#so when she Does return his feelings it's like a strong binding holding him above the abyss

[chimeric-art]

the hanged man

[radiaurapple]

Lucid Dreams of New Orleans: Chapter 8

CHAPTER SUMMARY: IN WHICH Alastor goes for a swim.

The last time Lucifer saw his father, he was granted a fragment of His divine power — a punishment in the guise of a blessing — that he might serve as steward of the wayward souls cast down into Hell. It is a cruel gift, designed to ensure that he will always be haunted by his mistakes; Lucifer has endured the past seven thousand years by avoiding its use at all costs. But in the aftermath of the fight with Adam, Alastor’s worsening injury threatens the foundations of his daughter’s dream. Lucifer does what any good father would do: he uses his long-forgotten power to deliver Alastor’s soul from the brink of destruction. In turn, knowing Alastor — with all his sins, past lives, and heartbreaks — teaches Lucifer a little more about what it means to be human.

[AO3 LINK]

Another Saturday means another chapter + another promo art attempt!!! it's human Alastor and Lucifer on the subway!! Next chapter coming next Saturday, chapter preview below! 📻🍎

Alastor returns the next three nights. Lucifer brings him first to Victorian-era London, where they explore the rainy streets under a conjured umbrella. The following night they visit a speakeasy in Chicago — the next they spend wandering the streets of modern Tokyo. 

It is nothing like those nights, so many years ago now, when Lucifer would seek out Lilith’s warmth on the other side of the bed. When he and Lilith touched, they almost always ended up somewhere sleepy and serene — a meadow in the midst of Eden’s enormous, ancient trees, or a breezy morning on the deserted Mongolian steppe, in one of Lucifer’s memories of the age before humans spread across the Earth. Perhaps it had reflected a love built more on companionship than actual desire — the love that would bind any two souls alone at the desolate edge of the world. The love that hadn’t been strong enough, in the end, to hold them together — that had instead flickered out over the years into a warm but lonely friendship. 

This is different. 

The doors of the F train slide shut and the train lurches into motion — Lucifer glares up at Alastor, both of them gripping the pole in the center of the car. 

They’re in New York in 2019. Alastor’s visit today was an unexpected surprise on a lazy morning with no meetings and nothing to do; they’d arrived here just before sunset and spent a while exploring the Lower East Side before they hopped on the train at 2nd Avenue.

“You are fucking unbelievable,” Lucifer says, too loud — a father seated between his two children casts him an affronted glance over the top of his phone. Lucifer continues at a whisper: “How the Hell can you be so sure this is a downtown train? You’ve never even been to New York.”

“I can be sure because I have made use of an advanced technique known as observation of our surroundings. I highly recommend it.”

“Okay, well, you’re wrong. I’m getting off at the next stop. Asshole.” 

“This is a downtown train,” says a voice behind him, not unkindly — Lucifer turns around to find an elderly woman watching them, leaning her forearms against a cart of groceries. She inclines her head above her, at the monitor that lists the upcoming stops. “See? It’s going to Brooklyn.” 

“Oh,” Lucifer says. 

He shifts his weight on his feet as the train slows to a stop. The doors slide open; Lucifer stares out at the pillar reading Delancey/Essex and fights a losing battle against the flush rising on his face. After what feels like an eternity, the doors close again and the train accelerates out of the station.

“This is my first time in New York,” Lucifer says to the woman, as if it will in any way improve this situation. The woman glances up at him again and offers him a smile, but says nothing.

“No, it isn’t,” Alastor says behind him. “He’s been here many times before. He is the Devil, nearly as old as time itself — unfortunately he is notoriously absent-minded and plagued by the regrettable belief that he is always correct.”

The woman blinks at Alastor. The silence is broken by the deafening screech of the train’s brakes as it slows; the doors slide open before an enormous sign that reads East Broadway. 

“Ah — this is our stop. Thank you for your assistance,” Alastor says. He steps fluidly off the train and turns down the platform, toward the exit.

Lucifer stares after him in shock for a long moment, then jolts forward. “Hey!” He trips off the train, quickly rights himself — “You can’t just tell people I’m the Devil!” 

Alastor’s laughter echoes down the platform like music. 

[AO3 LINK]

[jumpingjollyrancher]

Day 25: Perpetuity

Suspended in the glowing sea to whence all returns, they watch their ghosts secure the path forward. A staff, an ax, a shield…a form made of light who always saw the road forward. She holds a hand out and the crystal shards become another step. Further and further they descend, to the heart of the world.

Amon’s final curtain call can do naught to a wall of ice called forth by one final shade. Junior leaps through the shards to cut him down. He watches silently as two men drag each other into the dark. 

His ghost is close enough to feel, but has yet to appear. As they reach the end of the Sea, the heart of the world, Hydaelyn looks upon him and smiles. Junior cannot return it, but the anger he felt faded in the face of the past. He sighs and asks, “Do you really want us to leave?”

“Do you need me to answer?” She floats slightly above the ground. “Xher’a,” she says, so very fondly, “do you wish to continue?”

“What choice do I have?” He looks only at Her. To see any of the others is to see his flaws in sharp relief. “You needed me so you set me on this path. I have to see it through.”

Her head tips slightly, so…inhuman compared to the strong shape of Venat’s features. “For yourself? Or for Eraqus?”

Despite it all, despite the peace he’s made, his hands still curl into fists. She, above all, has blame to bear for his haunting. “Does it matter? So long as the work is done?”

“It does.” She comes down to kneel before him. Still, She towers over his head. Cool fingers like sineater stone press lightly to his heart. “I know you will do what you must, Xher’a. But it matters because of what comes after.” Her eyes grieve along the same beats as his heart. Her hand pulls back, trailing magic, trailing a thread of orange light.

Eraqus is beside him, smiling and still fifteen. Junior is a scant few inches taller and yet his shoulders seem so much broader. Hydaelyn’s voice is painfully kind. “Here, at the end of all, you must prove yourselves strong enough against me. And then…I will be free. But my small magics will unravel.”

“We’ve always known life is a cycle,” Eraqus says in a voice Junior only just remembers. “I’m glad to have helped, but I want a new chance.” His smile loses the silly edge. His eyes are old, like Minfilia’s were when she spoke with Her voice. “You shouldn't have me on the edges of your soul any longer, Xeha.”

“He’ll be gone.” Junior lifts a hand and Eraqus grabs it in both of his. It’s a feather light touch, barely real. It is still real.

It hurts. It will always hurt. But he would never wish this onto anyone, especially not one he loves. To hover at the end of all things in perpetuity, never able to grow or live would be a second death. Junior closes his eyes and drops his head until he can feel the ghost-like threads of Eraqus’s hair. Phantom hands squeeze his and orange light binds their wrists together.

“Don’t look back,” he whispers in Hingan. “I am glad to have shared my heart with you.” Junior opens his eyes, to have one last look.

Eraqus drops his hand and cups his face. “May your heart guide you to a bright future,” he replies in the same. “Until another life.”

Another ghost fades into the sea.

[foodieforthoughts]

Imagine Henry coming back home sexually frustrated because he shot a sex scene that day and all he could think about was you

Oooffff this was interesting to write! Thank you anon bean for the request. It turned out to be longer than I expected 👀😅

Warning: 18+, smut, fingering, slight bondage, male!dom, fem!sub, minor role-playing, vaginal penetration, foul language

A/N: I had so much fun writing all the requests but they are now closed. I have a lot on my plate right now and I don't want to disappoint with mediocre work. Thank you to everyone who has been sending me requests and reading my work, I love you all. The pending ones will be answered soon. 😊♥️

Title: Hello, Sailor

You were singing to yourself while taking a shower completely oblivious to the other occupant of the house sneaking into the bedroom. You nearly shrieked when you stepped out of the bathroom to find Henry sitting on the edge of the bed. Your husband had a tight lipped smile on his face, dressed in all white with a sailor's cap perched on his head.

"Well, hello, sailor." You wrapped the towel over your body. Droplets of water dripping from your hair and travelling down your arms; Henry's gaze following the trail of hydrous beads with his smile turning into a leer. "You weren't suppose to be home yet."

With a smirk Henry stood up, bringing his eyes to refocus on your face. "Yeah, I excused myself."

Extending his arm to grab onto yours, Henry pulled you to him in one swift move. You yelped when you crashed against his hard chest, your arms flailing to grab onto his strong biceps for support. You gasped as Henry's hardening bulge rubbed against your abdomen.

"What's gotten into you?" You asked, puzzled but also slightly aroused by his dominion.

Licking his lips slowly while his lustful gaze bore into you, Henry pulled the towel loose from your body. The fluffy piece of cloth fell down on the carpeted floor, pooling in a heap on your feet.

"I had to shoot a sex scene today." He grazed his nimble fingers over your skin, running his hand down your arm. "And all I could keep thinking about was you."

"I'm flattered." You tried to pull away but Henry held you tighter against him, his hand squeezing your butt while the other travelled down to rest under your breast. You bit your lip, suppressing a moan when Henry ran his thumb over your exposed nipple.

"Do you want to tell me how the scene progressed?" You breathed, your chest heaving as your pulse drummed in your ears, tingling moisture beginning to pool between your thighs.

"Better yet, I'll show you." Henry offered and before you could squeak out a word, he turned you around and pushed you down on the bed. You fell on the soft mattress, your thighs held apart by Henry's wide frame crawling in between them. His eyes darkened with lust, pupils blown wide as he climbed on top of you.

Your eyes fluttered close when he kissed his way up from your waist, leaving lingering impressions of his lips and sucking on the juncture of your neck, making you buck your hips to gain friction where it was needed. He brought your hands up over your head, holding them by the wrist until you felt the coarse nylon texture of the binds digging into your skin.

"What the-" You opened your eyes in surprise and craned your neck to see that Henry had indeed tied your hands with a rope. You tugged at the restraining line, listening to the faint sound of the bed post creaking with your force. Bringing your gaze back to your husband who had climbed off the bed and was hurriedly discarding his clothes, you stared at him waiting for an explanation.

"What sort of movie are you filming? Sailor porn?"

Henry chuckled, pulling the last piece of clothing down, freeing his cock which stood erect and proud. You gulped, momentarily mesmerized by the thickness even though it wasn't your first time seeing it, wondering how did your body accommodate his massive size.

"I improvised, I'm an actor. There were no ropes." Lying on top of you, caging your body with his legs on either side, Henry brought his face close to yours. You could feel the warmth of his breath, taking in the intoxicating scent of his masculinity, awakening your inclination to be controlled and destroyed. You were about to speak when he placed his hand over your mouth, stopping you from saying something witty in response. "She didn't speak. Can you follow that?" Henry questioned, his voice dropping down an octave, the husky undertone spreading sparks of electricity throughout your body.

You nodded, wriggling under him to pull his attention to your aching center. His heavy cock rested on your abdomen, veiny topography of his phallus rubbing against the sensitive skin of your belly. Your drenched hair was beginning to soak the bedsheet, making you shiver under the dampness although it might have not been the only reason why your arms were now covered with goosebumps.

Taking his hand off your mouth, Henry wiped his thumb over your parted lips, nudging it inside your warm cavern. You gladly sucked at his digit, moaning as he twisted it inside your mouth, running your tongue over his finger. Your thighs clenched when his other hand rubbed at the outside of your thigh, making it's way to your mound. Henry kissed his way down from your neck, stopping to suckle at the top of your breasts, marking you as his. You whimpered as he spread your legs apart, bringing his fingers to tease your dripping folds, rubbing at the swollen bundle of nerves.

You were completely at his mercy, trying to pull at the restrains, wanting to touch him. Sucking in a ragged breath, you closed your eyes as at the same time Henry took your aching nipple in his mouth and inserted a long finger inside your cunt. Your toes curled, gasps leaving your lips when he flicked your clit with his thumb, adding another finger to stretch your pussy.

"Henry," you moaned his name, jerking up when he nipped at your nipple. "Oh God." You repeatedly called out, feeling the coiling at the pit of your belly as his fingers curled inside you, rubbing against the erogenous spot over and over again.

You gasped for air, taking in shallow breaths, as your heart raced in your chest. Henry placed his hand over your cheeks, caressing your skin while performing exploitative ministrations over your body. You strained against the ropes, rutting your pelvis against his hand as your orgasm ripped through your body like a thunder strike.

You were trying to regain your breath, think above the haze in your mind and get your thumping heart to calm down, when Henry unceremoniously flipped you over on your belly. The rope dug into your wrist but you were busy trying to make sense of what was happening when Henry pulled you up on your knees, jutting your ass in the air and positioned himself behind you, lining the tip of his cock at your entrance.

"Henry," you tried to look behind at him, but the cord and his large hands holding your waist bound you to your place. "Please-" You couldn't even complete the sentence as Henry plunged his throbbing cock inside your welcoming cunt, thrusting until you were stretched and his bulbous head rubbed at the apex of your womb. He bottomed out inside you, giving you no time to adjust to his size as he pulled out before ramming back in.

"Are you loving that?" He rasped near your ear, bringing his hand to rest under your jaw and turning you face to look upwards. "Exactly like I fucked the wench in that scene."

"Fuck, Henry." You cried, the sensations and the situation overpowering you. You pushed against his hip as the familiar coiling in your belly returned, ready to snap as he hammered his way to reach his high. Your eyes widened when his hand snaked its way to your clit, circling the nub and pushing you to your imminent climax. With quivering thighs and a scream, you came over his dick grabbing onto the rope as tidal waves of ecstasy washed over you. With a loud groan, Henry dug his fingers in your skin, shooting his thick warm seed inside you, continually saying your name as the remnant of his load emptied within you.

Struggling to catch your breath, both of you laid on the soaked mattress, with sweat slicked skin and trembling muscles. Henry kissed your back as he rolled over you, lying on the bed and looking up at the ceiling.

"Wow! That was something, wasn't it?" He asked between gulps of breaths.

Turning your head to look at him, you nodded. "Exactly how many sex scenes does this movie have?" You teased, weakly nudging him with your knee.

"A couple more I guess." He winked back, lying on his side to face you.

"Next time maybe a heads up?" You quirked an eyebrow at him, mischievous grin on your face. "Never thought I would pitch in the idea of role play and the universe would grant me with a sailor sex scene."

Sitting up and untying your hands, Henry chuckled. "Actually, my character is about to become the Captain soon."

"Oh mama. Drop your anchor in my lagoon again, Captain." You laughed as Henry shook his head and snorted as you continued throwing horrendously funny pick up lines one after the other before pulling you towards the bathroom for a warm shower.

[saphirered]

Can I request the Mighty Nein funding out the reader had been hiding a kinda injury

I hope it turned out the way you wanted it! Thanks for requesting 😘

(Caleb)

Caleb is no stranger to physical injury and has embraced his squishy wizard nature. You however have covered up many injuries in the past, letting them heal on their own as you always had before you had handy clerics around to fix you up. Old habits die hard and unlucky for you, when he’s not nose deep in a book Caleb will see right through your brave face act.

Upon finding out you’re injured Caleb would simply sit you down. He’ll take it upon himself to tend to your injury despite your best efforts to convince him you’re fine and it’s just a scratch. He knows better.

Silence. You’ve never managed to get a word out of the wizard when he’s caring for your ailment. He’s completely focussed but will listen to you talk so his silence is not rooted in concentration.

Caleb won’t mention your injury to anyone. It will be your little secret but you’ll be able to catch him staring at you, and when you meet his eye he’ll give you a little half smile; a nonverbal ask to see if you’re alright.

(Beau)

Training accidents happen but hardly ever exceed bruises. A sparring match gone wrong may have ended with you getting a bo-staff to the ribs with a little too much force but you play it cool. It’ll be fine. Just some bruises. You assure Beau you’ll sleep it off and it wasn’t that bad.

Beau’s not entirely convinced and definitely pries until you come clean. Persuasion isn’t Beau’s strong suit but she makes some solid arguments, and threats that leave you forced to reveal your secret.

Upon seeing the injury Beau will curse like a sailor, telling you you should have told her. Best not to mention the trouble breathing… Wether you want to or not she’ll go get the clerics to fix you up despite any and all protests.

Beau will keep grilling you for weeks, bringing your injury up as ammo in any argument she needs won and will keep a close eye out. She’ll refuse to spar with you but we all know Beau likes her training and with you being one of the very few actually able to keep up (sorry Fjord) she’ll give in and beg you to train with her again, this time more mindful of her actions.

(Fjord)

Fjord may play cool but he tends to be a worrywart and when he already has enough on his plate you be mindful not to stress him out by facing him with anything else. That includes you getting a pretty heavy hit from an enemy in combat.

Back on the ship you resign yourself to the lower deck and cargo hold duties as to stay clear of Fjord’s direct line of sight. You’d take the crows nest but an injured leg will do you no good climbing.

Bad weather and a leg injury at sea do not mix well and you, being slammed into the side of the ship unable to get back up sends Fjord in overdrive. He’ll help you below deck to a safe spot and prepare for basic care until one of the clerics can come fix you.

Fjord’s seen enough injuries; others’ and his own and knows well enough what you got didn’t come from your little tumble. He’ll be extra tentative but scold you for not saying anything and telling you you should tell him in the future.

Regardless of the clerics’ opinions he puts you on bedrest for the next few days until he feels like you’ve learned your lesson. Don’t count on being allowed to go up to the crow’s nest for a while though.

(Veth)

Having taken a tumble down the stairs while reading a book and conversing with Caleb (who you had to swear to secrecy) you deliberately stayed clear of Veth unless you had any sort of object to lean on to support yourself.

It’s more out of embarrassment you’re hiding this one even though your ankle hurts like a bitch. Every time you, Caleb and Veth are in the same room you’re sending the wizard death glares when he holds back a comment or laugh at your desperate attempts to keep this a secret.

Veth’s a mom and if there’s one thing moms are good at it’s figuring out when someone’s hurt. The moment your facade falls through, she’ll go into overdrive, pushing you to lay down on a couch or similar soft surface area, rushing to get you extra pillows and the likes.

Be prepared to have Veth hoover over you until you’re in the clear. She’ll do whatever she can to make you comfortable and brings you some trinkets to pass the time. Maybe don’t ask where she got them because they were definitely not in her previous possession.

(Jester)

It was gonna be an epic move! You’d jump down, weapon at the ready to stab down into the creature; death from above! Didn’t go as planned as you got swatted out of the air by the creature before you could strike down.

Luckily no one saw. After the battle you just claimed the plan fell through and you had to improvise. Meaning, you gritted through the pain of being rag-dolled into a cavern wall, got back up through the pain and back to battle.

If only Jester hadn’t asked you to help harvest the monster parts so you could sell them. You could barely carry your weapon, swinging it; different story. But Jester is persistent and you couldn’t just refuse the cute blue tiefling so you obliged gritting through the pain hoping no one would notice you taking a quick breather every so often.

Jester did notice and came to inspect your work, with a tap on your shoulder you feel a radiant warmth spread through you, making breathing and moving in general a lot easier. A thanks is in order and you’re sort of glad Jester keeps this on the down-low.

“Next time just tell me, okay?” Jester makes you pinky promise and you know that’s binding so you better keep your promise.

(Caduceus)

There’s a reason why you leave the cooking to Caduceus. You’ll happily cut some vegetables but try to stay away from anything else throughout the process of preparing food. When Caduceus asked you to watch the stove and add some spices to the food as he rushed to the pantry to get some more ingredients you were worried…

What should you do? Caduceus didn’t tell you how much to add of anything. Maybe you can just sniff the spices? Yeah, that sounds right. Opening the small jars and pouches one by one go through. You add a little of the fragrant ones and a bit more of the neutral spices.

One sniff of a red flaky powder sends you into a coughing fit, your airways burning like a blazing fire. Water doesn’t help. If anything it makes it worse. You get your breathing and cough under control but you do not trust your voice and scalding throat so when the firbolg returns you keep quiet.

No responses from you are a bit odd and what were you thinking you could keep anything from this man. Caduceus calls you out on your behaviour asking questions that need words and not nods, shakes, shrugs or the likes.

Upon you trying to talk he immediately knows what happened. Putting on a quick brew, in a short time you’re presented some tea to remedy your burning throat. It may not be your worst injury ever but it surely is an uncomfortable one. You gain a new appreciation for the dead people tea.

(Yasha)

You felt like you couldn’t do anything but try to hide the bleeding gash on your side, luckily covered by your clothing. Yasha had already gone through enough, last you needed her to deal with is the knowledge she injured you severely when under the control of someone else.

Back to normal you head into the next fight. For some reason you’re faltering and making mistakes you otherwise wouldn’t. Yasha notices and will be at your side in an instance to defend you but a single enemy blow sends you unconscious.

You can confidently say that opening your eyes to a raging barbarian pouring the contents of a healing potion down your throat is one of the most terrifying and admirable moment’s you’ve witnessed in your life.

Yasha asks when you got the cut since your bloodstained clothes don’t 100% add up. Tempted to come up with an excuse Yasha has you figured out. Prepare for endless apologies and a guardian angel watching over your shoulder threatening anyone with even remotely malicious intent into thinking twice about their actions.

(Mollymauk)

Molly will pretend he hasn’t noticed you’re hiding anything when he’s caught on you are being secretive. You’re entitled to your secrets.When he finds out you’re injured that’s no different. Unless it’s something that could be the death of you he’ll play along. You’re stubborn so you get to feel the consequences of your stubbornness.

He’d ask you to help him with this new routine he’s been working on or push you to spar with him. He’d make sure you have to pay extra mind as to not make it hurt as bad as your injury does when resting because that’s when the severity of your injury becomes clear to him.

Molly would deliberately make everyday tasks a little harder. You’re doing dishes? could you carry the heavy tub of water? Setting up camp? Keep pressure on this or hammer that into the ground. Will put your things out of your reach where you’d have to climb or jump to get them.

He’ll keep these shenanigans going until either you come clean about your injury or he really gets worried to the point he’ll have to step in for your own wellbeing. The former usually occurs leaving him smug and willing to carry you claiming to be your daring saviour.

Depending on the severity of the injury he’ll be a pretty decent caretaker spending time with you and assisting you whenever you need it. When it’s not as bad anymore he’ll be teasing you as much as he can. He won’t make you forget your stubbornness and pride gets in your way of admitting defeat and we all know he loves winning the game.

[muffindaddystyles]

Tell me you love me, before I go.

A/N: A very short smutty writing I had in my swirling whole night, which unapologetically I ended up writing in the wee hours of dark.

Summary: Harry and Y/N are rivals -- very passive aggressive enemies. When on a mission Y/N breaks into his room he had no choice but to punish her.

AU: Rivals to lovers, dark sci-fi, angry rough sex, spanking and spitting, reassurance kink and unrequited love.

A war between two groups. Left one with nothing but a tech base and other with almost everything. So the Arsonists raid the Phantoms' buildings to steal food items and necessary fuels for their people since they're mostly unarmed due to lack of weapons they try to use their brain as much as possible. 

Y/N works in one of the tech bases of Arsonists and right now she's standing with her five more mates trying to figure out how to break through these large gates of the villain's building, one of his most strong headquarters. 

They've to collect some data before another truck of fuel arrives for Phantoms next Wednesday so they could have access to it without doing much effort. 

Once sneaking in successfully because the two guards were too muddled in gossiping their arsess about their maiden. The building's nothing too extravagant, sleek and able to live, dimmed to an unpleasant light indicating everyone inside it is sleeping. 

She barges into the villain's room easily and almost had all the information in her hands from his drawers when the door to the room banged close, startling her at spot and the frames of her glasses fell on the carpeted floor. 

"Shit." 

"D'ya think cursing would take ye' out of here? if so you're down bad" Her heart sinks in when his cold insensate voice booms within the walls — a heavy boot comes crushing her glasses, again and again mercilessly. 

Her blood boils. Because, what the fuck. Doesn't he have any manners? 

"Do you think I need my glasses to punch the shit out of you, you prick!!" She pounced at him, almost breaking his nose into a splitted eiffel tower but he dodged it, twisting her wrists at her back and snatching the files from her sneering menacingly —- letting her painful grunts fly over his head without any remorse. 

"Well, well." She yelps when he tightens his grip angrily, "Look what cat dragged in come little mousey we're going to have some fun." She didn't know until now that someone could be this strong as he puts her in a chair like a rag doll binding her with no escape out. 

She tries to squirm and wriggle her butt out but he just tuts standing tall and evil in front of her, she rakes her gaze slowly up to his tanned biceps and clavicles popping from underneath his flimsy shirt, matted curls grazing his shoulders. 

"Oh no, trust me sweetheart, you're going to want to stay strapped in here. We're going to find out how many times an Arsonist can break –- and for the fact my people will kill you on the spot if you step out of my room." Shiver runs down her body from fear and he chuckles, flopping onto the edge of his bed, man spreading, leaning onto the heels of his palms behind him. 

"You're pathetic!" She spits out. Full of venom. 

"Pfft, a thief telling me that 'm pathetic." He shakes his head and she's despising his audacity as if he rules the world. She could kick him square in his sexy face but the thing's she's bound to this damn uncomfy chair. 

"Atleast, I don't go on killing people." She grumps and it's like she pushed a button when his irises turn pitch dark. Her eyes widen in astonishment, reeking with fear when he leaves his spot in a thunder striding towards her furiously and drags the chair closer to him, almost lifting it inches above floor. 

The next thing she knows that a gun is resting against her temple ready to be fired, "Ye' really that desperate fo' me to prove it to you, huh?" He growls, hooded gaze following the gun that's sliding down her cheek and the way her breath wavers —- lips trembles, nose twitches he knows he's fucked. 

"Will it hurt?" If she's going to die it better be an easy way. 

His eyes soften at that. Taking in the rosy features of her, the plushiness and squishiness of her skin that his fingers feels like dipping into cream. The women of Phantom aren't like this; they're built differently to fight and kill who wrongs them -- they're almost heartless at this point. 

"Dunno, You'll get to know after taking one." He shrugs like it's not a biggie tipping her chin with the gun's pointer and her eyelids slip shuts. She couldn't cry. Even her dead body wouldn't forgive her if she would cry infront of her worst enemy for the last time. 

"I hate you, Harry. I'd never ever forgive you for kidnapping my cat when we were small." There she said it. If she's gonna die soon she better let it off her chest. Before it could hit him right in the wound he builds a shield fast arguing back with a stoic chuckle. 

"Guilt tripping wouldn't help, darling." He tuts patting her cheek with the gun's barrel —- funny case it's empty of bullets. He just shooted all of them whilst doing target practice. 

"Fuck you." She yells. 

"It'd take much more action than just undressing me naked with your bare eyes." He squeaks dramatically. Stepping away and pouts when she huffs trying to kick her feet in his direction. 

"Not my fault that you're a perv." 

He pouts feigning fake disappointment putting a hand on his chest, "You're such a grudge holder." 

"Think about 10 ways to fuck me until then 'm heading to make amends for you -- see what they offer in return of their precious nerd." He smirks, it's sad such a gorgeous face could be such evil she thinks. 

// 

When he comes back she's fallen asleep from getting tired and exhausted being trapped in the same spot for hours, "Sorry, peaches but they don't want you back –- even told me to kill you if that what it ta —- oooh" He halts in his tracks closing the door behind him quietly not to wake her up and pads softly towards her, putting her dangling head back gently in a comfortable position and tucks a strand of her hair that's tickling her nose behind her ear. 

You're not supposed to act that way with your enemy, you FUCKER. 

His brain screams but his heart says otherwise. 

She has changed. She never cries anymore. Everytime they kidnapped her or she ended up being caught from his henchmen —- she'd always need company to make her feel less frightened from the hollowness of their buildings, would cry when they'd lock her up in dark rooms. 

It's awfully hurtful how once bestfriends turns into rivals just because of a conflict that ruined their and their families lives. 

She has been doing all of this for people who doesn't even care about her. They're using her and many others like her to build a nuclear power plant so they could become intimidating. 

He retires to sleep. Debating in his sleep whether he should just free her and tell her to sleep in one of the rooms of the buildings but soon the possibilities died when he was high in his slumber. 

// 

He groans, knuckling the sleepiness away from his eyes. He woke up from loud the thumping and found Y/N trying to break the door knob, he winces covering his ears when she screams watching him lunge towards her in rush. 

His chocolate curls bouncing atop his head. His emerald eyes speaking with morning's gold and lips ripe like cherry. His brows kinked in annoyance and expression pinched in rage. 

"You're confident." He rasps out in his morning husk and slams his hands on either side of her head trapping, cornering her between him and the wall.

"Did you really think it was going to be this easy." He nothing but purres, pushing her against the door. She gasps abruptly aware of their height differences moreso the radiation of power he daunts that she ignored her whole life. 

"Hmm." He hummed. Eyes black with intimidation burning her under the intensity of it, he keeps his focus on her, smirking. "It suits you. This trying to fight me, desperation is a beautiful look on you." 

"Fuck you." 

"I mean if, ask nicely." His smile is sweetly honey and lethal if you ask me. 

She glares at him with blazing daggers, "This isn't the way you make people love you." Her chest heaving with his heat close to her and his scent enveloping her. 

"Love?" He laughs fondly even, crinkled forming by his eyes and he breathes out when she hovers her dry lips over his's, "Sweet thing this isn't about love — if ye ask me far from that." He's lying. He's full of bullshit. 

"And yet you don't touch me or hurt me." She squints her eyes up at him wrecking her brain how to slip away from his hold, "If you beg so." He simpers awfully lewd for her. Sure as rock for what he said with his whole chest. 

"Come get me then!" She trips him aside and rushes for the door when he pushes her into it tightening his hand around her throat, it's aching him to tell her the truth but he wants to let her know her worth. He rests his forehead against her's muttering a rumble deep within his chest, "They don't want you Y/N." Her windpipes squeezes painfully. The statement punching her lungs. Tears springing in her eyes. 

"You're lying!!" She looks up at him shattered and desperate. 

He caresses his knuckles against her tear stained cheek, "Shh, shh baby I'll always want you even if they don't — " He jerks back when she blows hit at his brawny chest yelling at him. 

"It's because of you!! You, you, you." He sighs. Grabbing her wrists and pining them above her head, "Shut up, please." His chillness irks her more and she nips at him feastly. 

"Make me." So he does. When her eyes drift up at his determined ones it takes her breath away and she knew it was over for her. 

His lips catches her's in a hard kiss, driving them apart with the force of it. Nothing gentle mind mushing about it rather pricking needles into her skin with the severeness of it. She feels the door rattling against her back when he shifts, pushing her against it with his hips, every thought of her exploding into white noise of want and lust. The dark curl of desire twisting in her stomach and pearling sweat on her neck. With the last thread of restraint in herself she tries to pull away. 

"No." He says bringing her lips back to his's. Cupping her cheeks to deepen the kiss and it's ardent as before not loosing it's spark, she slips her hands under his shirt — pulling him closer and the low groan at the back of his throat, a small pleading noise of want sets her skin on fire. 

"Fuck me."  She mewls. Trying to latch on his body like a kitten with it's dainty paws. 

He glides his clammy palms down her bum and grabs her thighs wrapping them around his waist. Not breaking the kiss but tasting ever dulcet corners of her mouth and creating heavenly noises. 

The next thing they know she's crawling back with the help of her bum to settle in the nest of pillows and he's fumbling with his belt buckle quite aggressively, she tugs the hem of his shirt down not satiated enough from having his lips on her and meanders her fingers in his hair to pull at them roughly in order to flush her chest up against his's.

"Never thought your sheets would have smelled other than sex." Because, genuinely. They smell that of fresh mint and roses. 

"So, you think of me doing dirty on this bed you're laying at the moment?" He asks mock and degradation evident in his tone, "D'ya get wet dreamin' 'bout me railin' ye' to death?" He grazes his teeth along her jaw and sucks at her earlobe counting in her silence. 

"Shut up." She gasps, probably from the abrupt press of his bulge against the inside of her thigh. 

"Make me then." He growls. Fisting the hem of her hoodie and pulls it over her head throwing it among his skinny jeans. Her head falls back and lips tremble from the effect of slap he landed at her outer thigh —-- she knows she can't shut him.

Though he knows that her single command and he'd be at his knees for her. 

When she clings to him for dear life and whimpers in his ear softly, his eyes widen in realization and he leans away to watch her expressions diffuse into manifold emotions. His nose scrunches up and he holds back his cooes for her. 

She's a subby. A cute one. 

Her eyes blink open to the sight of him out of his boxers and it waters her mouth —- her mind manipulating her to lunge forward and take his heavy member in her palm to give a good suck to his shiny crimson head. 

Down her throat. Nestle her nose against the trim patch of hair under his balls. 

"Like what y'see, doll?" He highers his chin quite smug about her staring and she hates him for that, "Pretty cocky for someone who likes staring at his enemy's tits." Her voice groggy. She wheezes a squeak through her nose when Harry pulls his shirt over his head revealing toned pecs and abs -- skin sewn with tats. 

Unfortunately, she doesn't get to stare at it for longer when that shirt comes wrapping around her eyes blocking her sight. 

He can never let her have nice things would he?

"Wanted to gag your mouth with it … but I'd rather love hearing you moan fo' daddy." He nips at her collarbones -- sucking it harshly to leave a prominent mark. His calloused hand rubs over her tummy smiling against her skin when she jolts and lets a little squeal slip. 

His cock drips precome at her tummy and her breath shudders into heavy pants when the tip of his cock dipped in her belly button nudging it. 

"Ha —- " He glides his sticky head down her happy trail and slips his large palm into her panties cupping her with his middle finger teasing her entrance, "Couldn't hear you!" He ducks down to put his ear near her lips and drums the pads of his digits against her cheek. 

She huffs and squirms for a second then moans breathily when he spanks the side of her hip leaving a sting, "Oh my god, daddy." His grin victorious and he lowers down to smudge his lips against her parted ones -- kissing her tongue and humming around it. 

She's somewhere it's hard to configure out, in between paradise and wonderland. 

"Tell me princess, what d'I do with you in your filthy dreams?" He grabs her jaw patching gentle pecks against her lips and he slops his finger into her throbbing pussy, "Fuckin' drippin' down ye' bum fo' me." She cries out trying to hook her thigh around him but he hisses slapping her cunt hardly -- turning her into a thrashing mess. She's trying hard to suppress the bitter-sweet sensation of her own body getting out of control and her glistening pussy lips flutter erratically creating sloppy noises. 

She squirts drenching the sheets underneath them and her panties. 

He slides his arm under her arching back pushing her up against his chest with a jerk, "Daddy's askin' you somethin'." He grits, propping his knee in between her thighs to rub it against her soaking centre. 

She gulps, licking her dry lips, "You–your rings … ah!" Her whimpers are muffled against his chest and he twists his thumb in tight circles to smear her wetness from her slit to clitoris, "What 'bout them, doll?" 

How does she tell him she liked what he did earlier. 

"Daddy, please … " She whines blindly searching for his face but he grips her wrists in his one hand and groans, "How's daddy gonna make you feel good when you don't tell him, pet?" He takes a kitten lick of her perky nipple. Teasing her areola with the tip of his cold tongue against her warm sweaty body —- he laps at it hungrily then creates a suckling noises, the noises, his slobbery tongue on her body, his fingers curled inside her pussy and the thick humidity is too overwhelming, she feels like fainting. 

She wants him, inside her needy pussy. 

She can't take the teasing anymore. 

"Spanking! I – I liked it when you did it, please." He kisses her nipple for the last time before smashing his mouth against her's in a fervent sinfulness and parts away with a smooching noise to sit back on his heels, "It wasn't that hard was it? Just a word and I could give you my whole world." The sincerity in his voice makes her want to hug him and kiss him for lifetime but for now he has other plans as he rips her panties away moaning obscenely gruff at the sight of her pussy weeping for him to pound his cock inside her, so ready and full of dripping honeyed wetness  for him. 

"Your safe word is clouds." He whispers in her ear. He knows her limits and her resistance but by any chance he'd cross it he'd never forgive himself, "What's it?" He asks and she says in wavering, "Clouds." 

"Atta girl." He pets her cheek. 

Her nail scratches the side of his hands that are pinning her down when he spits on her already damp cunt, a loud noise resonates along with her needy cries when his free hand adorned in jewels came spanking her pussy and her pelvis remains lifted in air bathing in the sting of metal and the throb rattling in her whole core. 

"This's what you wanted?" He kisses his teeth slapping her slick clit again and again, "To be roughed up by daddy, hmm." She bobs her head squirming and wriggling. Her words struck in her throat. 

"To be manhandled." He hums a growlish moan tasting his own fingers coated in her juices, "I'll show you what being manhandled really feels like." He promises her. She gasps a sweet yelp when he flips her over and throws her bum up.

His cock rubbing against her thigh and her heartbeat fastens, anticipating something, crimping the sheets in her fists and mewls into the mattress when he spanks her ass loving the way it jiggles stroking it afterwards to subside the burn down before landing another brutal one. 

She bolts her eyes shut throwing back her hips at him and he lays all the way over her back pushing her down on the bed, her cum trickling down the inside of her thigh, "Want daddy's cock?" He asks. Slicking the head of his prick up and down her asshole and slit. 

When she nods vigorously he bumps it in furious circles against her swollen bundle of nerves, "Then beg fo' it," He says intimidatingly and she doesn't waste a second before blabbering shamelessly. 

"Daddy … please I want your massive cock inside me, all of it." In her entire lifetime -- she never once uttered these kind of words. 

His heart mushes into a puddle seeing her a babbling mess and grabby hands for him, he kisses her gently speaking to her with foremost affectionate, "shh, shh moppet. You could have it anytime you want it, daddy's g'na fill you to rim with his cum and make you keep it there for hours with his prick still snug inside your little pussy, just made for him, c'mere...yeah just like that." He lays her back gently that her front is facing him now and wraps his hand around her calve raising it and pushing it against her chest firmly.

A series of pornographic moans and whimpers echoes in his bedroom when he seathes inside her slowly stretching her out in by inch leaving a burn behind her pulsating walls, their breath laboured breaths mingling, "Fuck you're so warm baby —-- hugging daddy's cock so good." He whines looking down where they're connected and knotted. His stomach twists and turns, his hips stiffens and he resists from pushing inside her when she's not ready but her milking him with her wetness isn't doing him any mercy too. 

She gropes his ass, nudging him to move and their teeths clanks, temples falls against eachother and lips whisper prayers of their unrequited love when he pulls all the way back to pound back inside her roughly. 

"You're daddy's good girl, making him feel so good. I want to keep you to myself. all of you and cherish you, make love to you, w'na mark you however I want." He groans eyes rolling back under his closed lids grinding his hips against her's in rhythmic pleasuring motions to give her clit stimulations and she cries out feeling another bursting orgasm bubbling in her tummy. 

"'M gonna cum, daddy!" She tugs at his roots and he drives more maniacly inside her, "Squirt around daddy's cock pet, so your pussy could swallow it deeper inside you." The headboard of bed hits against the wall vigorously and she digs her heels deeper into the dimples at his back moaning at the top of her lungs when she gushes all over his dick making more squelching, soapy, dirty noises of him raming inside her. 

She desires for more. 

She has become one little insatiable thing. 

His balls smacks against her bum and his thursts turn faster to chase his high, "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He curses nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck and keeps his hand around his throat with the slight pressure of claimation. 

"Come fo' me again." He spanks her ass and she clamps shut down at him pushing him to the edge of ecstasy, "Squeezing me so tight -- gimme more, I know you can princess." Her legs tremble around his waist when she crampies around him and his cock's head strokes against her sweet spot doing wonders to just topple her off real quick. 

"Daddy!" She feels floaty and foggy head coming on his cock for the many times she has forgotten. Her mind blocking out even the weak shuddering whimpers and beaten moans of Harry as he reaches his orgasm unloading inside her -- his cum sticking thickly to her walls and some of it oozing outside of her pussy hole but he pumps it back with lazy strokes. 

He lifts his smushed face from the dip of her neck, his own curls sweaty against the nape of his neck and he smoothes his palms down her sides to calm her, his lips brushing featherly against the corner of her mouth as she keeps on blabbering something. 

When he tries to pull out gently she cries out pawing at his shoulders, "Daddy no!" He caresses her sweaty hair back and gets rid of her blindfold, pecking her nose sweetly. 

He wants to take care of her. He yearned to have her like this for years. He has to bring her back from her sub-space before it's too late. 

"It's no daddy anymore, petal. I'll crush you in this position — " Carefully he tries to retreat but stop when she says in a very dejected feeble voice, bottom lip wobbling and tears springing at the corners of her eyes, "You don't want me too?" OH NO. This's what Harry was afraid about. A breakdown. He saw the storm coming but didn't know it could be this worst right when she's in her sub-space. 

His face pales at that. His state in frenzy and panic. 

"No bubba. I want you my precious girl -- s'just you're gonna get tired like this, hmm. 'N I have so much to show you and make you meet new people -- couldn't have me baby walkin' on her wobbly legs for whole day could I?" He cups her cheeks tenderly and smiles down at her warmly smothering her in devoted kisses. 

"Promise, daddy?" She sniffles staring up at him with doe innocent eyes and he shakes his head, "Harry sweet angel, come back to me moppet." He keeps his gaze locked with her's, gliding his thumb delicately against her cheeks and seals his promise with a kiss. 

"Promise." 

She lets him pull out and he shushes her wrecked whimpers with his lips. Falling to side with a large puff of breather and embraces her with his arm slinged around her shoulders protectively and she hides her face in his chest, mumbling incoherent things and he tries to stay with her emotionally and physically much as possible -- assuring her and soothing her with his sweet nothings. 

"Harry." She whispers softly and his ears perks up at that looking down at her with most loving eyes, "Hi baby." He giggles quietly kissing the tip of her nose and she sniffs cuddling into him. 

"Sorry —- " He shakes his head pinching her chin to make her look up. 

"You don't have to darling -- s'okay, everything's alright." After, making sure she's okay and giving her million re-assurances because he loves to he cleaned her with a damp wash rag. 

"Such a pretty babe." He makes her blush treating her as if she's a china glass doll who'd break at his slightest poke and showers her in praises and kisses because dunno who got her self-esteem and confidence like that but that person sure needs to get punched in their face. 

"Did I hurt you?" He asks tenderly applying a thin layer of cream on her red imprints. She shakes her intervining her fingers into his's one by one and kisses his knuckle, "No." 

"Good." He chuckles as if he was holding his breath. 

"How bout you take a lil nap and I see if I could bring us some brekkie, hmm?" He's gonna break his own rule. Taking food from mess area to your rooms and taking long showers was never allowed, having lights on after 12 because of the risk of attacks. 

"'M not hungry, please stay." Her eyes half open and her face buried into his scented pillow, "Dunno. But to me you look like y'could faint any time soon." He says sternly pulling a snugly clean duvet over her body. 

"Okie but come back quick." 

"Don't worry. In a snap I'll be infront of you." 

//

It's her fourth day here. She came out of his room to socialize just a day before and she realized from the nasty glowers thrown her way that not a single person likes her. 

But it felt like spending a lifespan with Harry. To fill the emptiness of all those moments of their childhood together they lost once after the war. 

She got to know he's the best cuddler and likes to be a small spoon, she loves to jetpack him. He seems rather scary and is scary when he's commanding people off -- they wouldn't dare but to speak a word over him but he's this big softie Y/N likes to squish in their privacy. 

He got her glasses fixed and put them over her nose with a mishevious kiss, she was unable to not to grin when he murmered against her lips, "Now you could punch me with your glasses on." 

"Seems like I don't have to do that anymore." She shrugged squealing afterwards when he threw her over his shoulder tickling her till all she coul see was him and stars. 

It was all going on track until now when she was passing through the lobby to go to Harry who's practicing out in field, "What are you doing here Alex?" She asks angrily grabbing his arm and he tells her feeling relieved she's okay, "I'm here to take you back." 

"But they don't want me back." She grits, he catches her wrist pleading her sadly, "We want you back -- Nia waits for you daily." Nia is his five years daughter. 

"I know that … but — " How she's gonna tell him she's in love with one person they despise with their whole hearts. 

"But what — "

"Alex!!" He was in the midst when she sees a bullet approaching his way from the side of his shoulder and screeches loudly pushing him aside, the bullet makes it's home in her chest. 

It was fired from Harry's gun with his own hands that were loving on her an hour ago. Life drains out of his body and he feels sickness approaching to split his throat, knees turning weak as he stares his shaking hand in horror. 

Before, he could do anything another bullet hits Y/N in shoulder knocking her to floor and this time it was one of his people, the shot was fired on instinct. 

"Put your gun down!!" He shouts at him shoving him away with a single forceful push and strides towards where the love of his life's laying in a pool of blood. 

He pulls his hair maniacly, falling to his knees and pulls her up in his lap cradling her head gently to press his lips against her forehead, "No,no,no,no baby." He sobs wiping his tears away harshly to see her properly. 

"Ouch. It actually hurts." She gives him a frail smile raising her shaky hand to cup his cheek. 

Will it hurt? 

You'll get to know after taking one. 

He wishes he could takes his words back. 

"You'll be fine, you're okay, 'm so so sorry moppet. Didn't-- didn't know y'were standing behind him, bu –-- but s'...s'okay yeah —-- call the doctor!! Why nobody has called him yet!!!" His scream thunders aggressively as everyone watches  their commander this defenceless and vulnerable infront of them for the first time in shock. 

"It's not your fault, okay?" She manages to speak groaning and eyes rolling back from pain residing in her bones torturesly, he cries out like a wounded puppy patting her cheek to keep her awake, "Please stay with me baby, please." Her chest tightens. His chest tightens from the fear of loosing her and he stands up carrying her bridal style tumbling his way on wobbly legs towards the medical ward in the building. 

His tears shiny droplets on her skin and she nuzzles into his fragrance for the last time. 

"There was no happy ending to this," She murmurs. Any, sign of life fading from inside her and replacing her eyes with stoness.

He brings her closer to himself, "hey, hey now none of that -- you're not leaving. 'M not letting you leave." He kicks open the door and lays her limp body on the stretcher. Snapping his head outrageously in every direction to find any doctor but none and drags his palms down his teary face.

He couldn't stop crying.

He's loosing the sunlight of his bleak life he must protect her at all costs.

But, life's prize is something that would have him selling all of what he had worked for and still he'd be unable to even bring her back from cold dark earth.

"Shit. Shit ---– I'll patch you up myself. I know how to take a bullet out — " He creates a ruckus around to collect stuff, "Harry! Harry! listen to me." but her hollow anguish calls for him breaks him at last. 

"How about you spend these last few minutes with me because 'm really 'bout to die commander." She tries to keep her anxious voice cheery but fails drastically coughing blood, "Don't say that baby -- I just got you, don't leave me, don't make me hate myself again." Sad tears trickles down her cheeks and he feels like fainting imagining the pain, agony and fear she's suffering from. 

She's hating to leave him.

"Maybe in afterlife, we could have a nice homely house, long warm baths and two smol kittens —- and oh I forgive you for kidnapping my cat." She admires him for the last time wiping his tears away and tries to lift his head that's lowered into shame. 

She's so fond of him at the moment.

She gulps, trying to gasp for oxygen feeling her heartbeat drop to zero, pleading him, "Tell me you love me before I go." His bloodshot eyes snap to her's and his chest heaves ruggedly with heartbreaking sobs -- his words full of sorrow tasting the bitterness of goodbye on her lips streaking away the blood on her mouth. 

"I love you so much, baby. Never stopped. Never will." She cries at last kissing him back with all the blood she has left pumping to her heart and tries to exchange the words but it was too late before she lost it all -- cold in his loving embrace. 

"Stay…." He begs praying like he did never before. 

"Y/N!!" He screams trying to shake her alive and hugs his angel to himself with mournful wails. 

Everyone standing outside the room knows that they'll never see this Harry again. 

[mo2k]

Imagine…you meeting the kamaboko squad for the first time♥️. (pt.1)

Note.The kamaboko squad include : Kamado Tanjiro,Kamado Nezuko,Agatsuma Zenitsu,Hashibira Inosuke💗

No.1 : Kamado Tanjiro & Kamado Nezuko

Pairing : Tanjiro or Nezuko (up to you! :D) x [fem] reader

Warnings : none again, just fluff💓 (Ok,does slicing demon’s head count as violent?…If it does-well…might have some violent then -_-)

Note-This two siblings…are just so cute asdfghjkmnz-

Synopsis : You were doing your mission as a demon slayer…which is slaying demons…But there was something-ah no,some unexpected people that you’re bound to meet on that dark day which when the moonlight shone down and the stars were glittering across the black sky…

You were just doing your mission-which is slaying demons as usual.It was raining-hard.And you were standing face to face with a demon you’ve been sent to slew…you were standing all alone in this dark forest with a demon…

You’re panting tiredly…why?Well-if it wasn’t for the battle you had earlier with this hideous creature in front of you who gave these nasty little wounds to you…

You got hurt by some bruises,scratches-but the most hurtful one,was the wide wound on your lower stomach…It draws some blood-you didn’t really care about the blood,but what you care is well,damn-yes,you must admitted that it did hurt much more than you thought…It feels like you were in a slow-but painful torture as the time passed by and as more blood dripped…

Even the demon,was also panting slightly-though you know this wouldn’t last much longer.Its eyes-disgusting eyes,were fixed intently on your fatigued frame…

Its expression look suspicious as if its mind was calculating and guessing your next movement…not to mention that its eyes were also stared intensely-hungrily on your open wound…As if it’s getting more and more desperate to finally savour your flesh and blood…You glared back at it…

Then,you take a quick glance at the night sky,you find it almost impossible to keep your eyes open out of all the exhaustion you felt-It was still dark,which means you still have time…The white-silver moon…shone brightly through this black sky and through the curtains of shadowy clouds along with little pieces of glittering lights called stars…

Though the light wasn’t that much but it still at least-allowed you to see things,which only that is more than enough for you.

When you blinked down to this wretched being again…Its eyes still never leaving you as it hissed and lunged toward you.

In return,you gripped your blade tighter-ready to counterattack as you raised your arms above your head to sliced this demon’s neck.Using (your choice of breathing) breathing style.

The demon snarled widely with its sharp claws ready-dying to finally taste you-and you found yourself holding your breath….

But just as you’re about to swing your blade,the demon’s head has fallen to your feet making you froze for a moment… ‘What did just happen?-but I still didn’t do anything!’ You thought,confused and suspicious-but also,amazed and surprised at the same time.

You could do nothing but blinked several time,puzzled at the the demon’s head between your own feet which start to slowly disintegrate into ashes…

Then suddenly,you heard voices calling in front of you…you quickly shot your head to the owner of the voice all the while-raised your blade threateningly at that person,full on guard if this person happened to be another demon…

Turns out-he was a boy…around your age,his hair and eyes are red…and he wears a checkerboard pattern haori…he also have a quite big wooden box on his back…making you wondered what he was carrying…you observed him silently as you narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously….

“Who are you?” You began carefully,he seems stunned and helpless by your threatened movements as he put both his hands up in defense…that’s when you noticed that he also wears the demon slayer uniform and in his right hand-was a black nichirin blade…that was what make you sheath your sword back into your scabbard…but-you still eyed him suspiciously…ready to knocked him out if he did anything bad…

“I-I’m!um-I’m Kamado Tanjiro from the demon slayer corps!Mizunoto rank!” He answered staunchly while also sheathed his blade back…and your blinked one more time before you start to introduce yourself back, “My name’s (l/n) (y/n),I’m also in the demon slayer corps. (Your rank) rank.” You tell him flatly,he nodded before asked you, “Are you alright?”

There was silent going between you for a while,rain was still falling hard from the sky and as it made contact with your skin…you think you’ve got more torture from the cold and wet feelings…but still,you nodded stiffly back at him

“I’m fine…and thank you for saving me from that demon…” you managed out,though you know fully well that you can handle it yourself.

“Are you sure?…” he asked again,and you forced a small smile to convinced him that you’re fine…even though it hurts like hell…. “I’m alright,maybe you should go back and rest….since it’s already very late.Please don’t worry about me,I can take care of myself…” You tried to controlled your voice to be as normal as you can…but you still didn’t know that even if you don’t speak,he can smell it out by himself…

And as he was scanning your form….his eyes had met with the open wound on your lower stomach…that’s when he know you’re not ok,and he can’t just let you go like this.What if you got hurt more?

You can read his worry expression…so you said, “Oh no-I know what you’re thinking.But like I told you I can take care of myself and more importantly,I’m fine-” “No you’re not” he cut you off sternly, “You shouldn’t even walked,let me help you please and I’m extremely sorry for my bad manners.” He stepped closer and you took a step back,prepared. “Wha-” you started slowly,(like he’ll let you finished your sentence-,of course not,duh 😒) But what he did next has caught you off guard-

He just lifted you up,bridal style.Ignoring all the punches and kicks you threw at him,all your protests and objections.You didn’t have that much strength to push him off from how much you’ve lost your blood and you’re starting to feel dizzy…(He’s a strong boi,pls just let him do what he wants UwU) So he just carried you to the closest shelter he could find to hide from the pouring rain,which was a cave.

-Ooh~Did I have to tell you about how red and flustered you looked?✨Well,maybe not lol😂

When you both have finally made it to the cave,he put you down gently before also put the box on his back down and start to rummage to find things under his haori,probably find some clothes to bind your wound that might help to stopped your blood….

“Why did you do that?” You started,and he suddenly stopped his movement and turn his attention to you. You were staring outside the cave,not even sparing him a glance….“Do…what?…” he answered. “Carried me,or should I asked,Why did you help me?” You turn to look at him,and he blinked before look down “Oh…I…I just…I just can’t leave you like that…” He trailed off,before going back to find things…

You sighed, “You don’t really have to do that,we don’t even know each other” You exhaled. “Sorry…” he answered,his expression fell clearly. “But still…” You started again, “Thank you…for helping me” You smiled a bit at him,at that-he starts to bright up again, “With pleasure!” He cheered, “Oh and here,could I see your wound please?”

You slowly stand up and walked towards him,he immediately run in to help you-though you said almost ten times to him that you’re fine. “You shouldn’t stand up like that!At least give me a word before you do anything!” He scolded you,and you just just laugh. “It’s not funny!” He cried. “Yeah,yeah I know…Whatever,go on.Please help me tend the wound.” You offer him a warm smile,which he sighed-but still returned your smile.

Once you’re sat down and he starts to clean the wound…The wooden bow shook and you both flinched. “What-what was that?” You choked out, “Oh,it’s my sister,she’s a demon” he relaxed, “Oh,a sister…Wait,what?A demon?” You whipped your head from Tanjiro to the box,the box to Tanjiro,until the so called ‘demon’ that Tanjiro called his ‘sister’ came out…

Dear goddesss you almost fainted…His sister,forget the the word ‘demon’. She was so cute and adorable,too much than to be one of those wretched demons.Even with that bamboo tube in her mouth she still looked cute <3.And she just looked at you-to her brother,and back to you.

“Ah-Nezuko!This is my new friend,(l/n) (y/n)!She is a good person,you can trust her.But be careful!’cause she’s get hurt by the demon!And (y/n),this is Nezuko.My sister.” Tanjiro called happily with a bright smile.Nezuko blinked at you and tilted her head to the side,when she saw your wound she immediately rushed in to help her brother tend your wound.She huffed as if she wanna ripped the head of the demon who hurt you and you almost gone to heaven when she did that.

You blinked a few time before smiled at her, “Thank you”.And you can sense that she was smiling back,her eyes were sparkling like she was glad that she can help you.

“Ouch!” You cried out when Nezuko wrapped the cloth a bit too tight around your wound, “Ah!Be careful Nezuko!” Tanjiro stopped and help you. Nezuko,poor baby felt so guilty and sad for hurting you,she’s much more gentle after that…🥺

After tending the wound and your blood finally stopped.Nezuko came and wrapped her arms around you gently while snuggle close to you as an apology for hurting you,careful to not touched your wound again this time,you returned her hug with a warm smile and reassured her that she didn’t do anything wrong and that you’re fine.Tanjiro smiled gently at the sight of you two…

Then,you three sat down close to each other,Nezuko sit on your left as she rests her head on your shoulder,sleeping.Leaving you and Tanjiro talked and relaxing at the sound of rain falling and getting to know each other more…Before you both starting to feel sleepy and slowly drifted off to your peaceful slumber…

But still Nezuko cuddled with you all night until morning came and she has to go back to the box to hide from the sun…She demanded a head pat from both you and Tanjiro before she get in though💞She also hugged you one more time before finally get back in too!Looks like she’s very fond of you~💕

When Tanjiro needs to leave for his next mission, he asks you, “(Y/n),do you want to come with me?-” “(l/n) (y/n) and Kamado Tanjiro!You two must go on your next mission together at the Tsuzumi Mansion!” Tanjiro’s crow suddenly came in and starts to squawking orders. “Looks like you don’t have to ask me now~” You teased him-and he laughed. “You’re right,let’s go on our mission then” He stepped out and start to run to his and your next destination under the bright morning sun,you smiled before you start to run after him…

As you do that…Your mind was racing….you kinda have a special thing for both Tanjiro and Nezuko….What is it?…Damn dear (y/n)….who would you choose?…

Hello!♥️How was it lovelies?Do you liked it?Feel free to comments or give me some criticisms!But pls just don’t be rude ok?💌

Now,now,hope you like it dear @yui-san0 @just-pepperbean and @joykamado (my dear Tanjiro stans😂)

Have a great day and take care pls,ily all so much!💝💓💞✨

-With love,BamBam🦢🌙

The arts are not mine!Credits to the artist!❤️

[bread-elf]

DWC 2021 - Day 3

Compromised Chain of Dominion “Well this is embarrassing…” Jiroki muses out loud, staring down at the ground that’s yards away from her, feet dangling in the air. In the depths of a hot, nasty smelling cave that belongs to an Orge. A contract gone wrong and now compromised, the mission being to retrieve a magi’s staff that they use as a foci, which somehow got into the hands of said Orge, who Jiroki can see right now preparing a big pot of water. Though she doesn’t talk to herself. She speaks to the comrade she had brought along tied up and suspended with her, who is right behind her. “So…” Orinous Lovias, Silvermoon’s Shovel Knight, speaks up behind her. “I know before this you said you were a bit ‘out of shape’ since you haven’t been working for awhile. But this wasn't what I had in mind." The pair tied together back-to-back, another rope attached to their bondings that suspended them from the ceiling of the cave.

“Shut up!” Jiroki gives a deep growl over her shoulder, borderlining bestial despite being just a Kaldorei. Though she huffs a breath and looks around, eyes constantly scanning. “Just think of a way for us to get out of here; I’m open to ideas.” “Can’t you just use your fancy moves and summon your glaive? I’ve seen you do it.” Orinous suggests. “I need my hands free for that. If I were to do that now, it would get trapped between us, or in us.” “Ooh, right…” The Sin’dorei goes quiet, also scanning the area as well, his half he can see at the least. Facing more towards the Ogre than Jiroki, he can see the brutish beast going through ‘ingredients’. Different fungi and spoiled meats get tossed into the cauldron, and even a rock. “Elfie stew, elfie stew~” A single eye to match his single head, the Ogre has a sing-song attitude as he stews his cauldron, looking forward to a meal of stringy elven meat. The ingredients are mixed in, a fire roaring beneath, and he steps away to fish for something more. Amongst the tools and decor of the cave Orinous’ eyes glance around, and while the Ogre moves aside a few hanging items on the far side of the cave something glints. “Jiro! Jiro!” He quickly whispers, shifting his body some to get her attention. “I see it! The staff!” “What?! Where?!” She in turn tries to look, but can’t see from the current angle, trying to get them to turn a bit. The staff in question is hanging on the cave wall, alongside other different weapons and tools. The Ogre reaches for a huge mallet, pulling it off its hanger. Though he pauses at the staff, grasping hold of it. Taking the staff, he reaches it behind his back and begins to scratch himself, using it like a back scratcher. Some dirt and grime get scraped onto the staff in the process, the Ogre sighing in great relief. Once satisfied with his back he pulls the staff forward again, and starts to pick something out from his teeth. “Ew! That’s disgusting!” Jiroki hisses, looking away so she doesn’t have to burn her eyes with the sights of an Ogre just living his life. “Ooh, the contractor isn’t going to like that.” Orinous states, though he can’t help it as a small chuckle forces its way out of him. The staff is returned to its spot, and the Ogre begins to move away. “Glubglub out of leeches!” The Ogre’s voice booms out, looking over at his hanging prizes. “Stay put! Be back!” And then lumbers out of the cave, heavy footfalls shaking the ground until they become more and more distant. “We have to think of something fast-” Jiroki says, taking a look around near the ground for any ideas. Orinous ends up looking up at the rope bindings up ahead, seeing what it was attached to. The cave had many stalagmites and stalactites in it, though with the Ogre’s living area the stalagmites had been crushed. Though up above the stalactites remained, nooks and crannies hidden in between their formations, and a piece of wood had been wedged in there where their rope was tied too. But the wood already looked splintered and partially crushed, as if mishandled by very large burly hands. “Hey- start swinging!” Orinous says, then starts to use his legs to heave himself forward, trying to get his momentum going. “What- ow, hey!” Feeling bits of his armor poke and prod at her as he moves, though she starts to move her legs as well, using their length to her advantage to make their swings bigger and bigger. Her ears twitch as she hears the bit of wood start to creak in protest, and she tries to make them bigger all the way up until the wood snaps. Both suddenly plummet hard to the ground, weighted down by their armor. There’s little time for them to react, Jiroki trying to land on her feet, but she’s yanked by Orinous much heavier weight due to his plate armor, and a burst of white hot pain courses through their bodies on impact. “Sunwell’s Ass!” A curse slips out of the chivalrous knight, the two groaning in pain as they slump to their sides. Though both are well trained warriors, they keep their focus and start to make their way back up, at least to a sitting

position. “I don’t think that bastard brought my bow in here-” Jiroki says, having lost it in their initial capture, though something else catches her eye. “There’s a sharp blade hanging up there, we can use it to cut the rope.” Looking to where the Ogre’s tool rack rests, holding the staff as well. “Alright, stand on three?” Orinous suggests, and starts a countdown. Once on three they both move to get up, and at first it seems like it will work. But the Ogre had tied them with their heads in line, and they had almost forgotten their height difference. They stumble and Jiroki can’t stand straight, and in their haste they begin a squatted crab walk towards the rack. An old, Orcish made heavy blade is on the rack. “It’s too high!” Orinous looks up where the blade hangs waaaaay up high, an easy reach for an Ogre, but not so much for a pair of tied up elves. Jiroki grinds her jaw, thinks for a moment, then nods. “I have an idea.” Trying to force the pair to move, making them turn so Orinous is facing the rack. “I’ll lift, and you try to get it, ok?” “Wait, you’re going to lift- woah!” Orinous is taken by surprise as the Kaldorei woman suddenly leans forward, hoisting him up onto her back and lifting him off the ground. The tall woman puts her tall, strong legs to use as she straightens them, giving Orinous a bit more height. She steps backward, getting him close to the wall, and he plants his feet along the rock. “Dear Goddess, you’re heavy!” Jiroki wheezes. “I’m in plate armor!” Orinous counters back, though his feet start sliding up to reach up higher towards the blade. “But this is- wow, I’ve never been lifted up like this before!” He can’t help but give a little chuckle. “It’s actually pretty sexy-” “HURRY UP!” “Right, on it-” His feet point up, and he can touch the blade with them. But it’s hooked onto the rack, and he can’t pry it off. Resorting to kicks, he gives it multiple ones to try and knock it off, the blade clanking against his armor leggings numerous times, until his efforts are rewarded. The blade handle plucks off the rack, though falls towards them. “Ah-!” Orinous yelps at seeing it come down, though thankfully the side of the blade just bumps into him, and it clatters to the floor. Just in time too, because Jiroki’s knees give out, and she drops. Managing to turn a bit so the heavy plated elf doesn’t land flat on her, but he too is roughed up again as they both land hard on their sides. Light thumping is heard, steadily growing in sound and also felt in the ground, the Ogre making it’s return. The pair try to get up, but Orinous quickly scoots over and drags Jiroki along, getting closer to the blade to start cutting away at their binds. When the Ogre steps in, it only takes him a few seconds to realize his captured prey were on the ground. “Hey! Glubglub said stay put!” The Ogre drops a soaked sack, inside writhing with leeches, and he moves forward in just a few, quick steps that thunder against the ground. But the elves manage to free themselves, and they quickly bound in different directions to avoid the oncoming mallet that crashes on the floor where they just were. The ground splinters and cracks from the sheer force; if either were standing there they would have been pulverized. Freed from his bondings, Orinous seizes his shovel, brandishing it like he would a weapon. “You brute!” He declares. “Prepare for justice… Shovel justice!” And by sheer willpower his shovel flares to life, the power of the Holy Light coursing through it. “STEEL THY SHOVEL!!” The Ogre roars back in challenge, and charges the Shovel Knight. Orinous takes a few steps back to lead the Ogre in, and Glubglub raises his mallet high to crush the puny elf. But as the Ogre does, Orinous raises his shovel to deflect, and there’s a blaze of light as the Holy Light deflects the blow and protects the paladin. As the two face off with one another Jiroki looks up to the staff, their bounty. The Kaldorei has thousands upon thousands of years of climbing experience, and the jagged rock is nothing to her as she quickly climbs

up the wall, finding proper footing here and feeling for something to grab there. She makes it up towards the rack, and reaches over to grab hold of the staff. At her touch, for a brief moment the head piece sparks in reaction, and it draws the attention of the Ogre. “Glubglub’s back scratchy! No touchie!” The Shovel Knight is ignored as the Ogre begins to storm over towards the she-elf with booming steps. Jiroki bounds off the wall and lands on her feet nimbly, wielding the staff in both hands. Albeit untrained, she has her own magical properties, and concentrates to unleash a blast of arcane energy at the Ogre. And yet, being untrained, the blast goes completely awry. Staff pointed forward, the projectile rockets to the side instead, blasting into the rock and into random objects, and debris showers everywhere in the cave. Even Orinous has to shield himself from the sudden shower of debris, though something clatters near his feet. Taking a look down; it’s a old wooden shield! Round and beautiful, his heart almost skips a beat, but it gives him an idea. “Glubglub ANGRY!” The Ogre roars, trying to smash Jiroki with his mallet in multiple strikes. The Kaldorei uses her agility to dodge the strikes, but can only keep up for so long before stumbling, losing her footing because of the ground constantly shaking. She gasps as she looks up, seeing the mallet about to aim right at her. Shield in hand, Orinous preps it on his shoulder and begins to spin as if ready to play shotput, and then hurls the shield with all his might at the Ogre. Upon leaving his hand the shield flares with Light, just like his shovel, and it flies straight for the Ogres’ head. A bullseye is made, and the Ogre is stunned, stumbling forward and dropping his mallet. He roars in agony, but the stun gives Jiroki enough time to sprawl away before he flops forward. Even in heavy plate armor the Shovel Knight can run pretty fast, rushing to aid Jiroki and help her to stand. Pure instinct drives him to take her hand, and he pulls her along as the pair quickly escape the cave before the Ogre can regain his senses. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Once the pair exited the cave they were in the dry realm of the Blasted Lands, and Jiroki immediately leads them North, to the Swamp of Sorrows. There the swamps is familiar territory for her, the base of operations for her mercenaries the Greyshields. And so once they were out of the Blasted Lands and far from the reaches of Glubglub, they came to a halt on one of the paths in the swamp. “That could have gone a lot worse.” Orinous pants, losing his wind from running so much in heavy armor. Jiroki doesn’t fare much better either, bracing herself against a tree as they can finally catch their breath. “Ugh, that was terrible…” Staff in hand, they at least had got what they sought to do. She ends up slumping down against the tree, and Orinous soon follows to sit beside her. “We should uh- probably stick with sparring for a bit longer, before getting you back into the swing of things.” Orinous says, trying to sound light hearted, but gets a snarl in response. “Oh shut up.” Jiroki hisses back, frowning. But her expression isn’t just her typical frown, a mix of something else as well. Filled with shame, as she reaches up to rub her eyes, her elongated ears drooping a tad. “I don’t need your pity. I’ve turned so pathetic.” Orinous watches the prideful woman wallow in her shame. He tries to reassure her though, not wanting her upset. “So this is… Where your Greyshields are?” He asks, sounding curious as he glances around. His question makes her raise a brow, but it distracts her enough. “Yes… Well, over there.” Motioning with a free hand forward. “The other side of the swamp.” “Ah. It’s a, nice place…” He glances around at the swamp, not typically an area he’s familiar with. Though on the other side of him there’s a small patch of wildflowers, tiny petals but in full bloom. He takes one, then looks at her. “Hold still.” “Huh?” She glances at him and blinks as a hand comes up to

her face, but it’s only to brush aside some hair and to place the little flower delicately on one of her ears. “What- What are you doing?” “I saw a pretty flower, and thought it belonged to a pretty woman.” He gives her a charming smile, the chivalrous knight still trying to cheer her up. Then his hand comes down, placing it on top of hers. “You’re a very remarkable person, don’t feel too bad. Once you’re back on your feet, we can go back and really give it to him, what do you say?” A flush of dark purple blossoms on her cheeks from the sweet gesture. Her lips purse together as she glances down shyly, then looks off towards something unseen as she loses herself to her thoughts. Then, back to him. “Have you ever had sex on a ship?” Jiroki asks with no hesitation. Orinous is taken aback, not something he expected to hear so randomly! But he thinks for a moment, trying to recall his former career in the adult industries. “I once did a photoshoot on one, at the shore in Eversong.” He says. “It was some sort of parody off of pirates, harems and what not, big orgy. Er- why?” “Come on.” Jiroki moves to stand up, grasping hold of the staff. “We have a ship anchored over at Marshtide. We can take a rest in my office before heading back.” “Wait-” Now it’s Orinous time to blush, quickly scrambling up, even catching a second wind now that sex was the topic. “But- the mage is waiting for us!” “We got ‘tied up’ with the job, literally. He can wait, and I feel terrible at is. Just let me do something I’m decent at and I’ll feel better.” She takes hold of his hand, and starts to guide him down the path. Orinous is surprised by the sudden turn of events of the evening, but who is he to say no to a woman with a take-charge attitude? “Yes ma’am!” @daily-writing-challenge @orinous

[rosesareviolentlyread]

Bakery Box Boy Intro

CW: BBU, modern slavery, hypothermia, vague past references to abuse, this is a pretty light one WC: 1486

This is based on a post I can’t find again about a bakery that gets a box boy! This series will mostly be focused on recovery & fluff, that nice angst that comes with the struggle to heal. Jasper is a refurbished box boy, and I might do some pieces or flashbacks of his previous owners, but otherwise this will mostly be a comf/recovery series. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! I’ve got a few pieces drafted for this already that I’ll be putting out over the next few days. Thanks to @moose-teeth and @whumpywhumper for beta reading!

847650 felt so, so cold. It was all he felt now, besides tired. The bindings on his wrists, holding them in place in the box as he tumbled and shook and turned in transport, blended in, just another piece of the block of ice that made up his body.

It hurt less though, now. The shivering as rain seeped into the box, soaking around him until he feels cocooned in dampness that freezes first against his skin and then in his skin. It had made its way through him like a serpent, moving through his limbs until its icy poison made his ribs tighten like a vice around his chest, making it hard to breathe. After that, it seemed to slither so deep in him that it was him. Icy numbness incapable of anything. It felt like peace, somehow, leaving him with nothing to do much more than wait, no thoughts besides fighting the drowsy feeling for a reason it was getting harder and harder to remember. 

The frozen world that had become safe, and comfortable, abruptly shattered as he felt himself tipped, the world up-ending himself. He would’ve cried out, if it weren’t for the way he was slammed into the side of the box, pushing out his shallow breath into coils of frosted nothing in the air, setting his skin alight again with pins and needles of agony. 

He couldn’t be aware of anything, even as the world came flooding back in through the sounds of voices and rain and road and movement. It was just a blur, bookended by a second thump as his box slammed harder, throwing him against the other side in a way that felt like it shattered every bone in his body. Still, no sound came, no movement, as he existed only to suffer in his crystallized cocoon of a body. 

For long moments, his brain scrambled, struggling even to find the focus to breathe, let alone listen to the sound of swearing and latches being undone. 

He could only find that as worthy of focus, when the damp walls were unwrapped, and warmth flooded in like mist, sending his body in further pain as molten awareness filled the comfortable cold, pushing it out of him. 

Someone was talking, someone important and 847650 struggled to focus on why. 

“Oh my god, you’re soaked”  The words were spoken with horror, sending panic coursing through 847650 as he recognized the tell-tale tone of a mistake.

This is his owner, his owner towering above him, gray hair and pinched face and shaking hands. The sight makes the breath catch in his throat. He had fucked up. He had fucked up for his new owner before he’d even left his box. 

Adjusting to the light, he can see now it’s a woman, an older one. Hair with more gray than blonde sits loose on her head, damp strands hanging limp. Wrinkles and smile lines dot her face like the memories of a life lived long, but not easily. But her expression. Her expression is stern, and immediately recognizable to 847560, down to his still cold bones. 

Upset.

Fix it, his brain screams from a place of terror, and he tries to force out apologies on dry frozen lips, but it only comes as a wheeze, a whimper squeezed into raw air. 847650 shakes now, and tells himself its from the cold. But memories slam against the walls in his mind, sending shivers down his body. He wants to wilt away, but pulling away from an owner’s touch is forbidden. He isn’t sure how much he even could in the touches that feel gentle but only because his skin is like a shield of icy rubber still. His body feels stiff, unmoving.

Which isn’t good, because the next thing she says is, “Can you get out of there for me? These old bones aren’t as strong as they used to be.” A hand is outstretched, a confusing contradiction to her words. 

It’s like moving the arms of a doll, rather than his, as 847650 twists, putting his arms on the lip and trying to balance on the prickling sensation to push himself up. But all he succeeds is falling out of the box with a pained yelp as the wood slips out from the barely controlled limbs. 

But instead of the ground, warm arms catch his shaking body. “I gotcha big- well, you really aren’t that big, are ya? Just a skinny bean pole.” He looks up and her smile is tight, and strained, the words nervous. 

847650 twists out of her grasp until he’s all the way on the floor. “‘m so’y” the words finally come on numb lips, as he sees the big wet spot on her sweater, the one that had felt so soft and is now covered in dirty rain water. “I-I ‘an do it” He tries to push himself up, but the lingering effects of the drugs, the cold, leave his head spinning, and he slips in the water spilled on the wood floor, landing back down with a thump that sends another jolt of pain. It’s more intense now, the warm air having soaked away some numbness, but only enough that everything feels like pins and needles again. Tears prick his eyes, and he squeezes them shut as he tries to breath through the pain with a whimper.

“Oh shhh, shhh, it’s ok. Oh dear- I’ve never done this before, I just- you stay right there, I’ll be back.” It’s a blessedly easy command as the footsteps retreat, but he can’t stop the screaming in his brain about how much he has messed up. How many mistakes he’s made in painfully short minutes. He tries to pull himself together, to think of what to say, but all he feels is white terror. 

It’s too soon when his owner comes back...and drops something warm on top of him. Gentle hands rub through the fabric, soaking up the damp and cold as she coos gently with sushing noises at him. 

“There, let’s get you all nice and dry. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t think you were supposed to come until next week.” 

847650 doesn’t understand. Is this a precursor to punishment? He was a week early causing problems, being bad before he even was for this owner. But she doesn’t sound mad. She sounds...nice. 

Maybe..maybe she wasn’t his owner? Maybe she was another pet? But she didn’t have a collar, and he’d never met a pet this old. It was so hard to just think right now, with his brain feeling like it’d been left in the freezer.

“A-are you ‘y ow’er?” words tumble out ill-formed, even as he tries to enunciate. To be right. 

The hands stop, adjusting the towel so he can see her more properly, and he struggles to not shake more in fear at the loss of such foreign kindness. “Oh, oh, I’m really bungling this up, aren’t I? I’m sorry, my name’s Adele Brooks, yes, I’m your owner. But, you should call me Della.” 

And then. And then, she smiles at him, a real smile, without a trace of anger or sadism, so warm he feels his limbs tingle, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“W-wha’e’er you wan’ i’ ‘a be Miss ‘ella.” It was a risk, but he didn’t want to seem rude, using a nickname for an owner. It was unfathomable. He was already rude enough forcing her to dry him off because his body wouldn’t cooperate. 

“I- oh, right. They make me name you, don’t they? I read it online, thank god, since it looks like the booklet is ruined.” He feels enough of his limbs to manage sitting up, feeling her drape the towel around him. It’s...sad. To lose the touch, some deep part of him aching for reasons he doesn’t know why at the loss. 

She pulls a face, squinting at him. For a second his heart skips before he sees her smile return. “How about...Jasper. You look like a Jasper to me. What do you think?”

Does he look like a Jasper? What does a Jasper look like? He didn’t know if he did, and he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. So, instead, he just nods, hesitantly, hoping that’s enough of an answer. 

“Well then, Jasper, why don’t we get you a bit more warmed up? Hmmm, what would you think about a warm bath? I thought they’d..well, have you come more...decent, but you look like you might fit some old things I’ve got laying around.” The hand reaches out again, an offering, and gently pulls him - Jasper - to his swaying, numb feet. He feels light-headed still, shaky, but he determines he will not mess this up. Not make anymore mistakes.

Not if he gets to keep feeling the foreign sense of warmth that had touched his chest with his owner’s smile.

[flourchildwrites]

“I want all my alchemists, current and former, to lay low for the time being while we reassess the State Alchemy program. I am here to ask what you want in return for your service and your discretion.”

Behind the reflective surface of his horn-rimmed glasses, Grumman’s eyes shift to the foot of Alphonse’s bed where Izumi’s cookbook sits open. “Your just deserts, as it were,” he adds with a smirk.

Alphonse doesn’t have to ponder what their plans are.

“All we want is to go home, sir, to Resembool,” Alphonse answers. He smiles to lighten the mood; loose skin pulls around the corners of his grin. “And I’d also like to see a few friends. Maybe try some of the foods from my list before we leave Central."

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga

Relationships & Characters: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Izumi Curtis/Sig Curtis, Gracia Hughes, Elicia Hughes, Grumman, Winry Rockbell, Pinako Rockbell

Genre: Character Study, Post-Promised Day, Recovery, Just Deserts

Trigger Warnings: Underweight Character

Rating: G

Word Count: 2,967 words (Complete)

A/N: I'm incredibly excited to share the fic I wrote for @fmacookbookzine, Tastes of Amestris! Most of the desserts mentioned in the story have recipes in the cookbook. I owe a special thanks to the zine moderator as well as my betas, Tas and @vino-and-doggos. I appreciate kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, comments, likes, and reblogs if you feel so inclined.

Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. The repair becomes part of the object’s history and enhances its beauty.

...

There is a plate in the china cabinet of Pinako’s kitchen that Alphonse likes best. It looks the same as the others with pale pink vines looping along the fluted rim. Yet, this particular piece is set apart from the rest. Once cracked in half, Alphonse’s favorite plate has a vein of gold that binds the fractured parts together.

He was there when it happened on Winry’s sixth birthday. Ms. Sarah assembled an unorthodox birthday dessert in honor of the occasion, an elegant presentation of fresh berries, whipped cream, and puffs of baked meringue. The final touch was a pinch of mint, and once combined, Winry gazed excitedly at her mother’s handiwork stacked atop the fine china. In her wonder, the child’s footing faltered.

All told, it was an everyday accident that had Pinako tutting softly under her breath as she picked up the pieces; however, precious little went to waste in the Rockbell household—a place where broken things (and sometimes people) came to be restored. With the conscience of a healer and the precision of a surgeon, Granny carefully glued the jagged edges together with golden lacquer. Raised lines stuck out along the break and dried, leaving the piece even more beautiful for the story it had to tell.

When Alphonse looks in the mirror now, his face also tells a story. Though, he thinks that it is not a tale the hospital staff wants to hear. They are thankful for the large red letters that read ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ stamped across his medical chart. They look away from the sunken eyes and gaunt cheeks that stare back at Alphonse from the mirror Sig is holding for him. Each time Alphonse sees himself, he half expects to confront a gunmetal helmet with half-moon holes glowing red and horizontal vents instead of gutting cheekbones. The reality is disorienting but not unwelcome.

Like the metallic bond holding together his favorite plate, Alphonse likes the way his golden eyes gleam with the satisfaction of seeing his and Edward’s bodies restored. All except for his brother’s leg, and perhaps Edward does not regret that loss. It was a price paid-in-full for the people the Elric brothers helped and the lesson they learned, albeit the hard way.

Alphonse’s fingers tremble as he grasps the razor. He glances up from the mirror to the burly bear of a man holding it. “Press the razor to your face and gently pull upward,” Sig kindly instructs. “Let it do the work for you.”

The young man nods and does as instructed, ready to savor the task of shaving for the first time with the most patient person as his teacher. Alphonse takes his first pull of the razor, and it glides across his upper lip with little resistance until, at the very end, his hand trembles again.

He feels a sharp sensation, and while examining his visage in the mirror, Alphonse notices a red mark above the corner of his mouth mingled with traces of shaving cream. Sig holds out a handkerchief.

“You should have seen my first attempt. You did well,” Sig says with a pleasant grin.

A warmth fills Alphonse’s hospital room, crammed with four people who function as a family, just as they did back in Dublith. Edward reclines on the bed next to his brother with his arms stretched lazily behind his trademark braid. Izumi watches the exchange between her husband and Alphonse with a small smile, barely keeping up the pretense of reading her recipe book. She keeps her vigil at Alphonse and Ed’s bedside despite her injuries.

There’s a staccato series of knocks on the door. Between the abrupt sound and the sudden appearance of an officer drenched in Amestrian blue, the spell of domesticity is broken. It is replaced by a colder reality: Ed and Alphonse Elric are being kept by the military. They remain unsure who is being protected from whom and to what end.

Their guard straightens up. A sheen of sweat collects on his brows and the collar of his woolen uniform. His voice is strained as he pulls up into a rigid salute to address Ed. The Fullmetal Alchemist cocks his brow incredulously at the formal display.

“Sorry to intrude, Major Elric,” the officer finally announces, “Mr. Alphonse Elric. You have a visitor.”

“A visitor?” Ed parrots; a sharp remark is already on the tip of his pitchy tongue. “If it’s that Colonel Bastard, again, you can tell him-”

“It’s not Colonel Mustang,” the officer interrupts. “It’s Genera- I mean Führer Grumman.”

The collective attention of the room turns as a shorter, older man emerges from behind the guard. He moves slowly and smiles through his thick, white mustache. The deep blue of his immaculate uniform contrasts the faded fabric of the lower-ranking officer ahead of him. Service ribbons in every color weigh down the left side of the gentleman’s long jacket.

“Acting Führer,” he corrects with adroit, disarming syntax. “But then, we’re all friends here. Who cares about a little thing like formalities?”

...

Alphonse scratches at his freshly shaven upper lip as the usual introductions are observed. It seems that Ed will be doing the talking, and with that in mind, Alphonse expects a brief visit. Nevertheless, Grumman paves the way for pleasantries as well as business. Not five minutes into the discussion, Alphonse realizes that the new acting Führer speaks with authority.

It would be wise, Alphonse decides, to listen carefully.

When Führer Grumman asks Izumi and Sig to step out for an afternoon cup of tea, the request is not a suggestion. The strong-willed teacher rises with the help of her husband, and the couple leaves begrudgingly. Alphonse grins sympathetically at them as they exit. It bolsters his confidence when Izumi returns his smile with an assertive nod.

Grumman does not hesitate to fill the seat their teacher vacated. Gravity bears down on Alphonse’s frail shoulders, but he sits as tall as he can.

“The way I hear it, you boys saved the day,” the Führer proclaims, flashing a set of pearly whites. “I’d say my government owes you both a debt of gratitude.”

With all the rough-edged diplomacy he can muster, Ed responds. “Yeah, well, we didn’t do it for the government, old man. And I’m done being a dog of the military. Whatever plans you’ve got in mind, count us out.”

The Führer’s reaction is nearly nonexistent. Instead, he leans against the hardback of the chair and immediately winces.

“Dreadfully uncomfortable,” he announces, shifting forward. Grumman waves a hand to draw the guard in closer. “Be a helpful lad. See that Mrs. Curtis is given more comfortable seating.”

The young officer scurries off, closing the door behind him, and the older gentleman turns his attention toward Alphonse.

“Oh, I understand perfectly. The military will ask nothing further of you if that’s what you want,” he replies. “But the situation we find ourselves in is unusual—a conspiracy in the upper echelons of the government, a nation-wide episode of unconsciousness, the condition of Alphonse’s body, and the inexplicable connection it all has to alchemy. These are the sort of concerns that fuel the rumor mill.”

The older gentleman pauses, idly twisting the ends of his mustache between his fingers as he divulges the political landscape of Amestris.

“I want all my alchemists, current and former, to lay low for the time being while we reassess the State Alchemy program. I am here to ask what you want in return for your service and your discretion.”

Behind the reflective surface of his horn-rimmed glasses, Grumman’s eyes shift to the foot of Alphonse’s bed where Izumi’s cookbook sits open.

“Your just deserts, as it were,” he adds with a smirk.

Alphonse doesn’t have to ponder what their plans are.

“All we want is to go home, sir, to Resembool,” Alphonse answers. He smiles to lighten the mood; loose skin pulls around the corners of his grin. “And I’d also like to see a few friends. Maybe try some of the foods from my list before we leave Central. When I can eat solids again, that is.”

“Your list?” the Führer asks.

“It was in a book he used to keep,” Ed explains. His tone softens, as it always does when he speaks of his brother. “It listed foods he wanted to try when he was inside... Anyway, I think we lost it.”

“I see.”

Grumman’s response is curt. With a final flourish, the old man straightens his cap and rises from the chair. It seems that he’s heard all he needs to hear.

“I’m going to keep an eye on you boys,” he concludes. “Just the one, mind you, for whatever that’s worth. It’s a fine idea for you both to return to Resembool. Recuperate and rest, and when you figure out what you’d like to do with your time, give me a call.”

The old man produces an ivory card from the pocket of his uniform; a phone number is scribbled on the front. The card itself is an innocuous thing, but the peace offering reeks of political maneuvering. Ed frowns as Führer Grumman places the card on the small table between the brothers’ beds. Alphonse is torn, equal parts intrigued and wary of the strings attached to this phone number.

“The good people here tell me that Alphonse will be ready to travel in four months,” Grumman continues. “In the meantime, I’ll see that you are allowed visitors and suitable food that Alphonse would like to become reacquainted with.”

Alphonse focuses on the task at hand. He thinks of the timeline and of the way Edward approached his recovery from the automail installation. A determined glint ignites in his golden eyes, almost glossy with the lacquer of conviction. Alphonse is weak, but his spirit remains tireless.

“I’ll do it in two,” he says.

Edward, only too happy to put the politics of Central City behind them, nods in agreement.

...

A month’s time sees Alphonse with his hair clipped short; his once sunken cheeks have regained some fullness. Edward, Sig, and Izumi have long since been discharged, but they take turns keeping Alphonse company from the spare couch of his hospital room. Just like Führer Grumman promised, it’s more comfortable than the standard chairs, but that doesn’t mean Alphonse is content to linger.

Now more than ever, he’s determined to go home, walking unassisted down Resembool’s roads. However, for the moment, it’s all Alphonse can do to steady his awkward gait by digging his toes into mats and bracing his arms against the parallel bars. He thinks something as simple as walking should come easily; his legs have other ideas. Another fall brings his physical therapy to an end for the day, and Alphonse returns to his hospital room.

He takes the bumps and bruises in stride. He makes it a point to smile at the staff even when their treatments bring him pain alongside progress. From the confines of a wheelchair, Alphonse greets his guard—a man called Doug who likes comic books and whistles to fill the silence. Doug never pries and is quick to look the other way when Ed overstays his official welcome.

“Ready for more visitors?” Doug asks.

Alphonse’s face lights up with anticipation, and he cranes his neck to peer around the doorframe. Tawny brown hair and emerald eyes fill his field of vision as the small body of a precocious child lunges toward him. She nearly jumps into his lap before her mother pulls her back while balancing a covered plate with one arm.

“Elicia! Ms. Gracia!” Alphonse greets. Recognition washes over both visitors' faces at the sound of Alphonse’s voice.

“So that’s what you look like,” Elicia observes. She giggles madly, rocking back and forth from heel to toe.

Alphonse is quick to change the subject; he also refuses to think about the way Elicia’s gregarious nature reminds him of a certain someone.

The visit is pleasant and predictable. Gracia frets about his weight and serves him a double portion of adorable pudding domes that mother and daughter whipped up for the visit. The vanilla concoctions are cleverly molded into cat-shaped faces, painted with slanting eyes and curving mouths. Soft and creamy with a hint of coffee, they are as sweet as Elicia.

Between the confection and the company, Alphone passes an hour or more catching up on life and letting the child bounce between the walls of his hospital room. When mother and daughter depart (with promises to return with quiche), the silence feels harder to swallow. Alphonse cannot help but think of Winry and Pinako, of apple pie and strong coffee mixed with the smell of automail oil.

He wants, more than anything, to go home.

...

The doctors are surprised when Alphonse meets his deadline; Ed, ever faithful, is not. Alphonse leaves Central City General with his head held high and only stops to rest when the hospital is out of sight. His senses are overwhelmed by the feeling of a starched collar against the back of his neck, the pull of a new vest across his chest, and the weight of Grumman’s card in his pocket.

Alphonse follows Ed’s lead through neat cobblestone roads that feel familiar and yet entirely different, steeped in a tactile reality that he can touch, feel, and taste. Thick exhaust from passing cars sticks to the back of his throat on their way to the train station. Yet, the stench is suddenly replaced by delicious aromas wafting from a nearby café.

His rumbling stomach is drawn to a wide store window where rounds of raspberry mousse cake sit proudly on display. Chilled pink and green tinted layers sit beneath a tempting red glaze that appears sticky, smooth, and oh-so delectable. Alphonse imagines that the confection tastes tart and tangy with notes of brandy and pistachios. He wants to charge into the cafe and order every morsel that’s for sale, but his brother has other ideas.

“Better get going,” Ed says, throwing an arm around Alphonse’s shoulders to steer him away from temptation. “We’ve got a train to catch. You’ve been waiting a long time for what Winry’s whipping up.”

Reluctantly, Alphonse tears himself away from the sight but not before committing the name of the confection and the café to memory. He leaves Central swearing that, when the time is right, he’ll be back.

...

Their return isn’t quite as Alphonse imagined. There’s no hero’s welcome; only a few nods of recognition are offered as they make their way down Resembool’s country roads. But as soon as Alphonse sees the Rockbell residence, a place that marks their journey’s end, accolades don’t matter.

Edward offers to carry him, and Alphonse refuses, bracing himself against his walking stick instead. With gratitude, he thinks of the people that have propelled the brothers along their quest—especially the travelers from Xing. He hopes that they, too, made it home.

And in the blink of an eye, their dream is realized. Den pounces upon Alphonse, recognizing him despite the amount of time that has passed. Winry isn’t far behind. She tackles the brothers to the ground and wraps her arms around them. The trio is a mess of blonde hair and tears of joy.

“Dummies, welcome home!” she exclaims, and for now, Alphonse is inclined to believe this is where he belongs. In this home and amongst these people, he intends to reconcile the pieces of himself while his appetite for the sweet things in life returns.

Winry serves him her famed apple pie on the pink porcelain plate, its halves still bound together by golden lacquer. It’s wonderful and not just because of the flaky crust that crumbles under his fork or the cinnamon sweetness of the soft apples. It’s wonderful because, for the first time in a long time, Alphonse is precisely where he wants to be.

...

Many apple pies are shared around Pinako’s dinner table. There are also birthday cakes for Alphonse (two to be exact) and pans of bread pudding served with blueberries and vanilla sauce. He eats and laughs and grows stronger by the day.

When Alphonse looks in the mirror now, he still likes what he sees, and the girls in town tend to agree. His favorite white-collar shirts hint at the toned torso hiding beneath, and his square jaw exudes newfound confidence. Yet, his ambition to make their world a better place remains the same—too loud for a quiet country backdrop.

Alphonse realizes that the path he is meant to walk extends much farther. His studies, inspired by the prospect of adventure and letters from a feisty alkahestress, resonate with the Dragon’s Pulse. Finally, Alphonse is compelled to dial the number scribbled on the back of the old ivory card and is delighted when he’s connected to the nation’s most powerful man straightaway.

“Had your fill of Resembool yet, son?” Führer Grumman asks. “Are you ready to add to that list of yours?”

“Funny you should bring up my list,” Alphonse retorts, more than willing to play Grumman’s game of allusion. “There’s this Xingese dessert that Princess Mei Chang goes on about in her letters, a red bean soup. It would be a shame if I never tried it, don’t you think?”

Grumman chuckles. “Suppose you could use some diplomatic credentials for the trip. Try not to cause an international incident until Mustang takes over.”

The golden glint in Alphonse’s eyes makes no guarantees. His well-mannered innocence is tempered by past mistakes and fused with a gunmetal resolve.

“I can’t make any promises,” he replies.

[ratsmp4]

holding myself accountable .

i would like to start off by saying that no one is required to forgive me for what i've done, both in the past and in recent weeks . depending on how long you've followed me, you may have seen this post from a few months ago . it was poorly worded and written in a moment of anger, where i was not thinking straight . i was in a very dark place when i posted it, and i was encouraged by one of my good friends, who will not be named for their safety . additionally, you may have seen this callout post made by one of my former mutuals . if not, i encourage you to read over it, as it could provide much needed context about what happened .

more about the situation will be included under the cut .

Garrett is the protagonist of the Thief games - a cynical master thief who wishes nothing more than to be left alone to steal in peace, but who unwittingly becomes embroiled in a series of epic events.

Garrett exhibits a strong sense of survival and self-interest. While on the surface Garrett is callous, cynical and sarcastic, with loyalty only to himself, he does seem to have deeper feelings for a few of his contacts: Artemus, the Keeper that recruited and trained him; Basso the Boxman, a fellow thief; Cutty, his fence. In extreme cases this seems to extend to even to past antagonists such as Viktoria, although that may be a result of Garrett's own self-interest.

Garrett also exhibits a strong sense of professional pride as a thief: he usually refuses to kill while on the job, saying that he's a thief, not a murderer,[1] though Constantine and Karras died as a result of Garret's actions only because he was able to sabotage their evil plans. Lotus was a mercy killing, as he begged for death due to the inhumane conditions that Garrett found him in. Other than that, Garrett has not killed any humans in the Thief canon. It is implied Garrett also never steals from his allies or the poor.[Fact Check]

Orphaned, Garrett spent his youth on the streets surviving as a pickpocket and message runner.

One night, he saw Artemus walking on the street as people, 'just passed him by like he wasn't there'. Thinking the man had some valuables, he decided to make a grab. However, he was caught, and Artemus, impressed with his ability to see a Keeper, offered Garrett a new life. Garrett was then recruited into a secret organization known as the Keepers, dedicated to observing and maintaining stability in the City.[2]

Not much is known about Garrett's education with The Keepers, except the fact that he was given initial training in the arts of stealth and subterfuge practiced by the Keepers. But, he found that it was much more profitable to make use of these skills as a thief than to continue working for the Keepers as an agent.[3] He was called "the most promising acolyte" in the Keeper annals, but left around the age of 20 due to his "imbalance." It was brought before the council to deal with him using the Enforcers, but Caduca informed the council that Garrett would be needed in the future.[4]

At some point in time, Garrett is now working as an independent thief in the City, making contacts with people such as Basso the Boxman, Cutty and Farkus Bernard. Garrett's first known large score comes from stealing an expensive scepter from Lord Bafford. After which, he breaks into the Hammerite prison to spring his fence, Cutty (who dies while still in prison). This leads him deep into the old Hammerite catacombs looking for treasure. Shortly after this thugs working for the local Warden, Ramirez, attempt to kill Garrett for non payment of tribute. Garrett turns the tables, escaping and going on to humiliate Ramirez by looting his mansion, even going on to rob the local thieves guild. This brazen display of skill attracts the attention of Viktoria, a somewhat mysterious independent fence. She contracts Garrett to steal a magical sword from the eccentric nobleman, Constantine.

Upon successfully returning from Constantine's bizarre mansion, Viktoria reveals that she and Constantine are old associates who were testing Garrett. Constantine offers Garrett a fortune for the job of retrieving the gemstone known as The Eye. Getting to The Eye means Garrett must venture through the abandoned and walled-off Old Quarter of the City to the old Hammerite Cathedral. A mysterious catastrophe, rumored to involve great fires and many undead, caused the area's abandonment decades ago. Garrett finds the cathedral sealed, but the Eye itself tells him of an old Keeper library hidden nearby. Writings there tell of where the talismans that open the cathedral are hidden and how the Keepers almost revealed themselves in order to assist the Hammerites and the Hand Brotherhood in containing a great evil. The first talisman was found in a place called The Lost City, the ruins of an ancient civilization buried beneath the existing city, its entrance hidden by the Keepers. To get the second talisman, Garrett enters a Hammerite temple in disguise. The third talisman was kept with a brotherhood of Mages. The fourth lay inside Keeper secured caverns. Unbeknownst to Garrett, the Talisman was recovered by the guards of the Opera House above the caves. Successful, he then returns to the cathedral and collects The Eye from amid the many undead, escaping with the help from the ghost of Brother Murus, a long dead Hammerite priest.

Garrett visits Constantine to hand over The Eye and collect his payment. Instead of paying, however, Constantine reveals himself to be the fabled Trickster (aka The Woodsie Lord), the entity worshiped by the Pagans, and Viktoria, his consort.

They bind Garrett in vines and Viktoria plucks out one of his eyes, using it to seemingly activate The Eye stone, and leave him for dead. Some time later two Keepers find and free the unconscious Garrett from the vines. The Keepers then leave Garrett to escape by himself through the caverns beneath Constantine's mansion and amongst some new and strange beasts. Once he reaches the surface Garrett decides the only thing to do is visit the Hammerites and tell them about what has happened in the hopes they would provide assistance. He heads for the temple but discovers that the Trickster's minions have gotten there first. Venturing inside he finds the remaining Hammerites in a hidden sanctuary down in an underground cavern. With stealth being the only hope against the Trickster's army, the Hammerites provide Garrett with a booby-trapped copy of The Eye. Garrett descends into the Trickster's realm, where he finds the Woodsie Lord performing a ceremony with the Eye. Garrett stealthily swaps the Eye for its trapped copy, which then explodes, thus striking down the Trickster as he attempts to finish the ritual.

The coda shows Garrett walking back to town alone through the snow. Life appears to be returning to normal. A Keeper approaches, Artemus. The two converse and The Keeper warns Garrett, telling him of a book he should read, and that he can't run away from life. Close observation reveals Garrett now has a mechanical eye. Garrett rejects the Keeper's 'help' in his life and says to tell the other Keepers that "I'm through. Tell them Garrett is done". He then walks away into the city streets. Artemus answers quietly "I will tell them this: Nothing is changed. All is as it was written. The Trickster is dead. Beware the dawn of the metal age.", foreshadowing the sequel, Thief II: The Metal Age.

Garrett's role in The Metal Age begins innocuously. Garrett provides a favor to an old acquaintance, Basso, helping him rescue his love Jenivere, so that he may retire from thievery and elope. Next Garrett breaks into the dockside warehouses to get some extra cash for rent. It soon becomes clear that the City Watch, lead by the zealous Sheriff Gorman Truart, is waging a war on crime, brutally persecuting thieves and conducting nighttime raids on the poor neighborhoods with the intent of rounding up criminals. Truart stages a sting operation in an attempt to assassinate Garrett, but he escapes by using a Flash Bomb. With the newly strengthened police force making burglary more difficult, Garrett begins to wage a personal war against Truart, attempting to blackmail him into loosening his grip on the City by exposing his corruption. In the process, Garrett acquaints himself with the Mechanist Order, a splinter faction of the weakening Hammerites led by the charismatic Karras, whose robotic security devices have begun to guard the City's wealthiest businesses and residences. In addition, he discovers that the Mechanists are manufacturing some sort of weaponized "Servant," made from a human body and emitting a substance known as Rust Gas, and that Truart has agreed to round up vagrants under false pretenses to be used for the project.

When Garrett confronts Truart, he finds that Truart has been slain by a strange creature. Trying to unravel the conspiracy, Garrett reunites with Viktoria deep in the Maw. Viktoria identifies the Mechanists as the true enemy, and the two form a tentative alliance. The combined skills of Viktoria's pagan operatives and Garrett's stealth abilities reveal that the Mechanists are gifting the Servants to the City's nobility, and that they are working on a top-secret endeavour known as the "Cetus Project." The Cetus Project turns out to be a gigantic submarine, the Cetus Amicus, and that the Mechanists are using it to access the remains of The Lost City in search of ancient artifacts. By interrogating the head of the Cetus Project, Brother Cavador, the pair discover that the Mechanists have recovered an object known as a Cultivator, and that they have already begun mass-producing them and installing them inside of the Masked Servants. While Garrett stakes out the Gervaisius Estate and steals a mask and the prototype Cultivator, Viktoria's agents observe Karras hermetically sealing Soulforge Cathedral. The pair conduct an experiment with the Cultivator, revealing that the Servants could be commanded to release Rust Gas, which would react violently with the plant matter inside of wealthy nobles' gardens, wiping out all life in the city, with Karras safe inside of Soulforge Cathedral.

Viktoria claims that there is no time to spare and proposes a plan: Garrett must gain control of the beacon controlling the Servants and command them to return to Soulforge and trick Karras into releasing the Rust Gas, while Viktoria fills Soulforge Cathedral with plants, to wipe out the Mechanists instead of the city. Garrett claims the plan is "suicide", claiming he will think of a better plan, and re-affirms that he works alone. As he leaves, a Keeper informs Garrett that Viktoria has begun an assault on the Cathedral herself. Garrett hurries to the Cathedral but is too late to save Viktoria as she is attacked by an onslaught of Mechanist forces. Her dying action is to fill Soulforge Cathedral with plants, as promised. Left with no better plan, Garrett proceeds to assemble a new guiding beacon and redirects the Cathedral's signal towers back to the Cathedral itself. The plan succeeds, and Garrett locks the servants inside the Cathedral. When the rust gas is released, Karras is killed and Soulforge Cathedral is left in ruins.

Garrett returns to the Cathedral after the reaction is complete and is met by a Keeper, who explains that the events of The Metal Age transpired exactly as written, and that the prophecies contain even more predictions. Garrett, previously skeptical of the Keepers' mysterious ways, reluctantly requests to know more.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Shaw’s Exorcism Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Note: This date was translated by @redqueenschoice! It’s on my blog because she doesn’t want to put individual translations on hers...

Shaw’s Qixi Collection: Date ♡ / Call 1 / Call 2 / Event / Special Call

Check out Victor’s date (by @lucienism) and Kiro’s date (by @skyholders​) too! A lot of effort has been put in by these three lovely humans T^T💕 Do send them lots of love!!

On the night of Qixi, I had a terrible encounter and happened to be saved by Shaw. In order to repay the favour afterwards, I promised to run errands for him for seven days. Very soon, the seven days are coming to an end…

~

The crescent moon reminiscent of a bow hangs in the sky, the canopy of the heavens are painted pitch black. The little starlight that filters through the dense canopy of the forest scatters, and a line of men make their way through the mountain’s forest in a hurry, the swords on their waists still red with fresh blood.

A drop of blood falls onto the surface of a leaf, before it is trodden underfoot all of a sudden.

MC: Ahh…

Bandit Leader: Tell me the truth!

My head was harshly hit, and I let out a weak, muffled cry through the cloth stuffed in my mouth.

The image of my family’s pitiful state right before the moments of their deaths surface in my mind again, and my throat tightens, both my heart and mind unable to move on from the tumultuous upheaval in my life.

It was only supposed to be a trip to the neighbouring village to visit some relatives. How had it come to this?

Bandit Leader: The ones we’ve gone after the last few days weren’t lacking in anything, huh? Hiding so many goods…

Bandit Underling: That’s right. Especially this young girl here, she’s still young and healthy.

Bandit Underling One: Boss, before we sell her off, how about we… ehehe.

Upon hearing his perverted words and laughter, I start thrashing about in a panic, but the ropes wound tightly around my wrists and ankles just won’t budge no matter how hard I pull. Tears stain the blindfold over my eyes and I stretch my hands towards my waist, getting ready to put up a fight with everything I have - I’d rather die than be disgraced in such a way.

At this moment, however, he is interrupted by another low voice.

Bandit Underling Two: That’s enough. You can make merry anytime you like, but in this instance, it’s better for us to hurry and get on our way. I heard these woods aren’t to be trusted at night, and there are rumours that monsters come out at night.

Bandit Underling One: Big Brother, aren’t you a little too believing of these old folk tales? Where on earth would there be demons, and even if there were, I’m not scared of them!

Note from Red: and here, ladies and gentlemen, is the beginning to every horror movie ever

A cocky laugh leaves his lips, but the second he does, the surroundings in all four directions abruptly fall silent.

All of a sudden, a long, piercing cry rips the still night in two.

The sound is delightful to the ears, yet it is striking enough to tear through the haze - upon hearing it once, it would be irreversibly carved into one’s heart.

I only feel my body sway for a moment, but in the blink of an eye, I find myself shoved down onto the ground. The second my shoulder collides with the wet, slippery dirt, I hear the bandits’ terrified shouts flying to and fro above my head.

Bandits: Mon… Monster!!!

The snarl of a predator beast, the metallic hiss of a blade being unsheathed, frantic and hurried footsteps… followed by bloodcurdling screams.

The chaos and what I experienced a few hours ago are far too similar, the same sounds echoing inside my head until they slowly fade away to nothing.

I cannot see anything in front of me, and can only smell the faint scent of blood mixed with that of the cool forest suffusing my nose.

At this moment, footsteps gradually approach me.

I hold my breath, and feel cold sweat slowly trickling down my back.

Who is it? Did one of the bandits survive?

Or is it… the monster?

The owner of those footsteps stop before me, and a strong hand pulls me up from the ground.

The person lifts up my bangs and a fingertip meets my forehead, the ice cold sensation making me shiver.

Mystery Man: Hah.

He seems to have no intention of loosening my bindings, a peculiar silence filling the space between me and the nameless man before me. With the blindfold over my eyes, my senses of hearing and touch are my only links with the external world.

His breathing is very light, but with each exhale that leaves his mouth, I sense undeniable danger in the air. I can feel his gaze, like that of a wild predator surveying its prey, as if he would sink his fangs into me in the next second.

MC: Mmn!

Terrified, I duck my head away from him, trying to avoid his touch. Instead, I hear a short laugh coming from the person in front of me.

Mystery Man: Fine. Since you don’t want me to save you, just wait here on your own, then.

With these words, the heated breaths across my cheeks vanish and the man seems to disappear into thin air, leaving no trace. My surroundings are completely silent once again.

He left?

I don’t dare to confirm it myself, waiting where he left me for a moment. Once the sound of birds and chirping of crickets returns to the area, I let out a breath of relief and begin to move once again.

Since I was under constant scrutiny of the bandits, I didn’t dare to do this earlier. Now that there’s no one in the vicinity, I can finally reach for the small knife I had secretly strapped to my waist.

This is the last thing my parents, who died earlier this year, left me to defend myself with.

I carefully feel around for the handle of the blade, wrapping my fingers around it. Because I can’t see and my movements are restricted, the tip of the blade ends up nicking my skin a few times. Gritting my teeth, I bear the pain and work on severing my bindings.

Note from Red: guys this is the mc we need but don’t deserve-

When I finally pull off the blindfold around my eyes, I see that the moon has already moved considerably towards the west.

Apart from the goods the bandits had been carrying with them earlier, I don’t see anyone else when I glance about.

MC: Did those people… really get eaten?

At the thought of the danger I experienced earlier, and might still be in, I couldn’t care less about the injuries littering my body, and force myself to my feet with the support of a tree branch, preparing to leave the forest as fast as I can.

The mountain paths are confusing and complicated, and I feel like I’ve been wandering around in circles for awhile when I finally hear the sound of running water coming from nearby.

MC: That’s great! If there’s water, that means I can clean my wounds!

I hobble towards the source of the sound slowly, but just as I’m pushing through the underbrush, a sound suddenly rings out through the air, causing me to freeze where I stand in fear.

Mystery Man: Don’t panic, everyone has a share.

It’s the voice of that man from earlier!

Before I can react, there’s the sound of flapping wings in the distance, taking my attention with it. Several strangely shaped skeletal birds flap over, and from their shrill, clamorous cries, it sounds as if they’re begging for food from someone.

I turn my head, only to see a young man casually lounging in a rowboat on the surface of a pool, next to a grove of trees. In his hand is a bunch of evening primroses. Under the light of the night sky, their petals give off a gentle glow.

The young man’s long legs are crossed, golden eyes half narrowed lazily as he looks at me. His expression is leisurely and indolent, and I see the petal of an evening primrose held casually between his teeth.

If I hadn’t encountered him in such an unusual circumstance, in the depths of a mountain forest, perhaps I would have thought he was the pampered young master of a rich merchant or businessman.

Mystery Man: Oh, that sentence wasn’t quite right. It should have been ‘every bird has a share’.

As if the skeletal birds can understand what he’s saying, they let out noisy chirps before obediently taking the petals from his hand one by one. The second the petals leave his palm, they dissolve into puffs of black smoke being swallowed up instantly by the skeletal birds.

Mystery Man: Today’s haul wasn’t too bad, there’s so much evil energy about, there’s enough for all of you to gorge yourselves on for a long time…

Mystery Man: Oi, you little idiot at the back, I caught you! Be a bit more honest, you’re not allowed to cut the queue…

Skeletal Bird: Squawk squawk?

Mystery Man: What did you say? Why didn’t I swallow up that little lady from earlier?

Mystery Man: Come on, do I really seem like a scoundrel who doesn’t take proper care of women… yeah, I am.

Trivia from Red: The word ‘scoundrel’ was translated from is the negative of a Chinese idiom 怜香惜玉, meaning a gentleman who takes care of the fairer sex. Shaw referred to himself as someone unlike a gentleman, so that’s how I translated it.

Skeletal Bird: Squawk!

Mystery Man: [clicks his tongue] I was just playing around a little. After I feed the lot of you, I’ll go back and save her, is that cool with you?

At hearing his words, I secretly make a face in his direction, muttering under my breath.

MC: I didn’t need you to save me… I got out on my own...

A skeletal bird suddenly caws in my direction. The young man’s eyes narrow instantly, the light in his eyes intensifying to something swift and fierce, before he turns his gaze right in my direction.

Mystery Man: Whoever’s there, come out.

I’ve been found out!

Note from Red: She, in fact, had been found out.

I subconsciously take a step back, but all of a sudden, the injury on my leg flares up with immense pain. My body loses balance all at once, and I find myself pitching backwards before I know what’s happening.

MC: Ah!

Note from Red: MC then proceeds to black out in typical otome heroine fashion… but let’s cut her some slack she was cool here T^T

I drift in the darkness, countless strange dreams blending together and surfacing before my eyes. One moment it’s the leering grin of the bandits, the next it’s the cawing of the skeletal birds I saw earlier. But the final thing is the long, piercing cry I heard in the forest.

When my eyes blink open, I find myself in an unfamiliar room.

It’s a perfectly normal looking bedroom, and the sheets under me are fresh and clean. Somewhere, I can hear the sounds of a vendor selling his goods and the voices of kids peddling flowers drifting in from outside the window.

Everything is so peaceful, it’s as if everything I experienced before has just been nothing but a dream.

MC: Where exactly am I…

Mystery Man: You finally decided to wake up.

A young man dressed in purple appears at the door in the blink of an eye. Startled, I sit up as fast as possible in shock.

MC: Who are you!?

At my question, he leans against the doorframe casually, and after seeing my expression, the corner of his lips turn up in a smirk.

Mystery Man: What are you being so on edge for? I’m the benefactor who saved your life, you know.

MC: What benefactor, I clearly saw you on that lake earlier…

Mystery Man: You’ve had some entertaining dreams.

Note from Red: o k a y shaw

MC: Huh?

Mystery Man: You, little lady, fainted in the wilderness in the nearby mountains. If I hadn’t just happened to be passing by and decided to do a good deed, there’s no guarantee you wouldn’t have been eaten up by a demon.

What he’s saying doesn’t match up with what I remember, but the way he speaks so smoothly with absolute confidence makes it hard for me to doubt his words, and for a moment I question my own memories.

Could the glowing primroses I saw by the lake… and the skeletal birds… all been some sort of strange dream?

Mystery Man: It seems like you’ve slept yourself silly.

The young man runs a hand through his hair before straightening up once more, and I watch as he steps towards me until he’s right next to the bed, bending down to look at me more clearly.

His golden eyes flash with sly amusement.

Mystery Man: Since you’re awake, remember this clearly: you’re on my territory.

Mystery Man: The name’s Shaw, and I’m your benefactor.

Mystery Man: As for what you should do now, you should carefully think… about just how you’re going to repay me for saving your life.

-

Carrying a bucket filled with water, I stagger into the garden, out of breath.

The only other person in the garden is currently lounging next to a flower bed, legs casually swinging back and forth, the picture of idleness.

MC: May. I. Please. Ask. If. Sir. Benefactor. Has. Any. Other. Instructions.

Since the day I woke, in return for Shaw safely bringing me out of the mountain, I agreed to run errands for him for seven days. Today is already the seventh day.

Upon seeing me puffing and panting, his brow lifts in an amused arch.

Shaw: Hmm, go water those flowers over there while you’re at it, then.

MC: Shaw, don’t take your bullying too far!

Shaw: How am I bullying you? Weren’t you the one who said that you wanted to repay me by running errands? Or perhaps you want to do it by offering your body instead?

Trivia from Red: ‘Offering your body’ is translated from the Chinese idiom 以身相许, which means 1) pledge to marry or 2) have sex with a man of her own will.

I stare at him in horrified shock for a moment, face burning red from embarrassment. Grabbing the gourd dipper, I scoop up a full ladle of water and fling it at him with all my might.

Shaw ducks out of the way at lightning speed, and the spray of water splashes onto the flowerbed he had been lounging next to earlier, catching the light of the afternoon sun and forming a rainbow. Shaw’s laughter rings out clearly.

Shaw: I asked you to water the flowers, not water people. Or is your eyesight so bad you can’t tell a human clearly from a flowerbed?

MC: ...You!

These last few days, whenever we’ve had banters like this, I’ve never won even once. Determined not to fall into the same trap again, I ignore his words and instead ask a question.

MC: The seven days are almost up. Can I leave tomorrow?

Shaw’s smile turns teasing.

Shaw: Your house is opposite this mountain, isn’t it? Are you sure you won’t faint halfway on your journey back again?

MC: I definitely won’t!

Upon seeing my determined face, Shaw grins, opening his mouth to say something again. All of a sudden, however, the smile fades from his face.

MC: What’s the matter?

Shaw: Nothing’s up, I’m just heading out for a moment.

Shaw: If you want to go home, I’m not stopping you.

Shaw: But you’re not allowed to leave tomorrow. Stay put in my house, don’t take a step out of the compound.

MC: Why not?

Shaw doesn’t reply my question, and with a few strides of his long legs, he’s vanished from the garden.

MC: Shaw, wait a moment, you haven’t explained yourself-

MC: He’s gone?

This isn’t the first time he’s simply disappeared like this. With a shake of the head, I shrug off his warning. Besides, after tomorrow, I’ll have repaid my debt to him in full, and we’ll have nothing more to do with each other.

On the morning of the next day, Shaw still hasn’t returned.

I chew on my lip, looking at the doors for the seventh time, slightly hesitant to leave without bidding him goodbye.

MC: Well, it’s not like that rascal is going to bother about it anyway…

Trivia from Red: MC quite constantly refers to Shaw as 那家伙, which is a casual way of referring to a mischievous, rascally guy, and can be interpreted as ‘that guy’, or ‘that little punk’.

Even though I say those words, I find my footsteps slowing on the way out of the front courtyard.

MC: Perhaps I should leave him a letter.

I write him a letter and leave it on his table. Just when I’m about to leave, a painting hanging on the wall catches my eye.

MC: This is…

Taking a step closer to look at it more clearly, I realise that it’s a mythical beast that I’ve never seen before.

On the beast’s lower back are five tails, and on its forehead is a single horn. Just from the painting, I can sense a strong aura of pride and arrogance.

MC: This painting… it kind of resembles that guy.

Curiously, I reach out and touch a corner of the painting. All of a sudden, however, the sound of thunder rumbles outside the window.

I look out of the window, and am surprised to see that the sky, that was sunny just moments ago, is now blanketed with thick grey clouds, looking like it’s about to start pouring anytime soon.

MC: If I don’t leave now, it’ll be bad if I’m caught in the rain.

I fasten my cloak, pick up an umbrella and leave Shaw’s house.

Even thought it’s well into the afternoon, the little town is completely covered in a thick fog, as if it has been completely blanketed by a layer of grey. The little river that runs through the town has little lotus lamps dotting the surface, all of them floating along silently.

Just as I’m about to leave the little town, my mind gradually begins to calm.

MC: This feels a little strange…

The town that Shaw resides in might not have too many people, but on a normal day, it would usually be bustling with activity, the smell of firework smoke in the air.

Yet today, there isn’t a single person on the streets.

Note from Red: gee, i wonder why, mc-

The further I go from Shaw’s house, the faster the sky seems to darken and unease wells up in my heart.

MC: Maybe I should go back and wait for him…

[thunder rumbles]

The clouds seem to descend, and the sky darkens even further. I don’t know whether it’s just my imagination, but the mist seems to suffuse and thicken in the tunnel before me, and I can see the outline of dark shapes moving about inside.

Before I can look more closely at them,  there’s a sound behind me, and I turn around. The moment I do, I can’t help but feel shock race through me.

It’s the skeletal bird I saw that night on the mountain!

The bird hops onto the side of the bridge, cocking its head at me. When it opens its beak to speak, what comes out isn’t the shrill squawk of a bird, but the familiar cool and clear voice of a man.

Bird!Shaw: Finally found you… what are you doing here?

MC: Shaw!?

MC: How are you… this bird is-

In typical Shaw fashion, the bird does not answer my question. Instead, it turns its head to look at the tunnel, and lets out a clicking sound even though it doesn’t have a tongue to do so.

Bird!Shaw: Come with me.

With that, it flies to me, taking my sleeve between its beak and tugging me in the opposite direction. Being pulled along into a run with it, all my words come out garbled.

MC: Wait a moment… What, what exactly is going on? Just now, what was that? And you, what are you?

Bird!Shaw: You have so many questions.

MC: It’s not me who has too many questions! It’s just that you’ve hidden too much from me!

Bird!Shaw: ……

Bird!Shaw: It’s the Ghost Festival today.

MC: Ghost Festival… Hungry Ghost Festival!?

Trivia from Red: The Ghost Festival, also known as the Hungry Ghost Festival, is a traditional Buddhist and Taoist festival held in certain East Asian countries. According to the Chinese calendar (a lunisolar calendar), the Ghost Festival is on the 15th night of the seventh month.

In Chinese culture, the fifteenth day of the seventh month in the lunar calendar is called Ghost Day and the seventh month in general is regarded as the Ghost Month (鬼月), in which ghosts and spirits, including those of deceased ancestors, come out from the lower realm. The deceased are believed to visit the living as the realms of Heaven and Hell and the realm of the living are open and both Taoists and Buddhists would perform rituals to transmute and absolve the sufferings of the deceased.

Bird!Shaw: That's right. This is when the nine yin converges, and evil grows easily. It is the day when the Ghost Gate opens, and evil and living souls intersect. It will be more troublesome than a typical day.

Bird!Shaw: I distinctly remember telling you to stay put in my house, who would have thought you’d actually dare to leave and make trouble for me.

As the bird says this, it turns back to eye me. Even though it has no eyes, I can clearly see the words ‘annoyance’ written in its eye sockets.

At that moment, a feeling of unhappiness washes over me, and I can’t help but open my mouth to speak.

MC: All these things… you could have just told me earlier. You made me wait for you for the entirety of yesterday… without so much as an explanation.

MC: Shaw, am I really not worthy of your trust? Am I a burden to you?

The bird stops fluttering its wings for a second before it turns its head, not saying another word.

For a moment, I wonder if Shaw is angry with what I said, but after a while, a small snort of laughter leaves the bird’s mouth, ringing in my ears.

The sound is so clean and clear, it seems like Shaw is standing right next to me.

Bird!Shaw: I don’t think of you as a burden.

Bird!Shaw: I can tell you my true identity, it’s just that at that moment, you can’t be afraid and you’re not allowed to regret it.

MC: I won’t be scared, and I wouldn’t regret it.

Bird!Shaw: Then follow me closely.

The clouds close in on us, and the first drops of rain begin to fall.

It’s going to rain.

I follow after the bird closely, and each time, I narrowly manage to escape every encounter with a dark shape. Just as we’re about to leave the small town, however, it’s as if all the spirits suddenly sense me, and they all turn and start rushing towards me!

Bird!Shaw: Don’t bother about them! Just run towards the exit of the town!

The second it finishes those words, it lets out a caw. As if rallied, a hundred of the skeletal birds suddenly fly over from behind the wall. Like arrows loosed from a bow, they descend on the mass of black spirits and attack them with their sharp beaks and wings, keeping them tightly packed together.

But there is a limit to the number of birds, and the pitch black spirits can’t be stopped.

Understanding that the birds can’t buy me all the time in the world, I grit my teeth and run as hard as I can for the exit of the town.

Even before I can take two steps, pain runs up my leg, as if I’m being yanked back by something. I fall painfully to the ground.

Withstanding the pain, I look down to see a skeletal person grabbing tight onto my ankle, refusing to let go!

No matter how hard I struggle, the person refuses to let go, and only holds on tighter and tighter. Watching the rest of the dark shapes slowly approaching, I yank out something I have tucked in my waist, and bring it down as hard as I can on the person.

Shiing!

A loud wail rings through the air, but the grip loosens enough for me to pry it off. Looking down in my hand, I clasp the dagger that had saved me seven days ago, I’ve never let it leave me even once.

But in the time it took for me to do all that, it’s too late for me to escape the town.

I grip the dagger tight.

The dark shapes draw closer, before they finally rush at me ferociously.

[thunder rumbles intensely]

Thunder rumbles throughout the sky, like the beating of a thousand drums, the galloping of a hundred thousand horses, unceasing. In that second, hundreds of white hot lightning bolts flash through the air before me, bathing the entire sky in bright white light.

Note from Red: that can’t be good for your eyes...

A large hand covers my eyes from behind.

Note from Red: who needs sunglasses when we have shaw’s big hands T^T

Shaw: You idiot, why are you just standing there for? Do you want to keep your eyes or not?

His tone is teasing and lighthearted, but it makes me feel safer than any promise or vow in the world.

MC: Shaw…

Shaw: I didn’t think you’d be able to save yourself, not bad.

Shaw: No wonder I-

The rest of his words are cut off by the rumble of thunder, the flash of lightning. I feel raindrops land pitter patter on my nose and cheeks.

In order to let me hear his words clearly, he leans down and puts his lips right next to my ear when he speaks, breath hot against the shell of my ear.

Shaw: Turn around, open up your umbrella and count to ten in your head before you open your eyes. Got it?

I nod with all my strength.

Shaw releases me and I obey his instructions, opening the umbrella and beginning to count.

MC: One, two, three…

The strikingly familiar cry I heard that night in the forest rings out from behind me, leaving yet another deep impression in my heart.

MC: Four, five, six…

The rain slows to a gentle drizzle, and the oppressive air hanging over the town seems to be slowly fading.

MC: Seven, eight, nine…

Shaw… Shaw…

MC: Ten.

I turn around.

Within the bright flashes of light, I catch sight of a silhouette of the five tailed mythical beast.

-

Evil spirits dealt with and the dark clouds gone, it seems like the town has finally gone back to normal.

Because I injured my foot, Shaw takes me to a small boat, and the two of us drift along slowly on the river. As the boat is slowly carried along beneath a bridge, Shaw, who is lazily sitting at the front, plucks a flower from the side to play with.

The lotus lamps bobbing alongside us glow softly, and what was initially supposed to be a gloomy Hungry Ghost Festival resembles more of a pleasant evening of a wedding night.

Shaw’s purple robes flutter in the wind, and under the light of the lamps hanging from the boat, the horn on his forehead seems to be softened with a soft glow.

The scenery before me reminds me of the time we first met on the lake back in that forest, the only differences being that he’s now missing a few birds, and that I am here with him.

MC: Right, why haven’t I seen any of the other town residents today?

Shaw: You think everyone is like you? I already warned them beforehand not to leave their houses, it’d make way for the souls and I can do what I need to do.

MC: Hahahaha…

Shaw: What are you laughing about?

MC: I’m laughing at you - with that image and disposition, who would have guessed that you’re actually a great immortal?

After hearing my words, Shaw lifts an eyebrow, looking slightly miffed.

Shaw: Then what did you think I was, a monster?

MC: I think that you’re Shaw, that’s all.

Shaw stares blankly at me for a moment.

MC: Shaw, on the day of Qixi, when you brought me out of the mountain, was it you who rescued me from those bandits as well?

Even though my words are phrased as a question, my tone is sure and certain. There’s a flash of surprise in Shaw’s eyes, but he doesn’t reply. He casts his eyes downwards, manner insipid.

Shaw: That isn’t a good memory to have for the Qixi Festival. Just forget it.

MC: I won’t forget it.

What he says is true. The Qixi festival is deserving of good and happy memories, and being by bandits certainly isn’t that, but still…

I look earnestly at Shaw.

MC: But on that day, you also appeared.

All around us, the lotus lamps flicker softly in the night, jade green smoke curling up faintly, the cool sounds of running water in my ears.

MC: I feel like this is the most memorable, and also the most treasured Qixi I have ever experienced.

This world’s thousands of relationships cannot be clearly defined by these dates, but on this Ghost Festival, my heart soars more than it did on the day of the Qixi Festival.

Shaw watches me silently, before he puts down the flower in his hand and leans forward, closer to me.

His hands carry with them the body temperature of one that is not human, fingertips lifting up my bangs once again.

Inch by inch, his finger trails down, as if mapping out my face.

His golden eyes are locked firmly on me, gaze intense and captivating like that of a wild beast, not letting my eyes deviate from him in the least.

This time, I don’t shy away from him.

Shaw: The last time, didn’t you ask for my true self?

Shaw: I’m Zheng, and I consume evil energy as sustenance.

Shaw: I’ve never felt like I’ve done this to help humans, and I’ve never considered myself to be an auspicious sign like the legends say.

Shaw: When I’m hungry, I eat.

Suddenly, my hand is grasped tightly in his, and he lifts it to his mouth.

He bites down slowly on my index finger, sharpened teeth scraping over delicate skin, and slight pain radiates out from where his lips are wrapped around my fingertip.

Shaw: Even if that’s what I am, you’re not going to be afraid of me?

Even though he’s clearly giving off a sense of hidden danger and his words are meant to provoke me into giving him a response, my heart skips a beat at the smile on his face.

MC: I…

Shaw: I… what? Speak louder.

With a self satisfied smirk that looks reminiscent of a cat that got the canary, he nips on my finger again.

MC: I said, I won’t be-

Before the word ‘scared’ can leave my mouth, my finger suddenly slips free of Shaw’s mouth to land on his lower lip. My fingertip softly runs against his lips, breath warm and eyes shining.

It’s clearly… a kiss.

Note from Red: yes mc you get flustered NOW when your finger was on his lips but not when he was literally biting on it priorities on point we stan

In a moment, my entire face burns bright red and I hurriedly pull back my finger.

MC: Shaw!

Shaw grins at me as he releases my hand, his gaze on me filled with an emotion I can’t quite recognise. Having fallen for his tricks yet again, my heart races and I desperately look for something to say, but didn’t expect that Shaw would beat me to it.

Shaw: Shouldn’t you be heading home?

The second he says that, I’m reminded of my original purpose: to bid my farewells to him before leaving for home.

I nod at him for a moment, before I shake my head energetically.

MC: Shaw, I…

Shaw: But today, haven’t I saved you once again?

MC: ...Eh?

Shaw: The timing’s just right. I’ve polished off all the evil energies and spirits here completely, it’s time for a change in scenery.

Shaw: The town near your home… is there anything entertaining?

He speaks so quickly that I have no time to think.

MC: Entertaining… well, not really, but there’s a lot of good food there! Recently it’s been chestnut and lotus seed season, so there should be a lot of confections sold on the streets…

MC: Wait a second, you’re not thinking of following me home, are you?

Shaw: Of course I am. How else are you going to repay this huge favour you owe me for saving you?

His words are bold and upright, but the grin on his face is that of a satisfied hunter.

Shaw: Before you fully repay the favour… don’t even think about escaping from me.

[outbythehighwind]

The Misconceptions of FF7: A Cloud, Aerith & Tifa Analysis Part 3/5

Link to all parts: https://outbythehighwind.tumblr.com/post/640347336477966336/the-misconceptions-of-ff7-a-cloud-aerith-tifa

This post will examine the kind of love that Cloud has for Tifa.

I determined last post that his love for Aerith is that of a true and powerful friendship, but can, in interpretation of the narrative (which, unlike plot, is up for player interpretation), additionally be romantic. Regardless of the interpretation, it does not change the plot – that Cloud is romantically in love with Tifa. My emphasis from the prior post is that friendship, along with Eros (romantic love), is one of the highest forms of love, and its meaning & significance has sadly been lost in the world today. So I once again urge that people forsake this notion of ‘competition’ that one girl must win ‘all’ of Cloud’s affections (which is a betrayal to his character, for not all love need be Eros), and that at the expense of ‘winning’, his relationship with the other is belittled. With that in mind, let us proceed to part 3.

Cloud’s Eros love, in the plot sense of FF7, is Tifa.

“The event of falling in love is of such a nature that we are right to reject as intolerable the idea that it should be transitory. In one high bound it has overleaped the massive wall of our selfhood; it has made appetite itself altruistic, tossed personal happiness aside as a triviality and planted the interests of another in the centre of our being.” – C.S. Lewis (on Eros)

I have already established that Tifa is Cloud’s driving force. The weakness he attributes to himself resulted from his inability to save her at age 9 when they fell off Mt. Nibel’s bridge. His desire for strength came from his desire to be able to protect her, and coupled with his “sealed up secret wish” to win her acknowledgement, 14-year-old Cloud left to join SOLDIER.

The depth of Cloud’s feelings toward Tifa (whatever they may be at this stage) is emphasized in the circumstances: that they were not close and yet at 9 years old he had such strong desire to protect her; that over the next five years – despite their minimal interaction – he fervently held that conviction; and that the conviction grew to the point where, the moment he heard of Sephiroth’s strength (a way for him to act on it), he left to join SOLDIER.

A common misperception is that Cloud only wanted general acknowledgement – from Tifa and the other kids and villagers. He did want general acknowledgement, yes. But let us consider the Lifestream revelation summarized in the 12 screenshots below.

When Tifa asks Cloud why he joined SOLDIER, a dialogue occurs between the Cloud she is speaking to and his inner voice in the white text (his true self that they are presently trying to reach). Note that Cloud’s inner voice only ever speaks to Cloud; nobody else can hear it. Here, ‘real’ Cloud (the voice) says to “Ex-SOLDIER” Cloud – ie. Cloud from his inner subconscious says to himself – with both emphasis and exclusivity – “Who? You know who! …You, that’s who.”

“Ex-SOLDIER” Cloud then repeats aloud, “You…” to Tifa.

The context is of the singular person pronoun, in elaboration of Cloud’s statement “someone would notice.”

“You” is exclusively Tifa.

When Tifa is surprised and exclaims why her, Cloud brings up a time in their childhood that she does not recall right away – which he will reveal to be the Mt Nibel bridge incident. Immediately before showing her that memory, ‘little’ Cloud appears (the other manifestation of Cloud’s true self, as I noted earlier). ‘Little’ Cloud invites Tifa into this memory when Tifa engages with “Ex-SOLDIER” Cloud again, who reveals a “A sealed up secret… wish… Tender memories no one can ever know.” This wish is his answer to Tifa’s “Me? Why!?”

Cloud still holding this desire at present is evidenced in that it is “Ex-SOLDIER” Cloud – rather than ‘little’ Cloud – who states this. ‘Little’ Cloud is able to engage with Tifa. Were it his sealed up secret wish alone – something Cloud had only once desired – then he (‘little’ Cloud), not “Ex-SOLDIER” Cloud, would have been the one to tell her.

We are then taken to the specific memory of the day Tifa’s mother died and the accident on the Mt. Nibel bridge; the moment Cloud began his obsession with gaining strength in order for that sealed up secret wish to be realized (as he saw it).

I’ve already discussed his feelings of weakness and failure with regard to protecting Tifa. So I will just point out the last screenshot below in light of the sequence before it, where he says “Then even Tifa would have to notice me…”

Tifa being singled out as the “Who” he wanted to be noticed by has already been confirmed. This statement does not alter that exclusivity. Rather, it is Cloud’s affirmation to himself that his goal will be realized through the means of ‘strength’; if he becomes ‘strong’ then he will be acknowledged by others, he will be worthy – and surely then, even Tifa would have to notice him.

Cloud promised to be Tifa’s personal “hero”. What he has already resolved to strive for becomes a binding, personal promise between them – having resulted from, to his surprise, Tifa’s suggestion. This promise is both the heart of the entire internal plot (saving Cloud) and what brings Cloud and Tifa into the external plot (saving the Planet).

“Hero” to Cloud is synonymous with “SOLDIER”. “Ex-SOLDIER” Cloud therefore feels enabled to keep the promise, and joins AVALANCHE (and the fight for the Planet) with the sole primary purpose, as it had always been, of protecting Tifa.

Even while Cloud’s ‘real’ self is trapped in his subconscious and his memory is muddled, Tifa’s uniquely distinct importance to him is enforced throughout “Ex-SOLDIER’s” journey. Alongside this is the emphasis of his reliance on her – that Cloud, striving to be strong for Tifa, sees Tifa as his source of strength.

He hopes in himself because Tifa knew him.

He trusts only Tifa in what is true pertaining to himself.

It is when Sephiroth breaks through the trust between them that Cloud’s entire identity shatters (both “Ex-SOLDIER” Cloud and ‘real’ Cloud are lost). Sephiroth plays to Tifa’s confusion surrounding Cloud’s identity and her doubt in her own memories that do not align with Cloud’s. It is when she cannot give Cloud an answer that Sephiroth is able to convince Cloud of the lie that he is not the “Cloud of Nibelheim” she grew up with – synonymous with him not being Cloud the being at all.

Sephiroth, whilst successfully manipulating Cloud, is still threatened by their bond. He keeps an illusion over Cloud where Cloud cannot hear Tifa’s voice as she screams for him to not hand over the Black Materia. Later, Cloud will hear her voice above the cries of all souls within the Lifestream.

In the Lifestream, Cloud and Tifa cry out to one another simultaneously and Cloud draws her into his subconscious. This is revealed in both versions of their night under the Highwind, and is thus an emphasized plot matter – the big difference being that in the low affection version (see the red textboxes below) Cloud is thinking out loud rather than speaking directly to Tifa.

The English translation is vague in the fourth screenshot (“I think I’ve heard about it too”) – the Japanese being 俺も、聞いたような気がするな (which literally translates to “I feel like I heard it too”). “It” is referring to Tifa’s voice outlaid the fifth screen – “At that time, it was Tifa’s voice…” (あの時、TIFAの声を). Cloud chooses to introspect rather than engage directly with Tifa.

In the high affection version, the same term is used: he says to her that it was her voice (TIFAの声が) calling him from “the sea of consciousness in the Lifestream” (ライフストリームの意識の海から). The English translates this as: “You were calling me back from the consciousness in the Lifestream”, which, in both high and low affection alternatives, refers to all souls within the Lifestream (for Tifa quotes that her and Cloud were “surrounded by all those screams of anguish” when they were separated in their fall).

The point I wish to get across is this: that in both versions, Cloud’s subconscious cries out for Tifa and simultaneously hears her crying out for him amidst every scream from those returned to the Lifestream. We see this scene play out not as Cloud, but as Tifa, and the black void emphasizes their complete separation. Yet Cloud, in comatose state, unable to communicate physically at all, manages to draw her into his very subconscious.

Now here is the thing most players miss:

Aerith – as Cloud knows for certain – is also in the Lifestream, and having maintained her full consciousness rather than merging with the Lifestream like all these other souls crying out, would be capable of reaching both Cloud and Tifa more easily than they can reach each other.

Is she aware of their situation? Undoubtedly, she would have been watching over them throughout their entire journey since her passing. Does she somehow help behind the scenes? Quite possibly, and very likely. Aerith is already implied to be the reason Cloud survived the week before he washed up on the shores of Mideel (Cid is told by one of his finders, “That boy must have one powerful guardian angel watchin’ over him”).

So I like to think Aerith had a part in Cloud and Tifa’s survival too – but we’ll leave that one to theory. Just a thought.

Whatever transpired, only Tifa could reach the ‘real’ Cloud, and I have no doubt that Aerith knew this. So Cloud reaches Tifa and Tifa reaches Cloud, with all of their being each crying out for the other.

Now, we come to the long debated ‘scene’ – did Cloud and Tifa make love under the Highwind?

I believe the answer to be, under the high affection version, yes. But that is irrelevant to this discussion of whether their love is romantic – for that experience is not a plot matter (occurring in one narrative alternative), and may operate without Eros or as part of Eros. Of course, in Cloud and Tifa’s case, it would have stemmed from their Eros (my point simply being that it is not a necessary ‘proof’ of their love).

But before considering the high affection alternative, let us turn to what we can find in the low affection scene. The scene also results in Cloud and Tifa sleeping against each other. After they board the airship the next morning, they find Barret, Cid and Red XIII and the following conversation ensues:

Tifa then runs to the window and faces the other direction in an awkward stance, while Cloud turns away also and scratches the back of his neck. “Were you listening?” If nothing romantic was said at all, as the argument goes, what then is there to make of their embarrassed reactions?

In the high affection version, this conversation with Barret, Cid and Red XIII plays out the same up until the point where Tifa responds. Instead of saying, “Were you listening?” she asks “Were you watching?” and then falls to her knees in embarrassment.

There is a reason there are two versions of this scene and it is not whether Cloud and Tifa ‘get together romantically’ at all. Rather, it is what transpires – according to the player’s agency (for their earlier decisions result in either narrative) – around Cloud and Tifa’s sealing of their romantic relationship (Cloud’s feelings having already been brought to light in the Lifestream):

        In the low affection version, they declare it with words (that their friends listen in on).

        In the high affection version, they declare it, like they have been declaring it the entire game, through actions (which their friends, to their dismay, end up watching).

Now, with Cloud’s love for Tifa having been openly revealed in the Lifestream, this night under the Highwind is centered on the revelation of her love for him, and upon that love being mutual, the sealing of their relationship. The version the player ends up with is therefore dependent on the affection points earned with Tifa throughout the game.

These points being ‘low’ simply means they do not make love as they do in the high affection alternative, despite high emotions with the impending doom of the Planet. Like Gold Saucer, the narrative can differ. Their love coming together, however, is part of the plot.

Sephiroth’s manipulations through Tifa’s doubts – the catalyst that caused Cloud’s psyche to shatter – is paralleled in the Lifestream with the restoration of his psyche. After Cloud’s “sealed up secret… wish” is brought to light, Tifa is able to fully overcome her doubts over both Cloud and herself. And it is then that they return to the Nibelheim incident, where Cloud regains his true self. It is when Sephiroth broke Tifa that Cloud broke; it is when Tifa overcomes herself (“You weren’t created five years ago. My childhood memories weren’t all made up!”), that Cloud gains the strength to both recover and accept his true self.

They share a oneness and complete mutual reliance on one another in pertinence to their very personhood.

So far runs Cloud’s love for Tifa that it is at the core of his identity. While he cannot recall who he is even within his own subconscious in the Lifestream, his inner voice (true self) recalls Tifa as the motivation at the core of his being.

There is no ‘you and me’ in pertinence to Tifa and Cloud. There is only ‘us’. And alongside this reciprocative Eros (which I will soon examine on Tifa’s part), exists a friendship that surpasses that which Cloud has with anyone else. They are wholly absorbed in each other, and they are side by side in vision. Tifa is his rock as much as he is hers, fighting beside him in every sense of the word; she is his best friend.

Let us now turn to Aerith and Tifa:

https://outbythehighwind.tumblr.com/post/640347336477966336/the-misconceptions-of-ff7-a-cloud-aerith-tifa

[anjanettexcordonia]

Chapter 4: Psycho

Book: The Royal Romance A/U

Catch Up Here Ties That Bind Masterlist

Rating: Mature (18+); NSFW; Dark; Torture; Rape; mentions of child abuse; Death

Pairings: Liam x Riley; Drake x Olivia 

Word count: 2,922 (+/-)

A/N: Please excuse any grammatical errors. 

A/N: Please Read With Caution! 

Thank you @texaskitten30 for bouncing ideas with me & beta-reading! If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have finished this chapter anytime soon! 

Thank you to @yourmajesty09 for Godfrey! ;) 

Disclaimer: Some characters & some scenes belong to Pixelberry. (This is not based on any actual events!) 

Tags: If you would like to be added or removed please let me know. 

PermaTags: @yourmajesty09 @gkittylove99 @kingliam2019

Series Tags: @cordonia-gothqueen @mom2000aggie @texaskitten30 @hopefulmoonobject

Clink. Clink. Clink. 

Celeste winced at every snap against the bars in her small confines. 

“Uh what’s going on Li? Why is she in there?” Drake choked out. Drake's eyes darted around the dimly lit room. He saw Celeste curled up a small cot in a jail cell. 

“Shut up Drake.” Olivia snapped. 

“Olivia Nevrakis, Drake Walker.. is.. is  that you?” Celeste choked out. Liam pressed his finger to his lips to silence them. 

“Hello, my dear Little Sister” Liam hissed. Riley could feel the heat radiating off his naked body as she stood next to him. 

“Hello brother, I had a feeling my abduction had something to do with you & her,” Celeste pointed in Riley’s direction with her long bony fingers,” when I was left in this filth of country.” Celeste eyed Riley. Celeste always felt a slight connection towards Riley. Not friendship but kinship. They shared demons, not the same demons different traumas but demons all the same. Celeste craved power. Power at any cost no price wasn’t worth paying. Riley craved blood, the blood of the powerful. Blood of those who had wronged her or Liam. 

Liam scoffed at her remark. “Cece, of course you know why you’re here?” 

“William, You know I had nothing to do with what happened to Leo. Or you. I had no idea anything was going on. Madeline she.. she.. forced me. And Regina & Adelaide.” 

“Ya know Cece, I don’t care what lies you tell yourself to clear your conscience. Better yet you're more like me than I like to admit. We don’t have a conscience, do we dear sister? Madeleine’s blood is on your hands.” 

“Go cover your dick and get out William, I’m done with this conversation. And take your whore of a wife with you.” Celeste mumbled as she turned to face the wall away from the group standing on the other side of the bars. Riley could barely contain her excitement the more defiant Celeste became. 

Riley walked over to a scanner mounted on the wall. She presses her thumb firmly to the scanner. The wall retracted into a much larger room. The room had a large bed in the center and large ornate thrones for the King and Queen. The thrones were positioned against the wall with a perfect view of the entire room. Surrounding the bed were.. torture devices to say the least. Riley grabbed a catch pole and large hook and joyfully walked towards Liam. 

“My King,” Riley knelt to one knee in front of her husband holding the pole and hook above her head, her arms outstretched towards him to take the pole from her hands. 

Liam leaned down taking the devices from Riley and caught her pouty lips into a passionate kiss. Riley wrapped her arms around his neck and her hands finding the hook in Liam's hand. Still locked in a heated kiss, Riley and Liam rose to their feet. Riley suddenly broke the kiss and snatched the hook free of Liam's hand. In a flash, she put the shaft of the hook through the iron bars and hooked Celeste around her neck pulling her towards them. Riley pulled the pole as hard as she could causing the cable around Celeste’s neck to tighten. With Liam standing behind her with a wicked grin appearing on his face she pulled Celeste flush against the wrought iron bars. Liam pried the pole from Riley’s fingers and brought his face as close as he could to Celeste. 

“Sit.” He commanded Olivia and Drake. Both of their faces twisted in fear and confusion. “I understand you’re both curious as to what’s going on. Right now, you will observe and your questions will be answered. Please be assured neither of you will come to any harm at my or Riley’s hand.” In typical Olivia fashion, laughed at Liam’s remark, “Me, harmed by either of you, I'm interested in what game you two are playing.” “Liam, I don’t know about this. Can I at least have my pants back?’ Drake runs his fingers through his thick dark hair nervously. Liam gave Riley the catch pole that held Madeline flush against the cold bars. He sat down on his throne, Olivia and Drake took their seats on a bench on the far side of the room. “Bring her to me, my Queen.” Riley bowed her head, she opened the door to the cage and jerked the catch pole pulling Celeste hard. Riley pulled her infront of Liam and slammed her to her knees on the floor. “What the fuck, you bitch?” Celeste yelled at Riley. “Let me out of here Liam NOW!” She bellowed. Riley drew her hand back to hit Celeste for her outburst “Riley stop.” Riley froze at Liam’s command.

 Riley knew, right now her and her husband were not equals. He needed her to do this for him and she was more than willing. He needed to heal and she would heal his wounds. She would save him from himself. She is saving him from his torture and hate. She will fill the void that they left behind. What’s love without obsession?

“Celeste, the more you fight, the worse it will be. Riley come here my Queen.” Riley dropped the pole and went to sit on Liam’s lap. Liam pulled her into a tender kiss. Liam kissed her down her chin to her neck and up to her ear, “Get the knives.” Riley walked over to a safe built into the wall. She typed in the password and scanned her palm. The safe opened and she pulled three small daggers out. Each dagger was adorned with a large jewel. 

“Olivia, Drake here.” Riley handed them each a dagger. “These daggers are of importance. Each one has a specific crown jewel encrusted in the hilt. Olivia, red obviously for the scarlet duchess and House Nevrakis. Diamond for you Drake. You’re a true diamond in the rough and a pillar in our reign.” Riley explained. “Riley, Liam I don’t know what to say.” Olivia thanked them as she looked at the dagger in her hand. A large red ruby was encrusted in the hilt along with Nevrakis Justice engraved along the blade.

Liam stood from his throne. “Let’s get on with it. I’m tired of waiting. Riley Rhys, Olivia Nevrakis, and Drake Walker, today I am judge and jury. You are executioner.” 

“Jesus Christ Liam, you are such a drama Queen. You’re not going to kill me and neither will these bastards. It’s treason.” Celeste snapped. 

Riley couldn’t control her blood lust any longer. She walked over to Celeste and sliced her across her back with her Rhys sapphire encrusted dagger. Riley froze as she watched the blood pour in small estuaries down Celeste’s back. “Fuck you really are a crazy bitch aren’t you!” Celeste screamed in pain. “Liam stop this NOW. I’m the mother of your first born child!” Liam’s lips curled at the sound of mouth forming the words mother. “YOU ARE NOT A MOTHER OF ANY CHILD OF MINE.” His voice boomed. “Regina forced me and so did father. You know that Liam!” “Shut up. You’re a liar.” “Do you think I WANTED to fuck my half brother over and over?” Liam sat down quietly. “Maybe, maybe not. But your natural response spoke otherwise. Every time I fought, you came harder. And what about Savannah?” 

Drake's eyebrow quirked at the sound of his sister's name. “Savannah? Li what?” “Tell him Cece. He knows you raped me. But does he know that you are the reason for his sister's death? And his father’s death? That had Jackson Walker executed for false allegations of rape. That you found out about Constantine,our father, abusing Savannah and impregnating her? Instead you helped Regina take her son away.” 

“Son?” Drake screamed. “My father… my sister… because of you..” Drake charged at Celeste. Liam grabbed Drake by the throat. “Stop. I’m not finished.” He calmly spoke. “Get the fuck off me Liam. This bitch… she.. she..” “There’s more,” Liam directed his attention back to Celeste who sat in complete silence. “What about Olivia, Celeste?” Olivia's face drained of all color. She knew exactly what Liam was about to say. She had never spoken a word to anyone before. “No Liam, stop. Don’t…” she whispered. Drake eyes his wife. “What’s he talking about Olivia?” 

“Liv I’m so sorry. I tried to stop it.” Celeste sobbed. “No, no, Cece tell the truth.” Riley interrupted. Celeste’s tears stopped abruptly as if she could control her tears. A smile formed across her face. “You’re right Riley. I’m lying. I knew what Constantine was doing. Why do you think I was your best friend, Livvy. He said he would fuck the traitor out of you. I guess he didn’t do a very good job.” She shrugged. “None of you are worthy of the crown. You’re weak. You allowed the torture. You weren’t strong enough to fight back. Liam, your own father destroyed you. I stole your illusion of innocence. No one may have touched you Drake but your poor sister and disgraceful Kings Guard of a father got it enough for you. And Liv, you were the most trusting. You are the most weak. You don’t rule Nevrakis with an iron fist. You all got what you deserved.” 

Liam returned to his seat on his replicated throne. “Riley. It’s time. We will let Drake and Olivia work out their aggressions. Drake, Liv… you may do as you please to her. Do not kill her and make sure when you are finished she is fully concious.” Drake felt the anger rising inside of him. He felt as if his skin would burst into flames at any moment. He had never felt hatred in his life until this moment, listening to the evil drip from Celeste’s lips. The hatred engulfed him and he understood. He understood Liam in a way he had never before. Drake darted from his place on the other side of the room. He felt himself losing control until he pounced on Celeste. “You stole my family. You murdered them.” Drake screamed as his arm drew back to hit her hard across her jaw. Celeste screamed as Drake pummeled her. “Enough.” Liam’s deep baritone voice boomed through the room. “Sit Drake.” Drake immediately turned to look for Olivia. Celeste lay balled on the floor. She was badly beaten and bloodied from the brutal beating Drake had given her. “Well deserved. That was for my father and my sister. And for my nephew and my mother.” Drake hissed at Celeste. Olivia kissed Drake deeply. Drake poured his anger and relief into the kiss, emotions he never knew he felt for the loss of his family and finally knowing the real truth. 

Celeste lay on the floor breathing heavily. She closed her eyes and laid her head back on the cold tile floor. “Princess CeCe..” a smooth yet sharp voice poured into the completely silent room. She felt her breath hitch in her throat. She felt the cold sharp lightly touch the sensitive skin of her throat. She felt the sharp scratch of the dagger glide down her chest between her breaths and stop abruptly at her pubic bone. She felt the dagger press harder until she felt the pierce of her skin and the blood coming to the surface. Celeste’s eyes opened in a flash. “Nevrakis” she hissed. “No need for words.. shhh.” Olivia pressed her finger to Celeste’s words. Olivia continued running the dagger down her thighs drawing the slightest bit of blood. 

Liam, Riley and Drake watched in awe of Olivia. Liam felt his cock twitch at the sensual torture taking place in front of him. He took Riley’s hand and placed it gently on himself. She gripped him hard and slowly pumped his shaft. “Bring her in. She’s going to watch.” Riley nodded her and released her husband from her grip. She disappeared into another room. 

Olivia continued to make the small cuts over Celeste’s body. Celeste was crying out for the pain to end. Olivia pressed deeper and deeper into each cut. Liam was getting more and more excited as more and more blood pooled on the floor beneath the vile creature before him. He watched as Olivia’s naked body hovered over Celeste, Olivia’s hands were deep red from the blood of Celeste. Liam snapped his head when he heard the muffled gasp. “Regina,  join us.” Liam grinned a sinister grin at her before he turned his head back to Olivia and Celeste. Riley pushed Regina down against the wall to sitting position. 

“Enough Olivia,” Liam barked. 

He stood from his throne and reached for his wife’s hand. Riley placed her hand in his, both of them transforming themselves into their regal Queen and King stance. Olivia slinked back to her place beside Drake. Liam looked at Riley, an unspoken conversation happened between them. Riley knew exactly what to do by her husband’s expression. She knew the depths of his tortured soul better than anyone. She knelt down beside Celeste’s head. She pulled Celestes arms above her head and held them in place. The catch pole cable still wrapped tightly around Celeste’s neck. Liam knelt down between Celeste’s legs. 

Regina cried out, “Liam please no.” Liam ignored Regina's pleas. “Did you stop when he begged you to stop Regina?” Riley spoke through gritted teeth. “Did you Celeste? When you forced his seed into you? Did you think he would never come for you?” Liam slammed his cock into Celeste as hard as he could lurching her forward. She let a scream, “No.” “How does it feel to to be the one vulnerable?” Riley whispered into Celeste’s ear as Liam continued to violate her body. “Hold her My Queen.” Liam commanded his wife. Her grip on Celeste’s wriggling body tightened holding her in place. Liam leaned into kiss his wife deeply as he continued his assault on Celeste. “Dagger.” He whispered. Liam could feel his orgasm building within his body not caring about the sandpaper feeling that enveloped his cock. Riley released her grip on Celeste and went to retrieve the Rhys dagger. Liam grabbed a firm hold around Celeste’s neck. The sweat dripping from burned her wounds. She looked at her mother, who was crying watching her daughter's assault, helpless. “This is your fault you fucking cunt.” Celeste whispered, as she gasped for breath at her mother. “Now Riley.” Liam removed his hands from Celeste’s neck, Riley immediately replaced his hands with the dagger. Riley watched her husband’s face twist and contort as he reached his climax. Riley pushed the knife deep across Celeste’s jugular vein. Blood sprayed over Liam as he released himself deep within Celeste. Her body jerked as more blood poured from neck. Liam slowly pulled himself out of Celeste, wincing in pain. They stood both covered in Celeste’s blood. Neither making eye contact with each other. 

Regina sobbed at the sight of her daughter's life leaving her body. Celeste became who she was her fault. The twisted monster before her, Liam, she knew was her fault. All of it was her fault. “Liam if this is what you need to lead our country, so be it.” Regina whispered through hushed sobs. 

“Our country? MY COUNTRY.” Liam thundered. “It is your fault. Celeste, my father EVERYTHING WAS YOUR FAULT. A child I can’t love like mine and Riley’s children.” A fresh anger coursed through his veins. A rage he needed satiate one last time for himself. He snatched the dagger from Riley’s hand and marched to stand directly in front of Regina. “Look at me.” He commanded Regina. “Liam..” “Your Majesty. You will call me your majesty. I am your King. You tried so hard to remove me from my rightful place. You destroyed my brother, you took everything from me. But I took it back. I have MY Queen. My family. And MY COUNTRY. And you will die here in a foreign country, and forgotten in your own.” Liam plunged the dagger into Regina’s heart. “Today I’m taking back MY power, not for me. But for her and my children. All of them.” Regina whispered, “I’m sorry.” Liam pulled the dagger out of her heart. He plunged it back in again. “DO.” The squish of flesh beneath the dagger was the only sound in the room between Liam’s cries. “NOT” “APOLOGIZE.” Liam had tears running down his blood spattered face. Riley ran over and placed her hand on his, “she’s gone, baby.” She wrapped her arms around him to hold him. He sobbed into Riley’s shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry Riley, I love you so much.” “Shh shh.. it’s okay, I love you too.” Riley comforted him. 

Drake and Olivia sat in a stunned silence at the scene that just played out in front of them. They could sense a flood of relief flow in the room. The room was covered in blood, two women lay deceased on the floor.. but somehow they sensed a peace. Evil had been exterminated and replaced with a light. 

A dim light, is still a light nevertheless. 

[avocadogirl216]

Anything For You

AN:  This was requested by @sweetpotato-25.  Just FYI I have never written  Yandere character before and to be honest I didn’t know what it was until you (@sweetpotato-25) requested it but I quickly learned and made do.  I am so sorry if this isn’t as good as you wanted it to be or it wasn’t as long or I got something wrong about Yandere or anything like that.  Please let me know if any of these apply to you (Again sweetpotato-25).  Also let me know of any mistakes that I have made and let me know of any improvements that I need to make to my writing.  Thanks!

Summary:  After Dean becomes a demon and leaves Sam, he meets a lovely bartender to which he would do anything for.  Even if she doesn’t approve.  (Set in beginning of Season 10)

Warnings:  Gore, Violence, Language, Character Death, Implied Smut, Kidnapping, Character Being Drugged.

Pairings:  Yandere Demon!Dean x Reader, Ethan (OC) x Reader

Word Count:  1669

!TRIGGER WARNING!  This is a story that contains kidnapping!  Please do not read if you are easily triggered!

(YNs) POV

You were working the graveyard shift alone yet again.  You worked at the local bar in Greenville, Tennessee and it was currently 12 am.  You’ve been doing that a lot lately to save up for a birthday gift for your husband Ethan.  You worked at the local gas station by day and the dingy, loud bar at night.  Ethan was a nurse at the small hospital and even though that was a good paying job, you felt awful that he was doing all the work while you sat around all day watching Netflix.  He assured you that it was okay but you insisted on getting a job.  Besides you wanted to buy the gift with your own hard earned money and not his.  

There were currently 12 people at the bar and they were whether drinking, playing pool or eating greasy food while talking among themselves.  You were drained and all you wanted to do was close up the bar and go home to your husband who was more than likely already in bed.  But sadly you had to wait for all the people to get the hell out and after you closed the bar you still had to walk a couple of blocks to buy Ethan his present.  Might as well get it early then forget and give it to him late.  A group of 9 people made their way to the door and left.  You were about to call out that everyone had to leave when the bell above the door chimed and in walked a handsome man.  He’s been coming for the past three days and all he does is flirt with you.  You’ve turned him down multiple times but he just couldn’t take a hint. 

His eyes caught yours and he made his way over the bar and perched himself onto the bar stool closest to you. 

Crap I’m never gonna go home tonight.

You took a deep breath and faced him.

“Hello again.”  You said with a fake smile and with fake enthusiasm.

“Hey.”  He said followed by a killer smile.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I was just closing up.”  You said, just now noticing that the bar was now empty other than you and the mystery man.

“Come on doll face, can’t you make an exception for me?”  He asked as he gave you puppy dog eyes with his apple green eyes.

“Sorry rules are rules.”  You said as you started to turn away from him to wipe off a table next to the bar.  The man suddenly grabbed your hand to keep you from walking away from him.  You tried to get your hand out of his steel grasp but he was too strong.  “Let go of me.”  You commanded with your toughest voice.

His grip didn’t loosen.  “I’m afraid you’ll have to insist.” He said as his sparkling green eyes turned into a midnight black.  You gasped.  You tried harder to get him to let go of you, hitting his muscular arm with all of your might.  He smirked at you as he pulled you closer to him.  You eventually hit the bar, you on one side and him on the other.  The man leaned in closer to your face, like he was coming in for a kiss.  Once he was close enough, you head butted him as hard as you could.  He grunted and let go of your hand.  You made a break for it to the door but the man quickly caught up and wrapped his strong arms around your body.  Your hands were pinned to your sides and you couldn’t move to get the large man off of you.  One arm was across your torso, holding both of your arms while the other was reaching behind the man so that he could get something.  Your breathing was rapid and tears were starting to go down your face.

“Please let me go please.”  You cried, choking on your own sobs, struggling against the man as much as you could.

“Shh.  It’ll all be okay.  I promise.”  The man soothed as he brought a syringe out of the waistband of his jeans and poked you in the neck with it.  You let out another cry, afraid of what was just injected into you.  You started to feel light headed and your vision started to blur.  Your body leaned against the mans chest as your eyes started to feel heavy.  You fought against the exhaustion but the darkness was winning the seemingly forever battle.

“Everything is going to be fine.”  He whispered in your ear right before you fell into a dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up to the sound of footsteps.  You opened your eyes and raised your head to see that you were in an abandoned warehouse.  You were bound by your wrists and ankles by rope to a chair.  You struggled as much as you could, trying to loosen the knots that held the ropes but they didn’t budge.  

“That won’t do you any good.”  The man said as he stalked towards you.  

“Who the hell are you?”  You yelled at him, not caring if your voice wavered.

“Name’s Dean sweetheart.”  He said as a wicked smile spread across his face.  

“What do you want with me?”  You asked as Dean was getting closer and closer with each second.

“Ever since I saw you in that bar I can’t get my mind off of you.  I want you, (YN).”  Dean said as he kneeled down in front of you.  “Every last bit.”  He said as he licked his plump bottom lip with his tongue while looking over your body shamelessly.

You started to feel uncomfortable as his eyes grazed over every inch of your body.  You started to shift in your seat due to discomfort.  After a minute of admiring you, Dean looked at you in your eyes.  “But before I can have you I have to get something out of the way first.”  Dean said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out your wedding ring.  You looked down at your left hand to see that it was no longer there.  “I don’t want anyone to get in the way of me being with you so I have to take matters into my own hands.”  Dean said as he stood up and walked into another room to your right.  After a minute of being in the room, Dean walks out with Ethan, who had his hands tied behind his back and a gag in his mouth.  Tears started to cloud your vision. 

“No, please don’t.  I’ll give you anything just please let him go.”  You begged as tears started to fall down your face.  You struggled more against your bindings but it did no use.  

“I’m sorry (YN).  I truly am but poor Ethan here is just gonna get in the way of us and I simply cannot let that happen.  You’ll understand one day.”  Dean said as he brought a large hunting knife out of its sleeve that was attached to the waistband of his blue jeans.  Ethan's eyes went large when he saw the knife and started to fight against Dean.  By now you were bawling, still begging the man to let your husband go, but he didn’t listen.  Dean brought the knife to Ethan's throat as his eyes turned pitch black.  You and Ethan met eyes for the last time as Dean flicked his wrist and slit his throat.  Ethan cried out in pain as loud as he could and crumbled to the floor.  You watched as the life of your husband, the man that you have known since you were 15, drained onto the concrete floor, turning the dull gray into a vibrant crimson.  Your shrill scream filled the warehouse and you was quickly cut short by your sobs.  

Dean walked over to you and kneeled down in front of you once again.  He placed the knife down by your foot and placed a almost gentle hand onto the side of your face.  You tried to move your head away from him but he moved that hand onto your chin and forced you to look at him. Deans eyes changed back into their apple green and he smiled warmly at you.

“It was the only way (YN).”  He said as he stroked his thumb over your cheek.  

“Go to hell you son of a bitch!”  You practically screamed at him.

Deans face contorted from kindness into pure rage in one second flat.  He let go of your face and slapped you hard on your tear stained cheek.  You could already feel a bruise starting to form but you barley noticed the pain over the despair and heartbreak from watching your husband die in front of you.  

“Please, please just let me go.”  You said in a somber voice as a fresh set of tears made their way down your face.

“I don’t think so.”  Dean said as he started to untie the ropes around your ankles.  “You’re coming with me.  Back to my place which I think you’re gonna like.”  He said as he leaned in until his mouth was next to your ear.  “And I’ll make you enjoy every last second of my idea of fun.”  He said in a seductive tone as he continued to untie the ropes, his breath tickling your neck.  Eventually you were dragged to your feet by your upper arms.  “So what do you say?”  Dean asked as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear as he looked at you expectantly.

You sighed.  You knew that you didn’t have any other choice.  He wasn’t gonna kill you but if you didn’t oblige then you wouldn’t like the results.  You decided to make it easier on yourself rather than suffer anymore than you have to.  You took a deep breath and nodded your head slowly, watching the dark smile return to Deans face.

“This is gonna be fun.”

(So sorry if this was too short)

[writerbuddha]

The Death of Padmé Amidala: “She lost the will to live.” Did she?

Fans trying to dissolve the conflict between the facts provided by Revenge of the Sith and there are three popular explanations about Padmé Amidala’s death. The first one states the contradictions and confusion arose because George Lucas couldn’t write a proper story, and Padmé was weak and gave up on her life. However, fans like myself cannot – and shouldn’t – accept this as an explanation given the fact Lucas created three globally celebrated movies known as the Original Trilogy, and there are several elements of the movie what prove the “Padmé gave up” theory wrong. The second says Padmé was murdered by Palpatine, who used his Force-powers to drain life out of her and save Anakin from dying. The third one seeks medical explanation, mainly focusing on cardiology. The theory about Palpatine’s involvement is not supported by any material labeled as Canon, and the medical explanation involves too much speculation. I propose a different explanation for the cause of Padmé Amidala’s death!

What we know?  

We have three major lines in Revenge of the Sith serving as the bases for the first two theories, the Padmé Gave Up and the Palpatine Killed Her. Padmé said “you are breaking my heart”, and the medical droid said, “she lost the will to live.” However, Padmé is not the state of emotional numbness and has no wish to die. She said herself “There is good in him [Anakin]. I know, I know there is still.” She also expresses you as she glances at her children, and she clearly has hope. On Mustafar, when she realized Anakin truly become a monster, she did not fall apart, she tried to bring him back from the darkness. She said, “You are a good person, don't do this” and “Stop! Stop now, come back! I love you!”. She didn’t give up. The medical droid said, “she lost the will to live”, but if we watch the scene again, the droid’s words are: “Medically, she is completely healthy. For reasons we cannot explain, we are losing her (…) we don’t know why. She lost the will to live.” This is not a diagnosis, nor an explanation, the droid is guessing. Medically, Padmé is completely healthy, yet she is dying, and the droids can’t explain what’s happening, they don’t know why. The droid repeatedly says they don’t have any idea what’s happening, they are very clear about that. The droid said she lost the will to live, but if they understand the concepts of human emotions and psychology, then the answer why “medically she is completely” healthy and why there is no diagnosis, if there is an explanation? And Padmé herself proves this claim wrong by expressing faith in Anakin. The droid only recognized something essential, what roots in basic drive for survival is no longer present in Padmé.

And finally, Palpatine says, Padmé was killed by Darth Vader: “In your anger you killed her”. But Vader proves this wrong: Padmé was alive, he couldn’t kill her on Mustafar.

As you see above, we have a web of information and claims what are contradicting each other. But these are all in the script, so they must have some meaning! For some, the answer is simple: George Lucas can’t tell a story. After he made three globally beloved movie? I hardly think so. So, here my analysis on Padmé’s death.

„We don’t know why. She lost the will to love.”

The will to live is the sense for self-preservation, a psychological force generated by the basic will to be alive, something what manifests itself clearly when one fights for survival, and something fundamental in all living beings. The medical droid stated this force is no longer present in her. This was the explanation for her physical state, yet it was clear it wasn’t supported by her psychological state. The force what is generated by the fundamental willingness to be alive was no longer efficient, it was missing. But how could this happen if she had hope, joy and she believed Anakin is not beyond saving, even when Obi-Wan thought he lost forever? For the answer, we need to take a deeper look on the Force and on Darth Vader himself.

Who is Darth Vader?

Many believes Darth Vader is more like a persona rather than being identical to Anakin Skywalker, since Anakin Skywalker ceased to exist. However, this is something one should not take literally. Darth Vader is what left from Anakin Skywalker: the anger, the pain and the hatred. As there is no darkness, only the absence of light, Darth Vader was nothing but a charred, empty vessel of anger. There is a saying - anger is like holding ember and excepting others would burn. This is exactly what happened to Anakin Skywalker. When Anakin burned on Mustafar, his torment represented his soul what was swallowed by this anger. This anger was the hell what consumed and incinerated Anakin Skywalker, forging Darth Vader. In Return of the Jedi, Luke was able to wake him up again, and light washed away Darth Vader. Anakin Skywalker has returned.

The Force and Love

The Force is the binding unity in the Galaxy, the energy what generates life itself through Midi-chlorians, interconnecting and penetrating every single life form in it. In a way, as it was explained in the Clone Wars Series and in Phantom Menace, life itself is the Living Force, since “all is one and one is all”. Love is naturally the aspect of this connection: Luke and Leia were able to communicate through the Force due their love, Luke knew Vader is his father because he knew it in his heart, just like Leia knew Luke is her brother. Yoda also experienced pain during the execution of Order 66, feeling light fading in the Force, just like Obi-Wan felt pain when the Death Star destroyed Alderaan. This has nothing to do with wielding the Force, this is the Force itself. And Anakin and Padmé shared a strong and deep connection in it and by it.

This was clearly visible when they were feeling each other and reaching out for each other in the scene "Padmé's Ruminations". It wasn’t a calling from Anakin, or a calling from Padmé: it was mutual, and it happened at the same time. They were one heart and one soul, like lovers are, they are one in the Force, so Padmé felt Anakin’s pain and struggle. This connection was also there when Anakin become Darth Vader. This connection killed Padmé.

“In your anger you killed her”

When Padmé arrives to Mustafar, she is shocked by the realization: Anakin does really change, and Obi-Wan was right. She says her heart is breaking, but she doesn't give up: she is trying to turn Anakin back, confirming she still loves Anakin, and believing he is a good person. She tries to convince him even when Anakin chokes her in his anger.

While Padmé recovers from Anakin’s force-choke, her state worsens seemingly beyond reason: she is weak, and she is already dying when Obi-Wan carries her in his arms to the medical facility on Polis Massa. She asks if Anakin is all right, worrying for her love. The parallels between Padmé dying and Anakin fades away into the darkness of Darth Vader heavily indicates there is a connection between them. The more Anakin becomes Vader, the more Padmé’s life vapors.

It’s not Padmé who lost the will to live. It’s Anakin. But since their love manifests itself by feeling each other’s pain - they are one heart and one soul, like lovers are – this effects Padmé, too. She still has the will to love, but the severe torment of Anakin’s perishing wounds her mortally. Anakin’s soul, his very self is burned into ashes by the flames of hatred and anger, and this anguish, the death of Anakin takes Padmé’s life too, because they are united by love. Anakin is in flames, and he is burning into ashes on the stake built by his anger: and Padmé still embraces him, burning her to death. Just like Palpatine (who could only use the Force to get information about her state) said: “In your anger you killed her.” 

Padmé would have survive the physical death of Anakin Skywalker, but Anakin’s fate was worse than death: his very soul was tortured into ash by his anger and hatred, incinerating his original self, and what remained was ash, filled with hatred and anger, darkness, and it was named Darth Vader. His demise affected Padmé, too.

As Anakin more and more becomes Darth Vader, the more of his self is lost, the more Padmé's state worsens. When Darth Vader takes his first breath, Padmé takes her last one. Anakin has gone, he died, and Darth Vader has born. Padmé says: "there is still good in him. I know there is still". And then she dies - she falls in the moment as Darth Vader rises. She is buried on Naboo, with her hands closed on the pedant what Anakin gave to her as a love-token: indicating she died alongside with Anakin Skywalker, and the boy she knew on Tatooine and the young man she fallen love with is buried with her. They are both dead - and this is also a painful reminder to what Anakin said when they debated their relationship: "it would destroy us."

This is supported by the imagery of the scenes. Anakin arrives on floating cot, which is resembling to a casket, since this is his cemetery, not the place where he will be saved, foreshadowing the scene in which Padmé is seen in a floating casket.

In the Prequel Trilogy the love story offers a philosophical take on the miraculous and tragic power of love, and representing how feeding our own darkness and being absorbed by it how much can hurt those we love the most.

As far as I know, this explanation is actually consistent with the philosophy of Star Wars, supported by Canon material and the script, imagery and the character arcs. Of curse, like every analysis is heavily depending in our personal understanding on the movies - only George Lucas knows if I am right or I am wrong.