#sorry I disintegrated towards the end of writing this

[creme-meme]

not to like, state the obvious or anything, but the parallel between Wilson Fisk and Miguel O’Hara in the 2 Spiderverse films... they both wanted to be reunited with their family and their happiness but their actions and outcomes were vastly different, in line with their characters... poetic cinema

Fisk wanted to bend everything around him to his own will, pretty much textbook for how his character is in multiple iterations. he despises any compromise, and expects the world to submit to him, or he will break it and then remake it so that it does

Fisk was happy with his family, he didn’t want to be anyone else or change anything, he wanted to turn back the clock by taking an alternate version of his family from another world and expecting them to pretend for him

but Miguel left his own world to slot into another one. from the comics we know his life was full of abuse, trauma, and forced addiction, all on top of gaining powers that came with significant drawbacks

Miguel was so unhappy that he was more than willing to give up his original self for his chance of happiness. he didn’t bend anything to fit him, he distorted himself to fit another world - and his happiness was predicated on pretending to be someone who made others happy. he lived a very quiet lie that physically hurt nobody until it was too late

the difference in the way they cheated happiness is also reflected in the outcomes. as a violent and self-serving person, Fisk had the collider blow up in his face followed by an intense fight with Spider-man and ultimately incarceration. but Miguel quietly deceived everyone, and his world didn’t fall apart immediately, instead slowly unravelled as he continued to maintain a lie that, on the surface, had no negative consequences

they were both deluded about their happiness, but perhaps Miguel less so because he wasn’t expecting anyone else to be deluded for him. Fisk was so deluded that he thought an alternate version of his family would be happy to see him (or at least pretend to be) while knowing the truth that they were being ripped from their own world, whereas Miguel was the only one who knew the truth and kept it hidden from everyone around him

Miguel didn’t expect anyone else to be in on his lie, and he was supposed to carry the weight of that lie alone, but ultimately he was the only one to physically survive when everyone else around him perished (insert metaphor about ‘asking for help’ or ‘being honest with the people around you’ here)

[iliketangerines]

Dude, I LOVE how you write, like, A LOT. I have this request where it’s basically how the kombat boys(Liu kang, Kung Lao, Raiden, Kenshi, Kenshi, Johnny, Syzoth and maybe Geras and Ashrah too?) would react to seeing the reader(their girlfriend)’s like variant in another timeline(?) in the end in a mk9 outfit(revealing as shit dude. They probably have to fix a wedgie mid-fight😭) SORRY IF THAT’S A LOT I’M ACTUALLY EMBARRASSED LMAO

revealing thoughts

a/n: lol no need to be embarrassed truly, don't worry about it

pairing: raiden x gn!reader

warnings: nudity mentions

Raiden always had considered himself a rather progressive man, not really caring whether the people in his village wore something deemed inappropriate by the elders

he was always respectful, treated everyone the same regardless of how they dressed or how they looked or what their occupation was

but this had Raiden averting his eyes to quite literally anything else except the massive window on your chest of your costume

which somehow was worse, his eyes trailing downwards to your barely covered crotch and the side of your costume cut out to reveal your hips, only the criss cross of string keeping it stuck to your body

Raiden resists using his hand to drag over his face as he prepares to fight against this variant of you, and his eyes trail back up to your face

which is the worst decision because as always, you look ravishing, especially so covered in blood and smiling at Raiden with those sweet lips of yours

someone bumps into Raiden from behind, and he grunts and quickly glances behind him and spots you, this timeline’s you, and you growl as you leap back forward to dismember a copy of Kenshi limb from limb

focusing back on this variat of you, Raiden barely manages to dodge your attack, weapon extended and aimed to kill, and he rolls to the side as you turn around, teeth bared in anger

you crouch down, giving him a perfect view down your cleavage, and he swears he sees a nipple slip when you leap forward, the strings keeping the window on your clothing barely holding on to the thin cloth

instinctively, he reaches his hands up to cover his face before he remembered you were there to kill him and his timeline

Raiden manages to drop his hands just in time to catch your attack and shoot a bolt of lightning through your palms through your nervous system

you rip yourself away from him with a howl of pain, voice so painfully similar to yours, and he bites his tongue to keep himself from apologizing to this variant of you

one more time, you lunge toward him, ready to kill, and Raiden moves to the side, preparing a flurry of lightning to hit you

and it connects, sending you flying to the floor, the straps of your costume disintegrating, and when you stand up, the remains of it fall to the side, only leaving you in your arm-length gloves and thigh high boots

you’re not wearing a single thing underneath, everything that he had only seen in bed waving to the world hello, and Raiden covers his eyes, face flushes bright red and burning as thoughts rush through his head

he cannot believe he just did that to you, and he apologizes to you profusely, still avoiding looking at your general direction, mind scrambled into a million different directions

was this cheating? if he looked at someone else naked? it technically was you, but it was a variant of you so technically it was a separate person? wait, wasn’t he battling you?

it’s too late, you sink your weapon into his side, and Raiden groans, thoughts of your nudity flying from his mind as he grits his teeth and grabs onto whatever skin he could and summoning the strongest lightning bolt into his hands

thunderclouds gather in the sky, angry and black, and bright light shoots down from the sky, ringing through your body and burning you into a charred crisp

Raiden’s chest heaves as he looks at your burnt and blacked body, nothing more than charcoal now, and someone grabs onto his shoulder

he whips around, hands raised and crackling with energy,  and he finds you, his actual you, his partner that he loved so dearly, and he lets out a sigh of relief at the sight of you mostly unharmed

you glance down at his injury, brows furrowed in worry, and he waves it off, saying that it wasn’t too deep and that it would heal easily

Raiden gives you what he hopes looks like a reassuring smile and not a grimace of pain, and you raise an eyebrow at him and shake your head at him

but the disappointment doesn’t last long as you give him a cheeky smile and ask if he really couldn’t keep his thoughts clean even in the heat of battle

the champion stutters and flushes, pursing his lips at you as you laugh and lightly punch him in the shoulder, saying that you were just teasing him

you lean in slightly, just enough so that your breath brushes against his ear, and you say that next time you’ll keep that costume in mind the next time the two of you get in bed

Raiden goes to refuse, to say that he wasn’t at all distracted by the costume, but you’ve already bounded off to find a medic to help mend his side wound

the evidence if how he thought of your costume is written all over his face, and Raiden would be a fool to think you wouldn’t pick up on his embarrassment

truly, you would be the death of him

[yoonia]

the bedroom hymns ● chapter xxi

⟶ Chapter summary | Mysteries continue to unfold as you carry on with your solo adventures, not realising that every piece of the past that you have uncovered in your journeys traces back in time, aligning themselves with what has been written for you by the will of fate.   

⟶ Title | The Bedroom Hymns: a Bluebeard’s twist ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader  ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Crown Princess!reader, Fantasy!AU, Fairy Tale retelling ⟶ Word count | 11,872 words ⟶ Ratings | PG-13, +18 / M for Mature for future chapters; include magic terms, classism, depiction of fantasy ritual act, mention of fantasy religion/beliefs, mention of war, violence, weapons, sword fighting, blood, injuries. ⟶ Story Masterlist: The Bedroom Hymns | ⤎ previous chapter | next chapter ⇢ ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Feedback | Music Playlist | Ko-fi

⟶ Author’s note | After a long wait, we finally have a new chapter out. I’m sorry for keeping you from this update for so long. It was a hard journey to get this one done, since some personal stuff kept getting in the way. The chapter ‘ Serendipity’ has grown significantly during the writing process, so I had to split the chapter into three separate parts, and then even smaller parts on Wattpad for better reading experience. I hope you’ll enjoy reading this chapter!

chapter xxi. serendipity-1

A temple. 

The relief you felt for not finding yourself plunging into the rough sea or crashing down onto the sharp rocks on the shoreline was quickly replaced by bafflement when you saw where you had ended up in instead. 

Once your shock subsides, unease settles in. You aren’t quite sure why. This place doesn’t even look like the disintegrating temple you saw in your dream the previous night. 

This place reminds you more of E’l Alora; the mountains where giant dragons were flying around the human town built against the cliff’s wall, with its massive ravine and the castle on the rocks. 

Realisation dawns on you once you get to look at the little details of the temple a bit closer. Not a grand structure standing atop a hill, but a structure built within a mountain. As if a part of a mountain or a hill had sunken into the earth, forming a cave hidden within, surrounded by what was left of the mountain, and the temple was carved out of the rocky materials that had once been the core of the alp. 

Looking up, your eyes are met with the streaks of sunlight penetrating through the opening above your head. The sunlight here is quite murky—dull and grey as if the sun is hiding somewhere else instead of hanging up high in the sky, causing the colours around you to seem muted and washed out—yet it is still enough to illuminate the dark temple, giving you a clear sight of everything that is present right before your eyes. 

The door that you had just emerged from lies at the back of the room, facing directly towards the temple’s center where you can have a clear view of the dais spread along the length of the temple walls. A platform at the center rises slightly higher, made up of dark grey stone slabs that seem to have emerged from the ground rather than been carved by human hands. 

Meanwhile, a part of the ground at the center of the temple sinks deeper, creating a small crater in the middle of the main praying hall which is now filled with water. The nave area for the worshippers, filled with rows of benches made out of stone, was built around the pond instead of going around the dais, making it seem like the pool itself is the main focus point of the temple. 

The humming magic coming out of the portal feels like cold breeze brushing against your back. Looking over your shoulder, you see a line of small alcoves covered in draperies in place of doors—banners filled with symbols of a chalice and crescent moon drawn on dark blue backgrounds, with two arches of ivy drawn on the top and bottom as frames. One of the draperies is flicking gently behind you as if a breeze is flowing from within, only that magic hums from it and sparks light up as it brushes against your skin. 

The door. This will be my exit. 

Suppressing a shiver running down your spine, you turn away from it and carefully walk across the vacant temple, following the ray of lights from above to find your exit while taking everything in. 

Standing right at the heart of the main hall, the old, seemingly abandoned temple feels grand and noble at the same time, yet solemn in its stillness. The way the temple itself seems to have been crafted by nature makes it even more otherworldly. 

It makes you feel small. Insignificant among the nature that has formed this place a long time ago. 

The rocky walls around you stand three stories high, each level marked by small open corridors framed with stone bannisters. Rows and rows of small alcoves were carved into the rocky surface the same way the doors behind you are made, only without any banners hanging as covers. The sight reminds you of the hundreds of doors lining up the floors of Stargrave Castle, and also of E’l Alora—how its human town was built against the rocky walls of the ravine. Only that these alcoves appear dark and lifeless, housing nothing more but shadows. 

You wonder if these alcoves had once served significant purposes for the ceremonies that were held in this place. 

If only you had a way to get higher, would you be able to see marks of chairs between the alcoves for the royals who came to join or witness the rites? Perhaps there would be small altars up there where they put the statues of the Ancients that they were praying to in this place and they were set up as private praying chambers instead? 

Turning away from the walls, you look up to the dais on the ground floor and make your way towards it. Eyes on the platform standing at the center, you try to imagine this place coming alive with a rite—you picture the leaders of ceremonies taking their places atop the platform, the nave filling up with their devotees and disciples. 

If only you know the significance of the pool of water that is glimmering under the dim sunlight in front of you. From up close, you notice that the pool is glowing in the shade of jade—as if jade stones were laid at the bottom of the pond—but the surface of the water is clear like crystals, and you can see your face reflected perfectly on it when you look down. 

Curious, wondering if you can find any clue, you take a closer look at the raised dais.

There is no such altar just like what you’ve seen at the temples you visited back in Smotia, nor there are seats or couches like what you had seen in the royal churches. But mantles are built against the walls, lined up with burnt candles. You can also see those candles lined up perfectly on the low platform in front of the dais. Some of them are burnt halfway, others are burnt completely to the bottom. You reach out, waving your palm above the burnt wicks and are caught by surprise when you still feel some warmth there. Showing you that at least a couple of them were recently burned. 

So not completely abandoned, then. 

You pull your hand away with a flinch once you look a bit closer, seeing a couple of silver goblets which have been placed between the burnt candles. At one glance, they seem to be empty. Yet as you bend down over the one closest to you, you can see a drop of liquid pooling at the bottom. 

Wine. Still partially wet, as if it had just only been used recently. 

So this place is still used. But where are the people now? 

You strain your ears, eyes, and your other senses, trying to feel out any presence of a person, any figure that might be lurking in the dark temple, and feel nothing. Turning away from the abandoned offerings and burnt candles, you look past the pool of water, across the main hall, to see another source of light. An open stone archway stands at the other side of the hall, where lights are filtering through into the main hall.

The main entrance door. 

From this distance, you cannot see too clearly what is waiting on the other side of the opening. But then a draft comes flowing through the temple, followed by a low, resonant whistling noise that almost sounds like a soft howl of an animal echoing through the open archway. At the same time, the light that you see coming from the opening begins to flicker, shifting between the dim golden light of burning torches or candles and the grey of sunlight that appears far duller than the sky above. 

A tunnel, you realise with a grim smile. There is a tunnel beyond the archway leading you towards the exit, and you can only hope that no other surprises are waiting there. 

Slowly, you make your way across the dark temple. You try to be careful with your steps, doing your best to keep away from the slippery part of the stone floor around the pool. And yet your soft footsteps cannot stop the sound of your boots from echoing through the temple. The sound keeps bouncing against the walls as you walk on, sounding far too loud against the silence, making you feel even more hyperaware of your surroundings. 

Wrapping your palm around the hilt of your short sword, you walk through the stone archway, finding yourself in a short span of a tunnel. The stream of sunlight coming through the tunnel keeps the darkness at bay, in addition to the flickering torches that are hung along the length of the cavern, causing shadows to dance around you on the cold stone walls. 

You continue walking, your grip remaining firm on the hilt of your sheathed sword and your eyes ready, and then you carefully step into the light—or, in this case, lack thereof. 

Out here, beyond the grim darkness of the temple, the world is looking just as ghastly. From the threshold of the temple lies a spread of grove half the size of the temple’s main hall. Filled with thin trees, the grove expands toward the descending plain and ends at what seems to be the edge of a city. 

Carrying the same caution, you tread through the grove, still with your hand ready on the hilt of your sword. Walking under the sparse line of trees in the grove doesn’t leave you feeling much of being under their protection. 

The trees here remind you an awful lot of the trees you saw in E’l Alora. With barks and branches that glimmer in similar shades of pale and rotten grey yet darker to almost black at the bottom half to the roots below, only thinner and longer, twisted in odd angles as if they were frozen in the middle of dancing with the cold wind or in their fight to avoid whatever terror came into this land. The leaves are also painted in similar shades of teal and dark grey, only that they appear sharper and thinner, so much so that they look like needles pointing up to the sky and do nothing to shield you from the sky. 

The ground beneath the grove appears dark, as if covered in a thick layer of soot with not a sight of grass or undergrowth. As if the earth itself has been drained dry by the withering trees. In some parts, the dark soot is blanketed by a thin layer of dust and ash, as if the grove had once caught on fire leaving trails of its destruction undisturbed even as the trees began growing once more. 

You walk a bit deeper into the grove, taking a few steps further until you reach the part where the ground begins to descend. Until you can have a better glimpse of what lies on the other side of these trees, and you finally come to a halt. 

Because what you see on the other side only puts cold shivers down your spine. 

Beyond the last line of trees, there is nothing but the ruins of an old city. 

Crumbling structures stand before you, remnants of forgotten temples and a ghost of a majestic city that had once been vibrant and full of life. A grand skeleton of stone structures stands at the far end of the city, nearly floating above the river that seems darker than the jade-coloured pool you saw in the temple. The broken-down gates spreading around it become the only indication that you are looking at what used to be a palace—one that had once stood strong above the city, overlooking the land, the forest, and the mountain behind you. Beyond the remains of the fallen palace lies a vast terrain of rocky peaks, rising high like towers made of nature. 

The vast plain of the city and the fractured roads have been overgrown with weeds, their insidious tendrils creeping over the withering foundations of the city to grasp whatever life remains. Tendrils of ivy and layers of moss cover most of the structures that are left standing, coating all the pale and bright-coloured stones with various shades of green. Any visible part of the ground not covered by weeds and broken stones has mostly formed into puddles of muddy water, leaving you to wonder if this place has truly been deserted, left behind and abandoned in its demise. 

What happened here? 

What happened to the people? 

And what about the temple, the traces left behind to show that life still exists here? 

Under the dim grey sunlight, the fallen city before you seems as if engulfed in a permanent shadow, leaving all the tone of colours to appear washed out—just as lifeless as the city itself. 

You are suddenly reminded of your dream. The eerie sight of a kingdom dissolving into ruins that has been haunting your nights seems to have been manifested right before your eyes. Had it been a sign, a premonition of a once-existing place that you needed to find? 

Captivated and enthralled by the sight of the fallen city before you, you lose focus on your own safety, on the ground you are standing on. And the next step you take ends with a misstep. Sending you straight into a puddle. 

“Oh, fates,” you murmur to yourself as you lift your soaked boots out of the puddle of muddy water. 

You whisper another curse under your breath as you shake off the mud from your booths, but having your attention drawn away from the daunting sight only draws your focus back to the dark grove around you. 

It brings back your sense of awareness, enough to help you notice that the air around you has shifted. You are no longer alone. 

A rustling sound reaches you from somewhere between the eerie-looking trees. A movement that is felt but left unseen. Spine stiffens, your hand returns to the hilt of your sword, and with a soft, indiscernible exhale of breath, you let silence fall so you can have a better listen to any changes happening all around you. 

You briefly close your eyes, just in time for the noise to return. It is subtle, but you can sense the sound coming from your right. Yet when you rise and turn towards it, a loud shrill of a hawk echoes through the trees on your left. A flurry of movement catches your eyes when you swiftly turn towards the other side, before a shiny sword glares at you as it swings down towards you in a sudden attack. 

“Fates,” you curse out as you pull out your sword to protect yourself, swiping it upwards to fend off the attack. 

The force of the swords clashing on each other takes away the breath that you barely managed to take. You can feel your arms trembling as you take the brunt of the attack, but you keep your grip firm, steadying your weapon while you regain enough strength to return the blow. Your sword clinks against the unidentified assailant’s sword as you push him back, throwing him off of you before you step away. 

With a swift, yet slightly clumsy motion—your boots nearly slipping, again, on the muddy ground—and your grip tightening on your sword, you adjust your stance to face your assailant. 

The shrill of the hawk echoes through the air once again. This time, the animal appears at the corner of your eyes instead of hiding away, diving from the sky at a rapid speed to strike the face of a second assailant that you failed to notice and was just about to land a surprise strike at you with his sword. His attack fails, and now he is busy fending himself against the beast—a black-winged hawk twice, almost three times, the size of a normal adult man’s head. 

The hawk is ferocious. The animal’s shrill continues to echo through the woods as it fights against the man in the tattered uniform and rusted armour, attacking his head, face, hands, and any part of his body that is not shielded by armour or the rapid swing of his sword. 

Distracted by the other fight, you almost miss it when your first opponent regains his composure and makes his move. He lunges, taking the opportunity that was presented to him in your distraction, his sword slicing through the air with deadly precision, aiming straight to your left shoulder—or your throat, coming from the left, you cannot be too sure. 

Yet you manage to deflect with just a small struggle, your blade clashing against his with a resounding clang. You twist your wrist as you rush forward, pressing on him and redirecting the force of the impact with a swift swipe aimed at his exposed side. He staggers back as your sword hits right beneath his armour, at the soft spot of his waist that is unprotected with nothing more but the belt holding up his sheath. 

Pointing your sword at his face, you snap at him, “Who are you?” 

A grunt escapes his lips as he finds his balance, while you use this chance to get a good look at him. His long and straggly raven hair is pulled to the back, leaving only a few loose and messy strands framing his sharp and defined face. There is a scar crossing his left eye, starting from right above the eyebrow to an inch below his bottom lashes. The shadows from the grove give him the perfect veil over his tanned skin and dark armour, yet you can still see the scars lining up his exposed arm, indicating that he isn’t one to be messed with.  

His narrowed eyes flicker towards his companion who has failed to join the fight, the black-winged hawk keeps getting in the way of him trying to get closer. “We’re the ones who are supposed to be asking,” the scarred swordsman snaps at you. “You’re trespassing on private property. This place is forbidden to enter.” 

You bite the insides of your cheeks to try and rein in your emotions and think of how to respond. You doubt that he will be so understanding if you try to tell him how you managed to arrive at this place. 

“Then you must forgive me. I suppose I must’ve missed the sign,” you choose to say, realising that any form of logic would never work to defend yourself. “That still didn’t give you the right to swing your sword at people without a warning.” 

Your opponent raises his sword back up and adjusts his stance to ready himself for another strike. “The only one who hasn’t got the right to be here is you.” 

Scowling, while stealing a glance towards the other fight that is slowly dying down—the hawk already lessening its attacks when your second assailant is growing weak and tired—you try to calm yourself down and reason with him. “Listen, I’m just passing through. I mean no harm, and I have no means to cause any trouble.” Lifting your free hand up, you show him your open palm to support your claim. “Please, just let me pass.” 

The scarred swordsman refuses to back down and sneers at you. “I find that hard to believe. Not many can find this place, much less to pass the borders, especially by mere coincidence.”

Pressing your lips together, you try to push down the shivers running through you at his words. You have no idea why you keep ending up in these places ever since you began travelling through the portals again. 

Forbidden lands. Closed-off borders. Places where your protection spell suddenly becomes null. 

A sacred land. 

You have been keeping your eyes on your opponent while you are trying to process this, only to fail to notice that the other man has somehow found his bearings. The second assailant, now freed from the ominous hawk, seizes the opportunity and advances towards you with a flurry of rapid strikes. As if he is trying to express his anger over his wounds and his defeat against the wild animal by inflicting the same harm on you. 

Yet he isn’t aware of how high your adrenaline is at the moment—both from the sparring you did with the royal guard earlier and the fight you just had with his companion. Your body may be spent, your mind is still reeling over what the first armoured man said to you about this place, yet your senses are still on high alert.

Your reflex is quick, and you weave and dodge his attack with barely seconds to spare. Your sword meets his blade in a series of sparks. In his anger, his movements are out of order and reckless, which will be dangerous for you to continue engaging as they are too unpredictable. Unable to read and to deflect easily. 

Heart pounding, you spin to evade his final attack and snap the hilt of your sword against his bruising temple before delivering a sharp kick to his chest. The attack sends him stumbling backwards just as your first opponent returns to strike you from the other side. You sidestep from his swinging sword and retaliate, striking him from his right. Your sword finds its mark, cutting through his armour and drawing blood. 

A pained cry leaves his lips as he falls back, giving a chance for his partner who has somehow recovered quickly to take over the fight. 

The continuous assaults are beginning to drain you. Your body not only trembles as your second attacker returns with a strike, but you can almost feel sure you are seeing stars the moment your swords collide with each other. Your breath is heavy and ragged, your heart is pounding so hard it becomes the only thing you can hear, and both your muscles and bones are aching. As you stagger back, you realise that these men are trying to push you deeper into the grove, away from the temple and the city altogether. 

Keeping your eyes on them as they prowl closer, you wonder if there is something hidden in the grove. But your mind is too preoccupied with focusing on how to survive this fight to even try and figure out what is hidden in the shadows. 

Your upward swipe draws blood from your second attacker as your blade scraps his unprotected hips and your side kick brings him to his knee. You duck under a high swing and thrust your sword upward once again when his companion returns, catching him off guard when his surprise attack fails. He falters, clearly just as exhausted and spent as you are while bleeding profusely from the side of his waist. So you take the chance to disarm him with one strike, sending his sword skittering across the muddy ground. 

Enraged, he makes a sound from deep inside his throat—which sounds like a growl—and pulls out a dagger from his back to retaliate. Cursing under your breath, you press down your shaking legs to the soot-covered ground beneath you and ready yourself to counter his attack when a voice sharply bellows from behind you, echoing through the grove. 

“That’s enough!” 

At the ominous voice, everything stills. The men that you have been fighting with, the wind, and even the will for you to move. Keeping your sword pointed at your opponent, you turn to look over your shoulder to see the intruder. 

Pressure clamps down in your chest as the figure slips out of the shadow, worrying that you are about to face yet another threat. One should have been enough, two were already too many. And if you are going to have to deal with three—

Turning sideways to get a better look at your intruder without losing sight of your assailants, you bring the short sword forward to prepare yourself for an attack. The sound of their footsteps grows nearer, and you prepare to swing your hand down at them, only to immediately stop once the cloaked figure steps out into the limited streaks of sunlight filtering into the grove. 

“You can put that thing away, child. I mean no harm,” the figure speaks in a gentle, yet firm tone of voice. 

Thin, veiny hands are raised, gently lowering the hood of her cloak to reveal the sight of an old woman. The ageing lines on her face are visible even without any adequate light, and they soften when she smiles. Her hazel-brown eyes glint brightly under the dim lights falling on her as she takes you in. So bright, it looks almost golden. Her silver grey hair is pulled back to a thick braid, a striking difference to her rich golden-brown skin. 

She stands there in silence after revealing herself to you, clasping her hands together over her torso as she waits until you put the weapon away, sheathing it back to the left side of your hip. But your grip remains on the hilt of your sheathed sword, holding steady, even if it’s only for the sake of finding any semblance of strength while preparing yourself in case the situation suddenly changes again. 

The woman’s gaze follows your hand, taking account of the way your grip is tightening on your weapon. She makes no remark on it, however, as she looks up with a smile to regard the three of you, including the poor man still kneeling on the dirt, who—now that everything has calmed down—you are finally getting a good look on for the first time. 

Unlike his companion, the wounded swordsman looks a bit younger, with dirty blond hair and a mesh of curls on top of a boyish round face that is now marred with streaks of blood—the work of the massive hawk earlier. His bright blue eyes are wide, which seems as if they are perpetually filled with fear. His hands have fallen to his sides, slightly trembling, seen through the sword that he is still carrying, and it pleases you to know that you weren’t the one having a tough time during the fight. 

“Now, there really is no need for all this violence, is there?” the woman says, which only draws a scowl to your face upon hearing it. 

“They attacked me first,” you point out with a scoff.

A rueful smile comes to her face. “I apologise for their rudeness, my dear. They’re not exactly used to welcoming surprise guests coming to our home,” she says, tilting her head down with more respect than an elder would normally give to a younger stranger. “But it is nice to see someone visiting our homeland again after so long. It might be too late to say this, but you are welcome here.” 

The scarred man, who is clearly unhappy with this situation, snaps out of it and shouts, “High Priestess Gaia! What are you saying? She came in here without permission.” 

He is soon joined by his wounded companion who suddenly finds his missing bravado to reason, “This place has been abandoned and forgotten for a long time. For someone to be able to come here means—” 

“It means that they might have gotten their hands on a special key, or that fate has led her way here, just in time for the Full Moon Rite,” the woman—High Priestess Gaia—cuts off their rambling calmly, almost sounding like a mother chastising her rude boys. She gives them a pointed look as she adds, “Or the poor soul could have been lost. I’ve lived much longer in this realm than you have been, child. I don’t need you to lecture me about how things work in this place.” 

Sensing no danger coming from her, you loosen your guard a little—shoulders sagging in quick relief and your hands falling away from your sheathed sword. 

“So tell me. Are you lost, child?” 

Feeling unsure, you glance back and forth between the Priestess and the swordsmen before answering. “I, uh—” You take a deep breath, suddenly finding it hard to think of the right words to say. “I was just passing by,” you finally manage to speak. Sighing, you try to shake off the tension still rolling in your body and tilt your head down, greeting the Priestess as formally as you can. “Forgive me for trespassing. I had no idea if this place was forbidden to enter.” 

“It’s not,” High Priestess Gaia says without missing a beat—before any of the swordsmen can get a word in. “Just like the boy said. This place has been lost in time with no one coming to visit for a long time. Be it out of fear, or because this place has been written off from the maps of the realm.” 

You can sense the movement from one of the swordsmen as he shifts on his feet, as if trying to dispute the high priestess’ words. Gaia, noticing the same thing, releases a deep sigh and looks over at them. 

“Go back to the Keep. It’s almost time for the rite. I’m sure you will be more useful for the priests there,” she firmly says, and then turns to the wounded man still sitting on the ground to add, “And you’ll want to look at those wounds and have them tended.” 

The scarred swordsman—the one still standing—grits his teeth, as if he is about to deny the order given to him. But then his companion lets out a deep grunt in his effort to rise to his feet, and he finally gives in. Nodding his head, the scarred swordsman swallows his displeasure and bends down to retrieve his sword. He glares at you as he sheaths his sword, before turning to help his friend to his feet. 

“I’ll take him to the healer,” he says, bowing slightly at the priestess. Facing you again, his glare returns, as sharp as the tip of his sword as he swears, “Fates be damned, but if you even think about leaving a scratch on Gaia’s skin or posing a threat to her, I will come back here and end you myself.”

You return his glare with a stubborn tilt of your chin. “And as I have repeatedly said, I never meant any harm. I can promise you that there will be no harm committed to your priestess.” 

Keeping your gaze locked on the scarred guard, you can see it when he finally backs down, the defiant look in his eyes wavering before he acknowledges you with a short nod. Wrapping the younger one’s arm around his shoulder so he can support him, he says nothing else and simply bows to the high priestess before finally walking away.

You watch them go, wobbling through the trees before they disappear in the shadows as they search for a healer. 

“Go back to the Keep.” 

So you were right, after all. There is something beyond this grove. You wonder if there are other swordsmen like them stationed in the Keep—guards who are responsible of watching over the temple and the ruined city—and were planning to hold you hostage there. Shaking your head, you choose not to dwell in the thought and turn to face the high priestess again.

She still has her eyes following the swordsmen, watching over them like a mother would to her sons. 

Glancing over her shoulder, you realise that she is standing on the path which leads you back to the temple. It makes you wonder if that was where she had come from. 

Has she been in the temple all along? 

“I wasn’t aware that there was someone in the temple when I was in there.” 

The wise, old woman turns her gaze towards you and smiles. “Strictly speaking, I was not. I was praying in my chamber. I only came down here because I felt something calling for me at the temple. Thought it was her, but I guess I was wrong,” she says with a deep, almost bitter chuckle. Her words and the look in her eyes are hollow when she mutters almost to herself, “I should’ve known better. It’s been too long since she came to visit this place.” 

‘Her’? 

The way she is speaking in riddles while looking as if she is lost in her own thoughts—memories—draws an icy, uneasy chill through your body. Her eyes appear haunted, as if lost somewhere in the past. That look lasts merely a moment longer before it fades, warmth fills her almost-golden eyes when she regards you again. But then the uneasiness returns when you are made to feel as if she is looking straight into your soul, unravelling your secrets without so much of a spell. 

“Do you know where you are?” 

“Not really,” you reluctantly admit. Unlike E’l Alora, which you were able to identify before ever stepping foot into their human town, this place doesn’t remind you at all of anything that you have ever read in your book of Ancients and Magic. “In a way, you were right, I got lost and stranded here for some reason.” 

A light sound of laughter leaves you, only that it comes out a bit shaky with nerves. 

“Forgive me if I sound rude, but,” you glance around the grove, shuddering under the shadows that have grown thicker now that the sun has lowered from the sky. “May I know what exactly is this place?” 

The old woman looks at you with a knowing smile. “Come. It would be better if we find someplace more comfortable for us to talk,” she says to you as she turns, ready to head back to the direction where she came from. She might have sensed your hesitation, because she glances down at your forearm and gently points out, “Maybe we can also do something about that wound.”

You follow her gaze and look down, surprised to see a tear on your sleeve. From the torn fabric, you can see a long slash on the skin of your forearm, fresh blood still leaking out. A wound that came from the fight without you realising it. 

“Oh, I didn’t realise,” you murmur with a flinch. You recall feeling a sting on your forearm at one point during the fight, yet you ignored it, focusing more on deflecting their swords and pushing back. Now that you finally notice the wound, your brain begins to register the pain. 

Pressing your palm against the wound, you look at the high priestess with narrowed eyes. “You could’ve sent me off with your men to have this looked at.” 

Gaia merely scoffs, as if the thought of allowing you to join the guards would have been unfathomable. “And risk them disobeying me once I’m not looking?” she asks, “I hope you’ll excuse those boys. They have taken their duty to guard this place to heart—perhaps a bit too much. Though I can’t excuse them for their rash behaviour. They should’ve reported to me first or any of the high priests before taking actions.” 

You quickly shake your head. “I should be the one apologising for causing trouble.” 

“There is no need,” she says. You can almost hear her smile when she turns away from you. “Now, come, before that wound gets worse. And you also fought quite hard, so who knows if there’s any other we’re not seeing.” 

Lowering your arms to your side, you begin to follow the high priestess. But just as you are about to leave the fighting ground, Gaia lifts her hood and looks up to the trees. 

“You might want to alert your friend and tell him that you’re doing fine with me. That might stop him from worrying too much,” she suddenly says, pointing up towards the black-winged hawk that had joined the fight earlier, now perched on one of the thin, twisted branches hanging above your head. 

At the height of the fight, you have forgotten about it. 

When you first saw it, you had simply thought that the hawk only appeared because you had intruded on its home. But Gaia’s comment only puts a confused frown on your face. 

“What? But I thought the hawk is with you,” you question her, thinking that the animal is a part of the land, therefore, related to Gaia and the temple. But your question only draws another soft chuckle coming from her.

“Oh, no, dear. That handsome hawk came in together with you,” she says as she looks over her shoulder with a knowing smile, leaving you to wonder where the beast had come from, and why it had involved itself in your fight. 

You were quite right for assuming that the high priestess had come from the mountain temple.

Well, you were partially right. 

After your quick chat at the grove, Gaia led you back towards the mountain temple. But the moment you entered the entrance tunnel leading back into the main temple, she made a sharp turn and entered through an aperture in the stone wall that you had missed on your way out. It was dark, yet the moment she walked past the wall, torches lit up with flames that burned without any heat, illuminating the corridor and the set of stone steps leading upwards. 

You followed her until she entered a simple stone room above the tunnel. The chamber was narrow and high-ceilinged, with candlelights flickering on the stone walls and the small wooden altar set on the end of the chamber. You saw no sight of a statue or drawings of any known Ancients around the altar, yet the wooden top was filled with scriptures, rolled and drawn open, with an opened book laid on the center. 

Aside from the altar, the chamber was limitedly furnished. Nothing but one dark rug made up of animal skin covering the front of the altar, a shelf in the corner of the room which was filled with herbs and mixing bowls and even more books, and a single divan covered in silk—that was where you settled down soon after you entered the chamber.  

And now the chamber is filled with the scent of herbs, a concoction that she made to help heal your wound. It feels cold on your skin, and it leaves an obvious stain which requires you to roll up your sleeve to avoid it getting soiled—even though you still worried about explaining the tear and the blood stain once you would have to hand it over to the palace maid. 

“Seeing the way you are looking at this place, it seems that you’ve been to another sacred land before,” Gaia says, stating a fact rather than questioning, as she gently wraps a bandage around your wounded forearm, sealing the medicinal herbs while stopping your bleeding. 

Nodding, you choose to explain it the best you can without giving too many details about your ‘trips,’ and without revealing that it had been merely a day before when you first encountered another sacred land. “I’ve travelled to different places, oftentimes finding myself stranded in strange places,” you share with a chuckle, “Such as this one.” 

Gaia smiles and finishes her work. “Our homeland, this city of mountains, is called Arselon,” she says as she gathers the bowl of mixed herbs and bandages and starts putting them away. “The mountain temple has always been known as the temple of Arselon, even though it used to have its own name. Many used to travel far to come to our rites, specifically the nights of the full moon. Just like what’s happening tonight.” 

You have so many questions. Much about this place, and more about the people that had once resided here. Gaia, as if she can read your mind, turns to light up fresh candles to replace the ones that have burned out while she was gone, and continues to tell you more about this place. “Back then, the Ancients—our ancestors—built these temples to worship their Gods and Goddesses, to pray for the sanctity of the realm and to pass down their wisdom. Unlike the humans in the mortal realm, the residents of the Far Far Away Land today no longer hold the same rites, and only a small few still worship the sources of their powers, while only using these temples to pray and wish for blessings from their ancestors. It has been that way since the Ancients who built this realm were long gone.”

Gaia returns to your side with a glass of wine—for healing, she had explained earlier when she first pointed out the decanter resting on the wooden shelf. “This place used to be where the Priests and Priestess would hold lectures and sermons to the people, spreading the knowledge about our Ancients and magic, and the history behind the creation of the realm.” 

Gaia’s eyes turn towards the flickering candles, and then the small altar. “We still keep most of the scriptures that recounted the story of the Ancients, the history behind the realm, and the secrets of magic. Yet we no longer have as many as we used to. All that we have left are preserved in small chambers such as this one, hidden libraries and storages in various parts of this mountain temple.” 

Your eyes follow her gaze to the scriptures on the altar, the chests lying beneath, and the shelf which is lined up with old books. You refuse to believe that this is all that was left of all the documented history that this place has to preserve, but before you can say anything, Gaia confirms it with sadness written in her gaze. 

“Once, this land was seen and regarded as a sacred place, a holy land, yet this is all that was left behind over time.” A resigned sigh escapes her lips before she smiles grimly. “Now you understand why our young guards were uncompromising when it came to protecting this place.” 

The smile that you give her feels just as grim. Your mouth feels bitter from her grievance, from the dark history shadowing this place, so you raise your glass to wash it all down. Your chest aches to think about what was lost. Recalling what you have learned after your visit to E’l Alora, you take a deep breath and question her, “Was it the war, that came to this land?” 

Gaia grimly nods. “The Great Siege.”

Once the sun has set, and nightfall comes, Gaia invites you to witness the rite. 

It is an offer that you cannot possibly refuse. 

You follow Gaia through a different corridor—one that was yet again hidden in the stone wall—on the other side of her private chamber, emerging on one of the alcoves on the upper tier which you saw earlier. From here, you have the perfect view of the rite from above, the entire part of the temple is visible for you to experience the ceremony while remaining hidden from sight. 

The temple has already fascinated you before, regardless of its vacancy and forlorn facade that you witnessed when you first entered the place. 

Seeing the temple coming alive with the rite fascinates you even more; with worshippers and believers making use of this dark place. They arrive soon after dusk in various shades of cloaks and robes, candlelights flickering to eliminate the shadows and melodic chants of prayers bouncing against the dark stone walls.

Standing at the center of the raised dais is a priest in a white robe, with a few others standing on either side of him, all carrying candles in their hands while leading the prayers. The guards, including the two that you met earlier in the grove, are wearing dark robes over their armours as they line up below the dais, watching over the rite and helping out those who have arrived with offerings to place around the dais. 

You watch with keen eyes as the rite continues. The people move like a steady current, in motion with the rhythm of the chanting prayers echoing through the temple. You watch in awe as they move in a practised gesture—the way they walk up in line to light up the candles around the dais before moving back to the nave, where they follow the motion by passing and exchanging candles between each other. 

The way the flickering flames seem to be weaving through the people becomes such a captivating sight. The lights and flames spread across the temple until the entire hall comes alight—a symbol of life surviving in the dark, of the people who survived the darkness, and the story that has been written of their past, present, and future. 

“Once, in the past, this holy land burned with life. Candles were lit up to celebrate life, to honour our blessings, and to pray for the Ancients that were watching over us from above,” Gaia speaks from beside you, her voice gentle and soft, almost as melodic as the prayers echoing down below. But then her voice turns grim as she speaks of the past, “And then they came, bringing in their deathly flames, and this city burned into ashes.” 

You turn to look at Gaia as she suddenly laughs. A pained and bitter laugh that pierces through your chest.  

“Well, most of them,” she adds with a wry smile, “This temple and the ruins you saw outside are what was left of this place. Decades, centuries worth of a civilization reduced to nothing more but skeletons of our homes, schools, temples, and everything that our elders had built for the sake of preserving the treasure of knowledge and faith left behind by the Ancients. The only thing that those flames failed to diminish was the spirit of our people.” 

As she continues to speak, Gaia’s eyes light up. Her grief is soon replaced by hope. “These people,” she says, as she watches the people below, ”They may have lost their homes, the lands that they had spent generations cultivating for the benefit of our homeland, yet they continue to thrive through the pain of our dark past, surviving the best they can with all that we have left, even if it means that we all have to remain hidden in the shadows.”

“But where do these people live?” you ask, as you have been wondering ever since the first time you stepped foot in this place, “Where do you all live, when the city is no longer safe?” 

“In places that our own homeland provides for us, just like how this temple came to be,” Gaia explains. “There are people who live within and in the heart of the mountains, in homes that were built in the stone walls, and even under the dry, rocky peaks spread across the land. It may not be much, compared to what we used to have just decades ago, yet we have found our solitude in enclosed spaces such as this temple that protects us all.” 

Down below, the rite continues. The movement of the candles has gone slower, and so are the chants recited by the priests and priestesses leading the ceremony. There are only a small amount of offerings laid on the dais, but there are so many candles to make up for what is lacking. 

“After the war, the only times that our candles were lit were to hold vigils and prayers for the Ancients to liberate us from our suffering,” Gaia continues as you watch the priests and priestesses leaving the raised dais, slowly making their way to the center of the temple where the pool of water is present. “Now, we light our candles to reflect, to pay homage to those who sacrificed their lives to protect what now remains of our home, and to remember our dark history so we can replace our pain with new hope.” 

The movements within the temple shift. This time, the guards in their dark robes are the ones to make their move, weaving through the believers with the silver chalices filled with wine in their hands. Carefully, the guards pass the chalices to the people, who then each take a drink from them before passing them over to the next in line. 

Gaia gently explains that the drinking of wine symbolises living for the future, to drink for the dead and the forgotten ancestors while celebrating the old life that they have lost. 

Your eyes move to the pool of water, realising only now that the full moon—which appears through the opening above the temple—is reflected perfectly on the surface of the water. 

The leaders of the ceremony move to stand around the pool to sing their prayers, joined in by their followers who are lining behind them in the nave. At the end of the rite, the priests and priestesses retreat to the back of the temple, while the worshippers step forward to take their place. 

One by one, the people come down to their knees to pray to the moon’s reflection in the water, before finally releasing the small candles that they have been holding into the pool, allowing them to float around the image of the bright moon. 

“To the sky, we pray for the future. To the land, we pray for the dead. To the water, we pass our wishes to the moon, hoping that it will one day pass down to us its blessings, the same way it once did to the Ancients who walked on this realm.” 

You continue to watch as this ritual continues, allowing every single worshipper to do their part of the ceremony until they dwindle into small groups of people praying beyond the dais. You have become so enthralled by the scene that you barely notice that Gaia has left your side until she returns. 

“Don’t you think it’s time for you to go home?” she asks, snapping you out of your daze. As you turn to her, Gaia hands you a folded cloth—a dark robe—something which she says may help you blend in with the remaining groups of people below so you can safely slip away from the temple. 

You are still in such a daze after witnessing the rite—something that feels so divine and sacred that it gives you a sense of peace and grief at the same time—that it doesn’t register to you the fact that the priestess seems to have knowledge of your time limit until much later. You simply listen to her instructions on how to reach the ground level—back to where your exit is located—as you put on the robe, covering your appearance as much as you can to avoid gaining unwanted attention. 

“Our home is open to travellers like yourself, should you ever decide to return and find some interest to learn more about us,” Gaia adds right before you go. “Regardless of what Gen and Edmund said earlier, this place isn’t as closed off or forbidden as it was made to be. We have closed our borders, but some of us believe that it would only be right to maintain the faith that our elders once had about opening our doors to other believers.” 

In her gaze, the same hope you saw lights up the same way the candlelights below are still burning brightly. “The longer we are hidden from the world, the more we will be forgotten. And the knowledge of the past that we have spent centuries protecting will one day be lost in time, exactly what our enemies had once aimed towards when they brought their flames to our home.”  

Just as Gaia is about to send you off down the stone steps, she reaches out to grab your hands, holding them gently in hers. “Promise me that you’ll return one day. That you’ll never forget about us,” she calmly asks while holding her pleading gaze on yours. Your body stiffens when you feel her passing something into your palm, and you instinctively wrap your palm around it firmly to keep it from falling. 

“I promise. I’ll return one day, hopefully in better circumstances than the present,” you promise her with a smile, not bothering to say something as you accept the small token that she has given you and slip it into your pocket without looking. You keep your gaze steady on hers as you whisper, “Thank you.”

As you slip through the worshippers who are still deep in their prayers, making your way to the back of the dais to find the hidden portal door, you suddenly feel the heat of a gaze following your movement. Cautiously, you turn to look over your shoulder, expecting to see the familiar glare from the guard that you fought previously tracking your escape. 

But what is looking back at you isn’t at all human. 

Perched atop the bannister on the upper floor, you see the magnificent-looking black-winged hawk that had appeared during your fight earlier. With its wings pulled back, its eyes are wide open, glaring at you attentively as if it is keeping watch at your departure. Staring back at it, the animal’s gaze feels menacing and comforting at the same time, yet something deep inside is telling you that the hawk is there without any malicious intent. It is simply there to watch you, to see you go, and it remains in its position when you turn away, slipping under the banner and into the magic portal to return home. 

As the wave of magic taking you away from the sacred land ripples through the space around you, the hawk flaps its wings and rises from its perch, making its own way back home to where it came from.

Emburn Empire has come alive tonight. 

The full moon looks bright in the night sky, casting a divine glow into the land. 

The imperial palace and its Moon Temple look radiant under the night sky, the white walls and pillars made up of Clayntine Stone reflecting the moonlight glow so perfectly that they glimmer like magic crystals. 

Within the walls of the Moon Temple of Aone, candlelights flicker and burn, casting a golden glow across the praying hall. Both inside and on the outer grounds of the moon temple, the people of Emburn have come and gathered to witness the rite. From above, the candlelights appear like an ocean of living inferno—the ocean of hope, as the Royal Priests would call it. 

Ever since he was a young boy, Yoongi has always enjoyed the Runea Luna Eve, the night of the full moon, when the rite is held to celebrate and pay homage to the Ancients who had built the land of Emburn. Tonight, however, he is too restless to enjoy the celebration, feeling too disconnected to even pay attention to the ceremony unfolding right in front of him.  

The Moon Temple of Aone is full tonight; the commoners are taking up the space below, while the nobles and royals claim the seats on the upper tiers and the mezzanine floors. Many carry their own candles in their hands as a symbol of their hope, but all have their eyes set on the front of the raised dais at the head of the temple, where the Royal High Priest is giving his sermon and leading the prayers. 

Two identical thrones sit on the center of the raised dais. The Empress of Emburn, Empress Ariane, sits on one of them, while the one beside her is left empty in the absence of the ailing Emperor. Behind her, two rows of long benches are set to accommodate the members of the Royal Priesthood on one side, while the Royal Aides who are present to show support for the Empress fill the other side. 

The Crown Prince sits on the balcony on the top left of the dais, together with the highest nobles and the royal guests who were invited to witness the ceremony. Including the royal guests that Yoongi is currently—and quite reluctantly—hosting in place of the Empress; Byron Koshar, the new Emperor of the Neo Empire of Kosha, and his second daughter, Princess Celestyna.

“You’ll have to keep the Princess company during the rite tonight. Treat her well, be polite about it, and make her feel welcome,” was the warning that Empress Ariane had given Yoongi earlier today during the preparation for the rite. “You need to build a positive relationship with the Kosha Empire to gain support for your future.” 

“Must I take up the responsibility for your guests, Mother? There are tons of nobles here that would be more suitable and willing to be their hosts.” 

At Yoongi’s complaint, the Empress turned and glared. Obviously displeased that her son is unwilling to do her bidding. “Those nobles aren’t the ones who are going to take the throne now, are they?” she scolded him then with a sharp tone of voice that made him wince. “Do this for the Empire, for the Emperor, and for your position on the throne.” 

Yoongi had chosen not to argue, realising that there was no way he could win against Empress Ariane once she made the decree. 

He isn’t even sure why it would be necessary for him to gain support from Kosha Empire. It’s not like there will be anyone to contest his position for the throne once the time comes. And it’s not like he’s eager to take the crown so prematurely, with the Emperor still living and breathing and capable enough to continue ruling, and while he is still in the process of courting his future Empress. 

Even if there are parties of nobles or royal blood who would dare to challenge his position on the throne, Yoongi cannot possibly see how being ‘good friends’ with the second Princess would give him the advantage to refute the challenge. He feels bitter to think that the Empress may have any intention of arranging some forming of an alliance by matching them together. 

Marriage arrangements made to gain favour from a strong ally are not unheard of, but it isn’t something that Yoongi would be willing to partake in. Not even at the risk of losing his position on the throne. 

And he cannot possibly agree with such an arrangement when he already has someone who was chosen for him since the day he was born. 

Yoongi holds back an exasperated groan and looks up at the exposed dome ceiling above. Through the see-through ceiling made up of Shadow Crystal, the full moon is clearly visible, illuminating the temple’s hall with its glow. 

Keeping his eyes on the moon helps him detach himself from the present. His restless mind is so quick to wander, filled with the thoughts of you. He wonders where you might be spending your evening, and if you are looking up at the moon the way he is doing now. He also wonders if you are safe, wherever you are. 

“…as we send our gratitude to the moon, tonight, we remember our great ancestor, the Fairy King Aone, the Ancient Hunter who had borrowed the magic from the moon to build Emburn from the ashes and has continued to bring prosperity to the people…” 

The Royal High Priest’s voice echoes through the grand hall, pulling Yoongi’s attention back to the ceremony that is slowly coming to an end. 

Back in the past, the sermons and praises for the Ancient Hunter would have been followed by a sacrament which lasted for the entire night, beginning from nightfall to the coming of dawn, filled with chantings of prayers for the ancestors, the Ancients, and the moon. 

In the present time, the ritual will be followed with festivities. A night of celebration where the people will pour into the streets to sing and dance and drink as much wine as their minds and bodies would allow until the dawn comes. 

Once Yoongi has his attention on the raised dais, his eyes flickering towards the altar and the statue of the Ancient Hunter standing in the center, he feels something pulling at him. A pulse. A shot of magic calling for his attention, and it seems to be coming from the ground floor of the temple.

Yoongi looks across the grand hall as a dark figure slips out from behind one of the white pillars, wearing a black robe with its hood raised over his head, hiding his face and features from prying eyes. 

Sensing Yoongi’s eyes on him, the person lifts his head, meeting Yoongi’s gaze with his own from the distance, revealing himself to be none other than Yoongi’s best friend and right-hand man.

Yijeong. 

Upon meeting Yoongi’s gaze, Yijeong nods once. A subtle gesture that the busy worshippers around him will surely miss. But the one gesture is enough for the Crown Prince. The message has been delivered and received.

She’s home safe. 

With a gesture that is just as subtle, Yoongi responds with a slight tilt of his head and then leans back into his seat. The anxiety which has been weighing on him since the moment he felt the ripple of magic—the omen signifying that a portal has been opened—is soon lifted. 

His job done, Yijeong steps back into the shadow, drifting out of the crowd of people and out of the moon temple just as the Royal High Priest ends his sermon. The air immediately shifts as the Royal Priests step away from the altar. One by one, the people begin to disperse—some making time to walk up to the altar and the dais to leave their candles and bow to the Empress, while others walk out towards the nearest stream to release their candles and let them drift along with the flowing water, hoping that they would bring their wishes back to the land that they are worshipping or wherever the stream of Marble Falls and the Armere River will take them. 

In the absence of the Royal Priests’ sermons and prayers, the sound of music begins, carrying on with the evening breeze like a draft, a sign for the festivities celebrating the full moon and the birth of the Ancient Hunter to begin. 

Yoongi looks over to the throne as Empress Ariane rises from her seat, throwing a barely-there glance towards the balcony, straight where the Crown Prince and his guest—his date for the night, if that is what the Empress has in mind—are sitting in. 

The bitterness that he felt earlier returns when he meets the Empress’ gaze. He knows that she isn’t turning to see if the Crown Prince—her son—is having a blast during the ceremony. He knows that the Empress is simply checking to see if he is doing his duty as the perfect host for the people that he wants absolutely nothing to do with. 

Yoongi keeps his eyes on his mother until she steps away, leaving the temple through the rear exit which leads towards the royal drawing room, the priests and priestesses and her royal aides trailing right behind. Yoongi nearly shoves himself out of his seat as he rises, ready—perhaps too eager—to end his night and return to the palace. 

Just as Yoongi is about to turn and bid his farewell to the Emperor of Kosha—who has been busy chatting with a noble from the city called Mosshaven, the city of merchants at the south end of Emburn—and the other nobles who have been there with him, Princess Celestyna speaks first. 

“Leaving so soon, Your Highness? Must you really leave now?” she asks. Her tone is gentle and polite, yet it demands attention, the kind that would have put young men to their knees, bending over backwards to please her. “The festivities are only beginning. Wouldn’t the people look forward to having their Crown Prince be a part of it?” 

Yoongi forces a smile. For the past few days, Yoongi has been confined in the palace under the Empress’ orders to host the royal guests. Primarily, the second princess. And for the past few days, he was forced to ignore the ripples of magic calling for him, beckoning him to see you, all due to the princess always getting in the way, always inquiring for his company at the same exact time he wished to rush to your side instead.

Always with mundane things that Yoongi would have preferred to avoid, to rather deal with important matters instead of wasting it with an afternoon stroll through the royal gardens, or have tea and biscuits by the Emerald Lake, or have him escorting her through the various estates in the Imperial Palace’s territory and help her learn about the arts and culture of Emburn.  

The fact is, he has grown tired of it. He has wasted too much precious time which he could have spent with you.  

Even looking at the Princess makes him feel exhausted and weary. At least, tonight, he can use the festivities as an excuse to find some semblance of freedom. To untangle himself from the responsibility that has been forced on him. 

“I’m sure the people will be able to have fun without me being there,” Yoongi smoothly says, “There are other members of the royal family who will be joining the festivities and would no doubt feel honoured to keep you company. I’m sure they’ll be better party companions than I would.” 

Princess Celestyna’s face pinches with displeasure—a look which reminds Yoongi too much of his mother which, undeniably, the only reminder that the Empress is indeed distantly related to the royal family of Kosha—yet she is quick to conceal it with a thin smile. The same practised smile that she has been wearing each time she was in the company of the Empress, Yoongi took notice. 

“Well, I was expecting that we could perhaps share the first dance during the celebration. This is my first time joining such a grand event, after all, and I heard a member of the royal family has always been the one to start the dancing,” she says with a deliberate tone that is meant to seduce, to allure, while she leans slightly forward to get closer to Yoongi. 

Close enough for Yoongi to smell the scent of the perfume that she had pasted around her collarbone and between her breasts. A strong, sultry scent of orchid with a hint of spiciness to it. Yoongi prefers something sweet, subtle and fresh. Something that reminds him of you. 

There is also something about the gesture and the way she speaks which seems off to him. Unconvincing and completely unfitting to be something that a person of her character would do. It feels too deliberate. Too hollow and viscous. As if she had practised this act one too many times before she was made to face Yoongi.   

A shiver runs through him. The unsettling kind which takes an effort for him to hide.

Pressing his lips, Yoongi tries to reel his annoyance from surfacing. This isn’t the first time that Princess Celestyna has brought up her request to have Yoongi stay by her side for the evening’s events and share a dance with her. The only problem with this offer would be the fact that if Yoongi ever plans on attending the festival, as per tradition, having her as his dance partner and showing her to his people would make everyone think that she is the one he is courting to be the future consort or the next Empress of Emburn.

There is no possible way that he would risk something like this. Not when he already has someone else in mind to introduce to his people. 

“Unfortunately, I do have other business to attend to, and I promise that I wouldn’t be able to act as the perfect company or host for Your Highness the Princess tonight if I am to have my focus wandering towards other matters and not be present,” Yoongi reasons with the Princess, using the same words that he used the previous times Princess Celestyna kept trying to convince Yoongi to spend the evening with her. 

Yoongi is quite sure that his refusal will no doubt reach the Empress, and there might be chances for him to receive the brunt of the Empress’ ire once he comes face to face with his mother again. Princess Celestyna should know this too, judging from the way her gaze sharpens, and how she is quick to make him another offer before Yoongi can slip away. 

“Then you must make it up by sparing your time with me in the afternoon tomorrow,” she urgently asks him with one of her dainty hands placed on Yoongi’s arm, merely inches above his elbow. “Perhaps we can have tea in the Royal Garden once you are done with your duties?” 

Yoongi bites back the words of refusal that nearly slip out the moment she speaks. It is an offer that is not quite an open invitation. More like a challenge, a subtle threat, as Yoongi can sense a finality in her words. He can almost hear the words unspoken from her gaze—give me this, or I’ll go to the Empress and make things harder for you. 

A resigned sigh slips out of him as Yoongi realises that he has no choice but to play along. At least for now. Only until he can find the chance or an excuse to escape from the second Princess. 

His nod is stiff when Yoongi reluctantly accepts her deal. “One of my attendants will come for you in the afternoon once I have tea prepared in the gardens.” 

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Princess Celestyna says with a smile on her face, mirth dancing in her eyes as she finally gets her wish. “I shall be waiting for the good news.” 

Bowing towards the Princess, and then to her silent father, the Emperor of Kosha, Yoongi bids his farewell for the night and quickly turns to walk away before any word can be thrown to trample his escape. The long tail of his black coat flares behind him as he walks out of the balcony seats in rapid footsteps. 

His hand finds its way to his upper arm as he walks down the stairs, making his exit through the vacant service hall in the back of the temple. He keeps rubbing the skin from over the thick sleeve of his coat to brush away the lingering feeling of the Princess’ hand, wishing it to be your touch instead. 

As he makes his way out of the Moon Temple of Aone, Yoongi silently makes up his mind, promising himself that at the next full moon ceremony, he will make sure that he only has you standing by his side. 

For your hand to be the only one he would ask for the first dance the next time he joins the Runea Luna Eve. 

That day will come, he tells himself. A promise. Soon. 

⟶ Author’s note | thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this one, please leave a like/kudo and help reblog the fic to share it with others to enjoy. Any form of feedback is welcome!

— © 2024 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. unsolicited translations are not allowed.

[xn4vyl1c1ousx]

How did we get here? when i used to know you so well..

cw: angst?, kinda occ, word vomit, implied past relationship with bakugo, pro hero!bakugo x villain!reader (kinda), ends with a cliffhanger

wc: 789..

♫ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| …

notes: okay this is probably gonna be booty cause i kinda just put stuff down, i hope it isn’t too bad if anything needs fixing don’t be afraid to tell me, i might not make a pt 2 to this cause idk what else to write after it, uhhhh that’s it :p

now playing: Decode - Paramore

back to navi..

“Get out of my way!” the sound of explosions was heard throughout the city. buildings were falling everywhere and dust clouds replaced them.

cars, busses, and street signs suddenly ripped up from the ground and swirled around in the air.

“what the hell is going on?!” Bakugo spoke out loud, looking around for anyone as he ran towards the center of chaos.

all the others were around trying to help people out of the fallen building. Midoriya, Kirishima, Mina, Tsu, Tokoyami, and Bakugo were all running to the source. rough screams were heard as a car came crashing down onto the road, right in front of bakugo. it all happened so quickly, but fortunately, he was quicker.

with an explosion he launched himself over the car and continued running. the sound of his boots was barely audible over the sound of rushing air and car alarms blaring through the wind.

Midoriya hopped around from building to building , getting ever so close to the source of chaos. Just as he was within reach of whoever was the cause of this, he was swung back by a forceful wind. The force of the wind ended up sending everyone flying back, including Bakugo, who was sent straight towards Kirishima.

Kirishima couldn’t move fast enough causing Bakugo to crash into him, sending them tumbling. “PAY ATTENTION, HAIR-FOR-BRAINS!”

“i’m sorry bakubro! you came outta nowhere!”

the wind suddenly picked up in speed, sending everyone flying into the air agian. “What the hell?!” bakugo’s voice fell upon deaf ears as everyone became separated. the wind around them almost cutting their exposed skin from the sheer speed and force.

As bakugo looked around, he spotted you in the center. your eyes met his, a sudden shiver ran down both of your spines as a realization came to both of you.

How did you end up in this situation? someone who oh so desperately wanted to be a hero, becoming a villain. a puppet for the LOV. Your facial expression said it all. It was him who caused your sudden change.

Suddenly, bakugo was thrown away from the chaos. his body flew through the air, making him set off blasts to try and control where he was going. yet it was all in vain. his body slammed against a building, sending all the air in his lungs out.

“Wait! guys it’s them! it’s y/n!” he yelled out as he finally regained his breath.

no one could hear him. despite his harsh and loud voice, the wind muted him.

he watched as Midoriya somehow made it to you and collided against you. a sharp gasp ripped from your chest as the pain of his punch radiated from the place of impact.

no one could see you, they only saw the monster that they thought you were. he watch as mina came next, sending her acid toward the quirk enhancers on your wrists, causing them to disintegrate. then went kirishima, grabbing you and holding you down, making it impossible to move.

tokoyami grabbed Tsu as she fell from the sky, holding her up so she wouldn’t hit the ground. they safely landed in front of you and the other 3 hero’s.

bakugo watched from afar, his body unable to move. was it from the injuries? or was it that he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop what was going to happen to you.

“let me go!” you yelled as you thrashed around in kirishima a grip, his quirk activing, causing it to be even more difficult to move.

“we got you now, there’s no escaping.” Midoriya spoke, his voice full of victory.

you looked up at them. the world froze. no one moved, too stunned to speak. it was you. it was really you.

it had been years since your disappearance. and now here you were, conspiring against them, attacking them, and being in the most dangerous villain group of all japan. it was still you.

“y/n?! but why? you? why.. why would you turn back on us?” mina’s voice shook, full of hurt, betrayal, and anger.

you stayed silent, kirishima grip on you faltered enough to let you send a strong wind, knocking them all back.

“it’s his fault. if you really want to know why i’ve chosen to backstab you all, ask him. ask bakugo.”

and with that, you sent yourself into the air with a flick of your wrist, right into a purple portal in the sky.

you disappeared yet again, this time right in front of them.

The five hero’s turned to look at bakugo, who still kneeled on the ground. frozen and with a look of pain and guilt on his face.

just what did he do to let this happen?

General Taglist for all my works (comment or send an ask to be added)

@sunolls

[andsoigotabutterfly]

-Save Me From Her - chapter 3

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: The past comes back to haunt, and it doesn't like the present.

a/n: Hai everybody! Sorry that this took this long to come out, but life has been lifing, and I needed to get a hold of my mental health and stuff like that. Anyways, enjoy!

warnings: amature writing, wounds, stabbing, Canon-typical violance, multiple POV's, mixed POV's, mass homocide, blood, blood, and more blood (also; not proofread. I will, but not yet. When I did, I will remove this. I just wanted to push this out as quick as possible.

“Lolly!”

Her voice was venomous as it echoed through the small room, shivering, and agitated.

“Come ‘ere…”

The voice disintegrated, everything in it becoming shadowy dust, blown away by the wind. Her voice faded as well, as it was taken over by a sound that cut through the very fabric of nature. A scream, loud, horrid, and filled with emotion. Filled with anger, with hate and rancor.

“She was screaming, shouting, and begging for it to end.” The voice sounded from the depths of darkness. “Yet you did nothing!”

Her face emerged from the dredge, emotionless. Her eyes like glass, her mouth ripped open, deep bruises across her features. Dead. Then her voice sounded again, the former emotions snuff from the words she spoke, replaced with sadness. She sounded bitter, heartbroken. Disappointed.

“We could have been happy Y/N. We could have been…”

----------------------------

Tara was worried about you. Ever since you saw the note, you haven’t been the same. You acted like nothing happened, talked to the cops about the attack whilst soothing her quivering body. They asked about the dead body as well, which you gave the full truth about; that he attacked you two yesterday and that in his drunk state, you could fend him off. With her help you went through about what happened inside the building today, skipping over the personal parts of course.

Even though you kept a straight, composed face, even when you talked calmly, not a hint of trembling present in your voice, she could see through your façade. You were shaken to your core. She saw the slight flinch of your eyes when the name ‘Lolly’ came up, she felt the almost unnoticeable tightening of your grip around her whenever they asked about your wounds. The little motions your lips, your body, they all gave you away. She has never seen you like this. Scared. You weren’t whilst talking back to someone twice your size, not when you defended her yesterday from the drunk, not when you two fled for your lives today. Not when the knife was inches away from your face. Never

Yet now, you were. The reappearance of Ghostface by itself made Tara too, your state had only worsened hers. She was afraid for you. The worry she felt for you overwhelmed every other emotion that would rise in her. She felt like she needed to stay strong, for the both of you. Falling apart was not an option.

After the ambulance patched you up, the cops approached you once more.

“You’ll have to come with us so that we may pick up your statements at the precinct.”

Tara raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t we just tell you what happened?”

“Yes, but to officially record it, we need you to be at the station.”

“But-“ Tara started but your soft, gentle hand on her shoulder made her stop.

“Let’s follow the officers Tara” you said, looking at the young woman. You were composed and confident.

She huffed but gave in to you. “Can I call Sam from your phone please? I left mine in your apartment.”

“Here” you mumbled as you absentmindedly handed her yours from your back pocket.

As Tara started to dial in her sister’s number, she saw it was already saved. At the name she raised her brow again. “Who is ‘Geralt’?

“Oh, it’s her” you say, blushing a little. "It's from Witcher.

“I know, but why is this her name?” she asks, turning the screen towards you.

You shy away from her unwavering gaze, then press the call button and push her hand back towards her face. “Oh, no you won’t escape this-“ she starts but Sam is faster, as she immediately picks up the ringing phone. She hears her voice calling out for her from the other end of the line.

"Tara! I just saw the news. Are you okay? Are you hurt? I'm on my way and be there as fast as possib-" her unrelenting assault of words is cut off by Tara.

"Sam, calm down and take a breath. I'm uninjured, but Y/N got a nasty cut on her neck. The police want us to go down to the precinct to pick up our statements. Meet us there?"

"Yeah, sounds good! Be careful!"

"Off what? I'll be surrounded by cops for god's sake!"

"We both now that won't stop him" Sam said, voice low and mournful. Flashing memories of the hospital ran through Tara's mind for a second and sent a shiver down her spine. The dead cop, laying limp on the floor with an open throat, the pain and the fear coming back to her all of a sudden. Her senses numbed, not hearing Sam's voice on the other end of the line, the lights becoming blindingly bright, yet she couldn't close or avert her eyes. She was frozen in place, helpless just like when she was crawling away from her. From the one that said she would be always by her side. The one that said whatever the case, she would keep her safe. The one that said she loved her.

She flinched when she felt something touch her and snapped her head backwards. At your sight she calmed, only now noticing, and taking in her surroundings once again. "Okay Sam, I will. Bye" Tara managed to say, then hung up.

"She knew?" your voice was soft, so soft. Why were you this thoughtful with her always? It made her heartbeat faster, making her able to believe she could be normal again. But life always had a way to prove her wrong, doesn't it?

"By now all of the world could now" she gestured behind you, towards the police line where an army of reporters were lined up. You sighed as you noticed them. "We are gonna meet her at the station."

"Then let's get moving." Tara felt your hand on her back, nudging her gently to get to the police car.

You opened the door for her, then scrambled to the other side to do the same for yourself. When you got in and closed the car, the sounds of the outside vanished, a comfortable silence filling the space. The vehicle soundlessly rolled out to the road, the lights of the city blaring by the window that Tara's head was leaned against. The cops in front were chattering quietly, trying not to disturb you two.

The Carpenter felt odd. Out of place. Everything was calm. Nothing should be calm. Ghostface was back. He was here to bring her and her loved one’s pain, suffering, and death. Why her? Then she thought of the note. This wasn't about her. No, you knew what the name meant, it scared you. This wasn't about her she realized. This was about you. She rethought the attack, every little detail she could think of. She was the first one to get called, but that didn't mean much. All the time, he was staring at you with his dead eyes, always attacking you. She remembered the occasions where he could have wounded her, yet he was focused solely on you.

Tara looked over to your side of the backseats, taking in your features again. You were just as disturbed as her, deep in thought and uncomfortable. You would have looked cute if one didn't know about what had happened. Tara saw your pained gaze, could feel that your thoughts were eating you up inside and hated every moment of it. Your usual smile wasn't there to light her up. She missed your crinkling eyes that could melt the coldest frozen hearts, your witty jokes, that you would throw in the worst time possible. So, she tried to distract you.

"I want an answer" she demanded, looking at you with furrowed eyes. She surprised you with speaking up, that she could see. You looked at her, confused and unfocused. "I want an answer" she repeated. You clearly didn't know what she was talking about, but she needed you to get speaking so you wouldn't shut off again.

"What answer?" your voice full of confusion.

"The answer to my question" Tara said matter-of-factly.

You rolled your eyes at her statement. "Which one Tara?"

"Why the hell is my sister saved in your phone as Geralt of Rivia?"

You reddened instantly, looking everywhere but her. "It was mainly meant to be a joke…"

"But?"

You gulped and glanced over to her a few times. She knew her unwavering gaze would brake your resistance, and it did. "Anika pointed out that he resembles some of his attributes." You say, still not looking at her.

"Like what?" Tara asked playfully. You looked like a child caught in the act of stealing cookies from the fridge. You swallowed again, clearly rethinking your life choices since the date of your birth. "Y/N, don't think that I'll let you off the hook this easily."

"She is strong, layered and protective besides being misunderstood and mistreated!" you blurted out, looking straight at her. Once you did, your eyes widened and went pale as a ghost. Tara could feel her smile widening to unimaginable lengths before bursting out in laughter. "I'm only telling the truth here! Don't laugh at me" you pouted. You looked so kissable.

"N- no it's not you it's just" she tried to say in between laughs. "It's just that it's so accurate. She would be fuming if she heard about this."

"And that's why she will never know!" So kissable.

"Oh, I don't know about that" she smirked. "My tongue is in a slippy mood these days…"

"No, Tara I'm serious!" you pleaded, face contorting in fear. "She would kill me! I have barely made it on her list of tolerated people! I don't want to end up-" she cut you off with her lips on yours. Your eyes widened for a moment, taking in what was happening, but she didn't give you enough time to fully comprehend it. She leaned back and watched your gaping face. After you finally shook off the surprise, you smirked at her. "Well, if I end up like this, I don't mind her knowing."

Tara rolled her eyes at you but the butterflies in her stomach rendered her silent. What exactly was this? You kissed her back, that surely meant you liked her too, right? She didn’t have much time to think because you leaned in to kiss her again, this time deepening it. You cupped her cheek with your right hand, whilst the left on found hold on her waist, gently rubbing circles under the fabric. When you had to separate for air, she pressed her forehead against yours, eyes locking with each other.

“I-“ Tara started, but stopped herself. The words she was about to speak didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel enough. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to think up something that would be better.

“I know” you said simply, caressing her face with your fingers. She opened her eyes again, and your heart started beating faster at the sight of them, full of hope and concern. “Me too.”

Your words made the swarm of butterflies in Tara’s stomach grow into a horde. “Since when?”

“Anika told me what you told Mindy” you said with a smirk. “That’s when I really started to hope for it to be true. I never fully believed it until know though.”

“You mean the time when they got together?” At your nod her face reddened. She then narrowed her eyes and leaned back. “Mindy is dead to me.”

“Oh, come on, they share everything between each other, and Anika could never stand my stare.”

“It was meant to be a secret!”

“If you want to blame someone, blame me for being a too good sister, from which the other can’t keep anything from!”

“Yeah, if anything you’re an idiot” she said, smiling.

“I might be” you leaned back too and smirked at her. “But I’m your idiot now.” Tara’s stomach churned in the most pleasurable way after hearing your words.

------------------

The rest of the route went by in a blink of an eye. Tara and you had talked most of it through, and you were thankful of her for distracting you from your own thoughts. The note rocked you to your core. There were only a few people who could have known that nickname, but you didn’t see any of them capable of killing someone, let alone mutilate them afterwards. The only one died a year ago. She died a year ago.

When your thoughts would start to eat you up again the car stopped. The cops got out and helped you two leave the vehicle as well. You entered the building and were met with the familiar sight of the white walls and crowded office. You couldn’t remember how many days you spent here nagging and annoying your uncle. Yet he wasn’t here anymore, and the thought made you feel alone. Scared. Overwhelmed. Screaming, shouting, begging for it to end…

As if she read your mind, Tara grabbed your hand and interlocked her fingers with you. You looked down at her and smiled, reassuringly squeezing her hand. The cops started leading you two to what you liked to call; ‘interrogation chamber’ in your youth. Whenever you saw the cops bringing in perps in handcuffs, you would imagine how scary it must be for them. You would chase yourself into a corner of your mind where everything was scary and dark. Where she was still free. Still alive. Your only lifebelt being your uncle, who never failed to help you out of there. Now, the room you were closing in on didn’t seem so bad. It felt safe. Funny how time changes perspectives.

“Y/N?” you heard a familiar voice behind you. Not believing your ears your span around, searching for the source. “Y/N! Hey! How are you? What the hell are you doing here?” The source turned out to be a young man, with red hair and sparkling green eyes. Just like your uncle.

“I could ask you the same thing V.”

“Not even a greeting for your most humble cousin? I must say you’ve cha-“ he got cut off when you hugged him so tightly Tara was worried you might brake some bones. “There she is…” he said, wrapping his own hand around you.

“What happened? I thought you are stationed in Washington!”

“I got transferred here upon my request. Being a legacy of pa helped.”

“Kayoko, you two know each other?” one of the officers asked that were escorting you.

“Not intentionally” Vasco smirked and pushed your shoulder a little. You flinched from the pain. His eyes narrowed and without asking pushed the fabric of your shirt to the side, revealing the bloody bandage that was wrapped around the stitched wound. “What happened?” his voice got serious in an instant.

You took a deep breath before answering. “Me and Tara had been attacked in my apartment.” His eyes widened, suddenly gripping your bicep. “It was Ghostface. Now I’m involved in the homicide of a homeless drunk that also attacked us a day before and gave me this” you held up your arm. The wound narrowed since yesterday, yet it still itched and hurt. “Speaking truly, I was the aggressor that time, but that’s unimportant now.” You almost whispered the last sentence. He huffed and shook his head slightly.

“Just my luck” he shook his head. “The first serious case I get, and my family’s involved.”

“You lead the case?”

“No, Wayne does. You know, father’s old partner.” You nodded, as you did, in fact remember the graying man. “I’m in his team and for once, he didn’t put me in the backline.”

“Wayne as in Wayne Bailey?” Tara interrupted.

“How do you know him?” Vasco asked back.

“He’s the father of her roommate.”

“Quinn or E… Oh wait, no. His son is studying at Princton. So, you are Quinn’s roommate huh?”

“I thought her brother died…” Tara said.

“He did. Sorry, he had two siblings. I thought you would know this.”

“No, she never mentioned two” you said as well.

“Sorry to interrupt Kayoko, but we all have our jobs to do” a officer said. “After picking up their statements, you can have them back.”

“Of course, Stan. Apologies” he said and held his hands up.

Before you were lead away, you hugged him again and decided to throw the big ball into the game. “There was a note for me, pinned to the corpse” you whispered in his ear.

“How do you know it was for you?”

“It was meant for Lolly.”

When you pulled away, you saw his struck state. It looked like he froze down, his eyes full of sorrow as he looked at you “I’ll get to work then” he said, threw you a weak smile, and squeezed your shoulder again, before turning around and walking towards his place.

-------------

You needed to wait a little for Bailey to arrive. He was at the scene and missed you there.

“Stan and Mitch are awfully efficient when they don’t need to be” he huffed as he greeted you warmly. He was just as bright and straight as he always used to, even if time had worn him out a little. With you, at least. Tara was a different world. You remembered how he first acted around you and found resemblance. They just needed to warm up to each other, you thought.

They didn’t. From the point he started picking up your statement, he gave her his coldest self. Sam got there in the middle of interrogation, and her being around didn’t help much either. She looked even more dishevelled than last time as she barged into the room, even though half the police force tried to deny her that. When Tara reassured them that she was with you two, they reluctantly let her stay.

You didn’t know whether Tara wanted to hide what you had from her, so you tried to keep the usual distance, but the young Carpenter was having none of it. Once she got a hold of your hand under the table, she wasn’t letting go. Sam clearly saw but didn’t say anything. The only reaction you saw from her, was the small, almost unnoticeable smile on her concerned face, which you took as a good sign.

You explained everything again to Bailey, this time a bit more calmly and provided more information. You described the attack, the phone call, leaving out some information about you and Tara again. Then came the nickname. The grey man tried to go into the depths, but you dodged every question as your father and uncle had thought you to. Noone besides our loved ones will know about this. The vow you made to them resounded in your head, and you never took yourself for a liar. Noone else needs to know. It just wasn’t necessary.

“Who could want to see you two dead?” he asked with a resigning voice, eyeing you and Tara.

“Cmon’ Bailey, you know me! I’m the most charming person in the world” you teased and leaned back, smirking.

“So, half the city. You?” she asked Tara.

Before answering she shook her head slightly. “Can’t think of anyone who’s still alive.”

“Yikes.” you and Bailey said in unison.

The door opened and Stan showed his head in the door. “FBI’s here, claiming jurisdiction.”

Bailey’s face contorted from confusion. “Where are they?”

He stood and left the room, you quickly following behind. No matter how much time you spent here, it could still surprise you. You have seen federal agents once or twice, but never when they claimed a case for themselves. You were interested, the Carpenter sisters following close behind you. Tara wouldn’t let go of your hand, gently squeezing it, so you couldn’t release it, which you wouldn’t, not even if the world was ending. Especially not if the world was ending.

Three doors later Stan opened a door, motioned inside. A woman stood from one of the chairs, blonde, painted shoulder length hair, combat boots and a black outfit with a black leather jacket. You couldn’t make out what they were talking about, but the woman showed her badge and Bailey clearly didn’t like her. A case was laid open on the table, your and Tara’s picture on top of it. The sisters were talking about something, but you didn’t listen, your eyes focusing on the photograph that was taken of the corpse. It looked weird. Not how it looked when you were there.

Your train of thoughts was disrupted by Sam, who just noticed who was inside. “Kirby?”

“Hey Sam” the blonde woman greeted her and squeezed herself past you and Bailey to hug her. “Tara, and you must be Y/N, right?”

“Your detective skills are impressive” you nodded.

“You are the FBI?” Sam asked.

“You guys know each other?” the graying man asked, after Kirby nodded.

“Yeah. We went to Woodsboro high together” the older Carpenter said. “She was a senior when I was a freshman.          “

“We share a certain history, yeah” Kirby agreed. “Look, I’m not trying to get into a jurisdictional pissing contest here, I just want to help” she had a sly smile plastered on her face. “I’ll show you mine” she said, still smiling. “Et cetera.”

You huffed at her words. This was one of the weakest jokes, you have heard today, yet it still made you smile. Kirby had this look of pure confidence and kindness, that made you calm. You looked down at Tara from the corner of your eye and saw her also hiding her grin with her left hand, the other one still holding onto yours.

Bailey scrunched his eyes, but gave in, sharing some information about your statement and about the attack. The woman nodded along, and once he was finished, spoke up. “I already knew about the circumstances of the attack. If we are to catch this maniac, we will have to work together.”

“Yeah, good luck with that!” Sam said, as her patience ran out. “We are getting out of town” to exercise her point, she grabbed Tara’s hand and started leaving the police station. Your heart clenched in a familiar uncomfortable way.

“No!” Tara pulled her hand back and stayed close by your side. “I’m not leaving her behind!” The pain eased a little at her words, yet your mind was screaming for her to leave.

“Also, I can’t let you do that” Bailey cut in. “I’m sorry, but your sister is a person of interest in a homicide. She can’t leave town until the matter is resolved.”

Sam looked at both in disbelief. At Tara because she wanted to stay in a place where a psycho was on the loose, hell bent on hurting her, and at Bailey because of how ridiculous his words have made her feel. There was a maniac on the loose, and they couldn’t leave. They couldn’t leave because of the people that should try to do everything in their might to keep them safe. It was laughable really. When she wanted to word the thoughts that were circling in her head, the lights shut out.

The whole building went dead silent. The only source of light, being the streetlamps outdoors. You felt Tara leaning into you, her heartbeat fastening against your chest. You tightened your grip on her hand, and blinked, so your eyes would adjust to the darkness quicker. There was a hint of smoke in the air, but there was no logical explanation for it. It also smelled like smoke.

A pained scream echoed through the room. The scream of man. After a moment it turned into a growl, becoming ever more silent as something blocked the way of the sound. You heard Bailey and Kirby take out their guns, cocking them, just as all the other cops in the building. You snapped your head in every direction, but you still couldn’t see clearly, only the figures of people. The smoke in the room only got thicker.

A way too familiar voice resounded across the place, filling you with fear. His voice. “Did you miss me, Lolly?”

Another fading scream filled the room, but this time two shots followed it right after. The sound was deafening, and your ears started ringing. You could hear distant orders being barked out even though it came from right next to you, the figures of the two law enforcers disappearing from before you. A million thoughts were blaring through your mind, only some of them useful. Before you could do anything, you felt someone grab your hand and pull you with. After a moment you realised it was Sam, and stopped struggling against her, following her lead. But then she stopped in her tracks.

“No escape for you here, dear.” Ghostface spoke again, from right before you. You looked over Sam and saw him already stabbing towards her. You tried to pull her backwards, but it was too late. The knife sliced into her flesh, a pained groan leaving her mouth as she stumbled back. As you were still pulling her, a cop got between you and him, raising his gun. Three shots were fired, two of them clearly hitting him, but it was as if he didn’t even notice. He lunged forward at his shooter, opening his throat and chest with two precise and fast attacks.

You span around and ran the other way, the Carpenters by your side. The smoke had now filled the entire place, vision impaired. It helped that you had the building memorised by heart, as you took turn after turn. Shots were being fired and the smell of blood mixed with the smell of smoke and gunpowder, creating a metallic, hardly breathable atmosphere.

Then you tripped in something. As you fell, you let go of Tara’s hand and when you looked up, you couldn’t see her no more. You could hear her screaming your name, but you couldn’t answer, the smoke filling your lungs. Then you looked down at what you tripped in. Or as it turned out, who. It was a uniformed cop’s body, struggling for air. He had a stabbed wound in his gorge. Your hands were dripping of his blood, half your clothes soaking in it too. You didn’t know a human could have so much blood in their body, but when you looked around, you saw one more, with also as precise cuts as all the other victims you witnessed. All of them were stabbed at vital organs, or from where they would die in a few seconds or minutes. Not a second wasted.

“Oh, poor Y/N” he said in a condescending voice. “This must be pretty traumatic for you. I almost feel bad.” A hand grabbed your hair and pulled you back by it. “Almost” he whispered in your ear. There was a voice behind the modulator, that was familiar. Your heart skipped a beat after realisation hit you. But that couldn’t be possible. It just couldn’t!

You slumped back to the ground when she suddenly let go of your hair. You looked back behind you, seeing her figure falling onto her back. Another woman stood above you, and you could take out Sam’s boots. She grabbed you, pulled you up and started running, not even waiting for you to be able to catch your balance, just pulled you after her. She barged through a door, that led you to the Northern stairs, where Tara was waiting, tears running down her cheek. She was coughing hard, trying to swallow air desperately, yet she couldn’t. You looked at Sam for a moment, and after you saw one of her hands was occupied with a gun, you picked up Tara in your hands and started running down the stairs, three steps a time.

The ground floor looked similar in its form, but there was no smoke here. Bodies were scattered around the place, some of them civilians, some of them cops. All of them dead. You traced over the room, searching for a specific table, and once you found it ran towards it, leaning Tara against it.

“Y/N what the hell are you doing?!” Sam was trying her best not to snap at you.

“Tara’s going to suffocate if we don’t do something” you answered, opening drawer after drawer to find the item you were looking for. “To our “luck”, Private Alice always holds an inhaler at her desk in case her asthma ever comes back.” Sam accepted this, and turned towards the places Ghostface could come after you.

You found it in the fourth drawer and immediately turned towards the younger Carpenter. You aided her to take it in her mouth and pressed down a few times, just to be sure. She looked at you gratefully after. Her coughing died down slowly, and you helped her up. That’s when you noticed that everything was quiet. No shooting, no footsteps above you, nothing. Was everybody dead?

As to answer that question, the door of the staircase opened, and a very dishevelled looking Kirby stumbled into the room, followed by Bailey and two other cops. You sighed in relief when you saw Vasco in their group. The greying man barked out some orders, and Vasco and two others walked over to you, surrounding the three of you, whilst he and the rest of the cops marched out. Kirby joined him, her gun also raised, eyeing every corner before she disappeared behind a wall.

“Vasco, what the hell is going on?” you asked, suddenly feeling very weak.

“He jumped out a window, after we surrounded him” he said, very quiet. Why was he so quiet?

Then he threw you a glance. The glance, turned into a full-blown stare, his face horrified. You saw his mouth opening, but no notes hit your ear. Your side throbbed of pain, and you looked over to see, why. When you saw the opening that had been carved into you, you did nothing. Nothing else than stare at it, whilst feeling your vision darkening, and getting weaker and weaker. The floor came quicker than you could realise, why it was even getting closer. Suddenly you felt the floor hit you with all it’s might before everything became dark.

[brightymir]

𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 || 𝐠. 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

》 contains: language, description of jujutsu exorcism, workaholic reader, soft satoru, long dialogues

》 genre: light angst, h/c

》 wc: 2.4k

》 satoru gojo x gn!jujutsu sorcerer!reader

》 a/n: hello! i've been away for the past three months and i'm sincerely sorry for that. acads have been driving me crazy and took up so much of my time which made me incapable of writing something new. i've been in a toru brainrot lately so here's a little something for you all. lately, i found myself exploring relationship dynamics and common conflicts between couples so i hope you enjoy this, thank you for your continued support. ilysm!

》 reader can produce waves of cursed energy like gojo's red & blue. after exorcising a curse, reader can absorb the curse's energy and convert it into her own.

"emerge from the darkness, blacker than black. purify that which is impure," you muttered and watched as the skyscraper became covered with a veil, unseen to the outside world and ordinary humans. calmly walking up the stairs and tracing the powerful cursed energy inside the building, you played with the keys of your private jet. you were about to fly back to japan when you were called back to take care of a second grade curse lurking in the west end of london.

the sun was making its way up the sky, slowly rising and providing warmth to the city. it was a little past 11 in the morning. however, you knew well that the sun has already set in tokyo, and you needed to hurry up to make sure that the plans you made for your anniversary won't go to waste.

"for our anniversary, i will not forgive you if you aren't here by 12 noon. i could be asking you to be here at exactly midnight, but i know that you're in demand there. 12 noon exactly, or else!"

you chuckled as you remembered his words over the phone two weeks ago. you were well aware that you need to fulfill this request of his since you failed to come home for his birthday (for two consecutive years) and even missed out on other events wherein he needed your presence.

stopping at the seventh floor, you were faced with a spherical creature which had massive rings around it, resembling the planet saturn. it had numerous eyes decorating the expanse of it, and two large mouths with lots of sharp teeth. it was floating aimlessly, with a trail of tiny more spheres trailing behind it.

it looked like a biblically accurate angel.

you extended your arm and with a snap of your fingers, a wave of cursed energy in a shade of green emitted from the tips of your fingers, going straight to the cursed spirit. it burst from the impact and disintegrated to pieces. your eyebrow rose slowly when you were not able to absorb its energy.

huh? not yet finished? is this not the main body?

you walked closer to the tiny pieces of the creature and laughed in amusement as you saw thousands of tiny marbles charging straight at you. the scene was both funny and cute at the same time, but you knew that they were also quite dangerous.

without wasting any more time, you snapped your fingers once again, emitting another wave which lasted for seventeen seconds before the curse was completely exorcised. you absorbed its energy and stored it within you, beginning to convert it as you walked out of the building.

you got into your car and was about to drive towards the airport when your phone rang. you grunted and had the urge to ignore it when you saw the caller id. three more calls were made before you parked in a sidewalk and picked up the call.

"what is it this time, hara?" she was your assistant of some sort, has been taking care of your personal and professional matters ever since you could remember. you could hear her ragged breathing and panting over the phone as you can hear crashing sounds in the background.

"madame, my deepest apologies. i know you must be on your way to tokyo but, your assistance is greatly needed here in rome. there are several first grades who have gathered in the colosseum." she said quickly before the call ended.

your eyes flew to the clock which read 11:32 a.m. which meant that it was 7:32 in the evening now in japan.

you drove straight to the airport and made your way towards your private jet. it will take almost 12 hours to make it to tokyo, you needed to get going now to not upset your boyfriend and be there at exactly 12 noon, jst.

you sat down and waited for takeoff, leaning back on your seat. your phone rang once, twice, thrice. all from the same caller; hara.

gojo sat on the table, and varieties of food splayed out on the table. authentic japanese cuisine were plated elegantly, waiting to be consumed and appreciated. he played with his fork, twirling it on his fingers as the food began to go cold. his eyes glanced towards the clock, letting out a sigh as a frown made it way on his face to express his displeasure.

14:07. the clock read.

he grimaced when he heard the front door open, heavy footsteps slowly getting louder as it neared the dining area and with the cursed energy he felt, he knew.

you plastered a small smile on your lips and walked calmly towards him, attempting to hide the tiredness in your voice. you stood still behind him as he sat on the table, head not bothering to turn around, nor did he stand up to greet you.

bending down, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and tilted your head, planting a soft kiss on his temple. you continued to hug him from behind, no response or reaction coming from him.

"toru... i missed you, so much. happy anniversary." you muttered softly to try not to startle him. with his back turned to you, you found it hard to gauge his mood and moreso his reaction. arms remained clasped around his chest while your head rested on his shoulders for a few seconds before you retracted and stood up straight, walking on the opposite side of him and taking a seat on the chair.

scanning your eyes across the table, you saw so much japanese food and most of it were your favourites or the dishes that you have been craving for the past year. your eyes flew up to gojo's which were trained on the plate in front of him. he refused to meet your eyes, his lips sealed shut.

he's upset. possibly even mad. or disappointed.

"i'm sorry. i was at the airport already at 12 noon yesterday but things came up at rome so i had to rush there. i was only able to leave at 6 last night. i'm really sorry, toru. but, it's only two hours, we can still do a-"

"only? only two hours? oh, it seems like your time isn't too precious when you're with me. do you not realize how difficult it is to even have our own private time, our own time wherein we can be ourselves? do i need to pay now for your time?" he spoke up and eyes flickered up to you. the blue hues of it laced with hurt and sadness, glossed by tears he was keeping at bay.

"why do you always have to be the most powerful? why do i always have to be the strongest? can't i just be your satoru? can't you just be my lover?"

his voice began to crack along with your heart as you saw a drop of tear escape from his eyes.

he was right, and you knew damn well he was not being petty like he usually does. your toru was really hurt and upset this time, and it was all because of you and your unrelenting dedication to your profession.

he, too, is dedicated. but he always found time for you.

how about you?

you took a deep breath and reached for his hand, holding it in you grip with gentleness, wanting to sooth what he felt at that moment. his eyes traveled down your hands as he bit his lower lip to prevent more tears from falling down his face.

"i have no excuses, toru. i'm really sorry that i arrived late and failed to fulfill your wish. i'm so sorry that i have been absent in this relationship for so many times. i haven't been putting as much as effort as you do, and i feel so much remorse for that. but, love, please allow me to make it up to you, to make it right, to prove myself worthy of your love" you said as tears brimmed at your waterline, threatening to spill out anytime soon.

he stood up and knelt by your side, pulling you in for a hug. "you don't have anything to prove, baby. whether it's the you right now who's a special grade, or the you from the past who struggled with black flash, i love you just the same, maybe even more with each passing day." he ran his hands through your hair.

"you had all the time in the world for me back then, i don't know how things changed, how your time suddenly became like a treasure i couldn't afford to obtain. when did it get so hard to give me your time?"

"i just, i just want you. not the special grade sorcerer you. just you. i just don't want to feel like i have to beg for your time, i don't want to feel like i'm a hindrance to you-" you cut his words off with a light kiss to his lips.

god, how have you neglected this man so bad to the point that he begins to question himself and his worth? your damage must be too much to make the great gojo satoru question his worth.

you pulled back and saw the vast ocean of his eyes which reflected all the love he has for you and all the love he can and will give to you. gojo satoru is a man full of love, if only you knew that and were willing to take it all.

"love, you never have to fight or pay for my time. it's always yours, no questions asked. i haven't been the best partner and i'm aware of my shortcomings. i will be better, i will be the best lover, toru. your best, your only one." you said in a hoarse voice which is a result of fighting back tears, before pulling him in for another hug, planting a kiss on his forehead before doing so.

"i'm never the most powerful with you, darling. i'm the most vulnerable when i'm with you. because, you are the source of my everything, i'd cease without you. i'm so sorry that i made you feel that way, hon. i never meant to, it was never my intention to make you feel unwanted and unloved. i never wanted to make you feel like i was out of your reach" you continued and ran your hand against his back, so as to comfort him.

"no force or cursed spirit could ever rip me apart from you. over my damned dead body. my heart is always yours, love" you reassured and continued to hug him firmly, to let him know that you are there, for him.

he sniffled and played with the ends of your hair, and you could already feel a pout forming on his face, making you smile lightly. he pulled away and stood up, pulling you up in the process.

he extended his open palm towards you and quirked an eyebrow, "passport?" he demanded and turned his head to the side. you chuckled and retrieved it from your pocket, handing it over to him.

"here you go, boss baby" you said lightly and he took it, looking to see if it was your current one. he put it in his pocket and crossed his arms, a pout evident on his lips.

"not leaving til i allow you. those damned higher ups keep sending you away to foreign lands. what if you find someone bet- i mean, why don't they go themselves!" he sulked and stopped at the middle of his sentence, realizing that he was sounding jealous.

you let out a hearty laugh which made his eyes sparkle with relief and joy. his eyes then flickered down to your abdomen. he took your hand and led you to the living room, making you sit on the couch. he walked off and returned a few second later with a first aid kit.

he sat down beside you and lifted your shirt. "stupid six eyes, i didn't realize immediately that you were injured" he muttered and began to replace the bandage on your stomach. hara have already tended to it on the plane, but you let your boyfriend do what he wanted to do, giving you an opportunity to study his features up close.

unable to resist, you pulled him close and kissed every inch of his face that your lips landed upon. he let out a contented sigh as his arms snaked around your waist. a loud ringtone broke the moment of serenity between you two. you glanced at the table where your phone lit up with a call.

Headquarters, Sydney

your eyes gazed up at satoru whose eyes were glaring at your phone, while his arms remained snaked around your waist. you let out a soft sigh and grabbed the opened bottle of yogurt drink on the table. twisting the lid, you emptied its contents onto your phone, which went silent after a few seconds as the screen turned black.

his eyes went back to your form and gave you a large grin.

oh no.

gojo satoru's back.

"so, what sweets do you have for me?" he said gleefully as he made his way towards your baggages. you snorted and followed shortly behind him.

"it depends, how will you pay me back? i spent a fortune on those chocolates" you replied with a laugh. he looked at you and wiggled his eyebrows and proceeded to lick his lips right after.

"ugh! satoru!!! ew! no candies for you!" you protested in disgust and began to hug your luggage which was filled with your gifts for him.

the rest of your anniversary were spent with laughter and bliss, finally feeling at peace and ease with your person. the fatigue you experienced the day prior could never amount to the happiness and relief that was blooming in your chest at the moment.

satoru's eyes glimmered with contentment and warmth, the icy blue hues softening whenever it landed on your figure. the wide grin on his face was not a teasing one, but one that was filled with genuine joy and love.

as you were both pressed up against each other deep in the night, your loud heartbeats clearly heard, you both knew that no matter how many hours apart you were, your hearts were as close as ever.

and you both smiled into the kiss, sealing a promise of forever.

© 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐘𝐌𝐈𝐑 2023 - all rights reserved. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or share my work on other platforms without permission. thank you.

[mostremote]

For the fic ask meme: 17, 23, 29!

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

What I am learning about for We Wild Creatures is the flora and fauna of Appalachia! Every time I picture a nature scene with Katniss and Snow my brain defaults to the English countryside that I know so well, and it’s taking real work to force myself to engage with the landscape and ecosystem of the eastern coast of the US. I have visited the forests of the eastern US so I’m not a complete newbie, but I spend a lot of time reading about what plants are found where in what season and what kinds of animals there are and the shape of the landscape… But if ever you’re reading that fic and think an area I’ve described sounds a helluva lot like some corner of the Peak District, well, oops :/

23. How do you choose where to end a chapter (if you have multi-chapter works)?

Thematic arc. There’s always something that needs to be accomplished in terms of a story’s emotional and thematic beats, and sometimes that takes 5k words and sometimes it takes 13k. I don’t mind a chapter being long wordcount-wise if it accomplishes the beat I need it to, and I never like posting a chapter that doesn’t advance the themes/emotional arc/plot (lol as if I ever write anything with plot) to the next point. I did some major restructuring when writing the mid-to-late chapters of The Shivering Season (I think Katniss’ disintegrating mental health made separation of beats trickier), but so far We Wild Creatures is proving pretty easy to split into obviously discrete chapters.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post

I think the chance of me ever posting my absolutely absurd Snow-forces-Katniss-into-marriage-then-takes-her-to-therapy-to-“fix”-her-emotional-problems is nil, so have an extract from that below the cut (content: sexual violence references).

‘I hated it. I hate you. You raped me. You raped me. And now you want to sit here and debate me into consenting to sex with you?’

Snow only smiles. Her rage is just another way of entertaining him. ‘But you didn’t hate it, Katniss. Please don’t lie to me. You know I don’t like that.’

Katniss screams. Guttural, low, animalistic. She pulls her legs onto the couch and buries her face in her hands, and she screams into her wrists. This is insane. She is going to go insane.

‘I think we should take a break from this topic,’ says Dr Astor. ‘Clearly, you don’t agree on this point, and it’s a very emotionally fraught subject.’

‘I want to leave,’ says Katniss immediately. ‘I want to get out of here.’

Snow frowns at his wristwatch. ‘The session isn’t over, Katniss.’

She curls into a tight ball on the couch and screams again into the fabric. ‘I want to get the fuck out of here!’

‘You won’t get better if you don’t attend your therapy,’ says Snow, eminently reasonable.

Katniss emits a low, long groan, and the two men watch her with detached interest as she grinds her forehead into the arm of the couch, back and forth, back and forth. And then, after a minute, she raises her head again and turns it, blank-eyed, towards the general direction of the men, looking at neither.

‘I’m fine,’ she says. Her voice flatlines like a heart monitor. ‘I’m sorry I got upset.’

[sparvverius]

Hi Kes :) I am wondering if you have any thoughts on IwtV/TVC classpects 🤔💭

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! sorry it took me a bit to respond i had to enter classpecting mode.

to start out, space and time are the most fundamental aspects of the narrative, and given that iwtv/tvc is so heavily focused on narrative and its own narrative framing device i think having space and time players is essential.

daniel i think is a space player--he provides the literal "space" for the interview, and in the show, he could be considered through his journalistic work an accomplished artist himself, he's a much more effective interviewer and is less of an empty vessel for the story and more of someone who helps to write it himself and find the truth. for this reason he could also be a light player i think. he is definitely a passive player, so i would lean toward page or sylph? in the show i would say certainly page, and the season 2 finale is evidence of how powerful a full-fledged page can be!

claudia i feel fairly confident in saying is a time player. maybe thief of time--she is literally living on stolen time--but she also had time in one sense, the natural progression of aging, stolen from her. she is also an essential part of the narrative and i think that her death was in some sense its genesis. even more so in the book, which is imo so clearly written about the horror of the loss of a young child who will now never get to grow up. it doesn't hurt that she's driven and a fighter and musically gifted.

i like the idea that the space and time players never get to meet each other also!

louis was kind of harder for me. i think he must be a destroyer class blood aspect, and he certainly is not an active class, so i think he has to be a bard of blood. he ghosts breath in the sense that he has this sense of constant alienation from the world, but the core of him is extremely family-oriented. he tries to escape from this feeling of alienation through lestat, claudia, armand, whoever, and is continually frustrated by his inability to truly connect with anyone after paul's death. and yet he continually blows up his chances for connection despite their sincerity--in the book he plays an unintentional role in paul's death, in the show his relationship with his family disintegrates after he chooses to become a vampire/be with lestat (DID YOU EAT THAT BABY LOUIS??!?!?), he kills/aids in the death of lestat, he fails to save claudia and chooses armand over her, he can't ever connect with armand again. in the first book this ends for him in total solitude and despair, just trying to be listened to for a little while, and in the show he seems to have gone back to embracing the freedom of his opposite aspect while also having a new bond with daniel and briefly reuniting with lestat. (there is also a joke here somewhere about blood and his reluctance to embrace his vampire nature.)

armand is, i feel, a total void player. my read on him as a character is that he has completely hollowed himself out and no longer has any sense of self beyond whatever convenient lie he is telling in the moment or whatever is being imposed on him from the outside. i would say perhaps heir of void--it's something he can use and weaponize (maybe tied to how he can and does excise memories, definitely tied to how he tries to look like the guy who holds the key to all the mysteries) even though it has taken him over completely. like louis, incredibly and sometimes (frequently) maliciously passive. depressing ass classpect but at least it is not the end of his story!

lestat was actually the hardest for me and i expect that my opinions will change while i read tvl and qotd and whatever else.. he might be a light player in a vriskaesque sense, he might be a heart player in the sense of struggling with the concept of the self especially the emotional self, he seems maybe like a prince but i would have a hard time connecting that with an aspect cause i don't really see him ghosting void or mind... i really am not sure. i will think about it more.

i would love to hear your thoughts on any of these!!! or anyone elses!!

[quil12]

Souyo + Shadows?

Sorry this took so long to get out. There were a couple of ways that I could interpret this - either as them dealing with one of their specific Shadows or as them fighting regular shadows. I have another ask later on that's specifically about Yu's Shadow and I'm about to write a long-term fic chapter dealing with Yosuke's Shadow, so I decided to interpret this one as generic shadows just to give a little variety. Anyway, here it is!

Yu ran forward, dodging out of the way of a shadow’s attack. He swung his sword out toward it, managing to lightly graze it before it moved out of the way. This shadow was fast - almost too fast for him to keep up with. 

He jumped back as it sent a wave of fire toward him. 

All of a sudden, Yosuke was by his side, using the opening in between when it attacked and when it could effectively move again to race toward it, slashing at it with his knives. He managed to get in a direct hit, but had to jump out of the way in order to avoid being hit.

Now that it was distracted with Yosuke, Yu had enough time to quickly come up with a strategy. If it was using fire attacks, that meant that there was a decently high probability that it was weak to ice. 

He briefly closed his eyes, switching out to a different Persona. 

He concentrated, a Lover’s card appearing in the air in front of him. He reached up, crushing it.

“Undine.”

The Persona appeared behind him, casting Bufula at the shadow. 

It had been too distracted to notice what he was doing, so it hit, the shadow disintegrating into a black goo. 

Yosuke walked toward him, a wide smile on his face. “Hey, good job.”

“Yeah, you too.”

He was slightly disheveled after that fight - out of breath, breathing hard, his hair messy, forehead damp with sweat. 

He was so handsome like that. 

That wasn’t something that he could really think about though. Yosuke would definitely be freaked out if he knew he was thinking it. It was true though - he was so handsome no matter what he was doing.

“So, you wanna keep going?” Yosuke asked.

Yu nodded. The two of them had come into the TV World to do a little bit of training. Everyone else had been too busy to make it, so it was just them. He almost preferred it this way. It had all started with just the two of them, so it was kind of nice to go back to that every once in a while.

“Okay, let’s go then,” Yosuke said, grabbing hold of his forearm and pulling him down a hallway. 

His heart was pounding. His palm was so soft and warm against his arm. He wanted him to hold onto him like that forever. 

This was really nice, just walking with Yosuke, completely on their own. It felt like a time disconnected from reality. A time that didn’t have a beginning or and end. He almost didn’t dare to breathe, less the spell be broken and life became more than just the two of them again. 

Yosuke was just about to round a corner, but he stopped at the last second, pulling him back with him.

“There’s a shadow.”

Yu nodded, leaning over his shoulder to take a look. He recognized this one.

“It’s weak to wind. You’re up.”

Yosuke turned to face him, flashing him a wild smile before running out into the hallway, wasting no time in summoning his Persona.

“Jiraiya!” His voice was loud and confident, ringing out over the area.

Immediately, the Persona appeared at his back, strong gusts of wind whipping through his hair.

He just watched him for a few seconds as the shadow turned in their direction. He didn't understand how it was possible for someone to look that good - not to mention to look that good while fighting.

Yosuke sent a blast of wind toward the shadow, knocking it down, and onto the ground. As soon as that happened, Yu pulled himself away from his fascination, instead gripping his katana tighter, running in the direction of the shadow.

He met Yosuke’s eye as he ran past and he smiled at him. It was a smile that made his heart pound. He always seemed to have such a good time whenever they fought shadows together.

As soon as he reached the stunned shadow, he slashed at it with the sword, dissolving into blackness. 

He turned to face Yosuke, who was heading toward him. 

His eyes were immediately drawn to some movement behind him - another shadow. He barely had any time to react before there was a yellow flash of light, flickering toward them - electricity. It was close enough to Yosuke that he wouldn’t be able to get out of the way in time.

His breath caught in his throat as he ran toward him, grabbing hold of his arm, and pulling him toward him, pressing him up against him, and out of the way of the attack. 

He summoned his Persona, easily dispensing with the shadow - it was weak, it had just surprised them. 

He looked around, making sure that there were no other shadows around. 

“Uh, Partner?” Yosuke said.

Yu blinked, suddenly very aware of the fact that he had his arm wrapped around him, holding him tightly against his chest. He was so warm. 

“Oh, sorry.” He let him go, moving a few steps back.

Yosuke looked down toward the ground, his face red. “I… uh… thanks.”

Yu frowned. He wasn’t facing him to talk to him and he was blushing. Was he embarrassed that he had done that? He just hadn’t wanted him to get hurt.

“Yeah, of course. Any time.”

“Maybe we should call it for today.”

Yu nodded. “All right.”

The two of them started walking in the direction of the backlot, not talking with each other.

Should he say something? Should he ask him if he was all right? Should he make sure he wasn’t annoyed that he had done that?

Then again, he was glad that he had done that. He didn’t think he would ever be able to get the feeling of him pressed up against him out of his head.

[bsaka7]

a little bit o chesteban under the cut for no reason except that @charlespecco said write chesteban fluff yesterday but i think I'm just incapable of fluff sorry guys. Anyway just wrote this on my phone and idk what else to do with it. i guess this is a bit of a theme...so it's for U!!

Walking in on a driver from another team when they're sweaty and crying is never really what Esteban wants to do. Especially when they're not his friend. Especially when they're his new teammates best friend on the grid, and his own relationship with his current teammate is disintegrating before his eyes. He doesn't think he did anything to start it. He's not going to do anything to end it, either. Change is on the horizon and he just hopes it's a good one.

"Uh," Esteban says as Charles looks up at him, running a hand over his sweaty face. He points at the door behind him. "Sorry. I'll go. Do you want me to - get anyone? Pierre? Do you need anything?" He backs up towards the door. 

Charles looks at him, his face glistening and beautiful. He's been scraped down to the bone. Esteban can see his face in marble, turned up towards the sky in a forever plea to his own team. He's blank behind the eyes, anger simmered down in an outline of his body. 

"Why would I want Pierre," Charles asks and then looks surprised, eyes widening, like he didn't expect to say what he said. He's so gorgeous that it's a little unfair.

Esteban stumbles over his own words in the same way he sometimes stumbles over his own feet. He always feels off-balance at the strangest times. "He's just. Your friend." He looks down at his feet, still wearing his racing flats. He can feel the floor beneath his feet but it only makes him feel more unsteady. "I could get. I don't know. Carlos. Your trainer?" 

Charles smiles a little at that but it doesn't reach his eyes. Esteban remembers Charles as a child. He was always so serious except when he wasn't. His whole face lit up with laugher, curling into Pierre. Esteban felt like he was on the outside looking in. He's never felt like he was on the inside looking out. 

"I don't need Carlos or Andrea. I don't need anyone," Charles says, and it comes out tired and sad, his voice wavering at the corners. "It's just a race. I'll be fine." He smiles again. 

Esteban wants to put his fingers in the hollow of Charles' cheek, run his fingers through the wet. He wants to ask how the dream can turn so sour, but he knows, even if it's different, he knows. He wants to tell Charles, that at the beginning of the season, he would have put his money on him over Max, over Carlos, but he knows it wouldn't help anything. 

"Okay." Esteban backs toward the doorway. He doesn't know exactly what happened, but he doesn't need to. "I'll see you around, Charlot." The nickname sneaks out. Charles looks like he needs it. 

"See you," Charles says, and his eyes crinkle up at the corners. It's not a promise and it's not a goodbye. They've been seeing each other for a long time, two people who have known each other too long and never well enough. Esteban is sure he'll see more of him the next season. He can't find it in him to be upset about it. He's always been Charles, the shadow of Pierre, and then the moon eclipsing him. Pierre was never as angry when it was Charles. 

Esteban offers a smile as he leaves. Charles nods, the weight on his shoulders heavy. Esteban dreamed of being Charles, once, the future and standard-bearer of Ferrari. He had loved Michael. Charles loved the team with everything in him. He still does. Esteban loves his team. He wants to win with them. He wants to win for his mechanics, to race every week as well as he'd raced this one. Sometimes, he still dreams he's wearing red.

Charles looks hollowed out with the ache of it. Esteban knows that he must bear the future alone.

[late-to-the-fandom]

Day 6: Unnatural

This is an entirely G-Rated 603 word drabble for the @daily-writing-challenge November words! Takes place in the universe of my current series and features Prince Renathal's escalation of the Ember Court prank war. Trigger warning for spider death.

Read them all here on Ao3

To Renathal, it was simply another humourous prank. Hardly even an escalation. The Maw Walker had put slime in his drink one Ember Court; he had hidden some in her tea sandwich at another. She had overinflated the cushion on his chair so it made a most indecorous sound when he seated himself ... he felt something on an equal level of embarrassment was not uncalled for.

So the Dark Prince had slipped the little eight-legged creature into the pocket of the Maw Walker’s gown while she held Theotar’s tea tray for him. He glided a short distance away, and waited eagerly for her little yelp of surprise.

He was not expecting her blood curdling shriek or the enormous crash that followed. Renathal whipped around, eyes widening at the scene: porcelain flying, Theotar wailing, and the Maw Walker spinning wildly in place, beating frantically at her own legs.

The spider landed a foot away and scuttled across the stone. It didn’t get far. The Maw Walker lifted both hands and blasted the tiny creature with a shower of purple sparks. She continued her arcane barrage long after the poor beast had disintegrated. Then she stood in the wreckage, panting loudly, her pale eyes wide and manic.

“Was this you?”

The Maw walker’s voice could cut glass. Renathal contorted his face fiercely to betray no hint of amusement.

“It was only … an amusing joke,” he tried, but something in the twist of his lips gave him away.

“Does this look amusing to you?” she shrieked, gesticulating wildly at the surrounding carnage. “What part of putting a SPIDER in someone’s pocket could possibly be considered amusing?”

“The slimes never bothered you,” said Renathal, attempting to reassert calm. But his soothing tone only inflamed the Maw Walker further.

“Slimes don’t have eight legs and ... hairy bodies and - and - and the unnatural way they move!”

The Shadowlands Champion shivered uncontrollably. She rubbed at her own arms as if fearing what other invisible horrors might be crawling there.

Renathal frowned. She was taking this a little far.

“You have fought spiders often in the Banewood,” he chided. "And those are considerably larger and more deadly.”

“I am aware,” snarled the Maw Walker. “And I don’t like them either but at least they’re big enough to see and are never just ... just hiding in my pocket when I least expect it!”

Her words ended in a quaver that threatened murder or tears.

Guests were openly staring now, whispering to each other behind their hands. Curious onlookers from other parts of the courtyard were wandering this way. Renathal spared them neither thought nor glance as he rushed toward his distraught Maw Walker.

“I am sorry,” he said and this time his face was entirely free of mirth. “It never occurred to me this would be going too far. I would never have intentionally cause you this sort of … distress”

He briefly considered the usefulness of a rational explanation into how such a small creature could do the Maw Walker no harm. Then decided against it, in favour of gathering her into his arms.

“You will forgive me, won’t you?”

The Maw Walker looked up at him, eyes still guarded. 

“Can I forgive you and still be upset with you and not be ready to laugh about this for a few days?”

“Certainly,” said Renathal solemnly, and pressed his lips to her forehead.

The whispers crescendoed, a rustling sea of excited murmurs to which Renathal paid absolutely no mind. Truly, one of the best parts of defeating Denathrius was that he didn’t have to anymore.

Read next drabble | Visit the Masterpost

[piedoesnotequalpi]

All That Remains (Newsiestober day 16: Cemetery)

Rated T; Creator chose not to use archive warnings

I wrote a short, sad, very out of my element thing for Newsiestober! It is specifically for 92sies, because when I started writing it I had a slightly different plan that fit better with 92sies canon. Also on AO3.

There was a point when a funeral would have made Jack decide to leave and come back another day. But the walk to the cemetery had taken longer than usual, and so he sat down behind a tall gravestone with a line of pebbles resting on the top to wait for the mourners to disperse.

“Don’t touch the rocks people put on headstones,” David had said in what felt like another lifetime. Despite his warning, Jack had barely encountered any–he figured most Jewish families in the city were probably buried in Jewish cemeteries.

A groundskeeper shuffled by, picking up the dead bouquets of flowers people had left behind, never mind that left unattended, they’d just disintegrate. In a place entirely devoted to the dead, it seemed ironic that dead flowers would be such an issue.

The problem with seeing funerals, Jack decided, was that they always reminded him of the goodbyes he hadn’t gotten to say.

By the time he’d found out his father had died, he’d already been gone three years. And he’d never gotten out of prison, so he’d ended up in a mass grave on Hart Island.

He hadn’t been a very good father in the end, but it still felt strange to know that his last memory of his father would always be at age ten, watching him get taken away by the police.

Jack was pretty sure most of his fellow newsies were still alive, but he’d gradually lost track of them over the years. He thought maybe he’d be able to find Racetrack if he hung around Sheepshead at the right times, but the trip was long enough and his job was tiring enough that Jack wasn’t sure when–if–he’d try that.

At least I still have David, he thought. But then, David was kind of stuck with him, unless he decided to move out of their shared apartment. They’d lived together for nearly twenty years, and Jack still sometimes worried that David would leave, would get tired of him.

Jack looked up when he heard people talking, and saw that the funeral had ended and the mourners were walking away. He slowly stood up, taking his tiny bouquet with him, and started heading towards where the funeral had just been.

It didn’t take long before he found it–he considered cemeteries irritating to navigate, but he’d gone there enough times over the past six years to have a vague idea of the path to take.

Jack placed the flowers as he stared down at the tiny marker–not even a headstone, just an engraved stone embedded in the ground.

MEDDA LARKSON 1855-1916

He hadn’t even known anything was wrong, even though he’d stopped by Irving Hall at least once a week for years. Medda had always greeted him cheerfully, and she didn’t stop performing until a couple days before she died–or so he heard.

On the other hand, maybe there hadn’t really been anything wrong–maybe she’d just been unlucky.

Either way, Jack had missed the funeral. He’d seen her one Monday, and the next time he’d gone to visit–on a Friday, that time–he’d been greeted by a stagehand who told him that Medda was gone and the funeral had happened two days before. Despite all the time he’d spent at the Irving, no one had thought to find him and tell him beforehand.

“’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye,” Jack whispered. “Believe me, I would’ve if I got the chance.” He glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot. “I say it every time I come, but it ain’t–it ain’t right, that you’re gone and I’m still here and the theater still–still carries on like it’s normal.”

Jack stood there a little longer, glancing around at all the other gravestones in the area but not really registering what any of them said. He only moved when the same groundskeeper he’d seen earlier came by and warned him that the gates were locked at dusk. Jack was no stranger to climbing fences, but he didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention.

Besides, he was sure David had gotten home from work and was waiting for him by now.

Jack trudged back through the gates with his shoulders slumped, wishing for a world where things had gone differently and Medda–whom he’d realized too late had been the only consistent adult in his childhood, save for Kloppman–could still be there with him.

[transamorousnetwork]

Here’s Why Transgender and Trans-attracted People Love My Advice

There are a lot of people benefiting from advice I give here at The Transamorous Network. Every week, I get positive responses to stories I published. But this week takes the cake. It’s so confirming reading comments like the one I’m about to share.

It really makes the vitriol I get sometimes worth it. I started this blog to help transgender women and trans-attracted men find the love they so desperately want. The main thing I do with clients is show them the number one place they will always find consistent love.

That is from themselves.

But the great thing about finding love there is that once they find that, the world around them will reflect that back to them. That’s why people love advice I give. It resonates with people’s core awareness. Many aren’t as connected to that. But those who are find my advice powerfully resonates.

It’s great when I read comments from people getting inspiration from what they read on this blog. Let’s take a look at the most recent example (at the time of writing this).

Self-acceptance is everything 

If we don’t accept yourself, the world will reflect that back to us too. We’ll meet all kinds of people amplifying our stories. Not this person though. This person is getting it. Despite having characteristics society says are “disorders” this person is coming into loving who and what they are. I’m glad to see The Transamorous Network content contributing to that.

Check out what they wrote:

Hi! [sorry if I use any offensive terms, I'm just now learning] Just wanted to say these articles are really honest and thought-provoking. It's a lot to think about. I want to talk about my reasons for loving trans people.

I, too, am a male at the end of a long cishet relationship (18 yrs!). I never hid my attraction to trans people or cheated (we have an open relationship, communicate well), but I'm finding that I'm actually pansexual, with the strongest attractions to transfem people (femboys in my case) and also cis women. I could fall for the right guy, too. I need more, and it's not just a kink or a passing interest.

I myself have a fair deal of gender dysphoria, and I want to explore that with someone who knows where I'm coming from, you know?! I want to be more genderfluid and learn to be more feminine, express myself and my emotions better, change my appearance somewhat (I'm more dysphoric than dysmorphic, but still). I want to give and receive, be dominant and submissive, and learn to express positive emotions, not just the negative [read: masculine] ones.

As a male, most socialization and role models are toxic. Also, being in a cishet relationship is what society pushes one toward. It's easier to coast along and just be unhappy, or to fall victim to the sunk cost fallacy once you've started a relationship. It's especially easy to be stuck when you've had the example of parents or family members just being miserable and staying together anyway, as I have.

It's all quite the minefield, with bi- and pan prejudice/erasure being a thing, as well as poor reaction to male-presenting people who love trans people. I also believe that polyamory would be best for me, thanks to my neurodivergent needs (auDHD) and the desire to try many different kinds of relationships. Perhaps I'm playing on hard mode, as it were. But I finally know who I am, and that at least feels good. It simply took my life disintegrating for me to question who I was in the first place.

Let’s get radical

Let’s stop trying to fit in others’ boxes. Tear off labels people try putting on us. There’s no joy there. Only disappointment. And even if we do fit in the box, that box is just going to get tighter as what we are expands. And besides anyone who tries controlling people, in order to feel better, will feel better in the end. Politics shows that clearly, doesn’t it?

So let’s get radical. Let’s give up all that shit and just accept who we are, wherever we are. For transgender people and trans-attracted people our self-acceptance is a revolutionary act. It literally revolutionizes what it means to be human.

And that is our collective purpose. Stop trying to fit in. Find our own places, take up space, then watch the world shape around us as a reflection of our self-love. That’s the message The Transamorous Network offers. It’s great when folks get it. They are exactly the kind of people I like working with.

Are you such a person?

[foreverrogers]

james: one day peter makes a web in your apartment for you two to lay down on! but it’s perfect for eating on too 😉

peter's cooking up some new web fluid and wants to test its... endurance

sorry in advance that this isn't that smutty my brain stopped working <3

cw: smut!! 18+!!! teasing, fingering, peter parker has ulterior motives {1k}

james - as in... E. L. ... which means it's sexy time!!!! send me a prompt/trope and a character and I'll write you.... literally just the porn ;)

"babe! come in here!"

six hours after peter had locked himself into your bedroom, your first thought is finally.

he gets in these little fixations sometimes, when he has a new idea and has to inact it immediately, won't let anybody else see what he's diligently tinkering away at until he's absolutely certain its perfect.

"pete." hand still frozen on the handle, you take in the state of your room, thin strands of webbing dripping from the ceiling and the desk and the dressers, slowly disintegrating before your eyes. you feel a light string of it fall onto you from above, and when you move to untangle the substance from your hair your fingers come away sticky.

"yeah, it's a mess, i know, i'll clean it up later, promise, just look."

peter gestures towards the dense lattice of webs that stretches across the other side of the room, extends wall to wall over your bed, a different type than any you had ever seen him use before.

you walk towards it slowly, examining the thin sheet closely as you reach out to touch it. it gives a little under your pressure, but holds surprisingly tough as you lean against it.

"how did you..." you turn to him, and peter is beaming so proud and wide you forgive him for the mess in an instant.

"it's a new formula, kinda like a... web bomb. for catching people, hopefully."

"is it strong enough?"

"that's kinda what i was hoping you could, uh... help me with."

you raise your eyebrows a little, watch the light blush that tinges his cheeks and decide not to question his request.

you lean forward, both hands pressed against the web now, taut under your touch as you place more and more of your weight against it. once you're confident it'll hold you bring one knee up, slowly crawl up onto the swaying surface until you're feet lift up from the ground.

you turn lightly, sitting and leaning against your palms, hold your breath as you let the web bounce you up and down like the springs of a mattress. there's no creaking as it steadies, keeps you hovering above the bed with ease. peter grins at you, and you grin back.

peter's not as cautious as you were, dives headfirst beside you and makes you grip onto the edge of the web to stop it from propelling your body onto the floor.

you squeal a little, a light sound that melts into a giggle that peter happily shares with you, hand shooting out to your wrist to keep you steady.

"seems pretty strong to me," you mutter, still smiling, and when peter meets your eyes again he looks so happy you could melt.

his expression turns more thoughtful, edged with a mischief that makes you unsure what he's about to suggest next. "still need to test how much movement it can take, though."

"what did you have in mind?"

peter raises his brows at you, tilts his head with a light smile on his lips and blush darkening in his cheeks. there's a glint in his eye, undoubtedly, blatantly suggestive.

you narrow your eyes at him. "peter parker, was this all an elaborate rouse to build a sex swing in our home?" you try to sound a little scandalised with the end of it, our home, as if you and peter hadn't committed far more scandalous acts in bed together.

"no," he defends immediately, but he's still got that smirk on his face, and as he shifts to lay on his side and press up on one elbow the hand at your wrist moves to dance over your thigh. "i just didn't get to touch you this morning."

it's a devastating thing to hear, objectively, devastating to your heart rate and the state of your underwear. you try to swallow it down. "yeah, because you evacuated the room as soon as you got up. got ejected from my own bed at eight in the morning."

peter's smile widens a little, leans closer, fingers just inching between the legs you make a point of squeezing shut. "let me make it up to you, then."

your eyes soften a little, not only because the warmth of his hand between your legs is impossibly tempting, but because it was useless to try to stay even mock annoyed at him for any amount of time.

then, because you don't reply quick enough, "for science?"

it makes you laugh, and peter takes it as a cue to hover even closer, dips his head to kiss the peak of your jaw and slowly back up to your lips. "you know nothing gets me hornier than science."

peter's kiss is soft at first, all warm and innocent despite the way you relent to his attempts, let up a little to let him part your legs and slot his hand perfectly over you. "you're joking..." another kiss, chastely pressed to your lips before he starts down the other side of your jaw, waits until he's just beside your ear to continue speaking. "but i see the way you look at me in those lab coats at school."

"pete," you say, one part warning and two parts pleading, and you can feel him smile as his hand moves to unbutton your jeans and quietly sneak beneath the fabric of your underwear.

he's still not really touching you, palm pressed feather light against your clit as two fingers dip in just enough to feel how soaked you already are. "want me to put it on for you?"

"i believe you were saying something about-" you gasp lightly, a shallow inhale at the feeling of his fingers sinking into you. he brings his face back above yours, just so he can smile at you and watch the struggle on your face as you attempt to keep up your attitude. "something about making it up to me?"

"oh, i will, honey," he mutters, leans down to kiss the corner of your lips. "don't you worry."

come join my 1.5k sleepover!

[vquacki]

I Am Not Your Friend

I Am Not Your Friend

Calling your boyfriend a friend prank

Characters: BONTEN - Rindou Haitani, Ran Haitani, Sanzu Haruchiyo

Warning ⚠︎︎ : Mature content, cussing,  MINORS DNI

Note : Currently trying to find new ways to improve my writing, and expand my word book! Sadly, it's not working so well. But it's okay! I'm going to try harder, so I can better my writing for you all! ANyWho, I hope you all enjoy!! 

R I N D O U 

It was a heart racing test, you knew of the things the male was capable of and having patience was for sure not one of them. 

Rindou was sprawled out next to you, his arm over his eyes as his sleepy figure rested. You watched his awe, admiring the male as his chest raised and fell in harmony with his peaceful breaths.

It was a daily occurrence for the both of you, he wasn’t a morning person. Which made you even more eager to pull this prank on him, having the male rage in such an early hour of the day. 

Your phone ‘rang’, signaling the prank had officially started. 

“Hello?” You picked it up, pushing the device to your ear. You felt a slight shift in the mattress as you continued to talk with your ‘friend’ over the phone abnormally loud.

“Yeah, I’m down for that. What time?” Acting as you weren’t talking to yourself and making up random sentences as you go. 

“Y/N, where you off to?” Rindou’s deep mourning voice grumbled, turning his body over to look at the pinned clock that hung above your dresser. 

You ignored the male, fiddling with the ends of your hair. 

“I’m just with my friend right now, I’ll be over soon” You added a faint giggle, trying to give off the best flirtatious energy towards the mysterious caller.

“Who the fuck?” Rindou sat up from the bed, pushing his nappy hair back. 

“Y/N, who are you talking to?” You could feel the males hand brush against your shoulder. 

“Mhm, I’ll text you later then” finishing up the call with a hum, setting your phone on the nightstand.

“What Rin” You faced your boyfriend, his mushroom shaped hair sticking in every direction as he furrowed his brows. 

“Who were you talking to?” He scooted closer to you, pushing the blanket that was covering his mid drift off him. 

“And why did you call me your friend?” He reached over your lap, his hand making a beeline for your device. 

Your hands grasped around his forearm, stopping him. 

“It was just easier than calling you my boyfriend.” You answered, lightly pushing his arm away. 

“Eh? What are you hiding? Why can’t I see your phone?” Rindou scowled at your actions, you had never been like this before. 

Easily allowing access to your phone whenever and wherever the male pleased. 

“Rin, there’s nothing in there for you to see” You frowned back, the rising irritated atmosphere radiating from the male had you internally blushing. 

“The fuck? If you're not hiding anything let me see” Rindou pointed towards the lingering device. His heart started to race, questions clogging his brain one by one. 

‘Were you cheating on him?’ ‘Why did you call him your friend?’ ‘How come you won’t show your phone?’ 

In no way shape or form was this man considered insecure, you had never in your whole relationship made him feel that way. But the situation at hand was so unfamiliar, a completely new feeling that he had never witnessed before. 

“Y/N..” he slouched in his spot, his once outstretched hands fell to his side. 

His heart sunk as the room fell silent, the anger that took place within him disintegrating by the second. 

You felt a sting in your heart as you watched the man bite his lip, holding back his tainted tongue. 

“Just kidding” you beamed, grabbing your phone to show the male your empty call log. 

“See baby~ I was just kidding” you giggled, moving closer to the male until you could wrap your arms around him. Consoling the man from his worried reflection. 

“You're not funny.” You heard him mumbled against your chest, it was a moment before you felt his large arms wrap around you. 

“Aww, I’m sorry” you ended up babying the little haitani until he no longer felt reluctant to your non stop affection. 

R A N 

Your legs swung back and forth, awaiting for your boyfriend to come out from the bathroom. You had everything set up, your phone in your hand, along with a script all written up in your head. 

Your eyes flickered once the restroom door swung open, quickly placing your phone to your ear. 

“The club? Of course I want to come!” Your jolly mood not going unnoticed by the male, quietly he headed over to the fridge. Digging through the refrigerator, curiously quirking a brow as he closely listened in on your conversation. 

“Just at home with a friend, but i'll be over in a minute” your head whirled around when you heard the fridge door slam. 

Ran’s figure loomed over you, hands on his hips. His violet orbs eerily staring down at you, a mischievous glint visible on his curled grin. 

“Who is your friend?” Ran wasn't one to get mad over little mistakes, But this accident definitely had to be fixed. Properly. 

“What- I-I’ll call you back” You murmured into the phone, before pressing the red toggle on your phone screen. 

“Doll, my name is Ran, Prince, or Sir. I don’t see anyone in this house who could possibly be your friend” Ran’s smirk twitched, he held in the urge to scoff in your face. He couldn't fathom the fact that you had just called him your friend. After being in a relationship with his beloved for so long, only to be called a mere ‘friend”.

“Huh? It was just easier to explain” You retorted, your bored expression looking back at him. He could have never guessed that this was all just a set up. 

A pawn for him to show his undying jealousy and possessive side. Something you had been longing to see for a prolonged time, your view on the male was he isn't easily jealous, or rather he had never shown it. He’s a man that is quite confident, knowing damn well you wouldn't dare lay your fingers on another man whilst you had him by your side. 

Even if you were to, you'd be facing the consequences that lie with that option. 

“That is a very.. bland excuse” Ran held in the urge to mock you, he placed a hand on your shoulder, swiping at the skin like it had dust lounging all over it. 

He looked you up and down, shaking his head, an unpleasant ‘tsk’ leaving his mouth. 

“Now baby~ how are you going to make it up to me?” he tilted his head, 

“I mean you did just call your boyfriend. Your friend.” He dramatically held his chest as he gave you a frown. 

“Ran-” before you could speak any further, you were hoisted into the air. Heavy footsteps bringing you over to your shared bedroom. Your body was slung over his shoulder, feet dangling in front of him while your face was stuffed into his back. 

“Brats who don't know how to apologize deserve severe punishment, doll” Ran sighed, a hand placed on your legs, preventing you from squirming in his grasp. Kicking the bedroom door open, he tossed you on the mattress. 

“And right now, you're being a brat” a smug grin planted on his face. His knees straddled on either side of you, one hand supporting his weight as he hovered above you. His ungelled hair drooping over his eyes as you looked up at his enraged state. 

“Wait- honey, I was just kidding!” You snorted under him, satisfied with his displeased feedback. 

“Really now?” his actions ceased as he sat up, now just straddling your waist. His eyes dulled. 

“Yes! I wasn't on the phone with anyone, it was just a prank!” You giggled, running your hand down to his folded knees on your sides. You could see the male rake his mind as he tried to make sense of the whole situation. Only to receive a shrug shortly after, 

“Oh? Well it's too late for apologies, my sweet” Ran’s smirk returned as he flopped down on your body once again. 

S A N Z U 

You were sitting in the passenger seat of Sanzu’s car. Biding your time as you waited for the male to come out from the coffee shop. You fumbled with your phone, quickly placing the device to your ear once you noticed the mulleted man swing the glass doors open, two coffees in his hand. 

Prancing over to the driver side seat, his wobbly steps almost spilling the brown drinks on the street. The pill he took earlier slowly taking effect. You could hear a thump as he placed the cup on the hood of the car. Swinging open the vehicle door, he placed an arm on top of the car, his hunched over figure gawking at you as you talked into the phone. His other hand holding his lower stomach, while he crouched down to your view. 

“Babe, I think I'm going to hurl” Sanzu murmured, his blue eyes drooped as he waited your response.

You placed a hand over your phone speaker before looking over at the ​​disheveled male. 

“Haru, I'm on the phone” you whispered.

“What does that matter, cmon baby, help me” his pupils were dilated from the drug. The specific tablet he consumed today was stronger than others. The tired male decided instead of just waking himself up with a splash of water to the face, he took a harder pill to boost his energy for the day.  

It was a new and extraordinary capsule, one that could only be found overseas. The product had just been shipped to Bonten’s warehouse, ready to be sold. 

It was the perfect day to do this prank, his patience was being thinned by the tablet. While your long awaited reaction from the male just mere seconds away. 

You shook your head, disregarding his exaggerating behavior. It was true, you knew the male was faking it, there's nothing the pink-ette couldn't handle. Though it was still correct his patience was running low. You being told he was in a bad state was just an excuse he would make up to grab your attention. 

“I'm just with a friend, i'll come to your party” Turning your attention back to your phone. You flinched when Sanzu abruptly slammed the door causing the vehicle to shake from his gesture. You watched as the man circled the car until he arrived at the side where you sat. 

Pulling the handle, the door opened revealing his maniacal smirk. 

“I think I misheard you because I, for one, am not your friend.” Sanzu gleamed. He roughly took your arm resulting in you dropping your phone in the seat, dragging you on to the sidewalk before pushing you into the rear of the car. 

You watched as the male followed. He remained silent, slamming the door behind him as he plopped down next to you. 

“What are you doing?” You raised a brow at his antics. 

“I'll show you what friends don't do” His sly smirk beamed, you heard the lock on the car doors shift as he waved the car key in your face.

“You're not going anywhere cutie,” both of his arms resting behind him as he leaned back. 

You could feel heat rushing to your face, understanding his provocative message almost instantly. You reached for the door handle, only for it to not budge. 

“Haru, stop throwing a fit and unlock the door.” You faced the man with a hand covering your flushed cheeks, he watched in amusement at your tense frame.

“A fit? How can I? You just called me your friend.” Sanzu replied, he moved towards you until your face was in reach. One hand grasped at your cheeks, thumb and index squishing the chub on your face together. 

“You could have complained about my addiction for all I care, but saying I'm your friend?” His face only inches away from your own, a look of disappointment harbored in his irises. 

“Really hurting my heart” Sanzu frowned, his hold on your cheeks unmoving.

The man had a few screws loose, but you knew he would never lay a hand on you, or in closer detail touch you in a way that would severely hurt you which brought you to the bold moral of not being scared of the male. 

“Okay it was just a prank” You huffed, moving your hand until it gripped around the wrist holding your face. 

“Now can you let me go” you pleaded against his grip, chuckling as you waited for his usual poker face to unfold, only for his eyes to light up, a sinful smirk on his lips when his brain had thought of a rather quick idea. 

“Aww but now I wanna play” He snickered, releasing the hold on your face. He kept busy, swiftly pulling you onto his lap, his free hand tucking your hair behind your ear as he cozzied his face in your neck. 

“You got me all riled up cutie, so let’s play now okay?” His hot breath fanned your skin, his lip placing chaste kisses on your exposed flesh as you wigged against his hard grip. You stopped when he showed no signs of letting you go freely. 

Your crimson induced body gave in, relaxing in the man's grasp as he did what he pleased with you. Marking you with his teeth, dominant hand placed on your nape, while his other hand roamed your body. 

After all, he had to make a good example out of you now before you could repeat the same mistake further up the ladder. 

Sanzu set up a new requirement for himself, he had to be the perfect image for his girl, and show the people outside the untinted car that broken laws always had to be punished, no matter what. 

[tonberry-yoda]

Look at Me Like That - Tomura Shigaraki pt. 2

Read Part 1 Here

Pairing - Tomura Shigaraki x f!reader

Warnings - none!

Word Count - 589

Notes - im not the super biggest fan of this, but here is part two! hope you enjoy!

taglist: @cucumberfingers

And don’t forget, REQUESTS ARE OPEN! So if you want to request any writing, please don’t hesitate to ask, but please read my pinned post before requesting! Please enjoy!! Don’t forget to stay hydrated! <3

Tomura watched for weeks as she still hung around Dabi. Even after what he had said? If anything, it made her avoid him more. He just wanted to curl up into a little ball, never to be seen again. If she liked Dabi so much, why didn't they leave and just start their own League of Villains? It would probably turn out better anyway.

“Tomura?” Toga knocked on the side of his door and stepped in. “Tomura, are you alright?” “Leave me alone.” Shigaraki pulled the sheets over his head, curling up on his bed. “I'm worried about you.” Toga sat on the end of his bed, playing with a little bunny stuffed animal she found. “I'm fine.” “You don't seem fine. You’ve been distant. You haven't even been giving us orders.” “There’s nothing that needs to be done.” Toga twiddled her thumbs, scooting a little closer to Tomura. “It's about… her… isn't it?” “Shut up!” Shigaraki threw the blankets off of him and Toga could tell he had been crying. “Oh, Tomura-” “I said shut up! Get the hell out!” Tomura grabbed the stuffed animal from her hand and disintegrated it. “Tomura, I-” “I said get the hell out!!” Toga ran out. “Nobody go in there, Tomura’s in a mood.” She turned to Toga, tilting her head. “Again?” Toga nodded and grabbed some gaming console, sitting on the ground. “Fine,” she turned to Toga, patting her on the head. “I'll go deal with it.”

She didn't mean to avoid Tomura. She just couldn't believe it. He… liked her? She didn't even think he cared that she existed. She wanted more than anything to just kiss him on the spot that night, but she didn't. She didn't and she hated herself for it. Instead of doing anything about it, either, she just avoided him, making the situation worse.

“Tomura?” She knocked on his door and just walked in. She knew he would be a pain, so she decided to take matters into her own hands. “Go away. I don't want to see you.” “Tomura, please.” “No!” He turned towards her, his eyes puffy and red. “I'm sorry.” “I don't wanna hear it.” He went to put on some headphones, but she pulled them away from him, getting down to his level. “I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to avoid you.” “Oh, shove it, I know that you just-” “You don't know how others feel, dummy.” His face went red and he sunk into the chair he was sitting in. “Tomura… I mean it. I'm sorry. I wish I wasn't such an ass. I didn't mean to avoid you.” She looked at him with a soft smile that made Tomura nearly melt. “I-It's okay.” “No. No it's not. I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you.” “O-Oh, you don't have to, I-” She pulled his face forward and placed her lips on his, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. He went so limp that he just fell on top of her. He pulled away and covered his bright red face. “I-I'm sorry. I-I, I didn't mean to.” She walked up to Tomura and pulled him closer, cupping his face. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” She gave him another kiss and pulled back to find Shigaraki smiling like an idiot, his face bright red. “We’ll go to some parking lot or something Shiggy, go on a date.” He nodded and watched her walk out of the room. He preferred the way she looked at him.