#someone make some sort of sacrifice to save my soul please

[heartofspells]

Sunday Snippet

Thank you for the tag, my darling @tracingpatternswrites!

From the Prongsfoot Epic (not an epic).

"Lily wants to have dinner!"

"Shit," swears Sirius as his foot slides across the tiles of his bathroom. He glares at James who's just barged through his door, Sirius with one leg outside his bath and one still in. "What the fuck, Potter?"

"Don't worry about your modesty. It's nothing I've not seen before."

Hazel eyes slide over Sirius' bare and dripping form, Sirius gritting his teeth together to keep from snarling at his friend. He finishes pulling himself out of his recently completed shower, reaching for the waiting towel, slinging it loosely around his hips as James continues as though nothing's happened.

"Friday night, she wants to have dinner," informs James, watching Sirius' hands move as he tucks the towel into place. "All of us. You and Moony included."

"And you couldn't have told me this later? Through a bloody owl? Or just – I don't know – fucking waited half an hour instead of breaking into my flat and nearly killing me in my shower?" snaps Sirius. "How the fuck did you get in here?"

"Nearly killed you," scoffs James, rolling his eyes behind his glasses as he leans against the wall, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. "How? By giving you a heart attack because I saw your prick? When did you turn into such a prudish old gnome? And I've known all your special locking charms for years. Easily bypassed with that much history."

"I hate you," mutters Sirius sourly, carefully wiping his wet feet over the mat before moving across the room. He drags his hand over the fogged mirror, clearing a stripe so he can see himself.

"You don't. I'm the love of your life," says James with so much assurance and so much ease that Sirius barely stops himself from biting through his tongue.

"Doesn't mean I can't still hate you," mumbles Sirius. James sticks his tongue out at him in the reflection of the mirror and Sirius kicks his leg backwards, landing a solid blow to his friend's shin. James curses loudly as Sirius runs his fingers through his wet hair, ridding it of knots.

"Will you stop primping, you great bit blouse?" grouses James, bending to rub at his abused leg. "You're gorgeous, move on. C'mon, I'm bored. Let's go do something. Hang on." James pauses suddenly, eyes dragging down Sirius' back as though he's only now really seeing him and what he's doing. "What are you showering for? You always do that in the morning. You're like…neurotic about it, always have been. Has someone been here?"

Sirius doesn't react, though there's a brief uptick in his breathing. Benjy had, in fact, only just left, the second time Sirius has seen him in as many days, trying his best to not only make up for all the drops he's given the other recently but also hoping to delay that conversation Benjy had been building to the night before a little longer. But James doesn't need to know that.

"No," he lets slip easily, expression not changing as he grabs his wand to quickly dry his dripping hair. "Why? Jealous, Prongs?"

"Wouldn't you like that?" tosses back James with a pinch to his thick eyebrows.

That's a topic Sirius doesn't wish to go down and pointedly sidesteps with grace.

"It's late. What the hell are you expecting we're going to do?"

James scoffs again. "Listen at you," he says scornfully. "When did you become an old man? It's only half ten."

"And some of us work for a living, which entails early mornings. We don't all have the luxury of lounging about all day doing fuck all."

"Whose fault is that?"

Sirius groans, bowing his head.

"Fine," he relents, turning to face his friend, who beams at him, hazel eyes lighting up like a forest fire set ablaze. "One drink at the pub. Fucking one, James, and then I'm coming back here and going to bed, at which point you will go home."

Slinging an arm around Sirius' shoulders, James having to stretch a bit to reach, he slaps his hand over bare skin, the smacking sound nearly obscene in the echo of the bathroom around them.

"We'll see about that," he says with a large amount of disbelief. "Put on your good trousers."

No pressure tagging: @beautitudes @pinklume @in-flvx

[bethanydelleman]

Taking a break from my usual programming to talk about Megara from Disney's Hercules being an awesome, flawed, complex, female character who has a very compelling arc.

The backstory, given by Hades, is that Meg sold her soul to him so her lover could live, but he left her for someone else. This makes her one of the very few Disney women who actually has romantic relationship baggage and experience. She is also older than Hercules (I think unique in Disney) though I think she's still mortal and within a normal lifespan. But the point is, she thought had the "Disney princess" perfect sacrificial romance, but then was betrayed.

She does fall in love and begins to believe that Hercules is a really good person, which inspires her to be better as well. Then Hercules finds out that Meg has been working for Hades the whole time and is heartbroken and betrayed. Meg sacrifices herself to save him, JUST LIKE BEFORE, but this time, she did pick a better guy and her sacrifice was honoured. Hercules probably has a far better reason to abandon Meg than previous boyfriend, but he doesn't: he goes to the underworld, retrieves her soul, and then, in another huge personal sacrifice, opts to stay with her instead of joining the gods on Mount Olympus.

She is shown as cynical, amoral, and sarcastic; not seeming to mind that she's helping Hades attempt to overthrow the other gods. Even though she likes Hercules, she agrees to attempt to find his weakness when Hades offers her personal freedom (that seems to be lifted from the story of Delilah and Samson, by the way). While she is a slave to Hades, that doesn't fully excuse her actions because we learn that she can refuse to serve him. Her motivation seems to primarily come from her not really thinking humanity is worth saving after her betrayal.

I loved this movie so much as a kid and I think I imprinted on Meg like some sort of baby duck. I love her song, I Won’t Say (I’m in Love) and how she struggles to get over her cynical views of relationships and men. But now, I'm amazed that she exists at all. She's a femme fatal who tried to take down the hero of the story and she both survives and gets a happy ending! She commited the Ultimate Narrative Woman Sin: she used her sexuality against a hero! She does make a huge sacrifice, dying to save both Hercules and the world, but in most stories she would have saved him and died (permanently). Instead, she's completely forgiven and Hercules risks his life to bring her back.

I love her. I love her story. She's the best. Can we have more of her please?

[shiroi---kumo]

Would you ever destroy the world if it means freeing it from Chaos?

Ask my Muse 'would you ever' questions || Accepting

The swordsman grimaces as the words are spoken and he looks to the stranger with a deep frown stitched into his lips. A heavy sadness takes his form, filling his gaze to its brim as he sighs.

"Firstly traveler, I am going to need you to play that sentence over in your head again because it is both disturbing and makes me deeply uncomfortable.

Secondly, please don't dress up such an act to sound more noble than it actually is. It's genocide and I won't allow it to be spoken of as anything less than what it is. It's slaughtering the people of Wonderland for a selfish cause without looking for alternatives or understanding what Chaos actually is and anyone who thinks in such a way is both deranged and twisted. Any act that involves killing innocents is never the answer, much less children, and if you need to phrase in such a way that makes it sound like the person performing the act is in some way a hero or a savior of sorts is also deeply concerning. A murderer is still a murderer no matter what clothes they wear.

Also, even if the people of Wonderland are in an unfortunate situation, myself included - there would be nothing noble about slaughtering them for a cause that most of them aren't even privy to. It's playing God with the lives of the people and deciding what is best for them and forcing them to make a choice that the end result would then be their demise. There is no such thing as "wiping out a civilization for the better good" and anyone who thinks that way needs to set back for a minute and question their morality. Anyone who thinks that way has something fundamentally wrong with them and I'm not willing to stand here and argue about that.

Again, this all makes me deeply uncomfortable. Even more so as someone who was present for the death of both Misterica and Windaria. I've watched two entire worlds die and you ask me something like this? Even the Windarians showed more grace than this when we were locked in war with each other and it seemed the only thing they were capable of doing was trying to kill us.

Thirdly, to imply destroying the world would be somehow saving the world is flawed thinking because it doesn't even come close to the beginnings of understanding what Wonderland even is. While it has become an amalgamation of a multitude of worlds forcibly put together at its core it resides it's original lands and where Chaos originated from.

Chaos is a godly being just as I am, just as Black Wind is and to believe 'destroying the world would destroy Chaos' is nativity at its finest. Chaos is a being of it's own life force. It is neither Soil nor Mist and I have felt this when I have fused my soul to its core in our many battles. I have been one with that beast and I can tell you it is a spirit like none other. It is a being of darkness but not in the way my Other is but instead a feeling of corrupt infection.

Chaos is feeding off the negativity of the living beings of the universe and if you think "destroying the world would free it from Chaos" means you don't understand the problem at all and are looking for a fast solution, which is most likely born of your simplistic nature of looking for a fast solution instead of actually doing the work. Destroying Wonderland would only cause more problems.

Wonderland and Chaos are intertwined at their cores. Wonderland and Chaos exist because the other exists. Chaos can however be pacified because destroying Wonderland would be destroying the fabric of the universe and if you break out a single part of a window then the rest is sure shatter out right along with it. The unwilling sacrifice of Wonderland's inhabitants is not worth destroying the universe all for a rash solution.

I'm not that stupid and neither is Black Wind. Even if I don't always completely agree with the man, neither of us are willing to run a fraction of a chance that the universe would somehow not crumble into nothing at the aspect of losing one of its pillars. Black Wind might be a ruthless man at times but he isn't cruel. He isn't without mercy and he certainly isn't without a brain. Senseless violence is all this would be and neither of us operate on those terms.

I have survived the genocide of my own people and then again of the Windarians and you would ask me if I would do such an act onto another? Of course I wouldn't. Genocide is never the answer and now I seriously need you to stop and rethink that sentence, stranger because you have me worried."

[feedingtheflockministry]

The Root Sin of Transgender Identity

Transgender identity is a hard thing to suffer with in life. It is even harder when the culture around us is becoming more accepting of transgender identity issues by confirming the individual with this issue. That might seem odd to some of you that I would say by confirming someone is making their struggle worse, but please hear me out.

Many individuals that suffer from this issue have done so since they were very young. I am not talking about girls playing with trucks or boys playing with dolls. What I am talking about here is the environment their parents, loved ones, or guardians created for them.

Many transgender people suffer from a lack of acceptance as the person they were born to be. For example, a father and son might not bond well when the son is very young, and may not even when he is older. The father of that son might show his affections to his daughters, his wife, to other women, or might be into pornography and his son finds out. The young boy starved for his father’s affection will internalize this during his development years and begin to desire to be female in order to gain his father’s acceptance and affection. Many time’s completely unaware of this himself the son grows up with these unfulfilled desires, and questions his self identity because of these thoughts and desires and starts to act them out.

There are other cases where sexual abuse took place at a young age that caused these desires to come about as well in both boys and girls alike. We have seen homosexuality for thousands of years due to these reasons. Now we are seeing transgender identity taking center stage due to the desire to normalize it. Many of these individuals are hurt emotionally and mentally scared, and need the right help from the right people.

But in order to help someone overcome these things we must address it as sin. What sin, you might be asking yourself. The sin of coveting what someone else has.

Covetousness is something that is hardwired in our nature. It drives people to corruption, theft, and many other things, but in the case of sexual identity we find ourselves looking for something or someone to fill a need in our lives that was left empty or damaged by another. Covetousness in sexuality is not exclusive to anyone, but is an equal opportunity sin. It embraces both homosexuals and heterosexuals alike. This type of covetousness we normally label as lust, but lust is just a by product of covetousness.

Covetousness is the mother of all sin, and gives birth to all sorts of sins in our lives. For satan’s original sin was coveting what his Creator possessed which was worship, power, and authority over all things. Satan caused Eve to covet being like God in the knowledge of good and evil. Cain murdered his brother Abel because he coveted the acceptance God gave Abel and his sacrifices. For desiring knowledge and wisdom, as well as acceptance, has guidelines that God put into place in His creation. When we deviate from His guidelines we find ourselves hurting others as well as ourselves.

The only true way to escape the mother of all sin is to daily surrender yourself to Jesus Christ. As He said, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what shall a man give in return for his soul? For the Son of Man is going to come with his angels in the glory of his Father, and then he will repay each person according to what he has done.” To deny yourself, your desires and wants, the acceptance of others, your life plans and your goals, and follow Him is His command. To learn from Him, and to gain His acceptance, not the worlds. To do what is right in His sight, not the worlds sight.

Leave the breast of mother covetousness, and embrace The One Who formed you in your mother’s womb, and has been knocking on the door of your heart. Let Him in and let Him heal you and cleanse you from all unrighteous. Let Him take your ashes and turn them into beauty. Embrace Jesus, for He is The Only Way, The Only Truth, and The Only Life there is. For all other paths and truths lead to destruction. Seek the help only He can give you.

[ggukkiereads]

Hi 💓

It is the month of Ramadan and I want to avoid reading any smutty/steamy fics for the month. Which is why I was wondering if you have any Jungkook or Taehyung non smut fic recs? It can be fluff or anything just no explicit sex scenes. Thank you for your recommendations you are literally my favorite page on this platform 💜✨

🌷 Hello @dhabatae101. First, I wish you and other followers a happy, safe, and blessed Ramadan. Ramadan Mubarak! ✨

I decided to answer this right away so I tried compiling my reblogs (plus those fics I haven’t reviewed yet) and authors that “specialize” in fluff/angst. However, the list went on and on 🤭. So, I will split this post into two:

Part 1: authors that have more SFW content in their catalog (you are here)

Part 2: non-smut fics (my reblogs + other recs) - Taehyung | Jungkook

(Fluff/Angst) Smut-less Fics | Taehyung & Jungkook

🌷 Part 1 (Recommended Authors)

@jimlingss - Kina’s masterlist is just a dream. No two stories are the same and every fic is just memorable. A truly prolific and consistent writer. Usually witty, fluffy, and charming but the angsty fics are also deadly. I posted my fave JJK and KTH fics -  the Worshipers Series can be read independently but better if read sequentially to better understand the “universe”. The Slice of Life Series  is also a must, but you can read the KTH and JJK fics on their own but I seriously love ALL 💖.

Worshipers of the Sky - KTH | series [3/3] | 35k | God AU, Goddess!OC, Sacrifice!Taehyung, Worshipers Series | F, some A

Worshipers of the Sea - JJK | one shot | 16.3k | Pirate AU, Mermaid AU, God AU,  Worshipers Series  | F, A

President’s Son - KTH | series [20/20] | 80k | Bodyguard AU (reader), Slice of Life Sereis, Slow Burn | F

Sugar and Coffee - JJK | series [23/23] 101k | Patisserie School AU, Best Friend AU, Enemies to Lovers (slight), Slice of Life Series | F

Love So Shallow - KTH | series [3/3] | 34.8k | College AU, eventual Roommate AU, Best Friend AU, Humor | F, slight A  ⭐ #holygrailfic

Black Waltz -  KTH | two shot | Butler AU, Historical AU | F, A (ah I love Taehyung’s characterization here)

Moirai - KTH | series [8/8] | 46.9k | isekai au, fantasy au, reborn as a villain in a video game | F, A

Rent a Boyfriend - KTH | I noticed this is a crowd favorite, it might end up yours too =)

A Fairy Crime - KTH | one shot | Fairy godmother OC to grant someone a happy ever after  | F, A, crack

Date in a Box - JJK | one shot | 9.7k | Date Planner (like wedding planner but make it a service for dating) | F, F, F

His Name - JJK | series [8/8] | 52.4k | Multiple Personality AU, based on Kill Me, Heal Me (this is one of my favorite Korean drama series so I really enjoyed this fic series too) | A

A Piece of Moonlight - JJK | one shot | 22k | Warrior AU, Mulan AU | really angsty though

*didn’t include Chess of Ice (since this is in the Jungkook Jock AU list)

@inktae - If you’ve been following me I always rave about this author. Mostly her work is of fantasy genre but has a slice of life tone. Her fics are just masterpieces - just beautifully written and viscerally gripping. They remind me of Ghibli films for some reason (like the tone). You can check their fics here (just avoid those with M, usually with sexual content but honestly it’s not explicit). I love everything but if you want to start somewhere, you can try:

Blue Orchids, Moonlight, Home After Rain -  JJK Soulmate AU, Hanahaki AU, Angst  ⭐ #holygrailfic

First Light - KTH x R x JJK | raved about it here (angst)

Away From the Sun - KTH | soulmate AU

The train of lost souls - JJK, feat JHS | fantasy AU | A

The swirling Ways of Stars - JJK, fantasy | A, F

@gukyi - for your enemies to lovers needs. This is one of my favorite tropes so I just love that there is a writer that ‘specializes” in this. Please check their masterlist and take note of fics with (smut). Try:

Four Weeks - KTH, College AU, stuck in campus for four weeks during Christmas

Good Luck Charm - KTH, roommates, actor AU

Moonlight Melody + Part 2 - JJK, fake dating, orchestra AU | F, A

Coffee Shop Contract - JJK, fake dating, college AU | F

If I Told You - JJK, college, unrequited love/pining | F, A

Midas - JJK, magical realism | F, A

Love Project - JJK, comedy, photography assignment | F

@koorara - ugh I just adore their writing. Tooth-rotting fluff seems effortless with her drabbles/short stories. You can check their fics here. My faves:

Driving Me Wild - JJK, demon au, roommate au, ongoing drabble series but you can read it (not cliffhanger-ish), soulmate au | my review (tooth-rotting fluff)

His Dandelion - KTH, someone sent an ask about this you can read the description | A

Down and Down - JJK | MMA fighter, slight making out | A, F

The Pitter Patter of the Heart - skip the drabble with mature content, husband au, lecturer jungkook, this is super cuuuute | tooth-rotting fluff

@suhdays - it’s just amazing to find a writer with a non-smut catalog. Writing is just pure and focused on the plot and emotional/character development. Please give their masterlist lots of love. My faves:

Access Granted - I like hacker Jungkook. SMAU format

A Cinderella Story - JJK | also based on the movie | F, A

Wherever You Are - JJK | vampire, ceo (I love this) | A, F

Terms of Endearment - JJK | poet jjk x artist reader | F

Bucket List - JJK | friends to lovers (this is adorable! my review of this is still in the drafts like the rest of the fics 😥) | F, slight A

Camp Crush - KTH | brother’s best friend (this is funny like I was just smiling all throughout)

Made of Honor -  KTH | SMAU, recently completed! Like the movie

Baby I’m a Fool - JJK | Fake Dating, Co-worker AU, E2L | F, A

@vanaera - her Yoongi coworker E2L series is something I’m always waiting for and  I don’t think her other fics contain smut. Please check The Prince and His Rose (bestfriend AU, College AU, childhood friends, football player x writer!reader Jungkook, fluff/angst)

@namjoonchronicles - so I recently binged on this author’s writing (still bingeing on her other members’ fics). Their catalog has a lot of Domestic AUs which are beautiful slice of life pieces. It could be as simple as folding the laundry but it would be so meaningful. I said in one of my reviews that their domestic fics has same vibes as illustrator Puung’s Love is in Small Things. I would like to post my favorites here but I think I recently just reviewed/reblogged tons of their work (you can search my blog for the reviews). Please check their masterlist. Granite Glow is my ⭐ #holygrailfic

@rosaetae​ - if you like angst that hurts but it all makes sense why the situation had to be angsty, then her masterlist is something to binge on. Not all are angsty, just mind the tags for pure “fluff”. My favorites:

The Bedtime Contract - KTH, roommates, enemies to lovers, sort of cuddle buddy?, fluff but there’s slight angst | F, A

Dream a Little Dream of Me - KTH, soulmate au, could hear soulmate’s voice, waitress x songwriter | 

Lavender + Vanilla - KTH,  a story about a boy who had forgotten his memory of you

Chrysanthemum Effect - KTH (JJK has a side story too), Hanahaki AU

Among the Evergreen  - JJK, Christmas AU, E2L | F

Sweet Apple Biscuits - JJK, receives letter from their future self asking to save one boy ⭐ | A, slight F

Best Thing He Never Had 01 02 03 04 05 06  - JJK, bestfriends to lovers | A, F

Better Late Than Never - JJK drabble, exes AU, fake dating (I love this scenario, there’s one funny moment here with Jungkook saying his feelings through a door) | A, F

@justimajin - another favorite of mine - her fics actually try different genres/scenarios and are usually series. I find it fun to wait on episodes weekly. A consistent writer too. See masterlist here. Selected works:

Catching a Case of Doctor Blues - KTH, medical AU, enemies to lovers, slice of life

Swapped - JJK, body swap, really fluffy! I reviewed it before and screamed at how fluffy this is 😍 | tooth-rotting fluff

A Lone Wolf’s Howl - JJK, werewolf AU, sort of enemies/rivals, hunter AU, bestfriend. Note: there is a chapter with smut, you can skip that portion | A, F, S

@bubmyg​ - oh wow her works are just tooth-rotting fluffy goodness too (especially the Yoongi drabbles/one shots). But please check her fics for Tae and Koo. My picks:

Can’t Fake a Feeling - KTH, F2L, Fake Dating, College AU, Fuckboy (not smut)

Extra Cheese Sauce, Please - KTH, F2L, College, friends keep setting them up

Strawberry Boy - JJK, I just reblogged this weeks ago so you probably have read this | tooth-rotting fluff

Wonder - pool boy!jungkook x journalist!reader | F

Not a Date - JJK | one shot + drabble series, kinda E2L. cute |  tooth-rotting fluff

Dare to Begin - JJK | college au, idiots to lovers, broke college students |  tooth-rotting fluff

gcfguk + idcilh - a youtuber!jeongguk drabble series | F

you can check their masterlist for the other drabbles and fics I haven’t read/included

@cupofteaguk - a writer whose fics end up in my fic rec lists regularly. When I get asked about certain tropes, I always remember one or two of her fics. Their Reputation Series is binge-worthy but they also have plenty of scenarios/tropes to choose from. You can find a lot of KTH or JJK fluff-based fics here (or other members too):

the maze to you - KTH |  soulmate au | angst

along the boardwalk - KTH | skater boy/college au | fluff

it’s all fun & games - JJK | fake dating au | fluff

say you won’t let go - JJK | soulmate au | fluff

on the road (to you) - JJK |  road trip/strangers to lovers au | fluff

new romantics - JJK | hogwarts au, quidditch player, enemies to lovers | F, A

@crystaljins - another writer with fics that have well-developed plot, great angst and great endings. I recommend all (check other members’ fics here). Extra love for:

Take a Chance - JJK | series [7/7] | 63k | Hanahaki AU, Coworker AU, Boss!Reader, Wedding Planner AU | A, F | My review  ⭐ #holygrailfic

Schemes and Tricks to Win Her Heart - KTH | series [5/5] | 22.5k | Fake Dating, feat Chaebol/Rich Seokjin, Taehyung is Jin’s Little Brother, and OC is Tae’s bestfriend

I haven’t read the new Taehyung Christmas fic yet but give it a spin =)

@springbean - I love her story concepts and ideas! When I discovered her, I just binged on their work and I enjoy every new fic she releases. My personal favorites are listed below, but you can also check her masterlist here:

Onyx - JJK | cyberpunk AU, abo dynamics (it is sooo interesting to use abo dynamics this way. Usually abo is associated with werewolf aus but this is like a social classification system in this fic. It is still ongoing but it’s the type of story you can read and remember easily so in case it gets updated you can jump into the next chapter)  ongoing | A, F

Wolfsbane - KTH | Werewolf AU, college, soulmates (included in my KTH werewolf fic recs)

Cursed - JJK | Prince x Mage/Witch, Fantasy, Medieval, E2L, action (basically has all AUs I like) ongoing

Enshrined - JJK | this is new! fantasy, fae world, isekai, childhood friends, eventual smut (?) but since we’re not there yet you can still read it smut-less  ongoing

@army-author - another prolific writer with a catalog you can binge on. I recently reblogged/reviewed some of my favorites but believe me there are more (I am just lazy with reviewing and such). Personal faves:

Gamomania - JJK | childhood friends | tooth-rotting fluff, slight S

X and O - KTH | fake dating, single parent, teacher AU

A Monster Crush - KTH | childhood friends, angst, fluff, horror, implied S   ongoing

All This Stigma - KTH | fwb au, unplanned pregnancy, arranged marriage, divorce, really angsty but I love it!

The Village Idiots - JJK | soulmate au, childhood friends, they’re soulmate-less (or are they?) |  tooth-rotting fluff

The Alchemy of Amor - JJK | fantasy au, royalty au, enemies to lovers (new) | F

Fire and Ice - JJK | oh this is probably the first I’ve read from the author, E2L but make it fluffy rivals (he’s fire and she can yield ice), fantasy au, magic | F

Black and White Christmas - JJK | Office AU | F

@thedefinitionofbts - I love how emotionally invested I get when reading their fics. Most of their fics are smut-less but deeply rooted in emotions so I remember the story a lot even if I’ve read some years or months ago (I said in my werewolf fic rec list that there’s this Jungkook fic of theirs that’s really sad and I still imagine him waiting for OC.) Just powerful storytelling. You can check their masterlist and mind the fics with smut. I wanted to list my favorites here but I’ll end up listing everything. If you want to start a fic, I recommend:

A Story that We Paint - KTH x R x JJK | Sci-fi, College AU, Lucid Dreams AU | A, slight F

Our First and Last - JJK, VMIN | Soulmate AU, Sci-Fi | A, F

Kingdom of Crystal Snow - KTH | Christmas, Royalty (yay something purely fluffy)

Corner of the Universe - KTH | Reincarnation AU

other fics I like have S content or too sad

@threeletterslife - I love her fics because they make me dwell and ponder on things but themes are very heavy (I think she has one crack fic though). No smut and you can try all her works if you are in the mood for angst, some pondering, etc. Masterlist here. You can read the Love Chaser Series (though you have to read the Yoongi series first before reading Jungkook’s, it’s one universe).

Whipped with a Cherry on Top - KTH | friends to lovers, crack

The Time Traveler’s Playbook - KTH | time travel AU | F, A

Cuss Out - JJK | High school AU, crack | F

@artaefact - just feel good scenarios and I love her drabbles! I’ve reblogged and oohed aahed over the drabbles that are short but powerful scenarios.

incandesce + warmth drabble - JJK  (safe to say, you can read all their drabbles) | F

Aeturnal - KTH | fantasy au, royalty au (I loooove this. it has inexplicit S though, you can skip)

A Letter in Roses - KTH | husband au, valentine au

Calling You Mine - JJK | College AU, S2L, tooth-rotting fluff 

@augustbutwinter - a writer to watch out for. August delivers so much even with minimal word count; they can get you emotional (fluffy or angsty) and it is so easy to visualize the image she is trying to describe. Just wonderful. The words just flow easily too so the fics are not difficult to read/imagine. I recommend the ff:

My Tears Ricochet - KTH | ghost AU, roommate AU, fluff (sometimes angsty), drabble series ⭐⭐

Rose Coloured - JJK | post college AU, some sort of reunion with an old flame | F

@akinnie75 - What a wonderful storyteller. I would binge on her fics for their plot/storylines. Usually it feels as if you are reading a tale. Several of their fics ended up in my #holygrailfics (the namjoon and jimin ones). You can try:

Ghost Marriage - JJK | fantasy, idol au, kind of arranged marriage | A, F

Until Spring 1 | 2 - JJK | Romance, Fantasy, visited the Freesia Island for Spring but taken for Arranged Marriage instead | A, F

Moonchild - KTH | a tale about the legendary Moonchild, a mythical creature known for its ability to heal life of all sorts

🌷ggukkienote:

I’d also like to recommend checking the fics in each of the reading lists and Fic Recs by theme. You’ll find these lists in the NAVI page. Fics/Titles included per list are usually tagged for A/S/F content.

I will update this once I remember other authors that focus on A/F

Part 2 (Fic Recs) - linked top of this post

[linearao3]

BUFFYVERSE KANEJ?? PLEASE DO TELL (if you wish)!!!

So spoilers here for if I ever do write this, obviously.

*deep breath*

Okay so Bombastique deserves at least half the credit for the concepts here, because this is all born of her bullshitting with me in her DMs on twitter. Initially we were joking about this as a crossover with my Reylo/Buffverse fusion, In All the World, and then it kind of slipped free. But anyway there are two versions of this. They both begin in the same place: Alina Starkov was the Slayer; she died (“died”) and the call passed to Zoya. But it was very convenient, that passing, very handy that it went to someone in the same place, dedicated to fighting the same enemy. (That would be the Darkling, of course, probably in DC? Just because I don’t know shit about Moscow.) Meanwhile, up in the Greater New York area, there’s a girl who’s quite fast and quite strong but not like… supernaturally fast or strong. And there’s a young man whose brother was killed by vampires, who’s dedicated his life to learning everything he can about the supernatural. He could have been a Watcher, but Watchers have to listen to the Watchers’ Council, and they’re meant to watch over Slayers, not pursue personal vengeance quests, so he took a pass. And the young woman, Inej, she’s not a Slayer, but all his self-taught magic suggests that there’s something about her. He, Kaz, recruits her into his pursuit of occult knowledge and amateur vampire slaying. They get to be… friends? Comrades? Something else?

But there’s someone watching from the shadows. Heleen is a Watcher, assigned to observe Inej, because the Council knows Inej has the potential to become a Slayer. Heleen, who is very ambitious, delved into dark magic and discovered that it was Inej who was meant to follow Alina in the Slayer line of succession, but Alina and Zoya diverted the line to defeat the Darkling and his apocalypse. The transfer of the call to Zoya took away Heleen’s chance to be the Slayer’s Watcher, a position she had great plans for. Since she’s been cheated of that, she resolves to get some of her own back by kidnapping Inej and sacrificing her in a demonic ritual, since there’s still magical potential in her.

Here’s where things diverge.

In one version, Inej gets away, but runs straight into a gang of vampires who’ve come looking for Kaz. They turn her, and leave her, assuming she’ll kill Kaz when she rises. But they don’t know that she was a potential Slayer, and that because of that, the demon fits badly inside her. When she rises, rather than try to kill Kaz, she tries to kill herself. He stops her with a binding spell. She hates her demonic nature, but as a vampire, she’s now almost as strong as a Slayer, and Kaz convinces her to essentially become one, with him as her Watcher. When she gets too hungry, he lets her feed on him. Does this activate his phobia? Yes. Is it also sort of intimate and a little sexy? Yes. Heleen and associated demons are probably the principal bad guys in this one, with the Watchers’ Council playing a substantial role.

In the other version, before Heleen captures her, Inej makes the horrible discovery that her friend is now a vampire. Running from him in terror, she runs right into the clutches of Heleen, who goes to sacrifice her. Kaz interrupts the ritual and saves Inej. He offers to make Inej a vampire too, but she’s not having it. She assumes he’ll kill her, but instead he keeps her alive, telling her that if she stays with him, he’ll eat hedge fund managers, and if she goes, he’ll eat runaway teens. So it’s really up to her who dies, isn’t it? In this version, the main antagonists are Pekka Rollins, local vampire lord and killer of Kaz’s brother, and Kaz himself, as he makes himself his own little vampire kingdom while Inej struggles to find a way to recover his soul. (Though if she does, what then?)

Obviously these are very rough sketches, and don’t have proper plots. Both of them probably have to do with the theme of not being the chosen one, being the people who are overlooked and unmythologized, who have no resources and have to fight for everything they get. Getting the other Crows in there is tricky, though I have ideas; not just repeating the plot of In All the World is tricky.

Anyway, sorry for being slow to answer this. But perhaps you needed a brief distraction from how rotten things are and I hope I could provide that.

[idvask-hunterfinn]

The hanged Man, have fun mod!

A/N: This is going to be in the first person cause I can't see it any other way I am so sorry.

Content Warning: Sadist themes, murder, death, gore(?), and for those with active imaginations this may be a bit disturbing. Also somewhat religious themes?

----

Question: Would you sacrifice your own life to save someone else's?

----

"I've already sacrificed a part of my soul to the cursed forest back home. I've also sacrificed people for my own needs. What's there to sacrifice anyway?"

----

I was running for my life. Anywhere is better than being in this God-forsaken forest. People always think that the devil is some sort of small man with blood-red skin, a tail, and horns, what they don't know is that he could be beautiful. He was God's favorite before he fell down to the pits of hell. I cried sanctuary in the forest, and it gave me that. A tall man in a mask with blond hair wore the silkiest robes I have ever imagined. He was welcoming, he was soft and warm. I should have known this was a trap. How foolish am I to fall for such a thing? Guess it's what I deserved for treating the people in my life like shit.

"I know every corner of this forest! There is no place you can possibly hide, my sweet fly~."

I kept running with no direction, what I was doing was extremely dangerous. I should have listened to the rumors, why did I feel such a pull to come here? Was it that fate wanted me to die? To pay for whatever sins I have done? If that's the case then it makes sense. I kept hearing twigs snap, pine branches whispering to me, and the ruffle of leaves, all at once. He knew how to use the environment around him to his advantage. I knew I was going to die, but I had this urge to fight for my life. But it's a natural course of life, why am I resisting such a thing.

I heard maniacal laughter throughout the forest, it seemed like he enjoyed seeing my torment. He knew that he was more agile than I, knew this cursed place better than I, I was the perfect victim for this night of terror. I hated how this was the way I was going to go! Why me!? Why couldn't it have been someone else!? I don't understand! But that's sometimes the best course of action, we won't have the answers to everything, and that's scary.

"You're running out of breath my dear~! Not to mention you've been running for a long time! You like the rush that much?"

I felt my feet give up, so I put my hand on the nearest tree, applying pressure to the bark, not caring if I get bitten by ants or spiders at this point. I felt my chest heave and my ribs closing in on themselves within my body, my legs hurt like hell, and my attire was torn. I somehow got scratches on my arms and legs but that didn't matter. I had to keep going. But that rest was the greatest mistake I could have ever made. I tried to take a step forward, but something tugged at my foot. Vines were wrapped around my ankle.

"Shit!"

I tried to shake it off, but it just grew tighter. I tried to escape, but it wrapped around my legs, and every time I moved the vines grew and became tighter to the point where I could barely move. I tried to grab onto something to avoid meeting my fate, but I wasn't strong enough. I looked behind my back, and I saw this smile creased on his lips. It showed sharp teeth, but it looked soft and welcoming. It was terrifying yet comforting to see. I was eventually facing him, but the mask he wore made it impossible to see his eyes. I was on the ground unable to move. I felt tears fall down my face, for the first time in my life I was scared.

"What's the matter, my rose? Scared?"

I kept thrashing in the vines, but at this point, I felt that I was losing circulation in my arms and legs. I realized this and I stopped moving, the vines became loose to the point I wasn't losing circulation, but still tight enough to give me bruises.

"Please... Spare me..."

"Now now, why would I spare someone who actively uses people just for their own gain?"

"How do you-"

"I hear the rumors if I stand close enough to the village while concealed. But we're getting off-topic. You are the perfect person to feed my pets."

"Pets? What pets?"

He whistled this bird song that resembled a nightingale's. It was piercing, loud, yet simple and fast to be known as a bird's song. I felt the ground shake and appeared these large venus flytraps. They were the same height as the man in front of me. He put his scythe- or staff- or the combination of the two in front of him. He slowly approached me but as he was walking... He threw his mask to the side. I saw this pair of brown eyes, but they were surrounded by darkness.

"Just... What are you?"

"A devil, a witch, and a warlock of some sort."

"I get why you're called Drosera now! Y-"

--POV SWITCH!--

Before my insect could even finish their sentence I dug the tip of my weapon to where their heart is. I smiled at them, the thrill of seeing the light fade from their eyes was the sweetest reward from a fun game of cat and mouse in the woods. I saw blood dripping from their mouth and their skin turn white. Another sacrifice for my work was done. I put my foot on the weapon's long handle, applying pressure so that it went through the body and the tip was touching the ground.

In one swift motion, I brutally cut out a part of their body and it was in a curve. But it was attached still, yet it exposed all of the organs and bones while spilling blood on the ground, staining the ground, and leaves red.

"Eat up."

[cotton-tails]

So I saw this last night, and the little angsty plot bunny in my head woke up and I just had to write something. Fully intended to be a drabble of sorts, but of course it turned into a four page tear-fest, so grab the tissues and strap in.

Oh, and I haven't edited this, it's just 3am word-vomit, so enjoy the mess!

-

“So, this hasn’t exactly gone to plan.”

Della snorts cheerlessly at Donald’s deadpan comment, struggling into a sitting position and wincing at a twinge in her elbow. The chains dig into her arms with every movement, a very clear upgrade from the ropes they’d all been able to break out of within several minutes not too long ago. These idiots don’t know who they’re messing with.

Or they do; probably a little too well, hence the plan that fell apart very quickly. And the chains. And the scary looking red lightning below them.

“Shut up!” Heron snaps behind them, cuffing Donald a little too roughly around the head.

He doesn’t react more than a sharp hiss and a dark glare behind him, and Della can’t help the sharp pang of guilt under the surge of anger. She bites back a comment, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground until the villain is out of earshot.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, keeping her voice low.

“What? Why?” Donald sounds confused but she can’t bring herself to look at him.

“You should be with Daisy right now,” she says, “I’m the one who guilted you into staying, into coming on this stupid trip. And now we’re facing the very real possibility of dying.”

Donald is quiet.

Forcing herself to look up, she frowns at the look on his face. He still doesn’t say anything, but the expression says it all; ‘Della-you-absolute-idiot-what-are-you-blathering-on-about?’

“I came on this stupid trip cause our kids were in trouble,” he hisses eventually, “my family were in trouble! You think I wouldn’t ditch my vacation in a heartbeat for any of you?”

“I-” Della starts, but her voice catches, rendering her utterly speechless. He’s not lying, she knows exactly what he would do for the family, for her. Yet, somehow that knowledge isn’t exactly helping.

She misses her chance to reply, all conversation cut off with the explosive arrival of Scrooge and Bradford through the roof.

Della clenches her fist and almost bites through the inside of her cheek as he slams to the ground. She manages to chime out a ‘Hey Uncle Scrooge,’ with Donald when his pained gaze finds them. Beakley mutters a sarcastic ‘Fantastic,’ from her other side. She can only watch as a now armoured Bradford, armed with the sword, picks him up by the back of his coat and drags him up the stairs. He’s blathering on about something, but she’s stopped listening; too busy focusing on her battered and beaten uncle and how this could have gone so completely and utterly wrong.

It’s the usual spiel anyway, threats to destroy his family, his adventures, everything he had worked for, blah blah blah.

Then the contract is revealed, and her stomach drops to somewhere around her knees. If they don’t find a way out soon, Scrooge will have to either sign his life away or they all die, and frankly, neither option sound particularly appealing.

It’s only when Bradford sacrifices his own agents that the desperateness of the situation really sinks in. It’s one thing to talk about murder, it’s entirely another to actually do it. And if Bradford is willing to throw away his own agents, Della can’t imagine what he would be willing to do to her family if Scrooge doesn’t sign.

He tries to buy some time. Della can almost hear the cogs turning in his head as he tries to figure out how to get out of this one. She huffs out a half-hearted laugh at the sharp quip about the fine-print. He’d figure something out, he always does. Not to mention the kids are bound to have found a way out by now, they’d pick up the rest of their allies and be on their way to disrupt the whole evil plan.

It’s just a matter of-

“Ugh! Enough stalling!”

Never mind.

“You need some incentive.”

Della does not like where this is going.

“Perhaps the life of your most trusted ally?”

The three of them snap their heads forward as Bradford stalks towards them, sword dragging on the concrete threateningly. As the screeching rings in Della’s ears, the only thought racing through her mind is ‘not Donnie, not Donnie, please, don’t take my brother.’

Her heart almost stops when he scoops Donald up by his collar, his cry echoing in her ears.

“Donald!” Three voices scream.

She can barely breathe, crippling panic bubbling up inside. All she wants to do is close her eyes and scream, break these chains and drag him back to safety, but she can’t move, she can’t take her eyes off her twin as he’s dangled over the edge.

“What will it be Scrooge? Adventure? Or your Family?”

‘Just do what he wants!’ She’s not ashamed of the thought. They’ll figure out a way to reverse the contract, there’s always a way, always a loophole. Just do it so she can see her brother safely on solid ground.

“Alright, I’ll do it.”

She can’t say she’s surprised at how quickly he gives in.

“No! Don’t!” Donald screams, “find a way out! You can beat him!”

The pen is already in his hand. “It’s not worth the risk lad.”

They can only watch in horror at the golden glow that circles around him, lifting him up and binding him with unbreakable chains that drag him to the ground.

“I did it!” Bradford crows triumphantly. “The great Scrooge McDuck, now only a poor old man!”

Della’s heart breaks just a little at the look of absolute misery on her old uncle’s face, but she doesn’t have time to mourn properly, because Bradford is talking. Again.

“Normally I wouldn’t indulge in such petty villainy,” he says, his gaze turning back to Donald, still dangling over the edge, with a glint in his eye that makes Della’s blood run cold. “But since this is a special occasion.”

He lets go.

Della’s eyes meet Donald’s for an agonising second, and then he’s gone.

There’s a flash of red, and someone is screaming.

She doesn’t even realise it’s her until a rough hand knocks her back.

“Shut it! Or it’ll be you next!”

Hot tears stream down her beak and she presses her forehead into the cold concrete, not even bothering to choke back a sob. Over the pounding of her own taunting heartbeat in her ears, she hears the sound of the machine powering down (‘Too late’ her traitorous mind provides), of her kids voices yelling something, and Scrooge shouting for them to be careful.

And Bradford, confused and angry as her family finally, finally step in to save the day.

His voice sets off something inside that she hadn’t felt since the day Lunaris betrayed her. A raging anger that burns through her, overwhelming any other emotion and completely taking over her mind.

The chains are no longer an obstacle, and even Beakley can’t stop her from launching herself at the buzzard. They tumble down the stairs, fists flying and feet kicking. Everything blurs after that, which may or may not be a side effect of a rather painful bump on the head as they hit the ground at the bottom of the staircase. She’s kicked off, then it’s just a cloud of lights and bodies and a strong arm holding her back from doing anything overly-reckless and potentially stupid.

The kids, her (their) beautiful, wonderful kids, figure out the loophole and the ever-binding contract disintegrates.

It’s done.

The maniacal villain is defeated once more. The world has returned to rights and the sounds of celebration fill the air.

But Della can only stand and watch, her hands trembling and eyes burning. Beakley stands behind her, hands hovering just behind her shoulders, ready to give comfort if needed.

He’s gone.

Her brother, the other half of her soul; just… gone.

And… oh.

Her knees buckle, a wrecked sob forcing its way from her throat. Beakley catches her with a arm round the shoulders and a hand under her elbow, lowering her gently to the ground as she crumples into a ball. She presses her hands to her eyes in a hopeless attempt to stem the tears as everything comes crashing down.

“It’s okay, let it out dear.”

He shouldn’t have been here. He should’ve been on that amazing adventure with Daisy, sailing together on that old houseboat. After everything life had thrown at him, after all the madness they’d been through, he’d finally caught a break, finally found that amazing person who loved him as fiercely as he loved her.

Then Della had come along, crying about lost time and not being ready. She hadn’t wanted to him to leave, even on a stupid vacation that he would very clearly be coming back from.

Now he wouldn’t even get the chance to go.

And it’s all her fault.

“Mom?”

The obvious confusion and concern in Huey’s voice is enough to send her tumbling over the edge all over again, fresh tears springing up at the thought of having to explain what happened to her- to his kids.

Scrooge hurries them away, and she tries not to listen to the hushed explanation, the startled gasps, and she has to cover her ears for the rest. She can’t stand it.

It’s all her fault.

“DELLA!”

‘What?’

There’s no mistaking that voice.

Her head snaps up so fast she’s half sure she’s given herself whiplash. Even through blurred eyesight, she knows that silhouette, that outfit, that stupid hat. She blinks, sniffing and scrubbing at her face with her sleeve, hardly daring to believe.

It shouldn’t be possible, there’s no way it’s possible. She saw it, she saw him fall, saw the flash of lightning, the empty space where he had been only moments before. She watched her own brother die. So how was he standing ten feet in front of her, laughing as he’s tackled by several small and colourful blurs?

A hand appears in front of her face and she looks up into the stunned face of her uncle. He looks almost as much of a mess as she feels, tearstains tracking down his cheeks and spotting on his coat.

“I think it might be best if we just don’t question it,” he says, helping her to her feet.

His hands are shaking as he holds hers tightly, but she doesn’t comment; it can’t be any worse than her own trembling limbs. They turn back to Donald, who’s ended up sat on the floor under the collective weight of the kids. He’s got a tearful Louie on his shoulder and several kids wrapped around his torso as he struggles to his feet, and Della can see him mouthing a headcount as he takes them all in.

“I swear every time we see you, you have more children.”

She hadn’t even noticed Panchito and José just beside him, grins wide and eyes twinkling with amusement and, in José’s case, something else that she can’t quite place. Donald just laughs at Panchito’s observation, the sound sweet as honey and causing even more tears to well up all round. The pure relief that sweeps through her is almost enough to make her knees give way again, but Scrooge’s hand gripping hers and Beakley’s arm still around her shoulders is just enough to keep her grounded.

Then he catches her eye.

“Hey Dells.”

The kids must see something in her face, cause they have to good sense to dart out of the way just moments before Della hurls herself at her brother. They almost topple backwards, but Donald is able to keep them just about upright while Della just focuses on wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder. His arms circle her waist, holding her just as tightly. The tears are streaming freely now, but she’s beyond caring. He can yell at her about ruining his shirt later and she’ll just take it with a grin.

“You idiot!” she yells, her voice muffled by his shoulder, “I thought you were dead!”

“For a minute, so did I,” he says into her hair, “how about we just call it even?”

The soft jibe only makes her laugh, and she holds him just that little bit tighter.

Miracles do happen, and in the end all that matters is love, family and adventure.

But if he thinks she’s going to let him go galivanting off on some adventure without her now, then he’d better think again.

[hotgirltarot]

Pick-a-Card: What will be a major obstacle this Mercury Retrograde ☿ and how can you overcome it? 🐆🐝🐬

What's good, Baddies? Welcome to another Pick-A-Card! This PAC is about what the upcoming Mercury Retrograde (September 27th- October 18th) will bring up for you and how to handle it.

Pile 1: Cheetah 🐆 - Pile 2: Bee 🐝 - Pile 3: Dolphin 🐬

To pick a pile, you can meditate, intuitively choose one or pick whichever crystal is calling out to you. This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Please only take what resonates & leave what does not. If you like your reading and want to support our page, tips are appreciated at $DejaWash19 on Cashapp or Deja-Washington on Venmo!

Reblog to help others master mercury retrograde!

Pile 1: Cheetah 🐆

Pile 1 is for the people who are most comfortable in situations where they are in control. They thrive in their own world while feeling lost when they are outside of it. One major theme of this Mercury retrograde will be your relationships with others. Your connection to others, whether it be friendships, business partners, relationships or marriage will be affected. Any major issues or tensions from the past that you or they may have swept under the rug will be brought to the light. You must ask yourself: Am I feeling disconnected from any people in my life? Am I growing away from limiting relationships? Are my relationships an even push and pull? Are the people in my life bringing value to me? Mercury retrograde is here show you that you have been living in an illusion in some of your personal relationships. No more time for empty conversations or entertaining people that are not on the same vibration as you; this is a time of evolution and transformation.

We are picking on 2 types of energies:

1. Some people who need a person as a reason for them to grow, because they don't think they deserve to be their own priority. You have to do things in life for yourself, if you choose to heal for someone so that you can have a better relationship with them won't work. You have to do it for yourself because you are worthy enough to be the reason and you care about yourself enough. Waiting for someone to guess what you're going through and come and save you from your mind will make you lose hope. 2. Some people who give up human interaction and just isolate. You need to be more open and interact with people, don't give up as soon as something doesn't go the way you planned. Some things require time to grow especially when it comes to relationships/friendships. Don't be afraid to ask for help. Don't choose to isolate yourself and let others' emotions, opinions about you stop you from all the beautiful things that you are capable of achieving in this lifetime.

You have the power to change. Don’t dwell on the past or on what could have been. Look forward and keep going; it’s not over yet. Just because some people may leave your life, doesn’t make your life any less fulfilling. Life continues and you are being given the opportunity to grow, experience new things, and evolve. After it is all said and done, you will realize that the people that have left your life brought little or no value to you at all. You are not meant to be a follower in this lifetime; you are a leader, a visionary, an artist, and a dreamer. Your Spiritual Team wants you to know that you are protected, divinely guided and it's safe for you to share your art/ideas & yourself with the world. All you have to do is to gather the courage to pave a new path for yourself and trust your visions before they become reality. Don’t look for outside validation for your work or creative projects, allow them to just exist. When you allow the negative Nancies and keyboard critics to impact your self-worth, it takes the joy out of creating. A major piece of advice is to be bold during this mercury retrograde. Follow your heart and emotions and listen to what your gut is telling you about the people in your life. Avoid being reckless, but show the world what you’re made of!

Pile 2: Bee 🐝

Pile 2 is for the people who are sometimes so trusting in their spirituality that they forget to also be practical. This mercury retrograde will show you the importance of having practicality & reality instead of just having your head in the clouds. This retrograde will force you to make more effort to move towards your goals and the more practical steps you can take, the better. It’s time to find an inner balance between your dreams and your responsibilities. Taking responsibilities means cleaning up your messes and making changes so that it does not happen again, not just hoping everything will just magically sort itself out. This mercury retrograde may also affect your 2nd house of personal finance and possessions. Think about your relationship with money; Are your thoughts and actions around money empowering or disempowering you? Do you use money as an excuse to avoid doing something? Abundance comes through gratitude, being appreciative of what you already have. Don't be fixated on the idea that rewards only come in the form of money, thinking like this will only cause you to miss the beautiful gifts that life will be offering you. You might have a feeling that your purpose is to help others and guide them, but you sacrifice so much of your time, energy, resources for others that you ignore your own needs. You are for sure the person who helps everyone and is solving their problems. However, the only thing you are doing is burdening yourself by carrying their unresolved issues and also stopping them from learning the lessons they need to learn in order to grow in this lifetime. You are being asked to look after your well-being before anyone else’s. Spirt is thanking you for being so caring but now it's time for you to relax, celebrate, and allow yourself to reap the rewards for all your positive actions and intention. Also, it is important to listen openly and respectfully to people who have different beliefs than you, open communication can start real change.

In order to get the best out of this mercury retrograde, meditate as much as possible. Meditate for relaxation, for answers and for guidance. If you are able to find the perfect balance between spirituality, positivity and practicality, you will leave mercury retrograde with new love opportunities, abundance and happiness. There are major themes of wealth, abundance and new relationships in your life. People who have chosen this pile have a desire for the finer things in life and want the best of the best; Venusian energy. If you can believe it, you can achieve it. Some opportunities you are about to be given will happen once in a lifetime, but make sure you are taking action to make it happen and not just wishing on a star.

Pile 3: Dolphin 🐬

Pile 3 is for the people who live in a more Neptunian way of life. You are imaginative, live heavily in your subconscious and fantasy world. This mercury retrograde is going to force you to grow and heal your past wounds at a rapid pace. You are being called to let go of the past. That time is over. Whatever you have been clinging on to - good or bad - is long gone. The past energy is weighing you down and it is time to break free of it. You are currently living in a state of complacency. There is lots of self-neglect and dietary imbalance in this pile. Procrastinating and choosing to live in a dream world instead of dealing with the reality of your situation. You are holding yourself back and this retrograde will shake your world until you are born again. You will go through major regeneration: a rebirth. This mercury retrograde practice being present and calling your energy back into the here and now. Music is going to be very influential in your healing; it will be a safe space for you to process your thoughts and emotions as well as raising your energy when needed. Massive healing and Chiron energy in this pile. Shedding your old skin and coming out anew. By the end of it all, you will be a different person, the star of your own world. The universe is giving you a second chance to attach new opportunities you once let slip by. Forget about the past, a new start is on its way!

Make sure you gratitude for all the things in your life that make you happy and if you need guidance through this journey listen to your soul and follow the path you are being called towards. Remember that your soul choose this journey before you started your life on Earth. This moment was destined. Don't think you are unprepared and you will be lost once you decide to take action. Your soul has been training for this moment and you will know exactly what to do when the time comes. Your Guides are assisting you in this journey and they want you to have faith in yourself. Your circumstances will soon improve and your life will get so much better, don't lose hope!

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story pt 21 - Sci Fi

New part is here! Hoping this makes up a bit for the heartbreak of the last part!

I have no idea how long this spurt of energy and and inspiration will last, but I'll keep writing until it runs out!

Master Post linked here

Enjoy!

____________________________

“Did you hear me?” Chris’s voice was filled with patience and warmth. “I’ll save you. I’ll be your Connector.”

I looked at him silently, knowing that I should feel relieved.

Whether my alternate memories were caused by the mental degradation, or if I was truly some sort of traveler tasked with saving this world, his offer solved all my problems. Forming a match with him would stabilize my mental condition, allowing me to fully understand what was real and what was not. It would help me become not only a true Guardian, but a powerful one that could help take on the Hive and save the world, completing my mission.

I should have felt relieved. I should have felt grateful for his generous offer.

But instead, I felt sick and wanted to run away.

“Thank you for offering this, but you have a dream, Chris. You want to be a Guardian more than anyone else.” I found myself arguing passionately, hoping he would withdraw his offer. “I can’t let you sacrifice all the work you’ve done, the trust others have placed in you. Besides, you already have a Connection with Princess Ilene...”

“Alaira.” He frowned as I finally managed to free my hand from his grasp and leaned back to put some distance between us. “None of that is as important as your wellbeing. Ilene understands that.”

“Maybe you don't have to sacrifice all that though. Maybe there’s another match out there for me…” I was grasping at straws, not even sure why I was arguing. But I knew it, felt it deep in my soul.

I didn’t want to match with Chris.

“There’s no one else. I am your only chance to be a Guardian.” The warmth was gone, his face and tone were serious. “Either you match with me, or they’ll put you on indefinite leave, and you’ll never be a Guardian again. “

WARNING! MISSION FAILURE IMMINENT!

TOTAL COMPLETION 2%

MISSION FAILURE WILL RESULT IN WORLD COLLAPSE AND DESTRUCTION OF THE SOUL. PLEASE COMPLETE THE MISSION.

“I don’t want to force you.” He reached out to smooth my hair, becoming visibly frustrated as I pulled back further, refusing to let him touch me. “I’m just trying to save you.”

“…”

“Trust me.”

____________________________

“Trust me.”

The man in front of me threw up his hands as he paced back and forth. “Everything will go a lot smoother if you STOP CHANGING THE STORY!”

“I thought that was why we were here, though?” I sighed, leaning back in my chair, adjusting the ballgown out of the way and cleaning my nails with a blade. “To fix the lower realms, to save these worlds? That requires change, right?”

He paused in his movements, glaring at me. “Stop acting stupid! These worlds are broken because they didn’t follow the rules. We know the rules. We have to follow them perfectly.”

“I don’t want to though.” I shuddered. “No offense, but if the rules are going to require us to have a romantic relationship, I’m finding a different way. There's always an alternate solution.”

“That’s what the story requires, you have your role to play. I am the hero of this world, the prince, and you are the damsel in distress. I was supposed to save you. You were supposed to fall in love with ME. Why did you have to stab the witch yourself?!"

I flipped the knife in my hand. "She was asking for it."

"You can't keep doing this. You know the consequences of not playing the right part.”

“No, there’s always different paths to take." I sighed, "You’re a good friend, and I’m glad to have you by my side, but that’s different than love.”

“…”

“You clearly don’t love me either, so why are you making such a fuss about this? As long as we complete what we came here to do, that’s all that matters, right?”

“…”

“Right?”

He stepped closer to me, his atmosphere slightly threatening. “Why are you so different from what you are supposed to be?”

“What are you…?”

“Why can’t you just ACCEPT...”

His hand grabbed my wrist, the grip painful. I raised the knife in my hand, but hesitated to stab him.

“YOUR.”

He pulled me closer until our faces were inches apart. His bright blue eyes were blazing with anger as they stared into my own. Each word burning itself into my soul.

“FATE.”

Letting me go, he walked away, putting some distance between us, before turning back to face me.

“This lower realm is stabilized. We should return.” His smile was cold. “The next mission is a little different from our previous ones. We’ll talk about it later.”

“…”

“And next time…?” He laughed, a bitter sound. “You’ll play your part whether you want to or not.”

____________________________

The memory was slow to fade, my heart still beating quickly with residual anxiety and anger. My hand tried to grasp the knife from the vision, but it closed on empty air instead.

“Alaira. Why aren’t you answering?”

I will not accept my fate.

I didn’t even know what fate I was rejecting, but I knew deep down in my soul that I had to fight.

I blinked a few times, focusing on Chris’s expectant face.

“I really appreciate you being willing to put aside your dreams to help me, but... Can you give me tonight to think about it? I’m just… I’m still really overwhelmed with all the changes that have happened.”

“…” He studied me closely before nodding with a polite smile. “Of course, Alaira. Like I said, I don’t want to force you. This will be the start of a beautiful partnership.”

Reaching out, he caught my hand again before I could pull away. He squeezed it tightly, almost painfully, before letting go and stepping back.

“The hero and the heroine… together… as it should be.” His mumbled words reached my ears and I felt sick and panicked once more.

No.

“Have a good rest, Alaira.” He closed the door behind him, and I heard the lock click into place.

I was trapped. I wanted to panic, to get up and pound at the door. To try to escape. Instead, my head started throbbing once more, and exhausted, my body pulled me back to sleep again.

____________________________

I woke up to three young women sitting next to my bed, staring at me.

I let out a startled shriek, scrambling to sit up and back away until my back hit the headboard of the bed. Looking around, I was still in Chris’s dorm room, but it now seemed much smaller and crowded with the trio who seemed intent on watching my every move.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” I waved a hand weakly, feeling scared by their intensity.

“… We wanted to see how you were feeling.” Princess Ilene was staring at me, her face unreadable.

This feels very uncomfortable.

“Why?”

The girls looked at each other at my question, before turning back to focus on me once again.

“We know what Chris offered to you.” A young lanky woman, who I recognized as my classmate Allie spoke up. Wasn’t she the one who sent me all the threatening messages in class?

“He’s willing to give up everything to save you.” Wen, the engineer who had confronted me early on, spoke solemnly, her face grim.

Ilene snorted bitterly. “Even if it means breaking up our partnership.”

“… Are you here to beat me up?” I don't think I can fight in my current condition. “Because if that’s the case, let me go ahead and say that I haven’t agreed to his proposal.” And I don’t want to. “ If you want to talk him out of it, that’s fine with me…”

“Are you stupid?” Ilene interrupted, rolling her eyes. “You should be grateful that someone as wonderful and caring as Chris is willing to sacrifice his dreams to save you. And you want to waste that?”

Allie chimed in. “Yeah. We may not agree with him becoming your Connector, but we all care about him, and if you’re that important to him… then we need to respect that.”

Glancing around the room, I shuddered at the intensity of the atmosphere. “You all care about him… romantically?”

“Yes.”

“Yep.”

“Of course!”

The girls answered in unison.

“And he cares about you all the same way?”

“…” There was an awkward silence, before the petite engineer spoke up.

“We are important to him, obviously. But now isn’t the right time for him to get involved in romance. He’s pursuing his dream of being a Guardian. One day things will settle down, and we’ll know which one of us is in his heart.” She smiled at me. “I’m sure you understand. You’re the same way, after all.”

“I’m the what now?”

“You’re in love with Chris.”

Umm, No.

“Sorry, there’s been a misunderstanding.” I rubbed my forehead as I tried to explain. To be fair, ALAIRA had been in love with Chris. But me? Not so much.

“I… respect him. “ It wasn’t completely a lie. I did respect his ability to completely ignore reality and charge forward without any doubt his actions were right. “But I’m not in love with the guy.”

Allie patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’re in a safe place. You can admit your feelings here. We all love Chris. Even if he’s too busy becoming the strongest Guardian ever to return our affections.”

Have I… accidentally been admitted in the male lead’s harem? I sighed, wishing I could bang my head against a wall. Someone SAVE ME!

“We just wanted you to know that we will support you and Chris becoming partners.” Wen smiled, standing up, preparing to leave.

“You really don’t have to…”

Allie stood up as well. “I’m just glad you’ve come around and want to work WITH Christ instead of trying to embarrass him…”

“I really don’t…”

“And you better appreciate what Chris is willing to give up for you.” Ilene still looked angry. “He’s too good for you.”

“I don’t want…”

“We’ll be cheering for you at your next match with Chris” Wen pulled Ilene to her feet. “Don’t let him down.”

I was getting REALLY sick and tired of not being allowed to finish a sentence. “I AM not going to be his partner!!!”

WARNING! MISSION FAILURE IMMINENT!

TOTAL COMPLETION 1%

MISSION FAILURE WILL RESULT IN WORLD COLLAPSE AND DESTRUCTION OF THE SOUL. PLEASE COMPLETE THE MISSION.

The girls ignored my words, leaving with smiles and waves. Frustrated, confused, I slammed my fists against the bed, screaming. The bright blue words warning me of my upcoming demise slowly faded from the world, as if they were never there.

SCREW THIS! End of the world… destruction of the soul… I DON’T CARE! I am not going to be forced into matching with Chris. He gives me the creeps. I’d rather have my mind splinter than let him into it.

Feeling a strange mix of recklessness and calm, I sat up in the bed, taking a deep breath and staring at the clock in the wall.

Just a few more hours, and everybody should be asleep. And then…

I leaned over, picking up a small hairpin that dropped on the floor from Ilene’s head when she stood up.

I make my escape.

____________________________

Time passed slowly. I felt as if each hour was taking a century to pass, sitting in Chris’s room, not knowing if he would come back. Not sure if the blue words would pop up again, announcing that I had failed my mission, that my soul would be destroyed. I was having trouble focusing, my thoughts tangling together inside my head, difficult to separate out. I took slow, deep breaths, trying to sort out what I knew.

I don’t want to match with Chris.

I knew that for a fact.

I don’t have a better plan to save my mental state, or complete my mission.

Also fact.

I might die.

The facts were really depressing, actually. Just looking at it like this, it still seemed as if my best option would be to agree to Chris’s proposal.

____________________________

"We know the rules. We have to follow them perfectly.”

____________________________

The man's words from my memory echoed in my head, but I ignored them.

Like the me in those memories said... There's always an alternate solution.

I won’t match Chris.

It wasn’t rational or smart. But I couldn’t give in.

So, if I don’t have a better plan, why bother to escape?

I leaned back against the headboard of the bed, trying to come up with a single goal after leaving this place. It didn’t take long, as a familiar face came to mind.

Liam. I want to find Liam.

It didn’t make sense. It wouldn’t help my mission, as he couldn’t form a connection. We didn’t even know each other that well, only spent a few hours in each other’s company. But deep down inside me, the only thing I wanted to do was see him again. He was the only person I trusted.

Chris said he returned home, though.

Hopefully he was lying. And if he wasn’t… well, then I would just have to search for him then.

The clock chimed. It was midnight, and almost everyone should be asleep. Getting to my feet, I took a moment to steady myself, ignoring the searing headache and lightheadedness that had gotten worse the more awake I was.

It must be the mental degradation. Who knows how much time I have left?

I moved quietly towards the door, studying the lock. Alaira had been a good student, spending all her time studying military tactics and Mech technology. She had no idea how to pick a lock.

____________________________

I was an assassin, crouching in front of a door, easily forcing it open within a few seconds.

“Amateurs.” I whispered to myself with a grin. “Thinking you could keep me out.”

____________________________

The memory faded, but my hands were already moving, inserting the hairpin I had found into the lock and rearranging the tumblers inside. As I felt the last one slide into place, there was a loud clicking noise, and the door swung open.

“I’m not Alaira.” I whispered. “These memories aren’t hallucinations.”

Which was probably not a good thing, given that I was about to fail my mission, and have my soul destroyed. But I was still happy.

I am not Alaira.

I crept down the main hallway of the men’s dormitory, having to hide a few times to dodge security guards. The throbbing of my shoulder served as a steady reminder to keep close track of my surroundings.

“Report.”

Just as I was entering a entrance hallway to the dormitory, someone called out. At the sound of the voice, I ducked under a table, hiding myself in the shadows, glad I was wearing my dark uniform still.

“Everything has been quiet, sir.” A security guard stepped into my vision, looking nervous.

“You’re certain?” The voice was quiet, but was still easily recognizable as the one I wanted to hear the least right now:

Chris? What’s he doing up at this hour.

“Yes, sir. There’s been no movement around the dorms tonight.”

“Good.” Chris stepped into view, his polite façade gone, in its place a grim, ruthless man. “As I’ve said before, Guardian Alaira is deep into mental degradation, and is a danger to herself and others. I've kept her here solely for the purpose of her safety, but she can’t understand that in her current state, and may try to escape.”

“Are you sure…?” The guard seemed nervous.

“Do YOU want to be responsible for General Gladus’ only child being harmed?”

He straightened up, shaking his head back and forth vigorously. “No! No of course not!”

“Then do what you are told. And remember, Prince William…”

Liam? I leaned in, interested.

“…whereabouts are unknown, so keep an eye out.” He sighed. “He was supposed to go home after receiving that written summons. But he hung around instead, and has been trying to see her.”

“Why can’t they…?”

“He’s the reason she has refused to match. As a Connector without the ability to make the connection, he hopes to keep her like him, not caring that her mind is almost completely broken. “ Chris held out his hands helplessly. “Even if he’s a prince, we can’t let him do this. Not to General Gladus’ family, right?”

Liam didn’t go home?! He’s nearby! I felt excited, almost not hearing the next part of the conversation. The sound of my name dragged back my attention.

“Alaira and I will be forming the Connection tomorrow. So we just have to keep an eye out until then.”

“She has agreed?”

“She will.” He smiled, the expression terrifying in the shadows. “She has to.” He moved off to the side, his boots only a few feet from my face, picking up something from the table above me.

“Or she’ll fail the mission, and her soul will be destroyed.”

He whispered the last sentence, but it struck me like a bolt of lightning.

HOW DOES HE KNOW ABOUT THE MISSION?! ABOUT THE WARNING? I clapped my hands to my mouth, preventing a sound from leaking out as my frenzied brain tried to make sense of this new information. Is he a traveler too?

Does he know who I really am?

“Well, congratulations on a successful match, then.” The guard responded cheerfully, unaware of the grim threat lurking behind Chris’ words.

The two separated, leaving me frozen, still hiding underneath the table.

Who is Chris, who am I? I clutched at my head, the throbbing pain worsening. I don’t have time to figure this out!

I started moving forward, ignoring my growing panic and confusion. Ignoring the agony of my mind falling apart.

I was going to find Liam.

I crept along the side of the room, making it to the front door of the dormitory.

What if there are guards on the other side?

I pushed away the panicked thought, and mentally prepared to fight my way out.

I’ve already gotten this far. I won’t give up now!

With that, I took a deep breath, and pushed open the door, rushing out, ready to start swinging.

I ran straight into a firm chest.

Fight!

I cocked a fist, swinging it towards the man’s face, when I head a single word.

“Alaira?”

I froze, looking up into familiar dark blue eyes. “Liam? What are you doing here?”

“Trying to rescue you! What are you doing here?”

“Escaping.”

“Awesome!” He grabbed my hand, pulling me along. “Let’s escape together!”

We ran away.

____________________________

Quickly moving through the different winding hallways, I lost track of where we were going. The doors flew past us, the soft glow of the emergency lighting a blue blur. All I could see was Liam’s back in front of me.

And I feel a whole lot safer than I ever did sitting in that quiet dorm room.

Finally, Liam pulled me into a classroom, dragging over a chair for me to sit on. Once I sat down, he brought a desk over, opening up a backpack and setting a thermos and a container down next to me.

Opening the container and thermos, I shook my head “How on earth did you manage to bring along hot tea and sandwiches to a rescue attempt?”

“I was worried that you might not have been eating properly.” He muttered.

A brief flash of a smiling man peeling an apple by a campfire filled my mind. “Support spouse?” The muttered words came unbidden to my lips, and I rubbed my temples.

Liam blushed, “What did you call me?”

“Nothing, sorry. My mind is having trouble keeping things straight right now.”

“The mental degradation?” He reached out, his hand pausing in the air before dropping back by his side. “How are you doing?”

I took a sip from the thermos, realizing from the empty feeling in my stomach that I hadn’t eaten anything in the whole time I had been trapped in Chris’s dorm room. “Honestly… I don’t know. Things are getting jumbled… I’m having trouble figuring out what’s real and what isn’t.”

“It’s already that far along?” Liam’s face was full of concern. “And there’s still no high enough match for you to make a connection and reverse the process?”

Chris’s offer crossed my mind, but I shook my head. “No.”

“…Alaira.” He spoke my name quietly. “ What about Chris? “

“…”

“I don’t know what’s going on. All I know is that you disappeared from the infirmary last night, and all of a sudden I received a communication telling me to return home immediately. When I tried to track you down to check on you first, I couldn’t find you. Finally I narrowed it down to the Chris’s dormitory, but he had the place locked down like a fortress.”

Liam sat down next to me, staring down at his hands. “I heard that he has a high enough resonance match with you to make the connection, but he’s always refused in the past.” He glanced up at me. “But that’s not the case anymore, is it?”

“…I don’t want him in my head.”

“Even if it means your mind degrading further?”

I thought over the mission warning. “Even if my soul were going to be destroyed. I won't match him. It would be worse than death.”

“…okay.”

Shocked, I stared over at him. His face was serious, his eyes concerned as his gaze met mine. “Really? That simple?”

“I won’t force you to let that person into your mind. If it’s against your will, my attempt to save you could destroy you.” He broke the eye contact. “I just wish more than anything that I could make the Connection.” His voice cracked on the last word. “I’m useless.”

____________________________

“I’m useless.” The man in front of me, usually confident and smiling, was broken, his hands clutching tightly onto my own.

“Don’t say that.” I was breaking down, barely able to lift my head to look at him.

“It’s true. Something has changed... the world has changed. This place is rejecting you. My blood doesn’t work anymore. You’re going to be forced to leave, to go back to… “ He held his face in his hands. “And I can’t stop it.”

“Hey, lean closer.” I whispered, a small grin on my face despite the pain that wracked my body.

He leaned in, his dark blue eyes curious.

I grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him in closer, and kissed him.

____________________________

I blinked, the memory still gripping me tightly, and realized that something was very wrong:

I was still kissing someone.

I was kissing Liam.

My hand gripped the front of his uniform tightly, the fabric wrinkled in my grasp. My other rested on his shoulder, feeling his trembling beneath my hand. His own hands braced against the chair and desk, keeping him from falling down where I had already obviously pulled him out of his seat. Our lips pressed together tightly, a comfortable warm feeling.

Did… I just jump Liam while in the grip of a memory?

…Also, I should probably stop, right?

I slowly released him, embarrassed as he sat back in his chair with a loud thump, his eyes wide with surprise and his face red.

“I … I’m sorry, I was confused…I didn’t mean…” I stuttered, wondering how to explain.

“I felt that.”

“I’ve been getting flashes of memories, and I’m not sure what they mean, or what’s real…”

“Alaira.”

“I shouldn’t have grabbed you, and… done that. I’m sorr…”

“ALAIRA.” Liam’s uncharacteristically loud voice startled me into silence. I stared at him warily, unsure if he was mad or not.

His hand grabbed my own, shocking me. “I felt that.”

“I don’t…”

“I felt it… without the barrier.” Liam was still blushing, but his eyes were filled with an excited light instead of the defeated expression that had been there before.

“You did?”

“Yeah… um…” He swallowed uncomfortably, glancing at me before looking away. “Can we do that again?”

“…”

Seeing my strange expression, he waved his hands frantically. “Not to take advantage of you or anything! I mean I can try to match you if my barrier is down, and that’s the only way…”

I raised an eyebrow. “So you’re saying you don’t want to kiss me? You just want to see if we’re a high enough resonance match to form a connection?”

He hesitated, and then covered his face. “No. I want to kiss you again too.”

“Good.” I moved closer this time and leaned in with a smile. “Me too.”

We kissed again.

This time, beyond the warmth of the physical connection, I felt an electric pulse between us, a surge of power that was foreign to myself, but all too familiar at the same time.

We must be higher than a 50% match! Enough to stop the mental degradation!

Before I could break away to tell Liam, I felt his hand gently slide around the back of my head, his fingers tangling into my hair. The kiss deepened, becoming more passionate. The power exchange between us grew exponentially, the tangling of Alpha and delta waves binding our souls together.

He’s making the Connection. I responded fully, throwing all my power into it. Immediately my headache lessened, the vague sense of uncertainty that had been haunting me faded away.

After what seemed like an eternity, we broke apart, catching our breath. My heartbeat was frantic in my ears as I stared at Liam. I could feel him still, inside my self, tangled with my mind and spirit, a constant presence within me.

This is more than a simple Connection.

Liam nodded, looking overwhelmed. “I’m not sure exactly what happened… I think we might be a really high resonance match.”

“Why…” I paused, trying to sort out my thoughts. “Why does it feel like we’ve always had this connection… we’re just getting it back now?”

“Maybe we did in another life. ” he grinned, his face still red. “I felt tied to you the moment I met you.”

I sighed, resting my head against his shoulder. “Same.”

There was a comfortable silence, as we sat in the dark classroom, the tea in the thermos in front of us long gone cold. Finally I spoke up, refusing to move from my position of leaning on him.

“What now?”

He thought it over. “I guess we tell everyone we formed the Connection, and that you don’t need to be suspended anymore.”

“And after that?”

“Not sure.”

There is still the mission, I guess. “How about we save the world?”

His arm tightened around me. “If it will make you happy, anything.”

We waited out the night, together.

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 31

AO3

Taglist: @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised @alastair-appreciation-month

Previous Chapter: Chapter 30

Next Chapter: Chapter 32

Warning: this is a heavier chapter, dealing with some self decrepetating thoughts, not suicidal thoughts but somewhat similar

‘And what do you have to offer?’ the thief asked.

Part of Alastair still couldn’t quite believe he’d done it. He’d summoned the thief of souls and could make a deal with him. Alastair wasn’t like Benedict or Tatiana, he wouldn’t kill another person, not even for Thomas. But he still had plenty to offer.

‘Myself,’ Alastair said. ‘In exchange for the life of Thomas Lightwood. He’ll live, and you can take me instead.’

‘Not much faith in your friends, I see,’ the thief said. ‘Not even in that little witch? I must admit I had not expected her, I do tend to lose track of my children, I thought Tessa had died. I had no idea Tessa had a daughter who’d inherited her gifts.’

They should have succeeded already, and if they hadn’t that meant Thomas was about to die. Realistically, there was no reason to have faith, which meant now was the time for more drastic measures. With Cordelia probably dead and Thomas soon to follow, what was there for him anyway? At least Thomas still had his family. Thomas could love again.

‘They have failed. So now it is up to me. My soul, in exchange for Thomas.’

The thief laughed. It was an odd sort of laugh, not quite like the evil laughter you saw in movies but unsettling still. ‘And why would I take such a deal?’

‘You know about my memory,’ Alastair said evenly.

‘Ah, yes. I admit you would make an interesting addition. A broken soul with a magic memory. I’ve never heard of such a power before. Thomas’ sight makes him valuable, of course, but I might not find a soul quite like yours ever again. It is a tempting offer.’

A broken soul with a magic memory. He guessed that was what he was. Too broken, perhaps, to be happy. He’d thought with Thomas he could find another way. But if Thomas died, what would be the point? It would be a blow from which he could never recover.

He wished it didn’t have to come to this, he wished the two of them could have a future together. But some things just weren’t meant to be and if either of them should get to live, it was Thomas.

‘Precisely,’ Alastair said. ‘It is a good trade, isn’t it? I don’t ask for power, or magic, or anything. All I want is that Thomas recovers and lives.’

The thief eyed him curiously. ‘You’d sacrifice yourself for him. Why?’

‘Because I love him. Because as you said, I am a broken soul,’ Alastair said. ‘I have no interest in living in a world where I couldn’t save him. So instead I’m here, offering myself.’

The thief put up an arm, gesturing as he spoke. ‘You could easily offer another. There are all kinds of souls I am interested in.’

‘I would not become a murderer for him. My own soul is what I have to offer. Nothing else.’

The thief seemed confused by his statement. How many would make the same choice, he wondered. It couldn’t be that uncommon, to love another enough to be willing to make such a trade, right? Whereas only the worst of people would kill to get what they want.

‘Alright,’ the thief said. ‘Amuse me. I will take your soul to my world, separated from your body but not quite dead. From there you have two options. You can find your way out of my realm. Your soul will be reunited with your body as long as it still lives, the deal will be off and Thomas is mine to claim.’

A way out, that was good, he guessed. If Cordelia and Lucie miraculously succeeded, they might still save him if his body was not yet dead. It would be up to them now. Perhaps there was still hope. Realistically, Alastair knew Thomas was not literally all he had, and that there were still a few people who would miss him. He also knew there was no way he’d survive without him. He was already so broken, Thomas’ death would be more than he could take. How had Lucie survived after losing Jesse? She’d been so young. Alastair remembered Cordelia would spend days, weeks, months with her, comforting her friend. He knew Cordelia would do the same for him. He knew it wouldn’t be enough, if she was even alive. Alastair had to face the truth, she probably wasn’t.

‘But if you wish to save your love, you must find him in my realm. His body is here, alive, but most of his soul is with me already, enough for him to have formed here. That’s why you cannot wake him. If you kiss his soul on the lips, he’ll be saved and you will die.

And if you fail at both, if after twenty four hours you have not found your love and still reside in my realm, you are both mine and will both die.’

It was a risk. Alastair had seen the thief’s realm in Barbara’s memory, it might not be easy to find Thomas. But he would be able to find his way around there, and he had some ideas of where Thomas might go. It was worth a try.

‘I accept to your terms,’ Alastair said.

‘Good. Now, sealing the deal requires another kiss.’

Alastair made face. ‘You mean you want me to kiss you?’

The thief laughed. The sound chilled him to the bone. ‘No. I mean your twenty four hours will start once you kiss your Thomas. You have until midnight, if you do not kiss him before then the deal is off. I suggest you make your peace, write a note to your family. After all, you won’t ever see them again.’

Alastair felt a heavy weight settle in his stomach. The thief was right. He would never see Cordelia again. Never meet the baby, never make his peace, he would never recover from everything he’d been through. This was it, this was where he would die. For Thomas, it was worth it, but Alastair wished it could be different.

He quickly wrote a note for Cordelia, in case she was still alive and would find him. No, he couldn’t let himself think that. Cordelia couldn’t be dead. His mother should have at least one child alive, one of them should get to go home to her and meet the baby and live. Someone would read the note, if not Cordelia herself. He left the note outside near the circle, kept in place underneath a rock, and then he wrote another note. This one for Thomas, who would wake up within the next twenty four hours and find Alastair dead. Alastair gently put it under Thomas’ pillow, and then sat down on the bed next to him. He knew Thomas was far away and couldn’t hear him, but Alastair spoke to him anyway.

‘I’m so sorry, Tom,’ Alastair said. ‘But there’s only one way to save you now. And I will. I promised I won’t let you die, and it’s a promise I intend to keep. You’ll survive, and I know it’ll be hard at first. I know losing me is like nothing you ever experienced, I know you’ll miss me and I’m sorry I have to put you through that. But you’ll find happiness again, I’m sure of it. You’ll heal, and you’ll go on with your life and when the time is right you’ll find another man, someone who can love you better than I ever could. Please don’t hold back for my sake. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. I really should have known this was the best I could do for you.’

Alastair was crying, and he desperately tried to wipe the tears from his eyes. He wanted so badly to be with Thomas, to have him here alive and well, and give him everything he could. He wanted to go to museums with him and he wanted Thomas to meet his family, and eventually the baby. He’d envisioned a future for them, something that could never be.

Alastair gently stroke Thomas’ cheek. Part of him wanted to lie down here, crawl into Thomas’ arms before kissing him. It would be cruel, to let Thomas wake up next to his dead body, but as per the thief’s term, there was no other way, he’d die right here in this room. But perhaps Thomas would want to hold him as he died. It was the way Alastair wanted to go, that he was sure of. He’d gone so long without receiving the affection he craved, if he died he wished to at least be in Thomas’ arms.

It felt wrong, to kiss him without asking, but it was the only way to save his life. In the end, Alastair settled beside Thomas, holding his hand. He knew it was selfish to want to die close to Thomas, their hands intertwined. He leaned over and quickly kissed Thomas on the lips. It felt like falling, falling into the nothing until he awoke in the dark realm of the thief of souls.

***

Cordelia didn’t know what to do anymore. Her brother was still breathing, he had a pulse but both were so weak. He was in a deep sleep and no one could wake either of them up. In Thomas’ case, she understood it was because of what Tatiana was doing. He would die tonight, if Tatiana succeeded. Cordelia didn’t quite understand why she hadn’t before. Unless Alastair had interfered somehow. Was that even possible?

‘What have you done, Alastair joon?’ she asked him, tears in her eyes.

‘They’re still not awake, are they?’

Cordelia didn’t recognize the girl who entered the room. She looked Indian, she guessed, Cordelia didn’t think she was related to the Lightwoods.

‘I’m Kamala,’ she said. ‘Genie asked me if I could try to heal them.’

‘Genie?’ Cordelia asked, a little confused with what was going on.

‘Thomas’ sister Eugenia. We arrived last afternoon. Your brother was still awake back then. Can I try if there’s anything I can do? I admit it’s unlikely, but the least I could do is try. My gift is minor, you see, I mainly heal injuries. I doubt I’ll wake him up.’

‘No, go ahead,’ Cordelia said. ‘It’s worth a shot.’

Kamala touched Alastair’s cheek first, holding her hand there for a while. Then Thomas’.

‘His pulse picked up,’ Kamala said. ‘Thomas is the same, Alastair seems a little improved? But still in coma, so it’s probably not helpful. I’m sorry.’

Cordelia nodded. Kamala had done the best she could. None of them understood what had happened to Alastair. Kamala walked out, but Cordelia remained in the room, holding Alastair’s free hand. Perhaps Jem would know what was wrong with him, she thought, as she saw her cousin walk in.

‘Cordelia, Lucie found something you should see,’ he said in a calm but pained tone.

Cordelia knew whatever Lucie had found, it wasn’t good news. She sat down as Lucie handed her a note, holding her hand. ‘I didn’t read it,’ Lucie promised. ‘But I found it outside, hidden underneath a stone, in a drawn circle…’

‘Alastair, what did you do?’ she whispered.

Cordelia opened the letter, hoping she would find something reassuring there. Hoping it said Alastair was going to be alright and would just be sleeping for a little while. Foolish, she knew, but hope played wicked games with the mind.

Dear Cordelia,

I know while I’m writing this you’re probably already dead. But still I write, because even with a minor chance that you’re alive, I wanted to explain to you what happened. And I thought, maybe your ghost would visit, and wish to read my last words. Either way, there are some things I wanted you to know.

It has been too long since I heard from you, and if you’re still alive I know you have not succeeded in stopping Tatiana. That means Thomas would die at midnight, unless someone else intervened. So I did.

I summoned the thief of souls. I know what you’re going to say, but I firmly believe it was the right choice. He offered me a deal, I can go into his realm as a soul, and search for Thomas. If I escape his realm, I survive and Thomas dies, but if I find and kiss Thomas within the timeframe he has given me, I will take his place and die and Thomas will live. There’s a chance that I fail and we both die, but I’m trying not to think about that. I won’t fail Thomas, I will find him. Perhaps, if you and Lucie kill the thief before our agreement is fulfilled, we can both survive. I am not counting on it. But if you see this, hurry and you might still save me.

I am sorry to leave you alone, assuming of course you will ever see this letter. I want you to know this is not what I wanted. I know you worry about me hurting myself, but I assure you I did not make this choice because I wanted to end my life. Rather, I wanted Thomas to live, and this is the best I can do for him. I know it will hurt him to lose me, but I’m afraid there is no other way now.

I wanted you to know, that I do love you. For years, you were my reason to live. I know I haven’t always been the best brother to you, and for that I am sorry. I still find it difficult to tell you how I feel, even in a letter you may very well never read. But you must know that without you, I likely would not have survived until now and for that I am grateful. What would be the point?

I love you, Layla, and I’m begging you to live. I know losing me will be hard, but maman and the baby will need you. I love them both very much, please tell them that, alright?

Love

Alastair

Cordelia read the letter a second time, a third, to try and find a hint that it wasn’t real, that Alastair could wake up any moment now. Then she burst into tears. Alastair had sacrificed himself for Thomas, given his life. He’d been under the impression that she was dead, even if he’d still written this letter just in case she’d make it back.

He was going to die. Unless Cordelia saved him before his deal ended. She put her hand on her necklace. With cortana, she would slay the thief of souls. She would not allow him to take her brother away from her. He should get to go home, he should get to meet the baby. He claimed it wasn’t what he wanted, and Cordelia believed this wasn’t a suicide attempt, but it wasn’t the choice a healthy person would make, was it?

It frightened her to know Alastair would trade away his life, his soul, for Thomas. She knew he would do the same for her, but Cordelia would never want that. She was fairly certain Thomas didn’t either.

Cordelia found a clean paper tissue somewhere and dried her tears. She would find him. She and Lucie would go into the realm of the thief of souls, kill the thief and bring back Alastair and Thomas. She would destroy him for taking her brother.

She understood now why Jesse had not come to life last night, why Thomas still lived. For what it was worth, Alastair’s sacrifice had saved Thomas, at least for another day. From the contents of Alastair’s letter, she presumed both their souls were in his realm while there bodies lived. That’s why they couldn’t wake up.

She returned to the living room of the cottage, which had become entirely too crowded.

Gideon had returned, his arm encased in a cast. Kamala was next to him, touching his arm, a concentrated look on her face. Cordelia realized she must be trying to heal him, or at least speed up the process. Gideon looked exhausted.

Thomas’ sisters were beside him and the oldest turned her attention to Cordelia. ‘My mother told me what you can do. Is there anything left we can do to save Tommy?’

‘I think so,’ Cordelia said. She would have to explain then, what Alastair had done. What she and Lucie would have to do. ‘Alastair has made a deal with the thief of souls. Something that presumably saved Thomas last night. He traded away his own soul, and had twenty four hours to find Thomas in the land of the thief of souls and wake him. If he fails, they’ll both die. But there’s another option, which is that Lucie and I enter this realm and kill the thief of souls before the deal is done. Alastair and Thomas are both still alive for now. I think taking back their souls will save them. But we don’t have much time. Lucie and I have to go.’

***

Alastair appeared in a palace. It wasn’t the same as the ruins in the woods. Admittedly, this one was more to his taste. It was built in an ancient Greece inspired style. Pillars decorated with ionic curls, and an open garden in the middle of the house.

‘Do you like it?’ a man asked.

He didn’t look like the thief as he’d appeared in his circle, but from his voice Alastair recognized him. A shapeshifter, of course he was. That’s why Tessa had inherited that power from him.

‘This will be your home after all,’ the thief continued, shifting in yet another form, a handsome brown haired young man wearing a roman style toga. ‘It doesn’t have to be so bad, you know. I know it looks rather horrifying out there. So many lost, hopeless souls. Many of them have their use and give me power, but are not particularly useful people. Some are pretty enough to look at and get to work around me. Only a few are like you. That memory ability is why I wanted you, of course, but you’re clever and cunning. I know you think the way I do. If you do well, you could even become my second in command.’

Alastair didn’t think he had any interest in being a personal assistant or even second in command to the thief. But if Lucie and Cordelia failed, if they were already dead or failed to slay the thief, Alastair would do it. He could be patient, he could be clever. He could get close enough to the thief to destroy him. He didn’t care how long it would take.

‘You will be summoned back here once you free your love,’ the thief said. ‘Permanently dead, that is. You may still feel a sliver of a connection to your body for now, feel free to ignore that. It will be gone soon enough. Good luck, Alastair Carstairs, for my realm is vast and Thomas Lightwood is free to dwell wherever he wishes. Or perhaps it’s best to leave him be for now. Why save him, when you can keep him here with you forever? If you proof to be a good assistant, you could keep him here with you in the palace. You could be together, forever. Or you could set him free and never see him again. Your choice.’

‘I will find him,’ Alastair said, turning his back on the thief and the palace and entering the vast woods.

It looked a bit different here from where he’d previously entered, the forest was dense and mostly consisted of pine trees. He couldn’t say he understood exactly how this realm was layered over the realm world, Alastair suspected it was smaller, and consisted mostly of forest where the souls wandered.

He thought of the comment the thief had made, and Alastair hated to admit he pictured what it would be like in his head. Stay there with Thomas. It would not be much, not until they destroyed the thief together, but it could be something, and they would be together. But Alastair would not do such a thing. He’d come here to save Thomas’ life, and he would. Even if it meant they would never see each other again.

He wondered if he should explain it all to Thomas, and let him choose what he wanted. Perhaps he’d urge Alastair to find the exit, and help him go home. Perhaps he’d choose to stay together. But Thomas was young and in love and he would make the wrong choice. If he stayed with Alastair, he would never see his parents or sisters again, he would lose everything. If he left, he’d only lose Alastair, and in time he’d realize Alastair had not been his life after all, and he could love another. It was selfish to wish for them to stay together, and Alastair refused to be that selfish. Thomas would live, it was the only possible outcome.

***

Thomas wasn’t so sure who he was anymore. He knew his name. Thomas Gabriel Lightwood. He repeated it to himself. Thomas Gabriel Lightwood, that was his name. He was fairly certain Gabriel came from his uncle, although he could not remember who this man was, could not picture his face in his head. He had parents, that he could be sure of.

Thomas wandered aimlessly through a pine forest. Where was he, anyway? What was this place? He felt like he should know, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. It was frustrating. There were more people around here, and Thomas decided to ask a woman.

‘Who are you?’ he asked.

The woman stared at him blankly, then turned around and walked away. That wasn’t helpful. He tried with a few more souls. Some gave him a name, others walked away. Some even pretended they did not hear him at all. Perhaps they really didn’t.

Thomas closed his eyes. There had to be someone he remembered. Deep in his memories he found a man in his forties. Green eyes. Light brown hair, or was it dark blonde? The doubt about the hair color sparked a memory.

‘Dad has blonde hair,’ a round faced girl of about eight or nine years old said.

A smaller girl disagreed. ‘No, it’s brown. Are you blind? It’s clearly brown.’

The two girls resembled each other. Both had brown hair, darker than the father they were discussing, who sat on the couch with them, laughing at the argument his daughters were having. Thomas had been very small then, nothing like he was now. He’d walked to the couch and pulled at the man’s leg. His father, he realized. He had a father and two sisters.

His father picked him up and Thomas crawled into his lap. He was fairly sure his hair was brown, just a few shades lighter than Thomas’ own brown hair. His father put his hand against Thomas’ small forehead.

‘You’re burning up, Tommy. I think you have a fever again.’

‘Don’t wanna go back to bed,’ Thomas protested. ‘Not tired.’

Even at this young age of three, he’d learned that when he had a fever, he would have to go to bed and rest. But Thomas didn’t want to rest, he wanted to play with his new airplane toy.

‘Sophie, can you get the thermometer?’ his father asked.

A little later, he saw his mother, the familiar scar on her cheek comforting.

‘Hold still, Tom,’ she said as she put the thermometer in his ear.

He struggled against the grip, but his father held him until his mother was done taking his temperature.

‘You’ve got a fever again,’ his mother said. ‘I’ll call the doctor. A child shouldn’t be ill this frequent, right?’

‘Don’t wanna go to the doctor,’ Thomas protested.

‘You’re going to be alright, Tommy,’ his father said gently. ‘Your mother and I will come with you, there’s no need to be scared. We will always be there for you.’

Thomas realized the memory had been years ago, when he was about three or four. He had parents who loved him very much. Two sisters who were protective of him. He had a family he needed to return to, but Thomas had no idea where they were or how to find them.

He remembered someone else. A girl with brown hair and blue eyes who was excitedly telling him about this new book series she’d started. It was a about a land with witches where people had all sorts of powers called witcheries. The main character could discern lies from truth and was sought after because she was the only one who could and fleeing from an arranged marriage to an emperor. Her best friend was a threadwitch and she was this girl’s favorite. Although her powers were not quite the same as the other threadwitches. Thomas could not quite remember what the differences were. Then there was a windwitch prince from a small, starving kingdom who’d agreed to help the two girls, and a bloodwitch who hunted them. The girl was a writer herself, Thomas realized, and she was a dear friend. He’d ended up reading the series she’d recommended, and then had to wait for a long time for the next book.

Then he remembered a boy with a deep golden brown skin and dark eyes and hair. Thomas couldn’t quite tell who he was, but he had to be the most beautiful man Thomas had ever seen. He’d been angry and bitter once, Thomas remembered, although he wasn’t sure why. Then he’d been tired and sad. Lately, he’d been happy too though, at least sometimes. Thomas secretly hoped he had something to do with that. He felt this boy was important to him, and he needed to make sure he was alright. He couldn’t do that from here.

Trying to orientate himself, Thomas kept walking. He needed to find people he remembered. He needed to find his mother and father, who undoubtedly worried for him. He needed to find his sisters, because even if they would stuff him back in bed and shove a thermometer into his ear, Thomas remembered he loved them. He needed to find the girl with the blue eyes, because Thomas knew she was his friend, even if he didn’t remembered her beyond that. And he needed to find that dark haired boy, who wasn’t alright, and might never be. But Thomas would be there, to help him through it, to help him find happiness. He needed to go home. The memories, he hoped, would follow.

[sokkadora]

PROMPT LIST

fluff prompts!

1. "your hair is so soft..."

2. "it's too cold! come back!"

3. "no i'm not letting you go. it's too early to get out of bed."

4. "c'mere, you can sit in my lap until i'm done working."

5. "i'm not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention."

6. "what? does that feel good?"

7. "just pretend to be my date."

8. "they did it." "no, they did."

9. "it's not a double date, we're just third and fourth wheeling."

10. "no, no, it's alright come here."

11. "look, i know we don't know each other that well, but i'm still worried about you. no one deserves to be alone."

12. "if i could, i would kiss away all of your scars."

13. "your lips are so soft, i could kiss them all day if you'd let me."

14. "mmm . . . you're warm."

15. "you're so cute when you're half asleep like this . . ."

16. "i've had a rough day and honestly all i want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with."

17. "kind of pretty, aren't they?"

18. "where you go, i go."

19. "you are my dearest friend. my deepest love. you are the best part of me."

20. "you are the sun."

21. "oh, darling, everybody sees how you look at them."

22. "of all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you."

23. "i think you are the sweetest thing."

24. "there's nothing i wouldn't do to keep you safe."

25. "i don't care if the world knows my name, i just want you to remember me."

27. "you deserve more than i could ever give you."

28. "i love you. i know that's not enough, but i do."

29. "you're safe with me, you always will be."

30. "i need you to live... cause if you're gone then, i don't know what the point of it all is anymore."

31. "why do you walk around as if you're somehow less valuable than the rest of the world?"

32. "you'll always have me."

33. "you make me feel safe. like i'm allowed to be anything i want."

34. "i've got you, you're safe."

35. "just rest, i'm here."

36. "you can stay with me tonight."

37. “don’t worry. you always have a way of sneaking into peoples hearts” *kisses cheek*

angst prompts!

1. "i didn't have anywhere else to go..."

2. "please, i don't know what i'd do without you."

3. "please talk to me about it."

4. "i'm pregnant.

5. "it's not bad to cry. in fact, i think it makes a person stronger."

6. "i think i might be falling in love with you."

7. "shh, you're safe. i won't let you go."

8. "i think i'm in love with you, and i'm terrified."

9. "i'm not gonna leave you. you're never going to have to suffer by yourself again, i promise."

10. "you are weak with love for them."

11. "sacrifice, that's what we do for the people we love."

12. "i thought they'd killed you."

13. "i lost my temper."

14. "i will find them, or i will die trying."

15. "don't you touch them."

16. "these people are my family, and if you hurt them in anyway – i will kill you."

17. "the choices i've made i would make again, for him, no matter the cost."

18. "i'll choose their happiness over mine every time."

19. "that's beyond stupid. they've created a new kind of stupid."

20. "people say that i am heartless."

21. "fight it, or accept it. fear it, or control it."

22. "you save everyone, but who saves you?"

23. "chin up, kid, they'd kill to see you fall."

24. "i'd do anything to be the person you love again."

25. "you make me want to live."

26. "i know i don't deserve forgiveness, but i like the idea that some people think i might."

27. "when i'm in a crowd i just want to melt away and yet, when i'm alone it's somehow worse."

28. "i know i'm not the person you want, but i'm here."

29. "i love you, and i know you may never feel the same. but i'm okay with that."

30. "you're worth more than this."

31. "i see you. i know you feel so invisible all the time, but you're not. not to me."

32. "it's okay to be angry, you're allowed to be upset about what happened to you."

33. "don't you realize you deserve more than this?"

34. "you're not a machine or— or some thing. you're a person, and i'm sorry anyone ever made you feel otherwise."

35. "please, just hold on a little longer. i can't lose you too."

36. "if you won't do it for yourself, then do it for me."

37. "you're bleeding— how long have you been hiding this?!"

38. "sometimes i realize one day i could die, i could just disappear and the world would be none the wiser. there'd be no one to miss me and that terrifies me more than death itself."

39. "i'm not sure i know who i'm supposed to be anymore."

40. "my mind is so loud and i'm afraid it'll never be quiet again."

41. “if you knew who i really was. just how… broken i am. you’d hate me.” — “i already know you. and i love you.”

smut prompts!

1. "you know, you always look so much better when i mark you up."

2. "you look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat."

3. "how do you feel about adding another person to the mix?"

4. "you'd better be quiet if you don't want to get caught."

5. "you look good all soaking wet."

6. "are you sure that's what you want? i could really hurt you."

7. "i don't care how good it feels you'd better not cum until i tell you to."

8. "look, i'm not into choking but i wouldn't mind if you grabbed me by the neck every once in a while."

9. "i bet you think you're real cute letting them put their hands all over you. we'll see how cute you look later when i get you home."

10. "you don't have to be gentle with me, i don't break easily."

11. "touch yourself for me."

12. "do you think you deserve to be punished?"

13. "you take my fingers so well don't you?"

14. "shut up and take your pants off."

15. "when i get home i expect you to be undressed and waiting on all fours for me."

16. "are you wearing my shirt?"

17. "did i stutter? do as you're told!"

18. "look at you, i've only started using my fingers and you're already shaking."

19. "i can't wait to be on my knees for you later."

20. "oh honey, you know, you really shouldn't tease me."

21. "take it off. slowly."

22. "such a needy little thing, aren't you?"

23. "why don't you go put on something pretty for me?"

24. "kitten, don't make me tell you twice."

25. "do you know how beautiful you are? it's truly distracting."

26. "so desperate for it, aren't you? well, if you want it so bad you'd better start taking it."

27. "please? i'll be good, i promise!"

28. "mmm, good morning to you too."

29. "just pull the car over!"

30. "aww, is my little princess/prince getting shy?"

31. "that tickles."

32. "you know, there wasn't a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in."

random prompts!

1. "never saw one without the other, did you?"

2. "unique just means alone."

3. "i'm not afraid to die, just wish i could live a little first."

4. "i know i'm a monster, but you look at me like i'm a man."

5. "don't look at me like i'm a hero. you'll only disappoint yourself.

6. "sometimes when you look at me it's like...it's like you're staring straight past my flesh and into my soul."

7. "i trust you with my life."

8. "you're more like family to me than my own blood."

9. "i've never had any sort of family before."

10. "your life is far more precious than mine."

11. "i don't care what happens to me. as long as you're safe."

12. "i couldn't say no to you even if i wanted to."

13. "please, let me help you."

14. "just let me do this for you."

15. "you do have something to live for. you have me."

16. "this scar... what happened?"

more to be added (probably) ....

[robininthelabyrinth]

Thank you "Worthwhile Trade". The idea of Baxia turning into an guai is so interesting. I liked imagining the part where she hit NMJ for his idiocy. My brain is projecting "married couple" vibes, omg. I admit despite how weird WWX spoke about the events, the time travel part flew over my head until the tags spelled it out for me. (TBC)

(Cont'd) Also... did NMJ mean it in THAT dual-thing way when talking WRH's prefs? And the last part, where WWX used resentful energy to sub NMJ's qi. I assume he can still cultivate since his core's still there, if emptied? But I wonder what'll happen to his energy once restored Can't help but think his renewed qi will inevitably be affected by the traces of the previous energy that once circulated. He's not going to become a walking stygian tiger or something, is he? Off the wall guess, sorry!

----

sequel to Worthwhile Trade (ao3), also on tumblr

Wei Wuxian didn’t understand Nie Mingjue.

He didn’t understand the way he thought, the way he acted – the way he smiled when he woke up, the way he opened his arms when Nie Huaisang threw himself into them with a wail and said, “It was worth it for you, didi; it always is if it’s for you. Don’t you know that?” the way Wei Wuxian had always shamefully thought of saying, as if something like that could just be said like that, out in the open.

The way Nie Mingjue shrugged when the doctors said his cultivation would likely never recover, that he should have died, that they didn’t understand why he hadn’t; the way he said, seeming even satisfied, that it was a worthwhile trade.

It’s not a trade, Wei Wuxian wanted to scream at him. It’s a sacrifice! It hurts and you’re sad, no, worse, you’re resentful about it and you shouldn’t be because it was your choice, your decision, but you see someone else with everything that you worked so hard for and you’re angry when you shouldn’t be angry and you feel bad and you turn away; it hurts them when you do and you’re glad, you miserable thing, you’re happy that they’re hurt because why should you be the only one whose hurt –

Perhaps the problem wasn’t that he didn’t understand Nie Mingjue.

Perhaps it was only that he saw in Nie Mingjue his own faults, his own deficiencies, the ones he’d tried so hard to hide in the sea of his poor memory.

“You’ll die if you don’t find a way to cultivate,” he said instead, hovering by the door. He’d say that he didn’t mean to ruin the mood, but he kind of did, and Baxia’s eyes on him were cold as if she knew.

As if she knew everything.

How he’d gone back to the past, how he’d changed things, how it was his fault that Nie Mingjue – who’d never done a single thing to hurt him, who’d been upright and righteous and good and whose brother loved him enough to –

Wei Wuxian had made a point of avoiding Baxia.

Not that she was that easy to avoid. She was tall for a woman – not as tall as Nie Mingjue, but proportionate to him in the sense that she was as much taller than the average woman as he was taller than the average man – and she walked as though people should flee before her, a tread that only felt heavy because of the almost visceral rage that surrounded her like a cloud.

Nie Huaisang had found robes for her, somehow, and they were the least feminine robes Wei Wuxian had ever seen a woman wear, though he supposed he still hadn’t seen that given that Baxia wasn’t exactly a woman.  Cut in a martial style, a dark shimmering grey that seemed in some lights to be almost red – she had been born as a human in a mantle of blood and she would not let anyone forget it.

“I should have died already,” Nie Mingjue said, as if the world’s scariest guai didn’t have her hand on his shoulder right next to his vulnerable neck. “You came up with a solution, Wei-gongzi, and for that I thank you. Even if we are not able to solve the next stage, being able to see my loved ones is worthwhile.”

Wei Wuxian could learn to hate that word.

“I have a solution, of a sort,” he said, irritated and not entirely because his reveal had been preempted. He’d hoped to sort of ease into it, somehow. “You lack the capacity for regular cultivation, but that doesn’t mean you can’t use demonic cultivation.”

“What? No, we can’t do that,” Nie Huaisang said, biting his fingers anxiously. “Anyway, doesn’t demonic cultivation harm the temperament?”

“You mean my temperament can get worse?” Nie Mingjue teased, and Nie Huaisang smacked him so lightly that it didn’t even displace his clothing. “I don’t know any means of demonic cultivation, Wei-gongzi –”

“Call me Wei Wuxian,” Wei Wuxian said. “Please.”

“Wei Wuxian, then,” Nie Mingjue said. “All the methods I’ve ever heard of were forbidden for very good reasons – but perhaps those conditions are not the same in the method you know.”

Wei Wuxian tensed. “How do you know that I know one?”

“You saved me, didn’t you?” Nie Mingjue said practically, and well, yes, Wei Wuxian supposed he had a point – “And anyway, Baxia can tell.”

Wei Wuxian shivered. “I don’t use it,” he argued. “How can she tell?”

At Nie Huaisang’s instigation, Baxia had recently started experimenting with smiles. She put one on her face now.

It was terrifying.

“Tell me about it,” Nie Mingjue requested. “The powers and the price, all of it.”

“You’re actually considering this?” Nie Huaisang exclaimed. “But da-ge…!”

“Wei Wuxian was not wrong when he said that I would die if I didn’t find a way to cultivate despite having given up what I have,” Nie Mingjue said. “If I die, what will you do?”

Oh, not much, just become a mastermind capable of puppeting the entire cultivation world to enact revenge for your death. Nothing big.

“But – da-ge has always put such a priority on remaining on the righteous path…”

“That’s why I asked about the costs,” Nie Mingjue said patiently. “I will not abandon righteousness simply because I adopt a new method of cultivating.”

“Everyone will revile you even if you are righteous,” Wei Wuxian warned him.

Nie Mingjue shrugged. “Who is everyone? What do I care for them? You do the right thing because it is right, not for the sake of fame.”

Wei Wuxian had once thought the same.

“If everyone in the cultivation world thinks you are evil, they will paint you as evil no matter what you do,” he insisted. “No matter how righteous your motives –”

“Let them think he’s evil, then!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed. “He could be the most black-hearted cultivator in the land, but he’s still my da-ge; my Nie sect and I will protect him!”

“Huaisang! No! That is not how righteousness works – if I ever truly become evil, you are to cut me off at once, kill me if necessary –”

“No way!”

“Huaisang – Baxia, tell him; evil cannot be endured –”

Baxia was looking at her fingernails. She’d picked that gesture up from Sect Leader Ouyang, when he was trying to be pointed about ignoring someone; it was extremely irritating to absolutely everyone who wanted to know who she was and what she was doing here and Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian had teamed up to convince her to keep doing it.

Possibly a mistake, in retrospect.

“Baxia. I know you agree with me on this. Evil is evil, and must be eradicated no matter who it may be.”

She gave him an unimpressed look.

“I know I’m not evil yet,” Nie Mingjue argued, apparently understanding her without any difficulty whatsoever. He’d just woken up from a month-long coma and he could already speak fluent human-saber, it was really unfair. And this man had succumbed to Jin Guangyao’s wiles? Lan Xichen had more to answer for than he knew. “But if I ever become evil – what? No, we will not burn that bridge when we come to it, that’s not even the right idiom, who is teaching you these things –”

Nie Huaisang coughed and hid his face behind a fan.

Wei Wuxian was not going to laugh.

Nie Mingjue growled at them all and turned back to Wei Wuxian. “Explain,” he demanded. “The rest of you, out.”

“But –”

“Out. One of us has to cultivate the righteous path, and if it can’t be me, it has to be you. Baxia?”

She picked Nie Huaisang up by his collar, for all the world like a mother dog picking up her pup by the scruff of its neck, and walked out.

Nie Mingjue picked up demonic cultivation faster than anyone else Wei Wuxian had ever met or even heard of. He wasn’t sure if that demonstrated an unnerving aptitude or if it was simply that Nie Mingjue was surpassingly talented – Wei Wuxian had never met anyone like himself before, someone for whom all things came easy, and it was an unexpected delight to meet a kindred soul somewhere where he’d long ago given up hope. He’d never planned to unveil demonic cultivation in this life unless he truly needed it – he didn’t want to hurt his Lan Zhan the way he had in his first life, and anyway Jiang Cheng and Uncle Jiang and Madame Yu were all alive, with hundreds of Jiang sect members to boot, there was no need for his sacrifice – but the part of him that was more researcher and inventor than cultivator luxuriated in their discussions.

Nie Mingjue was a lot more concerned than Wei Wuxian had ever been with consequences, and how to mitigate them, but he supposed that made sense: losing his cultivation hadn’t impacted that Nie temper one bit, and demonic cultivation was likely to make things worse. Moreover, Nie Mingjue was simply who he was, stiff and unbending, as much steel in his spine as in Baxia’s; he could almost be described as being rigid in his thinking except for the fact that he was in fact seriously considering becoming a demonic cultivator.

“We’re saber cultivators,” Nie Mingjue said when Wei Wuxian tentatively brought it up. “Like a saber, our nature is to be firm and unyielding, not flexible like the sword, but we cannot allow ourselves to become too rigid – a too-rigid saber will break upon encountering an obstacle. It’s a difficult balance to keep, and one made more difficult by our cultivation style.”

“The demonic cultivation aspects, you mean? Using yao to refine your saber spirit?”

“One day, though not today, I’m going to ask you how you know about that,” Nie Mingjue remarked, and although his tone was causal Wei Wuxian’s back went cold. “And I’ll expect you to tell me the truth when I do. But not today. Anyway, yes, that’s what I mean. Do you know what they mean when they say that demonic cultivation harms the temperament?”

Wei Wuxian hesitated. “I assume you’re going to tell me something other than ‘it drives you crazy and makes you kill people’?”

Nie Mingjue snorted. “Sometimes I wonder how someone as smart as you got sent home before you finished your lessons at the Cloud Recesses, but other times it’s fairly obvious.”

Wei Wuxian shrugged, embarrassed.

“Do you really not know?”

“No one taught this to me,” Wei Wuxian said, stung. “I came up with it on my own. How would I know?”

“All demonic cultivation has the same root,” Nie Mingjue said. “Obsession.”

“With killing, yeah, I know, I’ve heard it a million times –”

“Shut up and listen, you impertinent brat. The killing comes later. It starts with obsession. Obsession with righteousness, obsession with love, obsession with the pleasures of this world, with power – a human becomes a demon when they cannot overcome the obsessions within their heart, and the obsession consumes them. In time, a demonic cultivator who is obsessed with power will do whatever it takes to obtain that power, and not mind the blood shed to do it; a demonic cultivator who is obsessed with love will kill everyone who they perceive stands between them and their love, a demonic cultivator who is obsessed with righteousness will turn to murder when in their judgment something that ought to be condemned goes unpunished…”

“What about one who only wants what’s best for his family?” Wei Wuxian said, and he did not know if the challenge in his voice was about Nie Mingjue’s future or his own past.

Nie Mingjue shrugged. “Two roads that I can see: first, their family turns away from them for what they have become and they become vicious with the abandonment, becoming quick to lash out against the world and eventually doing something that causes the world to turn against them.  Second, their family stands by them, and eventually the world causes some harm to them – and the demonic cultivator turns to madness in revenge.”

“Not exactly an optimistic outlook.”

“Not especially, no.”

“You don’t seem as concerned by that as I would have thought.”

Nie Mingjue’s lips twitched. “I have a solution.”

“Would you like to share?”

“Using resentful energy to cultivate our sabers makes them prone to obsession, driving them ceaselessly to fight evil, destroy it, without discrimination. It makes them stronger, but also more dangerous – and that is why they must be carefully controlled.”

Wei Wuxian frowned. “So, what? You’re going to be the saber now? Under whose control?”

“Huaisang’s, of course,” Nie Mingjue said, as if it were obvious. “For better or for worse, he is sect leader now. Who else would it be?”

“But – what if you disagree? What if he wants to do things one way, and you another –”

“Then I argue and probably yell a lot, and if in the end he still insists on doing things his way, I listen,” Nie Mingjue said dryly. “That’s how hierarchy works. Isn’t it the same for you? When your shidi, Jiang Cheng, becomes sect leader, you’ll need to listen to him – or leave the sect. There’s no middle ground.”

Wei Wuxian scowled.

“A sect leader that can’t control his disciples is worse than a demonic cultivator,” Nie Mingjue said. “He’s weak. A target, ripe to be ripped apart and devoured by other sects – resources raided, disciples poached, responsibilities taken away...It’s not a fate I would wish on anyone. If you can’t commit to obeying, commit to leaving so that you don’t end up promising more than you can give.”

Ouch.

Just – ouch.

Great advice, fantastic advice, world-class advice, and totally useless because Jiang Cheng had travelled back in time with him and was therefore convinced that Wei Wuxian was just looking for the first way out of the Jiang sect he could find, no matter what Wei Wuxian said or did about it.

(Even Madame Yu was concerned by the new coldness in their relationship and had tried to talk to him about it, which – Wei Wuxian didn’t know what to do with that. It didn’t match any of what he had thought he’d understood.)

He decided to focus back in on the demonic cultivation lessons, shifting from theoretical discussions to the practical, and that, unfortunately, was when they encountered an issue.

“What do you mean you can’t play an instrument?” Wei Wuxian demanded, appalled. “It’s one of the Six Arts! Everyone can play some sort of instrument – even Nie Huaisang plays an instrument!”

“Everyone agreed it was better that I stop learning,” Nie Mingjue said defensively. “It’s all just plucking on strings or blowing air in pipes, and yet no matter that I did exactly what the teacher said to do, it never worked, that’s all.”

“Didn’t Zewu-jun offer to teach you…?”

“He did. And then he said it would be better if we stopped, too.”

The reason, Wei Wuxian soon learned, was that Nie Mingjue was almost completely tone deaf, and the only reason it was almost was that he was still capable of differentiating speech.

“I agree with the majority,” he said after an extremely frustrating day. “Stop. Never pick up an instrument ever again. And don’t let anyone but Zewu-jun play something especially for you, either, okay? Even if they’re highly recommended.”

“An interesting request,” Nie Mingjue said, eyebrows arched skeptically. “May I ask why?”

“Because you’ll have no idea if they’ve changed the music on you,” Wei Wuxian said bluntly. A great deal about the man’s murder in a different life made sense now, and Jin Guangyao’s brilliance in hiding the score of Turmoil inside of Clarity was a little less impressive when played to a man who thought all music, without exception, was just plucking strings or blowing air. “Musical cultivation is deadly in the right hands, especially if you lower your defenses against it. Just consider it a precaution.”

Nie Mingjue’s eyebrows remained arched, but he hummed in agreement.

“I guess we’ll have to think of a new way for you to cultivate demonic cultivation,” Wei Wuxian said, rubbing his face. He had not been planning on having to invent demonic cultivation at all in this life, and now he needed to not only ‘invent’ the original but actually come up with something new. Why was his life so hard? “How did you previously manipulate external energy?”

“With Baxia.”

“Well, that’s not helpful, is it? You can’t wield a human being. Perhaps another saber…?”

That didn’t work, primarily because it turned out that Baxia had strong feelings about Nie Mingjue even thinking about using another saber and well, as far as Wei Wuxian was concerned, whatever Baxia wanted, Baxia got.

(Nie Huaisang had had to go to Heijan once, with Wei Wuxian and Baxia accompanying him since Nie Mingjue wasn’t ready yet, and some unlucky Wen captain had tried to ambush them. That captain, and his squad, were not granted the courtesy of an intact corpse, and Baxia hadn’t even gotten a speck of blood on her nice new robes – no, Wei Wuxian would not be crossing Baxia any time soon.)

“There’s got to be something,” Wei Wuxian said, and Nie Mingjue agreed, and in the end they found something.

Nie Mingjue had been absent-mindedly playing around with one of Nie Huaisang’s fans when one of the fierce corpses Wei Wuxian had raised as practice targets had gotten loose; instinct had taken over and Nie Mingjue had lashed out with the weapon at hand as if it were a saber, and the resentful energy had surged in response –

Baxia was apparently not threatened by the notion of her master using a fan as a weapon, not even one inlaid with steel and heavy cloth with enough layers to catch a sword in.

(If Wei Wuxian needed to go have some time to himself at the sight of Nie Huaisang, dressed as a sect leader with his saber always at his side, standing next to Nie Mingjue holding a fan – well, that was his problem, and also one he intended to show to Jiang Cheng at the next possible opportunity. Someone else deserved to have their mind wrecked by the incongruity as much as he had.)

Even without the weirdness of Nie Mingjue, it was more than a little odd to see Nie Huaisang in the robes of a sect leader without him acting like the Head-shaker. The shock of having to become sect leader had fallen heavily on him: he had become a little more serious, a little more earnest (though still a bit frivolous); he was more inclined to listen and think things over, less inclined to run away.

“If da-ge is going to become a demonic cultivator, someone needs to stand behind him,” Nie Huaisang said simply when Wei Wuxian had tried probing. “He’s always held the world up for me – it’s the least I can do for him. I may not be able to do much, I might be terrible at it, but I owe it to him to at least try.”

Wei Wuxian wondered, sometimes, if Jiang Cheng would have stood up for him if only he had trusted in him, believed in him, the way Nie Mingjue believed in his notoriously useless little brother.

Maybe he’d ask, when he went back to the Jiang sect.

Maybe he’d –

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Jiang Cheng said as a greeting, and for once Uncle Jiang didn’t disagree. “All those letters and you never once mentioned the terrors?”

“The what,” Wei Wuxian said, and that was how he learned that while he was on his way back to Yunmeng neither Baxia nor Nie Mingjue had wasted any time utilizing their newfound skills out on the battlefield.

Nie Huaisang was never going to be a particularly respected sect leader, especially by those that had met him beforehand, but evidently that wasn’t really important given that he was constantly flanked by what was being called the two terrors of Qinghe.

Nie Mingjue preferred darker colors now that he was no longer sect leader, the same dark grey shading towards black that Baxia had selected for herself, and the selection somehow made him seem even taller, verging on inhuman, and Baxia standing beside him, her human features patterned roughly after his, made the two of them appear a matched set. Nie Mingjue wielded the fan that Wei Wuxian had helped him design, which he had forged with his own hands out of the metal from the Xuanwu’s cave that Wei Wuxian had foolishly figured someone ought to get some use out of, painted over with a cinnabar array in Nie Huaisang’s careful brushstrokes, and in his hands it was both weapon and conduit for the raising of armies of corpses. Baxia, for her part, held nothing but required nothing, a sweeping gesture of her hand more devastating than a dozen blows with the saber.

They were terrifying, a nightmare writ large and unmistakably dangerous, undeniably demonic cultivators in a way that was entirely different from Wei Wuxian’s own dramatics, and it unnerved the rest of the cultivation world the way Wei Wuxian had feared it would.

“It won’t be a problem,” Jiang Cheng said impatiently. “The Nie sect are ascending in strength, and this only adds to their mystique – who would challenge them?”

“Uh, Jin Guangshan,” Wei Wuxian said. “Like last time?”

Jiang Cheng huffed. “At this rate, I don’t even think Jin Guangyao will bother defecting to the Jin sect,” he said. “Not if he knows how to play his cards right. The Nie sect’s strength in the original version was never about Chifeng-zun’s skill with the blade alone. It was the whole sect’s strength, with Chifeng-zun’s ability to wield them as skillfully as he did his saber; he’s an outstanding general. And now they have him as a general, him as a demonic cultivator, and whatever the fuck is going on with Lady Baxia –”

“I already told you. She’s a guai.”

“Like I already told you, it doesn’t matter how many times you say that, I will immediately expel the knowledge from my mind and you should too. ‘Immortal cultivator cousin that my brother named his saber after’, like what Nie Huaisang has been putting about, is a perfectly acceptable cover story.”

“And the fact that his saber disappeared at the same time?”

“Coincidence,” Jiang Cheng said firmly. “And we’re sticking with that. Anyway, the point is that if you’re an ambitious man, the Nie sect is the place to be right now and probably will continue to be in the future. This is going to be evident to both Jin Guangshan and the future Jin Guangyao, and we’ll need to deal with that.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Wei Wuxian promised. “After rescuing Chifeng-zun and helping with the demonic cultivation, I’ve gotten pretty close to them.���

“Mm. And how about your other mission?”

Wei Wuxian scowled at the smirk on Jiang Cheng’s face. “You know perfectly well that I haven’t had any time to seduce Lan Wangji, what with how busy I’ve been. I don’t even know for sure if he likes me yet -!”

“You’re an idiot, he does, and you’re not allowed to keep us all in suspense for two decades this time. Figure it out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m sticking you with the job of being an information courier and you leave for the Lan sect front line tomorrow.”

“You are the best shidi ever,” Wei Wuxian said, and meant it.

Jiang Cheng huffed. “Yeah, well,” he said as if his cheeks weren’t red. “Remember that in the future. In this life we’re the Twin Heroes, you hear me? No take-backs.”

Nie Mingjue was right: Wei Wuxian would need to either learn to obey or tell Jiang Cheng early on that he was leaving, and walking a path in the middle would only cause heartbreak all over again.

“Okay,” he said, deciding to ask Lan Wangji for advice on obedience. Surely that was something that could be learned? “Deal. You do know that that means Lan Wangji’s going to have to marry in, right?”

“Oh no,” Jiang Cheng said, voice entirely flat. “How terrible. I’ll find a way to manage dealing with that ice block somehow…listen, I don’t care if you end up calling him Wei Sizhui in this life, but don’t ruin his character. He was perfectly nice.”

“I don’t know if he’s even been born yet,” Wei Wuxian said glumly. “I’ve been looking, but…”

“I’ve asked some of Mother’s spies to keep track of Wen Ning and Wen Qing,” Jiang Cheng said. “Collecting evidence we’ll need for their inevitable post-war trial, assuming we want them to live better lives than just refugees. Give it time, we’ll find him.”

“Now I just need to see if Lan Wangji will want to raise children with me…”

“Wei Wuxian. I don’t care. Go.”

[pomegranates-and-blood]

νοσταλγία (Prologue)

(Gif credit to @honestsycrets​)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader (eventual)

Summary: This is a retelling/romantization of the Greek myth of Persephone’s abduction with Ivar as Hades and you as Persephone. The Reader character is a Greek/Byzantine woman, follower of the Greek Pantheon/Religion, and a devoted follower of Persephone. This takes place after 5A, but the universe of this is a little changed in relation with the series, of course. Thank you for giving it a chance, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: Like 7k, I’m sorry

Warnings: As usual, mentions and descriptions of blood, death, torture, injury and people being burnt alive. Mentions or allusions to rape. If there’s anything else I didn’t mention, please let me know. Fair warning that the Reader Character may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but please give her a chance.

A/N: So, in this universe, bc fuck Michael Hirst, Sigurd is alive (tho Ivar did throw the axe) but married and away, Bjorn is still somewhere sunny, and Dublin was founded in Saxon land by Hvitty, Ivar and Ubbe, but it is the latter the one in control, prompting Ivar to eventually return to Kattegat and take the throne form Lagertha (she is alive just like in the show, only Bjorn is not here -I like to think he would understand his brothers wanting to avenge Aslaug?- and Floki departed bc he didn’t want to have to choose between supporting the kid he raised and an old friend), leaving him as King, Ubbe as ruler of Dublin, Hvitserk in Kattegat for now like in the show, Bjorn getting a tan in the Mediterranean, and Sigurd alive and happy cause goddammit killing him was a stupid choice. Sorry and btw this isn’t my creation, this is based on some exchanges I saw on reddit and a lil bit of me lol)

The warrior hesitates before letting you enter the tent, but you do so quietly and without a word, like it is expected out of you, and the men discussing war take no notice of you as you slip into a seat and watch them discuss.

Narses, still in the armor of a Byzantine Strategus despite his back having been turned to the Empire for a long time, turns to look at you as you enter. He doesn’t say a word, but in his green eyes there’s a plea for you not to speak, one that you must obey with gritted teeth and bitten tongue.

He understands, and there’s relief in Narses’ eyes.

Your friend. Your confidante.

Your fool.

His lips are pressed into a thin line, his hands supporting most of his weight as he leans on the war table.

“Our numbers are strong enough to hold until support from Strepshire arrives.” The Christian you recognize as Leofric -a bishop? Cleric? You have no idea anymore- speaks, his voice not much unlike the sound of the Byzantine soldiers’ armor plates rustling together as they march down the streets, burning idols and slaying the poor fools that believed the Gods would save them.

“If we retreat, we can-…” Narses argues, but is quickly interrupted.

“You belong to us!” Leofric barks, and you startle at the sudden aggression, “You have made a deal, Greeks. You must honor it.”

“I am aware. I am also aware you Saxons would sacrifice everything for your revenge.” Narses scoffs back, interrupting the Saxon and your train of thought at the same time.

“You want the same, boy. Is it not why you insist on gaining our support?” Stithulf, the leader, states, leaning back on his chair and resting his hands on the back of his head.

His posture screams of arrogance, his young age of a boy with too much power, his scars of a monster eager to fight.

You could use someone like him leading your army. You have seen too many of the so-called soldiers in your home bend the knee to a false Emperor. Maybe you need a monster on your side, someone with the same thirst for blood Greece left you with, someone willing and able to bring the Gods down from the very Olympus for retribution.

And as he leans back he catches sight of you, his expression tightens into a scowl, and you discard the remote possibility.

Not only is he a Christian, the same brand of men that burned your home, your mother, and years later you as well; but he looks upon you like all you are to do is be one of more of virginal maidens for his strange pantheon.

“What is the witch doing here?” He asks out loud, and you swallow down the words you want to say, but still holding his gaze.

“She is to be my wife, I trust her advice.” Narses sentences, sending you a glance that you return with a grateful one of your own.

“I didn’t know you Greeks were ruled over by your women.”

“Greek women are the only ones to birth real men.” You quip before you can stop yourself, reminded with the bittersweet feeling of nostalgia of when your father told you those exact words.

“Is that what your Goddess tells you, Heathen?”

Even the cadence of Leofric’s voice is enough to get you to twist your lip as you turn your gaze to him, but he remains stoic, a quiet sort of anger bubbling behind his eyes. You could swear a small smile tugs at his lips, as if he truly believes a simple word is enough to silence you.

The loud interruption of Narses’ fists colliding with the table stops his mocking, and the man’s eyes shift to his Byzantine ally within a moment.

“Do not call her that.”

“It is not an insu-…” You start, but your friend turns to you once again, begging you in silence to keep quiet. Biting down a sigh, you lean back in your chair and return your eyes to the map.

A long way from home, setting tents alongside Christians, and shutting your mouth because a man told you to. For all the visions and counsel the Gods have sent you through the years, a word of what was to become of your integrity would have been appreciated.

The sound of the curtains of the tent flapping open and closed makes you lift your gaze from the map, and you see Stithulf’s retrieving back.

Narses sighs, not looking at you when he concedes, both to inform you and the rest of the Saxons and Arab mercenaries in the room,

“We will hold.”

A cold hand grips your heart and the names of the Goddesses you seek for guidance and comfort are at the tip of your tongue, shaped by your lips but never spoken.

The Christians leave you two alone, and you walk to the soldier hunched over the war table. Your native Greek feels like a soft song evoking nostalgia as it dances past your lips:

“You cannot…”

“Please, my love.”

Anger bubbles within you, and you stand up straighter as you meet his eyes, “Narses, the Varangians will overpower us, you know we lost too many already, the support from Ivar the Boneless’ incoming army will crush us, you know h-…”

“This is a matter of war, love, let me handle it.” Narses interrupts, to which you frown.

“I know of war Narses! And I know this is a foolish move!”

“Do you know how to lift a sword?” He retorts, a challenge in his voice that does not go unnoticed.

“I…” You clench your teeth, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. “I do not need to fight to…”

He laughs bitterly, interrupting you, “Are you hearing your own words?”

“Are you hearing yours? The Varangian King has a crown made of bones and blood, Narses, don’t be foolish. Athena rejoices when he wages war, his army carries her favor.” You spit out your words, trying to make him understand. Narses remains impassive, though, eyes on the map and jaw clenched tight.

“You cannot argue of battle if you have never-…”

You interrupt him with a scoff, pointing an accusing finger at him even when he doesn’t meet your eyes, “I do not need to know how to kill to know the Varangians will swallow you whole. And you’ll drag our people with you.”

At your last words, his head snaps up, eyes facing yours with ferocity and more than old anger, “What choice do I have, huh? We will freeze or starve come winter, we need to move for Eleusis soon!”

“Our people…” You start, but he interrupts you again.

“Our people chose to follow me, and they will.”

“They followed me, they believe in me,” You correct without hesitation, teeth bared, “You followed me, Narses, and I let you, because you promised me an army.”

For a second he hesitates, takes you in with what seem to be new eyes. He seems to have forgotten there’s more than a meek priestess to the woman he followed from Attica. He seems to forget the bloodied hands and hungry smile that greeted him when you gave him the choice to be at your side.

“And I followed you because I love you, because I believe in you!” He exclaims, making shame and regret churn at your insides. You deviate your eyes from his, gritting your teeth.

“I begged you not to force our people to fight against these Norsemen, and you didn’t listen,” You grit out after a few breaths, anger returning to your voice, “Where was your love, your trust, when you chose to ally with these…Christians?”

He takes one of your hands in his, and the touch feels cold.

“You must trust me with this,” He intreats, warm eyes looking for something in your own you don’t think he can find. “Can you trust me?” A small pause, and you taste your own regrets in your mouth, “Love me?”

You press your lips into a line, and because you cannot say anything else, because the lie has gone on for too long and you might as well offer a truth before you entreat your soul to Hades, you whisper,

“Once, I could have.”

But he shakes his head, fervent and certain as he finds your eyes again,

“I promised you Attica, and it will be yours.”

But his words are empty. You do not care for that kingdom if the people that you love are not alive and prospering in it.

“Pray to the Gods you are killed by the Varangians, old friend. I will sacrifice you to Hades myself if you dare return alive from the place you are condemning my people to die on.” You sentence, unable to keep from showing the curl of disgust in your lip, the ancient pain in your eyes.

Narses walks closer to you, eyes searching yours and hands on your shoulders. You clench your jaw. He is gentle, he always is. Gentle, but so were the men that held you as their brothers in arms dragged your mother out of that temple.

You take a step back, but Narses speaks still, ignoring your discomfort,

“These Christians care not for their God, they just want Ivar the Boneless and his brothers. We give them to Stithulf, and they will march for Eleusis with us.”

You shake your head as you watch him believe his own lies.

“Even if we succeed, you are exchanging one master for another, Narses.” The words are your farewell as you turn your back to him and walk towards the entrance of the tent.

____

You walk into your tent and are greeted with a language these Saxons want to have you killed for speaking. The tongue of savages, of barbarians, of Vikings.

“Did they threaten to burn you yet?” Sieghild asks, and you can hear the smile in her voice even if her back is turned to you as she tends to the fire.

“Narses and Stithulf command us to remain,” You confess instead, voice breaking, “Kattegat’s army will be here in a day’s time to aid Dublin’s, but we will not retreat.”

The gasp she lets out forces you to shut your eyes tight in hope of keeping the tears at bay.

You both remain silent for a few instants, and you let yourself fall to the log she brought as a seat. Taking a seat next to you, she places a motherly hand on your knee, squeezing lightly until you look back up at her.

Blueish ink traces ancient marks on the skin of her face, and she moves a lock of your hair away from your face, the rattling sounds of her bracelets and trinkets reaching your ears and filling you with a sense of nostalgia you have difficulty explaining.

“If we must, we will die. Resisting, like your mother and I taught you.”

“This is not the war I will die fighting on!” You yell back, closing your hands into fists as they start shaking. “I will not see my people die fighting a cause not their own, Sieghild. I can’t.”

She takes your head in her hands gently, and, pressing cold lips to your forehead, she gives you the comfort only a mother can.

“Even if we die tomorrow, the Gods are with us. They have been close to you since your birth. You will understand soon.”

“I will certainly see Hades soon.” You smile bitterly, but Sieghild doesn’t falter.

“Then challenge his throne.” She states, and the feral, hungry, look in her eyes makes you think she is not speaking of your God.

You do not even believe in the same Gods, and yet Sieghild remains at your side, you at hers, since she found a crying child clutching a wooden carving of Persephone.

“They want me to give them up, but I won’t.” You argue stubbornly, as the red-haired woman cleans your face with a warm wet cloth. She smiles.

“Arguing about Gods is a matter for adults, little one,” She silences your next argument with a single finger, inked and painted like her face and arms. “They cannot make you believe in their God.”

“But…Mother’s altar, th-they…”

“Those are merely worldly things. The Christians fight with fire what Logi and Glöð themselves have created.”

“Who?”

She chuckles, fingers going through your hair and places a finger on your chest.

“Your faith, your legacy, remain here.”

And at dawn, when the men sound the horns and ready for a battle they must know will be lost, you whisper a prayer to Athena and Enyo, your heart griped tight by the cruel mistresses of Fate.

Even all the tales travelers and mercenaries told you about the army of Kattegat, the sheer strength, the flawless tactics, the barbarian-like warriors; none of that prepared you for the display of forces, however small considering his actual army, Ivar the Boneless has displayed before you.

You catch a glimpse of Narses and Stithulf approaching the King, you hear faintly of the Viking’s taunts.

“Narses is a fool.” You bite out, anger poisoning your voice even as tears clogging your throat make the words wobble.

“A Byzantine Strategus doesn’t fall without a fight, girl. Do not grant my countrymen their victory just yet.”

Even if you hide it as you lower your face, a surge of pride for the foolish warrior that followed you to the ends of the world makes a small smile blossom in your face.

“Do I hear you admitting us soft citizens stand a chance against your brutes, mother?” You mock with a smile, even as you discuss the imminent danger that the Norse men represent to you and your people. Maybe it’s because of the way Sieghild, with all her harshness and tough lessons, comforts you even facing death itself. Maybe it’s the Gods that have guided you your whole life embracing you as you near your descent to Hades.

She laughs, raspy and warm, as always. “I’m saying your boy may give the sons of Ragnar an entertainment.”

A crow flies overhead, cawing loudly and taking your gaze away from the soldiers ahead and into the sky. Something within you, something primal and asleep seems to follow its path in the skies with more than just your eyes.

“Odin is watching. History will be made today.” Sieghild whispers behind you, but you cannot take your gaze away from the black feathers as you answer.

“Apollo sends us an omen. The Gods do not favor us.”

She laughs quietly, shaking her head as she rests a heavy hand on your shoulder

“Your Goddess surely revels in this, dear. The spilled blood of those who will be to arrive at her kingdom waters her flowers, after all."

Flashes of a life before chaos blossom behind your closed eyes, images of a life under the spring sun, of fertility festivals and your mother’s warm laughter as she honors the Daughter of Nature.

And for a second, with the warmth of nostalgia encompassing you, you want to argue that Persephone looks after life; but when your eyes open and all you see is war and cold, you realize maybe she wasn’t the one captured.

Maybe she was not a stolen maiden, but a bloodthirsty usurper.

“May she rejoice, then, and be merciful when we reach her Kingdom.” You whisper.

The war cries reach your ears before you can even see the warriors attack, but soon chaos follows the chariot, that marches not with the set pace of Apollo’s, but free and leaving chaos and death at its wake.

With a heavy weight on your stomach, you hold your place as the battle begins, the injured and dying falling back to the area you look after with Greek soldiers at your back, granting a safe haven for the fallen, either to give them another chance to fight or a merciful end.

_____

It’s been days and the Saxons still push for victory, despite the losses. And, despite their losses and bloodshed, the Vikings push ruthlessly for death.

The camp of healers you have set by the entrance of the woods is so filled with the stench of blood and death that you fear you will never be able to smell a flower again. The warriors come and go, the drachmas in their eyes or in their hands. Your heart dies a little with every familiar face you send off to Hades.

You are working on pressing down with the poultice of herbs to stop a soldier from bleeding from the wound on his back when you hear, past the yells and death and fighting, your name.

You would know that voice anywhere, and you leave the safety of the healing camp to follow the hoarse call.

Narses’ figure stumbles and crawls as he tries reaching you, and, not caring for battle, you run the space separating you. Your knees dig painfully into the earth as you kneel at his side, but the pain in your heart drowns it all.

“No, no, no,” You sob, shaking fingers tracing his bloodied cheeks as he gasps in pain in your arms. His eyes are focused on you, and you cannot deny him the answer of yours, even if battle still goes on around you. With another broken gasp, you whisper, “You fool, you fool.”

Galla calls your name from somewhere at your side, and you turn blind attention to her, murmuring to have people take him to the healers’ tent. She agrees, and you start to pull away from your childhood friend.

Narses opens his mouth to speak, but only blood pours out. You silence him with trembling fingers against his lips, granting the kiss you cannot. Your heart begs you to do something, anything, to keep him alive, to take away his pain, to…to…

But all you do is remain kneeling on the ground, and you cannot take your eyes off his shield. Splattered with blood and mud, left behind a few feet away from you, on the cold and unrelenting earth.

Your mother’s last words to your father, you remember them as if it were yesterday, as if you could still see the warmth in her gaze, the hardened adoration in his. Her delicate hands offering him the shield with Sparta’s symbol on it as he prepared to storm Macedonia, her words a murmur that meant come back to us, my love even when her sentence was other.

Return home with it, or on it.

With it, or on it. With it, or on it. With it, or on it.

But Narses never returned home, none of you ever did. He never returned home, he didn’t die for your home, he died for…for…

You hear hurried footsteps coming towards you, the feeling of having Varangian eyes on you makes you turn just in time to see the warrior approaching. You grab Narses’ shield from the ground, moving as fast as you can to guard your back and block the Viking’s strike with the metal shield.

It is sheer anger and grief, nothing more than the desire to hurt back, that pushes you to take an arrow from the quiver at your back and drive it through the warrior’s knee with your bloodied hand.

He falters, stumbling away from you, but you don’t let go, holding on tightly to the shaft of the arrow and inflicting as much pain as you can. When he finally hits the ground with his back, you crawl over him, sitting on his stomach and bashing his face with the shield.

With your weight upon him, his axe cannot find a home in your skin and instead meets the shield. Over and over, metal meets metal. With a growl, the Viking lets go of it and grabs your hair, pulling roughly and forcing your blows in his face to stop.

You let go of the shield, and your eyes focus on the skies above for a moment before you find the strength to fight.

A yell leaves your lips, and your hungry teeth find the tender skin at the inside of his arm, forcing him to let go of your hair. Blood fills your mouth and almost makes you gag. You spit the flesh from your mouth and with a snarl you drive another arrow through his eye.

He screams as your whole weight leans on the arrow, making sure the projectile you use as a spear kills fast. Your hands keep slipping from the shaft as the blood you have tried to keep from spilling and the blood you have spilled wets your hands.

When he finally stops moving, you know you should feel nothing but emptiness and dread.

Looking with frantic eyes for Narses and Galla, you find him being carried by two of his soldiers back to the tent. You should follow, but you cannot bring yourself to do so.

You look down at your dress. Red, the color of a bride’s veil, stained with the blood of the man you just killed. Your ears ring, your eyes cloud with tears as you realize what you have done, and you scurry away from the corpse as if your breath cannot get into your chest because of your proximity to him…to it.

You know what you should feel, you know what a Priestess, a woman, ought to feel at the sight of death, you know. But dread and horror are not the only things you feel. A part of you is satiated, like a snake curling satisfied and vindicated after injecting its poison; you taste the blood and feel alive.

When you lift your gaze to the battle again, you catch the eyes of the Varangian King. You know who he is, you have heard the tales and even without the chariot he sits on you would still recognize the eyes of the man that rules over Kattegat.

Ivar the Boneless.

He looks at you for a few moments, and you fear he is to call for his men or kill you himself, but he doesn’t. A slow, cruel, ruthless smile starts curving at his bloodthirsty lips, and when he regards you, you feel he can see through your eyes and into whatever it is that made you kill that man.

He lifts his arm not on the reins, bloodied axe held in his hand and slowly, with the same terrifying grin still on his lips, the King points towards you and grants you a curt bow of his head. If it’s a recognition of your kill, a promise to kill you himself, or something else, you cannot know.

You scurry back to the woods, fearing an axe to your back that never comes.

____

Whatever advantage the Christians were so sure to have quickly dissolves like mist, and within days the Vikings push forward with no regard for the lines your people or your unwanted masters wanted to protect.

There’s three injured men under your care when you hear the warning that a group of enemies is coming your way. A quick glance towards Galla, the childhood friend that followed you from Eleusis into this cold hell lets her know what to do.

Her dark eyes fill with understanding before you can even utter a word.

“Lift them up, we are retreating.” She barks at the other soldiers, bow held tightly in her hand betraying her fear, her pain. The men accompanying her hesitate, looking at you for a second before turning to her.

“I may not be able to fight like a Strategus, but I can distract them enough for you to run.”

“Our people…” One of them starts, but you interrupt with a shake of your head, reaching forward with a courage you do not believe to truly possess and take his sword from its holster.

“Our people live on in you,” You promise, and even as your voice wavers you still try not to show how fear grips at your throat or how unbalanced you are with the new weight in your hands. Galla’s eyes lock with yours, and you give her a nod, “Go.”

I pray you find Sieghild on your way out of this slaughter.

“You better make it out alive.” She threatens in good will, and you find yourself smiling. Just before she is to take off with the others, you call out.

“Galla,” You hesitate, feeling like asking to deploy this would be an acceptance of your death. Still, you take a deep breath and say, “Once the dust settles, send some of your people to Thebes, Constantinople and Sparta.”

“What for?” She asks, but in her tone you can hear she understands your words: she is to protect your people, she is to lead them. Because you will not be alive to do so.

“You’ll need spies. When the time comes, you’ll know what to do with them.” You sentence, and after a moment of hesitation you hear the girl’s footsteps fading behind you.

Galla’s hoarse yells in Greek to call your people to retreat become the rhythm at which you let loose arrows to find the Viking warriors. You tell yourself it’s just like hunting deer, you tell yourself it is not men and women you kill. Brothers, sisters, friends, fathers, mothers, sons, daughters.

You tell yourself it is just like hunting, but the tears clogging at your throat and making pain and rage accompany your moves as you let the arrows loose show you that you don’t believe your own lies.

It doesn’t matter how fast you move, how efficient your shots are, there will always be more of them. And you know this, and fear has a cold grip on your heart, even as you continue trying to take out any straggler that chases after the retreating Greeks.

So, the bodies dropping and the injured yells bring the attention to you, and you buy Galla and the others as much time as you have arrows and legs to run on.

Running helps when the Vikings can be distracted by something else, but after you took down some of his countrymen, this warrior seems to only have eyes for you. You scramble to lift the sword you took from your warrior before they took off, and, cornered as you are, you are forced to face the offending Viking.

The Viking strikes first, but you block his attack with the sword. The blunt force of his swing makes it so that the axe stops just shy of the intended blow to your head, opening a deep cut on your forehead as it is slowed by the sword.

Wincing past the pain you hold your ground, facing the hungry gaze of the warrior with your own, although you are forced to close one of your eyes as the blood from the cut in your forehead starts dripping down your face.

The man’s attack has failed, but he smirks, though, before wrenching the weapon from your hands with a twist of his axe.

You can do nothing but stumble back, you Goddess’ name on your lips as you face him with wide eyes.

He mutters something in his own language before discarding your sword and moving to strike again. This time you are defenseless, and can only step back and try and dodge his continuous blows with increasing panic.

Blood, probably his own and his enemy’s, stains his mouth, his face, his hands. He still smiles, and you wonder if bloodthirst becomes more literal than what Sieghild explained in her tales of her people.

His movements stop suddenly, though, and he falls limply to the ground, a small axe protruding from the back of his head.

“I told you you’d need to know how to fight, little one,” Sieghild boasts as she approaches you. The axe leaving the dead man’s skull makes a horrible sound, but she’s not bothered by it, choosing instead to say, “Even you Greeks must see the advantage of fighting like a Viking.”

An arrow in his knee, you feel the iron piercing the muscle, the bone, the tendons. The edge of the shield breaking the bones in his face, the sound it makes. Screams of pain, that you silence with another arrow in the eye.

The King’s hungry smile when he spared you.

You shake your head, returning your thoughts back to the moment, and regard the woman in front of you with a smile.

“Galla told me you chose to stay behind.” She states, and years knowing her let you know of the reprimand shining past the gruff tone. Her hand, bloodied as it is, reaches for the cut in your forehead, inspecting it with the eyes of someone that saw countless wounds and fought in countless wars.

“I wanted to distract the warriors from the path they took.” You offer in explanation.

“For someone so…small you sure take a lot of risks, my child.” She sighs. You’re about to answer when the thrumming of the ground underneath your feet stops you. Sieghild’s movements stop, your breath dies in your lungs.

Bees swarming. You remember an Arab merchant telling you about Varangian armies, and he spoke of chaos and deadliness and bloodthirst. And as you watch the Varangians flank the battlefield, archers at the ready, warriors beating their shields, while the King that crossed the sea to assist his brother commands them to hold with a single gesture; you cannot help but think why didn’t the merchant talk about the grace of it all, the beauty in the blood.

“That boy carries his father’s cleverness with him. And his mother’s favor.” Sieghild mutters in the strange calm that settles as Ivar the Boneless and his brothers taunt Stithulf, dare him to continue the fight and face certain death or retreat.

“You knew that before.”

“So did you. You tried to warn Narses against facing him, little one.” She says, and the name makes a pit of guilt and grief form in your heart.

“Maybe my warnings are the reason he is dead now.” You bite out, voice quivering and eyes burning.

The shieldmaiden turns to you, lips parted and eyes wide. You offer her a nod and a tight-lipped smile, a small sign that it is okay, that…that it is Fate.

You promised Narses you’d kill him yourself for sending your people to die, and grief and pain do not stray you from that resolve. He sentenced your people to die at the hands of these Varangians, it is only right he leads them to the Underworld.

It doesn’t help the pit of pain and absence and fear and cold that forms at your chest, but…but it makes it easier to burden.

Murmured words in Norse startle you out of your thoughts, and you find Sieghild’s eyes still on you, expression still stunned and in a mix of awe and terror.

“When the last of the chains of nostalgia fades away even as she clutches it in her arms.”

“What did you say, mother?” You ask, taking a small step closer and looking into her eyes searching for any answer.

But the shieldmaiden is quick to put on a smile on her face,

“You told me before you had no interest in what Lady Freyja has to tell me, little one.” She mocks, but there’s a shadow in her expression, a strange darkness looming behind her eyes.

A familiar one.

“You are the one that taught me-…”

“I taught you to be your own woman!” The Varangian roars, and for the first time you realize exactly the kind of fire the women from her homeland have, that made them capable and free. “I taught my daughter better than this!”

“What choice do I have? We need the support from Narses’ army, we need someone to lead the men into battle the way I know will grant us victory!”

Two long strides, and the tall and imposing shieldmaiden is standing before you, a mix of reluctant softness and angry stoicism in her inked face.

“You fight. You fight against the notions these men have about you, you fight against that boy that only listens to what you have to say when you promise him love in exchange,” Her green eyes burn into yours, “You fight, little one. That’s what I taught you to do, what you were born to do.”

“Narses is a good man, mother. I will not fight him.” You reply, as calmly as you can even as your chest caves under a strange pressure, as evenly as you can even if the words leaving your lips taste like lies.

“You wouldn’t give your love without a fight though, minn dóttir.” Her hand grasps at your chin, and there’s a strange storm in her gaze, “I won’t lose my daughter to that boy’s whims.”

“I am not lost to any man.”

Her lips curve into a smile, a little savage, a little Viking.

“I know. You are my daughter, after all.”

“He was a good man, mother.” You offer quietly, and even if the binds to Narses, the binds you set on yourself and your mother hated the most, are gone, there’s still the same dark desperation, that same stubbornness you saw in her eyes that day you told her about your choice to marry him.

“Not good enough,” Is all she replies, and her eyes focus somewhere past the two of you, on the center of the battlefield where everything seems to have stopped. Sieghild sighs, “And your Gods and mine know that, little one. Your Mistress may have touched your soul, but Freyja lays claim to your heart.”

With your eyes on the thick of battle, you watch Stithulf and his trusted men lay down their weapons, and slowly retreat. You have been defeated.

____

“I told you only death would follow,” You say, your back against the foot of a table as you sit on the cold ground, your bloodied hands in your lap, motionless. You allow yourself a small laugh, manic and broken as it is, “You fought for so long, sacrificed so much, and you couldn’t even make the Varangian King bleed.”

You followed the Saxons back to their decadent city, and now sit past their walls awaiting the death that will follow. The city may have held for long enough that the Saxons could secure an escape, back when your people were with them and they didn’t have more corpses than soldiers.

But now, now it is just a matter of time before the Varangians return to finish it all.

Stithulf turns to you, cold fury shining past his gaze, but you hold his stare. The man walks over to you, armor rustling and making a sound that rings in the ears that have heard nothing but war for so long now.

He bends down to be at your level, face close to yours and lips set on a snarl.

“You ordered your people to pull back.” He accuses, but you shrug in response.

The pretense of what a good little fucking woman you ought to be to make these fools content with their idea of supremacy is long gone from your mind. You will die without masks, and if it means earning a few deserved hits from these Saxons for not shutting your mouth, then so be it.

“It was never our war, Christian.”

“Where have they gone to!?” He asks, ignoring your words. His fascination with how the Greek forces work shines through his bloodthirst and anger as he regards you. You know the reason why he went to Narses for an allegiance in the first place is because of the tactics, the fighting style, of your people; and you know he longed to make them a part of his own army.

But you will leave your own under the boot of a Christian the day Persephone calls for your soul to become one of her Furies.

“You will never find them.” You promise through a tired and battle-worn smile, morbidly delighting yourself in the way he seems to grow more enraged.

“How are you so certain?”

“The Varangians, Vikings, will find us first. They will kill us all, and you know this.” You sentence, standing up. You cannot help it when your eyes fixate themselves on the drying blood staining your hands.

You wish you could say most of it was Christian, or even Varangian.

But no, the blood of Greeks stains your hands. The blood of thousands, even if only less than eight hundred died today.

“And why are you so certain?”

“If you had retreated before that King came from across the sea-…”

“Narses told us your mother is Viking, how are we certain you did not plan this, plan to betray us?” One of his trusted men speaks out, limping from his place by the war table. You watch the deep and bloodied gash in his thigh, wondering why that old man survives being incapacitated while in battle but Narses is to fall.

You shake your head mutely before offering him a hollow chuckle.

“Me betraying you would imply I ever faked loyalty for you, or pretended to care for your survival.”

“You live, witch. Any sane man would question why.”

“You think…what? That I have helped any of the sons of Ragnar defeat you?” You let out a small laugh. “No, I did not. I will not let you blame me for your own weakness.”

You move to leave the tent, but Stithulf’s hand wraps around your arm. His voice is low when he speaks.

“If you tell your soldiers to fight with us, I can-…”

“I am not Narses, you cannot fool me with empty promises,” You interrupt, wrenching your arm from his grasp. Less than two hundred Greek warriors still remain in this city, and the Saxon wants still for every last drop of their blood. “The Greeks that remain here will not die quietly, but do not fool yourself into thinking you can ever command them.”

He stalks even closer, looming over you with enraged factions, and you cannot help the pang of fear that the murderous intent in his eyes sends through you.

His sword leaving its holster startles the room of men into silence, and you feel their attention set on the two of you. The blade finds a home right under your chin, piercing mildly at the soft skin.

Your breath quickens in fear, and when you swallow past your dry throat you feel the tip of the sword inflicting sharp pain in your neck.

Stithulf smiles darkly, “I could kill you now and leave them leaderless, heathen.”

But you refuse to let him see the fear in your eyes, instead promising, “Make me a martyr and you will not survive the night, Christian. The Greeks will kill and die for me.”

Even as you leave the tent behind, you hear the heavy footsteps of the Saxon behind you. A call of your name, and you stop. Not your title -Anassa, Hiereiai-, not an insult -heathen, pagan-, not your lineage -Daughter of Athens, Daughter of Sparta-. Your name.

“If you wanted to kill me you would have done so in front of your men.” You state without turning around, and the Christian reaches your side with his sword holstered.

“I don’t want to kill you,” He insists, shaking his head, “But I should do it regardless. You are a smart woman, which makes you dangerous.”

Not even a muzzle would keep your next words from leaving your lips, “Dangerous? Is a man dangerous for being knowledgeable?”

“If he has nothing to lose, like you, yes.”

“What are you saying, Stithulf?”

The Saxon sighs, an act of regret and humanity you don’t believe for a moment.

“I’m saying you should know that you have forced my hand, Greek, that I had every intention to have you wage war alongside us, had you chosen to do so.

_____

Hi, I’m kinda amazed you got this far down lol, but thank you so much for reading! This is one of the first projects in a while that I am really loving to write, and I hope you like it!

Please let me know what you think, I am one needy fuck when it comes to feedback :)

[friesian]

Warcraft for the blorbo fandom asks?

oh BOY here we go -- blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most) my blorbo is probably kaelthas. i have a poster of him in behind my work set-up. he brought me out of the closet a lot and gave me something to sort of strive for when i was a teenager. i cried REAL FUCKING TEARS when the announced he'd be back in shadowlands. he's always been my blorbo and i would protect him with my life and tell you up and down that he's the best despite the fact in WoW he's been nothing but an aggressive wet cat. -- scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped) talanji......... she is SO shaped. i named my pet rat (may her soul rest in peace) after her because they are both just so. them. i love her very much and i love her spiritedness. the way she takes charge in BFA from being sort of this timid daughter unsure of her place to then turn into a full fledged leader that takes no shits??? it's PRICELESS. i love her outfit, personality, and i'd protect her also tooth and nail. -- scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave) XAVIUS MAN. XAVIUS!!!! like ok.... he got that whole thing in legion and i know that he's got a lot in the books but compared to the attention that he only briefly got in legion i REALLY REALLY wish he got more. there was so much potential to learn more about satyrs from him even if he just did evil monologing but this is coming from someone who REALLY loves satyrs and would probably sacrifice a vertebrae to see more of ANY of them. -- glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week) rommath. i got so happy seeing him at the end of nighthold lol. i love seeing him any time i go by in silvermoon. if i am on a call playing with my friends i WILL make a big deal about seeing him and calling him a puppy with a cone of shame. i think he eats kibble from there he just saves it for later <3 -- poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave) probably denathrius. he's pathetic. i know he's pathetic. i love that he is. this bitch DOES have insecurity issues. i KNOW he does. there is no other reason to throw such a tantrum like he did about "being revendreth". BITCH you WISH you had all the attention!!! sadly, i know i would give it to him. however it would be tormenting attention. he would love to hate me. -- horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason) anduin probably. i don't hate him like at all but to say i wouldn't endless pick on him for being the blonde haired blue eyed baby boy prince would be an understatement. he looks tormentable. like i could steal the last slice of cake and all he could do is just look disgruntled at me. i know what i did. i know he hates it. i'll keep doing it tho, he won't say shit. -- eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell) THIS ONE IS TOUGH. so. i think i would say arthas. i just don't like hearing about him. i hate what he did to jaina. i hate what he did to slyvanas. i just DO NOT like his fans because you know if some dude has a lich king tattoo you're in for a mouthful of how arthas is redeemable and he's not the lich king but yadda yadda so on and for forward. he's a compelling villain, but not so much a compelling character for me and i'd do anything to stop hearing people and blizzard try to highlight on him so much. i just want to move on from arthas please!!!!!

[hournites]

Say that we’ll stay with each other 

An aged-up Jealous!Rick hournite fic for @samarasketch 

~.~

They grab coffee at the diner to catch up every week. It’s not the only time they see each other, but missions require zero personal life talk for safety, as learned very quickly into their JSA run, and their texts just aren’t sufficient enough for the way they miss each other’s company.

Beth rearranges the cutlery, waiting for Rick as he picks out two desserts from beneath the glass window by the cash. It’s late and quiet, Rick had to work overtime to finish a deadline,  so she took a nap at her office until he swung by with his car to pick her up. 

The steaming coffee is in front of her, untouched. It’s been a long day and she’s second guessing whether or not caffeine is actually such a good idea after all. 

“Wow,” Rick greets her, sliding into the booth across from her. He’s no longer slicking his hair back with gel and the small change makes a massive difference in how he looks. His hair is thick, falling over the front of his face, long enough to frame his eyes. Those eyes are lit up now, bright hazel. They sweep over her, taking everything in like he needs the moment to process. 

The silent gesture pushes Beth to look down at herself, wondering if she spilled something or was showcasing a wardrobe malfunction of some kind. 

“You look amazing. I noticed before but your jacket was on.”

Beth relaxes, settling against the leather backing of her seat. He grins at her, which she returns easily. Rick is her best friend—has been for a very long time. Her lips curve around the rim of her ceramic mug. “Oh, thank you! I was on my date earlier over lunch. I didn’t want to show up in my lab coat.” 

“Right,” he replies. “Dr. Leho, was it?” ” Rick twirls his fork into the perfectly cut marble cake slice on the pretty small plate. “How’d that go?”

Beth suppresses the urge to roll her eyes. “Dr. Leon.”

“Oh, was that it?” As if he hadn’t deliberately botched the name of her date in the first place. Rick has met Denny before. Beth’s mom had invited him to her surprise birthday dinner that she organized with Courtney a few weeks ago. He was nice, bought her a book of easy recipes that he swore got him well fed through night shifts that he thought she’d enjoy. The gesture was thoughtful and was what made her agree to giving him her number. Rick was there for it all, one eyebrow arched high in what she was able to tell was silent judgement as he kept sharing a look with Yolanda. 

“—And it went fine.”

He raises that brow again now. “Just fine?”

Beth shrugs. She already knows how Rick feels about why she’s giving him a chance. He’s not exactly her first choice when it comes to dating—Rather, he wasn’t much of a choice at all, pestered into giving the youngest single doctor working at her mom’s floor the time of day. 

Her parents are getting concerned she’s throwing herself too deep into work without any support. It’s not precisely fair—Juggling a new position at Central City emergency with spontaneous secret crime-fighting against metahuman villainous egomaniacs does not give a woman much time to find someone new to love. Long shifts end in face-planting into bed until the next one and there’s nothing more she’d rather do than shove off her work shoes to do that. Only a handful of people have enough grip on Beth’s heart for her to sacrifice her evenings—Courtney and her family, Yolanda, Jade, Wally, her parents. And while she enjoys the pretty dress and matching pair of high heels for dinner, her energy to sustain a relationship would require an extension of self that she’s not sure she has to offer. 

She’s tried to explain this, cutting out the important JSA parts, which she self-admits would strengthen her argument.

“It was a nice lunch.” She’s already preferring dessert with Rick, though.

“Tell me about it.”

“There’s not much to tell.”

“What, he was that boring?”

Beth sighs. She finds herself describing her entire lunch break, from waiting for Denny to scrub his hands from surgical fluids to grabbing her hand to chatter about his day without a moment of pause for her to get something into the conversation until their food had arrived. It’s because he was excited to be on the date with her. Beth’s mom was talking her up to him, no doubt, clearly that was the case by any indication of how her mother kept talking about Denny to her over the phone too. So Denny was likely nervous, he kept letting out a barking type laugh after something he thought Beth should find funny. Beth couldn’t exactly be annoyed for his rambling to no end, she was the queen of that when she was younger. Her mom probably thought it was nice they had that in common. Except, it’s not. Beth’s excited verbal amusement park went away with age. Beth learned to keep her mouth shut when she needed to, she’s hoarded too many secrets. 

“There’s one thing though that bothered me a bit,” she admits finally, tapping her cut nails against the table. “He asked me what...pleased me... the most.” 

Rick frowns at her. “Huh?”

She flushes, eyes flitting away as she mumbles, “In bed. What I find pleasurable in bed.”

Rick bristles, his mouth dropping open. “Did you tell him?” 

“After what he told me first? I kind of had to. There was a family sitting within earshot of us, it was barely noon so I sort of said something vague, I don’t exactly remember, I think my brain is trying to block it out. It was embarrassing.” 

“God, that’s tacky.” 

She knew Rick would say that. “I think he was trying to assess our compatibility?”

“You make him sound like some socially inept robot.”

Beth lowers her mug, biting her tongue on calling herself a socially inept robot. She reaches over the table for the pot the waitress left for them after Rick’s second refill, instead. He lifts it for her when notices, pouring her a fresh cup and slides over the basket of sugar packets and creamers.

“Thanks,” she says, then returns to their conversation. “I think he was trying to be suave.”

“You hate that word! You’ve said so yourself!”

Had she? Beth wrinkles her nose. It’s crazy how much of their lives they’ve shared together. “In high school, maybe.”

“I vividly remember you telling me that talking about sexual preferences with acquaintances freaks you out.” That’s true. Whenever a horror story kinky sex accident patient shows up in Beth’s emergency room describing their incident in full detail, it takes all of her professionalism not to drop her clipboard and run out from second hand embarrassment. 

She shifts in her seat and explains, “He was my date, Rick.”

“So that’s what, half an hour of getting to know him? You’d think someone that went to med school would have the patience to keep it in their pants.”

“Rick!” She gapes at his bluntness because he’s just flinging it out there, dragging Dr. Leon’s entire personality with barely any effort at all, what’s worse is that he’s being unintentionally funny and now she’s trying not to laugh.

“What? This man is clearly not for you. He’s not your type.”

She raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Then what is?”

Rick looks down at his plate, quieting. He hasn’t really eaten yet, just danced his fork all over that cake. She’s half tempted to ask him for it if Rick’s not hungry. She finished her lemon square in four bites.

 “Well...”

“Well?”

"Well... He’s not my type... for you. He’s not good enough for you. He sounds like a secret sleaze."

Beth stops trying to defend Denny after Rick says that. She’s not sure if he’s so adamant because he can tell the way she’s not really interested in him, but feels the need to make her mom happy and is trying to give her an out, or if he honestly thinks Denny is not a good person. She’s been a superhero for ten years now, Beth is pretty sure how to gauge a person’s character. There’s nothing wrong with Denny Leon the way Rick is painting him. It’s hard because she knows there’s no real spark, but she’s willing to try. Chemistry doesn’t develop like that over one day. 

Beth thinks about her mom again. She just wants Beth to have a fulfilling life. And she had found Beth’s father while also steadily making a career as a respected research clinician. What’s Beth’s excuse then, to say finding someone isn’t possible?

“I don’t have a type, I’ve barely dated at all. The man I’ve spent most of my time with is you.”

Rick takes a while to respond, but his eyes are on hers like he’s waiting for an afterthought to accompany her last sentence. It’s sincere and gentle, and for the second time since they’ve met here today, she finds her heartbeat picking up because of the way she’s being seen. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“It’s just—“

“What?”

He takes another moment before answering. “Why are you forcing something with someone you have no desire to connect to? Are you not...Happy?”

His question takes her by surprise. She stammers, feeling more heat rise to her face. “Why are you asking me this?”

Rick drags a hand over his face and leaves it there for a moment, like he’s just trying to breathe. Eventually, he sweeps his hair back up over his head, and he strikes a nostalgic resemblance to the angry boy Beth latched onto in tenth grade whose soul she watched soften over years of time. Her heart pangs at the memory of the way things were. When they spent all week side by side, and didn’t have to schedule coffee dates that inch towards midnight around saving each other in costumes with relics because of their hectic lives. 

“I care about you,” he finally says. “I just don’t want to see you exhaust yourself over someone that’s not worth your time. You should be with someone who makes you feel how I feel whenever I’m with you.”

She smiles at that. “I love you too, Rick.”

His own smile falters, something dims in his expression, she’d almost call it wistful, but that’s not exactly a feeling Rick has in his emotional repertoire. He lowers his gaze to his plate again. 

“Hey.” Beth places her hand over his. “Are you okay?”

In high school, Rick was on track to becoming a mechanic like Pat until the man turned him around by the shoulders and walked him through scholarship applications for college. To the surprise of practically everyone in Blue Valley except his inner circle of friends, he graduated with honours in both chemistry and physics, and is now an independent research scientist for a big pharma company. He says he likes his lab, but the regulations of being under a company contract means there’s only so much experimentation he can get by with on his own. Beth has been encouraging his recent talks of starting up his own research lab for JSA, but he seems stressed thinking of taking that beyond the realms of idealism.

His hand freezes beneath her palm. He glances up at her again without words, like he’s struggling with what to say. The creases between Beth’s brows deepen further with concern. “Rick?”

“I’m fine,” he lies. The smile is so fake it hurts that he thinks she could be fooled by it. 

“Come on, it’s just us. Something’s bothering you. Is it work? Did your uncle contact you for money again?”

“No, I’m fine. I promise.”

“Rick—“

“You don’t have a type. You just have a person. I know that because you’ve been my person since I was seventeen. You don’t need your mother’s fancy surgeon prodigy to sweep you off your feet, Beth. You have me.” 

“I—”

Her pulse rushes in her ears. She’s honestly speechless. Beth just sits there. Rick searches her face for some type of recognition she can’t give back because she’s just confused. She’s blinking back unexpected tears, the hand she has over his shaking, because there has to be something more to this, the gravity behind everything, but her mind keeps hitting against a blank wall. She understands what Rick is saying but not what he means. 

He sees her distress and slips out of his booth, sliding into her side. “Hey,” he says, wrapping an arm around her as she presses her wet face into his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s okay.” 

Her stomach drops at the horrible way his voice sounds scratchy, thick with regret. That’s when it clicks, and the tears fall for real.

Rick is in love with her. 

She’s not crying because she’s upset. Blindly, she reaches up for his face to see him, those fond hazel eyes blinking back. They used to be so hardened and guarded, but it’s just openness now, with her. It’s late, the diner is almost empty, nothing but dim lights and the only waitress busy cleaning up behind the counter. It’s just them, in their special spot. And it’s just them, their solid partnership, that Beth needs in her life to carve out time and effort and feelings for. He’s been trying to articulate this over and over since the evening began. Hugging her tightly, lets out a long breath. The solace he finds in her, alone. The relief and love. How she feels it in equal measures, how it’s always been there.

“I didn’t know.”

“I never really told you.”

But he has, really. He’s shown her since they were kids. 

She touches his face, guiding him down so he could kiss her the way she suddenly desperately wants.

He does, kissing Beth deeply until her head goes dizzy and the light feeling is not something she ever wants to let go of. There is no extension of self when Beth is with Rick. No room to make. He already is in her future, can have all of her time.