. 

“You were fine earlier,” she continued, crossing her arms. “And now, suddenly, you’re distant. Cold. What changed?” 

His heart pounded against his ribs. She wasn’t letting this go. She never did. 

“You did nothing wrong,” he said quickly, perhaps too quickly, because Seraphina’s expression softened, but suspicion still lingered in her eyes. 

“Then why do I feel like you’re pushing me away?” she murmured. 

Tsu'tey exhaled sharply, struggling to contain the storm within him. If only she knew how badly he wanted to pull her closer instead. To drown in the warmth of her presence, to feel her laughter directed at him, not at Ralo. 

But how could he admit that? How could he tell her that the warrior who prided himself on his discipline and focus had been utterly unraveled by her? That the mere thought of her belonging to someone else made him question everything he once thought he knew about himself? 

He had a duty to his people. A path laid out before him. He was meant to be with Neytiri. That was the way of things. That was what was expected. 

So why, when he looked at Seraphina, did all of that feel so distant? So insignificant? 

He couldn’t tell her. Not yet. Not now. 

Instead, he took a deep breath, forcing his voice into something steadier, something controlled. “It is nothing, Seraphina. Just my own thoughts.” 

She studied him, her piercing gaze searching his for any sign of the truth. 

A long silence stretched between them before she finally sighed, her shoulders sagging in defeat. “If you say so,” she whispered, though he could hear the doubt in her voice. 

She turned away slightly, staring into the glowing depths of the forest, but Tsu'tey barely saw any of it. His focus was entirely on her, on the weight of what was left unsaid between them. 

His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to reach for her, to offer some kind of reassurance. But he didn’t. He couldn't. 

Not when his heart was already betraying him in ways he couldn’t afford to acknowledge.

Tsu’tey forced himself to take steady breaths, pushing aside the frustration that still simmered within him. He had no right to feel this way—not when Seraphina had done nothing wrong. If anything, it was his own weakness, his own inability to control the feelings that had taken root inside him. So, he did what he always did: he buried them. 

Without another word, he motioned for her to follow, his movements swift and purposeful as he guided her through the dense forest. The thick canopy above them let only slivers of light through, casting everything in a dim, bluish hue. The night air was cool, carrying the soft hum of Pandora’s nocturnal life. 

Seraphina followed him without hesitation, though he could sense her confusion. She kept stealing glances at him, as if trying to decipher his sudden shift in mood. He ignored it, focusing instead on the path ahead, leading her to where he knew something far greater awaited. 

When they finally stepped into a clearing, the world around them seemed to hold its breath. 

Seraphina came to an abrupt stop, her confusion giving way to wonder as she slowly turned in place. At first, the forest seemed still, silent in the vast expanse of night. But then, as if responding to their presence, the ground beneath them began to glow. 

It started subtly—a faint shimmer pulsing beneath the flora, soft blues and purples swirling like ink in water. Then, all at once, the entire clearing came alive. The plants, the vines, even the great towering trees, all responded to the energy of Pandora itself. Luminous veins of light pulsed through the roots, illuminating the darkness with an ethereal glow. Tiny, floating seeds drifted through the air, glowing softly like fireflies. 

Seraphina gasped, her breath catching in her throat. 

“This…” she whispered, stepping forward as if afraid she might disturb the delicate beauty of the moment. “This is incredible.” 

Tsu’tey watched her, his heart tightening at the sight. She looked as though she belonged here, as if she were woven from the very same magic that lit the forest around them. The soft glow reflected in her wide, star-lit eyes, and for a moment, she was more breathtaking than the world around her. 

She reached out carefully, her fingertips grazing a large leaf that curled slightly under her touch, releasing a gentle wave of bioluminescent light. Her smile grew, her awe palpable. 

“I knew the forest was alive,” she murmured, “but this… This is beyond anything I imagined.” 

Tsu’tey had seen this sight a thousand times before, had grown up surrounded by Pandora’s wonders, but never had it felt so new, so profound, as it did now—seeing it through her eyes. 

Without thinking, he took a step closer, his voice low but firm. “This is Eywa’s way of showing balance,” he said, his gaze never leaving her. “All things are connected. The land, the sky, the creatures… us.” 

Seraphina turned to him then, her expression unreadable. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound between them was the gentle hum of the forest, the distant calls of creatures moving through the trees. 

Tsu’tey knew he should step away, should create distance between them before his feelings betrayed him further. But he didn’t. He remained there, standing too close, watching as the soft glow of the forest wrapped around them both. 

And in that moment, he knew. 

It didn’t matter what was expected of him. It didn’t matter what path had been laid before him. 

His heart had already chosen.

Tsu’tey stood still, his gaze locked onto Seraphina as she turned slowly, taking in the breathtaking glow of the forest. The bioluminescent light reflected in her wide, astonished eyes, making them shine like twin stars against the deep blue of her skin. She was utterly mesmerized, lost in the wonder of Pandora’s night, and yet, Tsu’tey found himself lost in something else entirely. 

He had seen this glow a thousand times before, but never had it held such magic—never had it stolen his breath the way it did now, when reflected in her eyes. They sparkled more than ever, brighter than the floating woodsprites drifting gently through the air around them. The way she looked at the world, with pure admiration and reverence, made him see it anew. 

Tsu’tey swallowed hard, but the ache in his chest did not fade. He had promised himself he wouldn’t let his feelings take hold, that he would not allow himself to stray from the path expected of him. But here, under Eywa’s sacred light, with Seraphina standing before him, he felt powerless. 

He just couldn’t look away. 

Her white hair shimmered under the glow, strands catching the soft light as they moved with the gentle night breeze. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach out, to feel if it was as soft as it looked, to let his touch linger just for a moment. But he held himself back. 

Seraphina turned her gaze toward him then, her expression still full of wonder. But as their eyes met, something shifted. Her breath hitched slightly, the awe in her gaze replaced by something deeper, something he dared not name. 

For a fleeting moment, neither of them moved. The world around them fell silent, the air between them thick with an unspoken understanding. 

Tsu’tey’s heart pounded against his chest, demanding that he speak, that he act, that he do something. But he didn’t. 

He simply watched her—captivated, drawn in—knowing deep inside that this moment would be etched into his soul forever.

The world around them shimmered, Pandora’s bioluminescent glow casting an ethereal light across the forest. But Seraphina barely noticed it anymore. Not when the man beside her held her attention so completely. 

She exhaled shakily, the weight of the moment pressing against her chest as she turned to him. “Thank you, Tsu’tey,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is… breathtaking.” 

But even as she said it, she knew the forest wasn’t the reason for the tightness in her throat, for the erratic rhythm of her heart. It was him. 

The realization hit her like a storm. 

Somewhere along the way—between his sharp glares and reluctant guidance, between the unspoken tension and the rare flickers of warmth in his eyes—she had fallen for him. Completely. 

The proud, untouchable warrior. The man who had once looked at her with nothing but disdain now stood before her, his golden eyes dark with something unreadable. Something intense. And yet, despite everything, she had given him her heart. 

Her breath hitched as she caught the way he was looking at her now—not just watching, but searching. As if she were something fragile, something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to want. 

Did he feel it, too?

The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She had accepted long ago that he was meant for someone else, that his path was already written. And yet… here he was, standing so close she could feel the warmth radiating from him, his gaze flickering between her lips and her eyes, as if he were fighting a battle within himself. 

“Tsu’tey,” she whispered, unsure of what she was asking, only knowing that she needed him to say something, anything. 

For a fleeting moment, his hand twitched at his side, as if he wanted to reach for her but was holding himself back. His jaw tightened, his entire body rigid with restraint. 

And then, finally, he spoke—his voice raw, quiet, but laced with something that sent a pulse of heat through her veins. 

“I should not want this.” 

The confession was barely a breath, but it shattered the air between them. 

Seraphina’s heart pounded as the space between them felt impossibly small, yet an ocean apart. She wanted to tell him she understood, that she knew he was bound to another, that this was dangerous, impossible— 

But when his fingers ghosted along her arm, just barely, just enough to send a fire rippling through her skin— 

She knew neither of them could fight it much longer.

Feel free to leave a heart and comment if you liked this chapter and my story so far 🫶🏻

I'm always happy to receive some honest feedback :)

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[starheirxero]

You ever think about Lunara and God Eclipse, and the way they parallel each other??

The fact that God Eclipse created a new, perfect, pristine world?

The fact, that he is utterly bored with it?

The fact that Lunara turned their existing world into one of chaos and destruction?

The fact, that they seem to ravel in it?

The fact that Eclipse, perfect and calculated Eclipse, wishes for the excitement Lunar could've brought him, the excitemt Lunara has?

The fact that Lunara despises to even hear Eclipse's name, yet has become him, even agreeing with him?

The fact, that God Eclipse lives isolated in a giant castle inside his peaceful world, with only Sun to keep him company, while Lunara lives in a small, broken church, where they demand to be worshipped and prayed to in exchange for the remaining humans' lives, not caring for actual companionship?

The fact, that Lunara looks like how they are meant to look like, similar to Moon, while God Eclipse build himself a completely new body, that completely disconnects him from Sun and Moon?

The fact that they speak with such destain for their respective Lunar and Eclipse, yet still hold them close in a weird way? God Eclipse longing for Lunar's chaos, and Lunara, instead of wanting to be different than Eclipse, wants to be a "better" him?

Because I do. God, I think about it way too much.

-Stardust

STARDUST YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME AT 2 IN THE MORNING OH MY GHOD.

THEY'RE LIKE THE BANE OF EACH OTHER'S EXISTENCE BUT THEY'RE JUST A HAIR AWAY FROM BEING ON THE SAME PAGE AOAUAAGHGHH I LOVE THAT SO MUCH.

THIS HAD NEVER OCCURRED TO ME UNTIL RN BUT NOW I'M GUNNA BE THINKING ABOUT IT FOREVER NOW HOW DARE YOU /POS