#the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. that one

[goldieclaws]

Not to sound like someone who thinks 'blood is thicker than water' is a good quote, but the fact it turns out Jormungandr is not Atreus/Loki's son and just a random ass giant Atreus and Kratos have no connection to completely takes any emotional impact it had when Atreus called for Jormungandr's aid in the Baldur fight, and the fact the giant in question can't even be asked to thank Atreus and Angrboda for the new body doesn't help imo.

[autistichanseo]

This is a long one !! sorry!! here's some true brothers angst thinking (with comfort at the end) for you guys though <33 (also read the tags after reading this if you do read this maybe cos I go on another mini ramble lmao)

Thinking about maybe when Hanseo and Vincenzo live together in Malta, since all Hanseo’s ever known is getting abused (both physically and verbally) and hurt over any mistake he made no matter how small, he automatically assumes Vincenzo will do the same to him (of course he would, that's what he “deserves”, right?).

So he tests the water with Vincenzo a bit.

To see what Vincenzo’s limits were, what to avoid doing to not get hurt, what the unspoken rules were (after all Hanseok had plenty).

It starts with small things, not tidying up after himself, breaking a plate “accidentally”, leaving milk out to spoil (also “accidentally”).

But Vincenzo doesn’t hurt him.

He helps Hanseo clean up the plate he dropped, checking to see for any possible injuries. He casually tells him to remember to put his things away when they’re all over one of the rooms. He only ever lightly scolds him (it was more a reminder than anything) in a light tone to make sure to not leave out the milk out next time for too long because it’ll spoil, but it was fine, that they could just ask a maid to add milk onto the grocery list.

It both confuses and scares Hanseo.

It meant he didn’t know what would set off Vincenzo, and he couldn’t handle the anxiousness that clawed at him whenever he was around him because of it.

Plus he was apart of the literal mafia, who knew what he and his mafia family (that also lived on the island) would do to Hanseo when angered?? He had seen first hand all of the various ways he toyed with Hanseok, and couldn't forget what Vincenzo had done to him before he joined his side, so who knew what methods he'd use when angered?? He needed to find out what to avoid, and fast.

Vincenzo starts noticing and asks if somethings wrong and why he's been avoiding him, to which Hanseo was terrified (and slightly relieved) that this was when the other shoe would drop and Vincenzo would shout at him or hit him.

But that never happened.

When Hanseo told him nothing was up, that he was struggling to sleep a bit lately so because of that he's just been a quite tired recently and out of it, Vincenzo seems to buy it and offered to get him a therapist, as after all it makes sense he’d be restless after everything that happened not too long ago in Korea. He ruffles his hair and leaves and Hanseo is just left shocked.

Why was he being so patient with him?? Hanseok would’ve hurt him at so many points in this test, why didn’t Vincenzo? (“Any other person would’ve by now right?”)

Was he toying with him? Making Hanseo more and more relaxed around him so that a real punishment would sting more and Hanseo would blame himself for it?

No, he shakes off that thought immediately. His hyung wouldn’t do something like that. It had to be something else.

He needs to know when the other shoe will drop. So he escalates things. Better to know now than fuck up later and have his hopes ruined.

So he keeps “forgetting” to go to his therapy appointments. He “tripped” and broke one of Vincenzo’s prized art pieces, he refuses to move his things or clean up after himself. He goes out to drink almost every day and comes home at like 3am, sometimes blasting loud music when Vincenzo's sleeping.

Anything. Anything for the second shoe to drop.

And eventually, Vincenzo can’t take it anymore, but it didn’t go as Hanseo expected it.

Vincenzo and him get in a huge argument, Hanseo’s refusing to listen (the shoe has to drop now right?) and Vin just exasperatedly like “why are you doing this?” but he isn't shouting at him or upset, just… concerned?

What??

Why wasn’t he mad??

As Vincenzo is asking him to explain why he was being like this Hanseo can’t bottle it up anymore and just bursts out with “because you won’t hurt me!!! why wont you hurt me??? just get it over with and scream at me for screwing up or slap me or anything! just do something so I'm not always anxious around you and... scared everything’s going to- I don’t know, straight up collapse at any moment or something!! just tell me what your rules are!!”

And that's when Vincenzo realises.

Oh.

His heart sinks. Because he now knows exactly why Hanseo’s doing this.

He’s trying to figure out what Vincenzo would hurt him for.

He thinks Vincenzo is going to hurt him eventually like Hanseok did.

Oh.

It takes Vincenzo a moment to process this and it's suddenly silent and Hanseo thinks this is when the other shoe has dropped.

He’s filled with fear once again, but this time it spills over any sort of relief he could’ve gotten at finally “finding out what Vincenzo’s limits were” because Hanseo can’t read Vincenzo’s face right now. He associates that unreadability with the unreadable expression Hanseok would have on his face before hurting Hanseo.

He's bracing himself to get shouted at or hurt so he goes back into Hanseok-mode and takes a step back, starting to cave in on himself as he's about to try to apologise and take back what he just said.

Thankfully, Vincenzo realises this and immediately snaps out of his head to reassure Hanseo. "Hanseo... I'm not going to hurt you... I was never planning on ever laying a hand on you. Ever. Nor was I planning to ever shout at you."

And Hanseo is just.

Stunned.

He doesn't know what to say so he's only responds with a meek "Why?"

For Vincenzo to be like "what Hanseok did to you wasn't normal or even okay in the first place, and you'll never get any of that horrible treatment from anyone again." (Vincenzo will make sure of that).

And Hanseo's just. speechless.

He can't figure out what to say or do so he's just there, starting to tear up like "hyung..."

Because this is when Hanseo realises that for the first time in his life, he's truly, truly safe now.

Because now he has a home, and he didn't just mean the island they lived on, but Vincenzo himself. Vincenzo was home to him, and he was more of a home to him than any fancy villa Hanseo had had before could've ever been.

Yeah, he'll be okay now.

After all, no matter what happens, he has his home to go back to.

[desertsportshipping]

So @texasflowers made an art post explaining how they think the Snag Machine works, so obviously I had to contribute.

Patreon - Etsy

[kon-konk]

Mikuni: sure in the process of making My home life better I accidentally destroyed Mahiru's whole friend group, but hey! His mom and dad are both alive and happily married, that makes up for it right!

(nevermind the fact that Mahiru and Touma hate eachother, and that Tsurugi someone Mahiru cares about just doesn't exist in this world)

Mikuni: I heard "blood is thicker than water" and ran with it

[palmettoshenanigans]

Listen. I understand why fic writers often have Post Canon Twinyards have a relationship that is limited to like "we only see each other on holidays and send one obligatory 'you alive?' text per month" but like

Aaron was faster and 'Did he touch you?' and joint sessions with Bee kinda convince me that Post Canon Twinyards have a pretty decent relationship. Maybe they aren't hanging out every weekend and sipping mimosas while chatting about their spouses but like,,,

One fic I read had them having One Obligatory Family Dinner every month and semi-regular texts and collaborating holiday trips to Germany. Sure they were still bitches and assholes who argued and pressed buttons still too tender to poke in polite company which never stopped them from poking anyway, but like-

Come on. Aaron and Andrew are brothers. Yes by blood, but more importantly by choice. A lot of those choices weren't the best ones, sure. But they made them and they kept making them despite despite despite

The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, and the Twinyards emerged and almost drowned from the water but still gripped each other with raw and bloodied fingers and that's why I believe in Wholesome Twinyards Supremacy

[ventique18]

I know there are some people who don't think Malleus and Silver have a sibling relationship. And that's fine because there was never any explicit statements in-game that says so. But from everything that happens in Book 7, I think that's pretty much what the writers and Yana intended: that they're brothers born from different parents but nourished by the same man. "The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."

Some people might say that they don't act like brothers, but not all siblings treat each other like what's commonly accepted. Malleus was already grown when Silver came to their lives, so it would be very hard for them to joke around as if they're siblings with two years of age difference between them. This is anecdotal, but I myself am the youngest of siblings, with the older one 15 years ahead of me. I don't joke around with them because when I developed my brain enough to think properly, they were already well past the rambunctious age. Our relationship has always been built on respect and seniority.

And that's how Malleus and Silver's relationship is. Silver looks up to Malleus and wants to reciprocate everything he's done for him, and Malleus still thinks of Silver as a baby he needs to protect. Maybe this is not ideal, and maybe this isn't the healthiest, but for all their faults they care deeply for each other. So much that they get mad on behalf of each other, they get jealous of each other, they would go to extreme lengths for each other. Like what siblings do. They just don't know how to express it properly, because there's an unspoken wall between them: the simple fact that they didn't come from the same womb. And this is exactly what Book 7 intends to address.

[planet-dusk]

Ghost!pirate!hongjoong who follows you around after you visited the museum his ship wreck ruins were being displayed at. He just follows you around and helps you when you need to, gets inside your dreams and eats you out till you have to get up but sometimes tells you stories about his crew and old times, who also really dislikes your bff who he sees as someone he should get rid off bc he just looks at you in a irritating way

He is just trying to protect you, dont try to stop him, you wont be able to anyways

🏷️ kim hongjoong x fem!reader. cw ; yandere!hongjoong, ghost!hongjoong, dub/noncon, somnophilia, oral (f), fingering, edging, possessive and other toxic yandere behavior ( 470 w. )

minors dni. for mature audiences only !

you're not sure where the pirate who keeps showing up in your dreams came from, but on some days you swear he almost feels real. you've got used to his presence (sometimes even looking forward to it) but even after all those months there's something about his lazy, calculating smile that makes your blood run cold.

at night you wake with his dark head of hair between your legs, tongue already parting your folds and your slick dripping down his chin. he never does anything more than that: eats you out until your legs are shaking, then disappears into thin air, leaving you aching and empty. no matter how much you beg his shining eyes never change, never give in.

you like the tales about his old crew (where are they now? he doesn't tell and you don't dare ask), and the way his face lights up when he talks about his members almost makes him look human. 8 makes one team. the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. stories from another time, so vivid it's as if you're there with them. it's easy to get lost in him. you're going out less often these days, heading home after work as soon as you can because you know he might be waiting for you. his visits aren't limited to the nights any more, even though he's unreliable and flaky; sometimes he doesn't show up for days at a time, sometimes he stays with you for hours.

it only makes you more eager to stay home and wait for him. what if you go out and miss him? he might get angry again, it wouldn't be the first time, waking you with his fingers deep inside your cunt for seven nights straight — and removing them right before you could reach your peak. every time you fell asleep he'd wake you up, turning you into a begging mess. the dark circles under your eyes grew with each passing night. there was no point in fighting him; he'd pinned your hands above your head when you'd tried to relieve yourself, surprising strength in such a lithe body.

and on the seventh night, when he was finally satisfied with your sobs, he'd kissed you for the first time and told you the salt on your cheeks reminded him of the sea, his first love. he'd never thought he'd find someone as pretty as her until fate had brought you together.

"you're mine, and mine alone. don't you ever forget it." he'd reinforced his words by finally, finally letting the waves of sweet bliss overtake you.

slowly, hongjoong draws you away from your coworkers. your friends. your family. even your best friend. the only thing on your mind is him, the only one you need in life: your captain.

© planet-dusk do not copy, translate or repost my works.

[merakiui]

thinking,,,,, a very deranged concept in which you and floyd are in love and jade is the (silently) jealous twin cast aside. no one knows jade stalks you from afar, that he silently slips inside your shared home with floyd, that he doesn't do anything outrageously rash. he just watches and admires, burning the sight of your sleeping form into his retinas. it's harmless, really. just a passing infatuation stage, surely.

he's been stalking you for years, though. so maybe it's more than that. jade's certain it's just because you're interesting. because no one has ever stayed with floyd for this long before. floyd always grows tired of his romantic partners. surely your and floyd's relationship is fleeting.

but then floyd proposes and you say yes. and suddenly jade can't be happy with just watching. suddenly jade has to confront the fact that his brother and his beloved are getting even closer. soon you'll start a family. soon you'll grow old together. soon he will be forgotten. just your friendly, always polite in-law. never anything more.

he was content to wait it out, to swoop in when you and floyd inevitably break up. but now that will never happen. jade, who has always gotten everything he's ever wanted, can't have the one thing he's craved for years. you are forever out of his reach, snug and secure in floyd's arms.

jade, who has always been so meticulous and level-headed, takes it upon himself to right this very egregious wrong.

when floyd goes missing, everyone is shocked because it's so sudden. there's just a messy note. some nonsense about how he needs a break, how he doesn't want anyone coming after him, how he'll be back soon. you're confused and distraught. did the family business catch up to him? some bad people who were after him... you don't want to think that way! he wouldn't just leave in the middle of your engagement. he had been so thrilled to plan the wedding, to look at venues, to think up a fun menu... if something was truly bothering him, he'd talk to you about it. right? right? at least, that's what you tell everyone who asks. you have no idea where he's gone. no one does.

suddenly, it's as if he never existed at all. there's no trace of floyd. no one's seen him or heard from him. no one knows where he's gone. and as time passes you begin to think that floyd might never come home.

jade plays the part of the grieving brother well. oh, he's sick with concern. that's his only brother! whatever he's going through, surely it doesn't warrant a disappearance. :( oh, this is just terrible... he just wants his brother to come home.

jade's a great actor. an outstanding mimic. no one knows of the journal he keeps, every page filled with endless scrawls. it's obsessive practice. jade practiced floyd's handwriting to perfection until it was an exact copy. and then there are the notes he's made on floyd's habits, distinctions between the two of them.

the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. jade thinks so when he welcomes you, broken, devastated you, into his arms. it will be okay. he's here for you. they'll find floyd one day. one day he'll come home. one day you'll get your dream wedding.

until then, jade can be your floyd. :)

[the-badger-mole]

On the Unredeemed

Unredeemed villains are important in fiction. I feel like that needs to be said. There is a trend in recent years (probably since Wicked became a hit) of people wanting to see monsters redeemed. I'm not against that (per-se... glowers in Maleficent), but also, I feel like we do lose something when we lean into the idea that the monster gets to make good.

Fiction can be really useful for teaching us about life. I remember seeing a quote some time ago on Pinterest or something that said something along the lines of "fairytales are important not because they tell us dragons are real, but because they tell us that dragons can be slayed". That has been on my mind a lot recently when I see discussions about characters like Azula and (more recently) Ozai. They are fictional characters with super magic fire powers, but they represent something real- they represent the cycle of abuse in families, and while I understand the impulse to absolve someone as young as Azula, I think it's also important to tell the story where she isn't redeemed.

One reason that most Azula redemption stories bother me is because of the responsibility they tend to place on Zuko as her older brother, despite the fact that she victimized him probably more than anyone in her life (that we get to see. I don't think her soldiers believed her death threat for no reason). There are plenty of stories about the victims of abuse needing to be the bigger person to keep their families together and being villainized when they don't (I think by now we all understand that Terri was not the villain of Soul Food). We need stories about knowing when it's okay to walk away, and that illustrate the idea that "the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb".

In a time when more people are talking openly about going low contact or completely cutting off family members- close family members- I personally think that seeing stories about coming out of the other side of it, of building a new family, healing from the past, and dealing with the residual guilt that comes with "turning your back on family" even when it's the right call, is helpful in the same way that those fairytales about slayable dragons are.

I'm not saying any of this to discourage Azula redemption stories. In fact I would love to see more. Stories that have Azula confronting what she did to the people she should have loved most, and have her considering what to do with the knowledge going forward, instead of just using her past abuse and mental health to gloss over the real harm she did. I want to see her grappling to accept the fact that no one- not her brother, not Iroh, not her friends- owes her forgiveness, and then dealing with all the complex emotions that come with just one of them actually forgiving her. But also, I want to see stories where Zuko gets to let go of his father and sister and go on to be supported in that decision. Because to him, they were dragons, and they were slain.

[specialagentartemis]

deeply tired reminder that the proverb “blood is thicker than water” has been used in the English language since the 1600s, and its ultimate origins may be from the 1100s; the longer version that tumblr likes, “the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” is first attested in a book from the 1990s by a “Messianic Rabbi” with no sources. It’s literally prefaced by “Warning: The truths contained in the following teaching are not for the faint of heart, or the lukewarm! You can be sure that haSatan (the adversary) will do all he can to keep you from understanding and applying the concepts and truths contained herein”. The whole covenant framing is being used here to justify a “Jews for Jesus” interpretation of Judaism. It’s not “original” in any sense. The idea of blood covenants is a very old one, but there's no evidence that that's what that proverb refers to at all, and certainly not in those specific words (and this guy never even claimed that the specific words were original, just the sense of them). And the Brothers Grimm even suggested the "water" being referred to in the phrase was the water of baptism.

You are not obligated to like the sentiment expressed by “blood is thicker than water.” You don’t have to agree with proverbs. You are perfectly allowed to like the sentiment of “ the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb” better. But it is not in any way “authentic” or the “real” version, and it was not corrupted into the common version. Please.

[cocogum]

IDK if you brought it up.

But one thing I noticed is that in season 4 when Yugo, Amalia, and the Eliatrope goddess where together, his mother kind of (softly) physically got between them.

I think... Ep 2 or 3 (idk): when Yugo is watching Amalia mourn her father and wants to jump down and support her, she pulls him away. Though it was a good move, Amalia needed to be alone/with her brother. Ep 11: when Amalia calls out to Yugo and he looks at her and seemingly wants to go to her--the goddess turns him towards her. ...these are the only examples but they're there.

To me, I think it was to show blood-family vs found-family. His relationship with the Eliatrope goddess isn't even as close to deep as it is with Amalia, Percedal, Ruel, Alibert, and Eva. Even Yugo said it himself, he feels at home with Alibert (and his friends).

By the end when the goddess wanted to leave the planet with all of her eliatropes (Yugo included), Yugo chose to stay and fight with his found family.

As someone once said (before someone else twisted it), "The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."

Just something that came to mind after rewatching the entire season in English sub.

(If you can, you can add the clips/GIFs) because IDK how to do that.

I love how you interpreted those scenes because that’s exactly what it was implying.

Back when Yugo wanted to intervene in Amalia’s private moment (yes it was episode 3), I didn’t think much about how the Eliatrope goddess had pushed him away from her because Amalia did deserve the privacy so it was normal for his mother to be like “your bae is in pain right now and it’s kinda your fault a bit for pulling her away from her dad so come here”.

But now that we’ve seen episode 11, yeah no it’s clear that she was only trying to cut off Yugo from the others.

Like the way she did it was so sudden too cuz she just ruined Yugo and Amalia’s reunion. The others had proper moments where see them reacting and conversing with Yugo when they realized he grew up (Ruel and the Percedal family).

But with Amalia, you can’t help but feel like it was going to go somewhere before it suddenly got cut short because his mother butt in. You can even see how her hair hides the others from Yugo! The only reason why Joris didn’t get cut off like the others was because he was standing on the opposite side.

Like I get that she’s supposed to not mind his friends (since she had no problem addressing them as ‘his friends’ at some point) but the Eliatrope goddess really reminds me of a clingy mother who can’t stop hogging her kids. And because of this bad habit of hers, we can also see how her relationships with her kids reflect their distinct dynamics with her:

Yugo is that one kid who wants to be independent but can’t do anything because his mother thinks he can’t survive without her.

Qilby is that one kid who’s greatly dependent on his mother to shower him with love and affection. He sees her as the only source of light in this world who can give him what he needs. A perfect mama’s boy that every needy mom wished to have.

Nora is that one kid who, just like Yugo, recognizes her mother’s flaws but instead tries to help her by shouldering all the responsibilities on herself. Being the voice of reason in the family, the balance.

Efrim is the one who knows his mother’s imperfections and hates her for it because he’s aware that she comes first before her children.

Adamaï is that one forgotten kid. That’s it. He doesn’t get some love as much as Yugo. And doesn’t get mentioned by his mother as much as Nora and Qilby.

She’s literally the embodiment of love but because of her flaw, she’s depicted as the wrong kind of love, the one that’s too clingy, too overprotective, too suffocating.

[b00kdiary]

NEW WIP- Azriel x OC (Hofas)

A Ballad of Flame & Shadow | Azriel

CHAPTER ONE HERE

Alex was falling between worlds- falling through worlds- until she landed with Bryce someplace that was definitely not Hel.

And now there was a male before her, the most beautiful male she had ever seen and something other than fear sparked in her heart.

***

The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb and Alex will do anything to protect Bryce, anything to get the answers they need and save Midgard.

But in a world, she doesn’t know, surrounded by strange Fae she doesn’t trust Alex is out of her element- especially when faced with those hazel eyes and shadows that sing out to her.

Faced with a male who seems to be the one thing on this planet that feels unnervingly like home.

A/N:

I will be posting this story on Wattpad/ Ao3 and will put up links for that when I do (I AM SO EXCITED!)

I will post the first chapter here, to hopefully entice all of you to go check it out. (PLEASE DO CHECK IT OUT!)

comment to be tagged when I release the first chapter and for more details! (SCREAMING!)

------

People who commented on the original post---->

@hellodarling1357 @charlineraven @starrystarkey93 @mockingjaytributes @nelapeach14 @alessiazeni @bishhh2003 @impossibelle @firebreathingbishqueen

[wishcamper]

Cassian Appreciation Week Day 4: Lover

Continuing @cassianappreciationweek with an entry that explores Cassian's openness to love in its many packages. You can read it here or on ao3.

Thicker Than Water

In which Cassian loves his friends.. a lot.

CW: consensual sexual content, a moment of dubcon if you squint

"The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."

“I thought being married would get us past the overfamiliar gifts, but I guess that was wishful thinking,” Nesta sighed, and Cassian cursed himself for the thousandth time for all the years he spent letting his guilt rule him.

The House’s warmth was a relief when it washed over his wings, and as he set Nesta down in the dining room it felt more like home than ever. She shrugged off her coat and hung it on the rack, and despite the time his stomach still swooped seeing the long column of her neck, her cheeks flushed from the wine and hours spent in the parlor of the river house.

Nesta, his wife, their third Solstice as mates since that night everything changed. Lucky didn’t even come close to how he felt having her in his life - it was a rare gift, one that he doubted even other mates experienced.

Which was why the present from Mor didn’t make him feel uncomfortable so much as sad. He worried about the ways his friend was struggling to move on, to find her place now their family had changed irrevocably.

Cassian sank into an armchair and chucked the silky undershorts into the hearth, watching the fabric curl and twist as the flames engulfed it. “I’m sorry, I’ll talk to her about it. Maybe she’ll actually hear me this time.”

He’d told Nesta the story of their ill-fated one night stand ages ago, the fallout not just with Mor’s engagement but within their found family as well. He still looked back on the whole thing with shame, but Nesta was helping him shift that, to understand and make peace with the ways he’d been harmed, to discern what was and wasn’t his duty to bear.

“It’s not your fault,” she said as if reading his thoughts, coming behind his chair to drape herself over his shoulders. Her hair smelled of vanilla and cinnamon when she buried her face in his neck, voice thick with drink and drowsiness. “I can’t say it’s surprising, the way all of you are with each other. If I didn’t know, I’d assume you’d have been with at least one of them.”

“What does that mean?”

Cassian frowned as Nesta tapped a careful finger against her lips and moved to pour herself a nightcap, her words sounding measured when she finally spoke. “Your family is very.. charged. You talk about sex all the time, none of you were attached before my sisters and I came along. There’s just something not quite familial about it.”

“Hey now,” he began, but Nesta cut him off with a kiss, returning to perch herself in his lap. He drew his wings and arms around her habitually despite his offense, stealing a sip from her glass.

“Sorry love, I’ve no judgment for you. I’m certainly not innocent." She loosed the tie from his hair, her fingers soothing where they worked through the tangles he'd earned rolling on the floor with his nephew. "Besides, you’ve only slept with one of your family members, it could be worse.”

“Uh.. huh.”

“Cassian.”

He’d been distracted by the fullness of her hips in his hands, thinking of how he could persuade her to push sleep off for another hour or two. But now her words registered, igniting a nervousness low in his stomach. He flashed what he hoped was a lazy smile. “Yes, sweetheart?”

But he knew it didn’t work when her blue-gray eyes narrowed, scrutinizing, fixed him with a stare that would make lesser males cower. 

“You’re being shifty. What are you hiding?”

Damn the bond, damn her mind-reading power that would’ve seen through him without the direct connection to his fucking soul. His insides went all squirmy, knots of memory beginning to unravel.

“Okay, remember how we agreed to not hold our pasts against each other?”

“Cassian Archeron, tell me the truth right now.”

“Okay fine fine, just don’t - ow - don’t kill me until you’ve heard the whole thing.”

Nesta lowered the pillow from where she’d raised it to whack him a second time, her wintery eyes flashing in the firelight.

“Spill.”

—

They’d been stationed in the Illyrian mountains for four fucking months by now, whipping the newest recruits into shape, or trying to, anyhow. Rhys wanted everyone in top fighting shape after rumors of an armada preparing to sail from the continent, and though it was a worthy cause, being away from Velaris was starting to wear Cassian thin.

But if he was miserable, then Azriel was wretchedly depressed. He was as surly as Cassian had ever seen him, and even though it wasn’t abnormal the duration of this last bout was worrisome. For weeks he’d been trying to find a way past that thick wall of stoicism, but for all his jokes and ribbing and attempts at quiet company, Az only sunk further into a deep freeze. There was a kind of deadness in his eyes that Cassian had come to associate with loneliness, or else feeling unworthy of reaching out.

So he decided to offer up one of his own frustrations one frigid morning as they sparred in the deserted ring, hoping to draw the shadowsinger out by catching him when his body was most alive.

“I’m going out of my mind surrounded by males up here,” Cassian said after dodging a jab of Azriel’s elbow aimed straight for his chin. "I have no idea how those monks in Cesere do it."

Az scoffed. “No one warming your bed?”

“Fuck no. You?”

“Not really looking.”

The village close by was more liberal than most due to its status as a trading crossroads, and Cassian had found a bevy of eager and willing females in the earlier days of their assignment. But one had to be careful to avoid spreading themselves too far - Illyrians were famous for being incurable gossips as much as they were for their wings.

Still, it surprised him to hear Azriel wasn’t even trying. They both had healthy appetites, the spymaster’s at times more ravenous than even his own.

“Yeah, sure.” Cassian smirked as they circled each other, making a show of rolling his eyes enough that Az might take the bait. He did, spinning to sweep Cassian’s feet from beneath him, but it went less well than expected when Az pivoted at the last moment and boxed him about the ear with a closed fist, making it ring.

“I mean it.”

Azriel landed a kick to Cassian’s shoulder to emphasize the point. He felt the shadows start to twine up his arm and blasted them outward with the siphon on his gauntlet, his laughter coming out in great white puffs amidst the chill.

He loved that Az never held back when they sparred. Sometimes Cassian wondered if he was the only one Azriel felt comfortable going full tilt with, the only one beside Rhys who could take him and not break. Which was why his curiosity spiked hearing of the shadowsinger’s celibacy, wondering if that restraint appeared elsewhere.

“Why not?”

He saw the frozen ground inside Azriel begin to thaw, the corner of his mouth twitching, but he quickly schooled his expression into that blank mask once more. “Don’t do this.”

“No really, why? You’re a good-looking male.” Ducking, Cassian managed to grab Az around the neck, ruffling his hair with a clenched fist like the childhood bully that still lived within him, though there was something else inside it that he ignored . “Do you not know what you’re doing, Azzie?”

Azriel struggled against him, growling his displeasure at the accusation. “Of course I do.”

At last he wriggled free, shadows swarming waspish and angry about his wings, but that fire had returned to his eyes, replacing the cold hollowness. Cassian didn’t quite know what was happening, but a thrill passed through him that had nothing to do with their sparring. There was so much that powerful body was capable of, and he couldn’t help egging Az on as he kicked out at one of his legs, stoking the flames.

“Prove it.”

“Fuck you.”

The shadowsinger’s hair fell elegantly across his face despite the sweat, and Cassian was distracted watching the sway of it, his already loose tongue unraveling more by the second.

“Like you have the balls to. You can’t handle me.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew Azriel wouldn’t be able to let a challenge go, that his competitive streak would win over his better judgment every time. And Cassian could admit to himself that a part of him wanted that, wanted to keep making Az flush with rage like that, and so the taunts kept flowing.

“I’d make you cry, pretty boy. I’d have you begging for mercy before I even touched you.”

The next time Azriel came at him there was no restraint, no checking his blows, and they grappled violently, nails scraping against leather, panting breaths heating the space between them. Color bloomed high in the shadowsinger's cheeks, too deep for the cold, the exhertion.

They’d shared many charged glances in the ring over the years, the dances of combat and desire so often a hair’s breadth away from each other. Cassian usually dismissed it as an unavoidable side effect of being close for so long, knowing Azriel’s quirks more than his own. But now something blazed behind each blow and snarl, white-hot and searing, spurring him on.

“And then I’d make you forget your own fucking name.” He rushed forward and tackled Az around the middle, crushing him into the ground. “The only one you’d remember would be mine, and I’d make you scream it over and over and -”

Shadows whipped around them, lashing at his face and arms. Cassian heard a snarl and then the world flipped and he was the one pinned to the ground, face smashed into the dirt with one of Azriel’s hands splayed across his cheek, scars rasping at his stubble.

Another thrill pulsed through him, more urgent than before as he thrashed to free himself, albeit half-heartedly. The shadowsinger paused, looking down between them.

“Cauldron, Cass, are you getting hard?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

But he already knew the answer, could feel the long, hard press of Azriel through his leathers, the erratic beat of the shadowsinger’s heart in time with his own. Cassian grinned as he looked up into Azriel’s expression twisted in fury and something more malleable, consumed by the turbulence in his eyes he knew matched his own.

“Fuck it.”

Azriel yanked him upward and their mouths crashed together, a tangle of teeth and tongues, hands gripping hair and shoulders, their bodies carving symbols in the dirt. It was all so absurd, so surreal that Cassian laughed against Azriel’s lips, causing the latter to bite down on his own.

“Bedroom,” Cassian panted when Az pulled back, and shadows whisked them away in an instant, his back landing on the soft down of a feather bed. Azriel was still straddling him, now ripping at the jacket of his leathers.

“Get this shit off.”

They both fumbled with buckles and clasps that usually took no thought, an indicator of the building fervor, the delirium that captured both of them in its wild, wanton fist. But when their lips met once more there was a tenderness to it that surprised Cassian, the grip of Azriel’s hand on his jaw lighter than it ought to be. 

An understanding passed between them, two people who had hurt others, had been hurt themselves, and didn’t make themselves vulnerable for just fucking anybody.

Cassian’s hand moved slowly to the laces of his pants, giving Az time to decide as he watched with heavy-lidded eyes, frozen ground replaced by smoldering embers.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Az’s tongue darted out to trace his lower lip. “Always.”

“Then put your hands on the headboard.”

—

“Things sort of devolved from there,” Cassian finished with a shrug. They’d stayed up all night, only to return to the training ring in the morning clear-headed and casual, as if nothing had happened. “We’ve shared females since then, but never just the two of us. I think we needed to get it out of our systems.”

Nesta had moved from his lap and draped herself across the chaise lounge while he talked, golden brown hair spilling across her shoulders as she removed the pins. She was looking at him now with a kind of hunger in her wintery eyes, one that said she was picturing herself as the female they shared. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You two are.. Close.”

“Alright you minx, reel it back in. I don’t know if I’m ready to share you yet.”

“If that’s all I think I can live with it. At least it wasn’t Rhysand,” she said airily as she stood, and he followed her down the hall like a bird chasing the breeze, borne forth by the power she held over him. His thoughts were all a jumble - he couldn’t lie, but he had to, but then she’d be pissed, but she might be more pissed by the truth.

By the time they reached their room, all he managed was a noise like a seagull being strangled, followed by a weak, “Well..”

Cassian bought himself time shucking off his boots and tucking them in the wardrobe, trying to temper the onslaught of memories, the edges fuzzy from liquor and time. When he summoned the courage to emerge Nesta was naked, which was great, but also glaring at him over one shoulder, blue-gray flashing like a stormy sea, which was decidedly less great. 

“Cassian. Are you kidding?”

He sighed, accepting his fate as he rid himself of his shirt and trousers. “Look, it was a long time ago, I was young and drunk and curious. Shit happens.”

Nesta gave a disdainful hm! and stepped down into their giant bathtub, a cruel swish of her hips for emphasis.

“So you just accidentally came on to both your best friends on separate occasions because shit happens.”

“Yes.” He splashed into the fragrant water with much less grace and wrapped her in his arms, drawing a shriek. “Only I didn’t start it this time.”

—

He was finally sitting down, mercifully, miraculously, at rest for one godsdamn moment.

The last month had been one of the most brutal of Cassian’s life, the constant drilling, the endless training as they prepared for war. Now that he’d collapsed like a sack of bones in the armchair before the fire, he didn’t know how he’d remained on his feet so long in the first place.

As if summoned by his weariness, Rhys strolled into the house a few moments later, Windhaven’s harsh winter air sneaking in behind him. Cassian ruffled his wings and shot a dark look over his shoulder, not even bothering with a greeting.

“Close the fucking door.”

“In a bad mood, darling?” Rhys drawled, the aristocratic glide of his voice grating on Cassian’s nerves as the lordling divested himself of his traveling cloak. “I’ve just the thing to soothe your troubled heart.”

He produced a bottle of deep purple mulberry moonshine, a delicacy of Spring. It was impossible to get with the embargo on the southern court, though Cassian suspected Rhys’ stupid blond friend probably had a hand in supplying it.

He ignored the spike of jealousy, ascribing it to the headache now pounding somewhere behind his eye, and accepted the proffered glass without another word.

They drained the bottle for the better part of the evening, talking shit and one-upping each other, the ease of conversation helping Cassian relax until he’d sunk low in his chair, legs splayed long across the floor. Azriel was gone on a mission for the High Lord, and so they enjoyed the rare time just the two of them, perhaps the last time for a while. They’d all be shipped off to their individual assignments soon, and though it wasn’t confirmed Cassian knew they’d be separated, far-flung across Prythian in a way they hadn’t been since the Blood Rite.

Which was why he’d been pissed when Rhys brought a female home last night, shattering the images he’d had of sharing a meal together, drinking before the fire just like this.

“Did you enjoy the show last night?” Rhys asked casually, and Cassian scowled at him as his cheeks heated in a way he hoped was camouflaged by the flush of alcohol.

He’d heard them fucking in the night, woken to the creak of the bedframe, hushed moans and whispers drifting over him like a warm breeze. Rhys was going down on her from the sound of it, and very successfully if the female’s growing abandon was anything to go by. Even in his mortification Cassian had let one of his hands edge lower, biting the pillow to muffle his own labored breaths.

The memory made his arousal flare even now, loosened as he was by booze and easy company. When he looked up Rhys was smirking at him, a daring twinkle in his inconstant violet eyes.

“If you’re reading my mind I’m going to throw your bed out the window.”

Rhys’ smirk deepened. “That’s fine. I’ll just climb in with you.”

“Like I’d let you within ten wingspans of my bed.”

“You seemed fairly open to it when you were touching yourself under the covers.”

Cassian tried to ignore the spike of wanting at the words, instead downing the rest of his glass before he set it on the table with feigned nonchalance. Rhys stood and circled around the back of his chair, and Cassian assumed he was going to retrieve another bottle until he felt strong hands begin to knead the muscle at his shoulder, where his wings connected to his back. That touch-starved part of him that never got enough affection sparked alive, that wanted to both shy away from the contact and lean into its promise desperately.

“I don’t mind, for the record. We both knew. And we both liked it,” Rhys assured him. A sharp pain tore through Cassian’s neck before he could answer, Rhys following the tendon with a gentle thumb. “Gods but you’re tense. You’ve worried yourself into knots, darling.”

They were silent for a while, and Cassian let himself surrender to the pressure of Rhys’ hands, mind drifting back toward the night before as the tension seeped out of him. He had been curious about how Rhys had made the female moan like that, though at the time he’d thought for purely academic purposes. Now he felt a stirring below, curious in an entirely different way.

“Well if you ever change your tune, you’re welcome to pull back the covers and join in,” Rhys said breezily after a long slug of his own drink. “Have you ever had a male before, Cassian?” 

“No. Have you?”

Rhys hummed in confirmation behind him. “It’s not so different, you know.”

He felt Rhys’ hands roaming lower, slipping under his shirt to stroke at his chest, long fingers running through the thatch of curls at the center. Cassian’s whole body went hot, and he warred against the impulse to give in, still not sure if Rhys was sincere or just fucking with him.

“You fuck anything that moves, so I’m not sure how much weight that holds.”

It wasn’t like he’d never thought about it - Rhys was an undeniably handsome male, and even though he didn’t typically lean that way there was something comforting about the familiarity, the trust. The hands continued their path downward, undoing the buttons of his shirt.

“I have a very talented tongue, I’ve been told. Seems wrong not to share my gifts.”

“What a public service, lordling." Cassian was surprised by the gravel in his own voice, the building desire thick and heavy on his tongue. "Your subjects are truly grateful.”

“What can I say? I live to serve.”

Cassian hissed as fingers grazed his waistband. The rush of alcohol in his veins was making him feel bold, and Rhys certainly appeared on board, but the old twinge lingered, the unspoken rule.

“Are you sure about this? I mean I’m flattered, obviously, but after everything that happened with Mor I assumed we were all off-limits.”

Rhys’ hands stilled, pulling away from him. “Do you still feel guilty about that?”

“Of course I do,” Cassian murmured even as felt the loss of contact acutely, the part of him that wanted to take what was being offered, to let down his wall of self-sufficiency and be the cared for instead of the carer.

Soft lips pressed against his head, an apology somewhere inside it though neither spoke it aloud. Rhys rounded the chair to stand before the fire, a contemplative air about him.

“You work so hard, Cass, you show up for all of us without a moment’s hesitation. I know you’d die for me, but do you know I’d live in Hel for you?” When Rhys looked back Cassian saw the desire in his own eyes reflected along with something deeper, a wish to be connected, to give. “It’s not wrong to let someone else take over for a while.”

Then Rhys stepped close again and lowered to his knees on the threadbare rug, and Cassian forgot how to string a sentence together, how to breathe.

“Just relax. Let me take care of this for you.”

Deft fingers unlaced his trousers, relieving the ache only the slightest bit, which was somehow worse because Cassian was aware of just how turned on he was, how much he wanted Rhys to keep going. He ran a hand through Rhys’ blue-black hair without thinking, earning a satisfied smirk.

Then his breathing went ragged as the world swirled down to the space between them, the closing gap, before he was nothing but white-hot sensation, gripping the arms of the chair to stay tethered to reality.

“Oh, Mother, fuck that feels good.”

“Told you I'm talented."

—

“And then I went to sleep, and we never talked about it again.”

Nesta had flung an arm over her eyes as she listened, sprawled across the bed now in surrender to the images pouring through her mind.

“Just like that. Just casual oral sex between friends. I can never look him in the eye again, but I also can't wait for him to know that I know. Oh no, and Feyre? Is it my obligation to tell my baby sister that our husbands have..? Please tell me that's it."

Cassian couldn’t help but smile despite his mortification as his wife peeked out from under her arm, assessing. For all Nesta’s dramatics he knew she was listening carefully, holding space for him the way she always had. Her jokes were never aimed to wound, but rather to show him that she could handle whatever he gave her, that she wasn’t afraid of who he was and who he’d been.

“That’s mostly it.”

“Cassian.”

“Look, we’re already here.” He passed her the slice of cake the House dropped onto the nightstand, hoping some sugar might help the bitter pill go down. “I might as well tell you about Amren.”

“Amren?!”

—

There was only one bed.

Cassian had faced monsters, undead creatures, yet nothing in his two hundred years of life compared to the terror he felt staring at that single, solitary bed.

“Why have you stopped?” demanded Amren. “Did you forget how to walk through a door?”

Rhys had sent them near their southern border with Day, their first mission together since Amren’s appointment to the court. They were supposed to retrieve an enchanted mirror guarded by a cantankerous cyclops and his herd of mammoths, had been waylaid by a huge storm that blew in from the west that made flying impossible. But the warrior in Cassian was more worried about the volatile creature in the tavern attic with him now, despite her markedly smaller stature.

“I don’t even think we could share the bed.” He cast a glance around at the rest of the room, which didn’t take long considering how fucking tiny it was, the sharp cant of the roof. “You're small enough to fit in the chair if you curl up like a cat.”

Amren grew impatient with him blocking the door and ducked through the tunnel between his wing and leg to get around him. He shivered when she brushed the edge, grateful the tiny fae was now too busy surveying the room in abject disgust.

“I will not sleep in that chair. I will take the bed, and you can swallow your male pride and sleep on the floor.”

“And if I refuse?”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”

She planted her hands on her hips when she said it, but the positioning was slightly off, unrehearsed as she was from developing her gestures in this body in solitude. The effect of that in juxtaposition with her terrifying mercury eyes and awkward attempt at slang made Cassian burst out laughing. “I hate to break it to you, but there’s no way I’m fitting on the floor.”

She didn’t appreciate his words, definitely didn’t appreciate the laughter, but even she could see his point. There was barely enough room for them both to stand, let alone to get his wings in any kind of position that didn’t leave him bent like a broken parasol.

Amren scowled. “Sleep outside then, hang from a tree by your feet or whatever it is your kind do.”

Cassian let the casual cruelty roll over him, used to being looked down on by High Fae. “They’re your kind now, too, you know. You should learn about the people you serve.”

“I know all that I need to, boy,” she snapped. She was ripping through her miniature pack now, searching for something that must’ve sunk to the bottom. “Chiefly that I will sleep here and you will manage elsewhere.”

“Trust me, I would love nothing more than to not share this room, but it’s raining. So you’re stuck with me unless you’d rather I smell like a wet mutt tomorrow.”

Having found what she was looking for, Amren straightened and regarded him over one shoulder, the effect somewhat dampened by the fact she had to crane her neck all the way back at a weird angle to see his face. Cassian felt a nervousness flutter in his stomach, suddenly remembering all she was capable of, what she’d probably have no scruples doing to him. But after a moment she snorted, as if sensing his caution.

“Very well, then.”

She sneered hard enough he thought her face might split before she perched on the edge of the bed and took a swig from a flask, lips coming away ruby.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Cassian said as he removed his own pack, tucking it under the chair she definitely would’ve fit in. Maybe talking about herself would blunt her spikiness, he thought. It always seemed to cheer Rhys up. “What’s with the blood? Is it just for fun or is it part of your whole..” He waved a hand in her direction. “Image. The scary reputation thing.”

“Language has truly declined in the last few millennia. The blood is necessary. That will be the end of your questions.”

The cap of her flask screwed shut of its own accord, metal glinting in the low faelights.

“Fine, fuck. Just trying to be friendly. Do they not do that where you’re from?”

She fixed him with that eerie silver stare that promised the separation of his balls from the rest of him. “Enough. Questions.”

He took her seriously this time, darting from the room when she started pulling out her sleep clothes.

After scarfing down a serviceable meal in the tavern below, Cassian felt the tiredness settle over him like smoke, making his brain fuggy. Amren turned away from him when he returned, and he peeled off his wet leathers with as much modesty as the small room allowed, not wanting to chance asking her to step out. He could shield most of his body with his wings from the back anyway, but he felt her piercing eyes on him, the air charged with something he couldn’t quite place. At first he thought he’d pissed her off further, and was prepared to do some half-hearted groveling when a cold finger traced down the edge of his wing, making him yelp.

“Mother fuck, a little warning?”

He twisted to see Amren right behind him with her pinky raised, the blood red nail tipping it talon-sharp. “I heard these wings were sensitive.”

“Yeah, and it’s also considered pretty fucking rude to touch them without asking,” Cassian choked out when she reached up again, still reeling from the aftershocks of the unanticipated touch. Her eyes swirled like a midwinter squall.

“It was your suggestion I learn about my people.”

He knew she could scent his arousal from the feline smile that spread across her face, that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Stop looking at me like you want to eat me.”

“But you look delicious.”

He couldn’t tell if that meant she wanted to bed him or drain him dry, though neither made sense, nor did the way she knew how to touch his wings that made a fierce hunger spark within him. While it was true he hadn’t slept with anyone in a while, barely anyone outside Illyria really got it right. He suppressed a shudder, heard her sardonic chuckle. 

“My power is in the blood. The flow, the pressure,” Amren said, and Cassian understood as he felt his blood rush south at her words, even as the purr of her voice wrapped around his neck like a noose. “It bends to my will.”

“Careful,” he managed, holding back a groan. “That’s my favorite part.”

Sharp nails tapped on the outer bone of his wing, making him shudder in earnest this time. “I’d have guessed it would be this.”

“Fuck,” he breathed. This was spiraling and he was quickly losing what little ability he had to make tactical decisions. “Maybe this isn’t such a -”

“Shall I stop?”

“NO. No.” His body screamed in protest at the suggestion, and though Rhys would likely kill him for this it was too good,  “Let’s just agree that as of tomorrow, this never happened,” he panted, and when he turned Amren was grinning at him, maybe the first real smile he’d seen her make, just the briefest flash before she pounced. 

It was a whirlwind from that moment on, and he didn’t remember much save for the way she loomed over him, somehow larger than she had any right to be. The blood whizzed through his brain, making him delirious but it felt fucking incredible, like slamming back a shot of pure lifeforce. Amren’s hands danced over his wings expertly, making him see double, so that he didn’t even think to ask how she knew just how to touch them until he was splayed on the floor with his legs under the bed, more thoroughly wrung out than he’d been in decades.

“I had wings once, before I came to your world.”

Perhaps it was the naivety of the afterglow, but Cassian was surprised by the crack that formed in his heart as she said it, the pain that lingered there. She’d been right earlier - his wings were his favorite part, a constant connection to his homeland, his freedom.

“Do you miss them?”

“Every day.”

He lifted a hand to brush back the raven hair that had fallen across her face, but she smacked him away savagely, pushing off his chest to her feet. His head swam as she towered over him, hands on her hips correctly this time.

“It seems you fit on the floor after all, so I’ll be taking the bed. And if you ever speak of this to anyone,” Amren shook the flask, grinning with all her teeth. “I’ll make a special vintage out of you.”

—

Nesta was laughing hysterically now, silver tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

“I’m so glad my misery is funny to you.” Cassian crossed his arms and his mate immediately reached over to uncross them, crawling to sit astride him so he couldn’t close off again. 

“Oh my. Oh. This is..” She took his face in her hands, pressed a kiss to his furrowed brow as her laughter ebbed. “I love you.”

“Yeah, you better.”

She brushed her nose against his, gentler now, a gesture that everything was okay. “You know, it does make me feel better in a way. That there wasn’t anything special about Morrigan, because this is just who you are.”

“What, an idiot?”

“No,” she assured him, stifling the laugh that still wanted to bubble forth. “Open to opportunity.”

“I guess so? I’ve never really thought about it before.”

Nesta lay against him in answer, resting her head on his chest. He took the opportunity to run his fingers through her curtain of hair, and she hummed when he scratched lightly at her scalp, holding him tighter.

“As long as you’re faithful to me now and you’ve never slept with one of my sisters, I don’t much care. You haven’t, right?

“No way, sweetheart. Promise.”

He felt her smile against his skin, the corner of it quirked in a way he knew meant she was scheming over something, or else setting a trap. ”So…” she breathed, her tone full of courtier’s dodginess. “Who was the best?”

“You, of course.”

“Oh no you don’t.” She sat up and glared at him, though he saw the lightness in her eyes, the zing of excitement pulsing under her skin. “You opened this door, you can’t blame me for wanting to walk through it. Answer.”

“Fine. Az was the best. Hands down. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I have an opportunity you might be open to.”

Nesta dug one hand into his hair, the other tracing a line from the hollow of his throat to where their bodies connected and Cassian knew he was fucked, knew she’d do everything she could to outshine those memories, to make hers the only body that lived in his mind.

He didn’t have the heart to tell her that was already true, though his motives were not entirely selfless as she slipped her night dress over her head, and they twined for hours with unbridled glee, pausing every now and then for Nesta to fall apart with laughter.

---

Me: I’m gonna write fun silly smut! Also me: *drags out the saddest fucking background info to justify it* And you can pry pansexual switch king Cassian from my cold ass dead ass hands. Also think this may be the first Amren/Cassian fic ever. Is this my legacy? Oh god.

[pod-together]

Pod-Together Day 7 Reveals 2024

Love, not sedition (琅琊榜 | Nirvana in Fire (TV)) written by aninfiniteweirdo, performed by paintchipblue Summary: 'What is this, if not sedition?' The recording only shows stating as Xiao Jingyan doesn't answer out loud.

settling in (Welcome to Night Vale, The Magnus Archives (Podcast)) written by Koschei_B, performed by DuskDragon39 Summary: On his trip through America, Gerry passes an town of interest. In the end, it might not be exactly all he's expected to be, but he can't say he regrets staying in the long run. At the very least, he get to live, and all the dangerous stuff around isn't his concern to deal with. And, just maybe, he likes how friendly the people are, even if it's a little creepy. Sue him. Or better yet, Mary Keay.

Voice and Heart (The Murderbot Diaries - Martha Wells) written by lc2l, performed by EternalLibrary Summary: Good morning this is S9BT5, the heart and voice of your Company Substation. Please be aware that we have visitors onboard the station today from a Preservation Survey Team. Staff are expected to be courteous and welcoming, and to remember that all conversations are monitored for training and enforcement purposes.

Time May Change Me (But I can't trace time) (Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy) written by Little_dumpling, performed by Kittona Summary: Anakin’s mother is leaving for Europe and Anakin does not want to come along, thank you very much. But his only other option is to go live on his Uncle Qui-Gon’s horse ranch. Anakin will go, but he did not sign up to do chores!

the cul-de-sac on the spiritual path (The Locked Tomb Series | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir) written by olive2read, performed by carboncopies Summary: stuck in a random catacomb niche, deep in the Ninth House, Wake gets to know Gideon Nav (whether she wants to or not) -or- 5 times Gideon went to visit her mum’s niche -or- why Wake didn’t take the shot

elutriate calor vulpes (All For The Game - Nora Sakavic) written by Opalsong, performed by Flowerparrish Summary: Andrew hated heats. He hated being vulnerable and out of control. Neil…helped. [4 Heats Andrew Struggled Through + 1 He Enjoyed]

Gifts of Gold (gold) (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine) written by BardicRaven, performed by BardicRavenReads, audio production by OneGoldenRaptor

Two and a Half Men (Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)) written by Sivan325, performed by Ceewelsh Summary: "Do you mind telling me why I have kid-Bucky in my apartment?" Steve asked. Tony looked at him, noticing how the man looked exhausted. "Bucky? A kid? Are you out of your mind?" "How many kids do you know who have a metal arm and long hair?" "Touché."

Blood of the Covenant (is thicker than the water of the womb) (One Piece (Anime & Manga)) written by stereden, performed by Aibhilin Summary: The little postgull drops the newspaper right in front of her and then hightails it away from Mount Corbo, and that should have been her first clue, because the bird usually likes to hang about and beg for scraps. But not this time. No. Because this time, the newspaper has her oldest brat’s picture plastered all over the front page, but it’s not the cocky grin of his wanted poster. No. It’s her kid, bruised and battered and in chains. Firefist Ace, Whitebeard Commander, to be executed! the headline proclaims for the world to see, and Dadan freezes. birds of a feather (Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)) written by travvymybeloved, performed by godoflaundrybaskets Summary: “Oh, fuck,” Glenn said and through the windshield, Henry could see him throw his joint down onto the dashboard. He threw himself half out the window, leaning out at the waist and throwing open his arms. “Come on, Henry! Go, go, go!” Henry let out a wordless honking noise and started flapping his wings, skipping against the ground and taking off in the air for a few seconds. He hit the ground, took a few shaky steps, then took off again with more confidence. Darryl whooped, starting to rev the car, and Glenn caught Henry out of the air and yanked him into the car. Darryl slammed the stick into drive, the car lurched and shot off across the field, and Ron continued cry-laughing in the backseat as they beat a quick retreat. “You almost got your butt kicked by a bird,” Ron wheezed out, wiping at his eyes, and Henry harrumphed. “Oh my God, that was great.” --- If Henry was asked to guess anything, anything, about Faerûn, "geese act as malicious guides to your soulmate" wouldn't have even made the top 100 guesses. The Hall Pass (หัวใจไม่มีปลอม | Beauty Newbie (Thailand TV 2024)) written by Wereflamingo, performed by Annapods Summary: Liu’s comfortable relationship with her boyfriend Guy gets shaken up when Guy gets cast in a Boys Love series opposite charismatic established actor Saint. Well, Liu thinks he's charismatic. Guy thinks he's extremely annoying and can't be trusted. There's no way that hall pass will ever be needed. Or: a rookie BL actor and his girlfriend acquire a third through the power of BL and complaining about your shared real/imaginary boyfriend. A story about social and parasocial relationships, monogamy and polyamory, sexuality and lack thereof, beauty, choice, and enemies-to-lovers BL, told through voice messages and phone calls on Liu's Phone.

[incirrata]

I just discovered something! so you know all those sayings where the real, older version means the complete opposite of the shortened versions everyone says? like “the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb” or “jack of all trades, master of none, but better than a master of one”? we’ve also been using “looking a gift horse in the mouth” wrong this whole time!

it’s a really confusing phrase if you think about it—like, what would be in the mouth of a horse? but. what really famous gift horse actually had something important inside of it?

…the trojan horse! it’s actually a good thing to look a gift horse in the mouth, otherwise you might, you know, lose the trojan war. it was originally a phrase sort of like “no such thing as a free lunch,” about the importance of questioning gifts. but over time people started to think it was rude to be skeptical of a gift, so they began to say “don’t look a gift horse in the mouth” as a rebuttal. I say we bring back the original version if it seems like a gift is coming with hidden strings attached.

^ post I’d make if I wanted to try and convince tumblr users of an unimportant but completely false fact. the phrase (very old, a calque from latin) actually refers to inspecting a horse’s teeth to see how old the horse is. fake etymologies are fun to invent though. also I like the idea of telling someone they should probably look that gift horse in the mouth.

[misshcrror]

        𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑: ──── YASEMIN's char study ;

BOLD — always applies. ITALICS — situational / sometimes / kind of. STRIKED OUT — never applies or uncomfortable with.

          𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑     𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘     :     𝐺𝑂𝑇𝐻𝐼𝐶 𝐿𝐼𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐴𝑇𝑈𝑅𝐸  

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀 : giant feather-beds. tightening the corset. moonlit walks. killing for love. cruelty for the sake of love. love is always selfish. romantic tragedy. love to the brink of destruction. nighttime rendezvous. bloody kisses on soft skin. death was the maiden. a very strange agony. claimed by the supernatural. dreaming about your lover. sympathy for the devil. loving me to death. candlesticks lighting up the palm of your hand. a passion that wears you. killing the one you love.

𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀 : a single red rose laid out to be found. sensual voices singing them to sleep. a familiar shadow attending every recital. love waits on the rooftop in the night. two soulmates holding hands. walking down long corridors. retrieving something lost. devoting one’s craft to them. making them your muse. the horror was for love. painted faces on parade. gentle touches in the dark. revealing your darkest secrets. beauty and the beast. writing messages on the mirror. kindness conquers all. letting your lover go. love never dies.

𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄 : loving the escape. an impassioned affair. being consumed by love. meeting your soulmate. lace and silk. thirsting for the perfect romance. marrying for passion. losing yourself in the face of your lover. wedding veils and bouquets of pink roses. maddened by love. finding warmth in the cold. calling out for your love. starting at the bottom. the fire cleanses everything. hiding your passion. your love will destroy me / my love will destroy you.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘 : painting a portrait or sketching the face of someone you love. meeting in secret. visions of your lover dying. clutching a lover’s clothes to your chest. love so consuming you kill them. protecting their innocence at all costs. betrayal. polyamory. devotion. flowers for the one you love. remembering the name of your first love. jealousy when you see them with someone else. love so consuming you die for it. visiting the the place where you saw them the first time.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎 : letters to your lover. marrying for love. these bars can't keep me from you. motivated by love. an avenging angel. scorching jealousy. love reborn. devoted to memory. it was all for you. going your separate ways. commit murder for me. an unstoppable hunger. death comes for us all. the love stronger eventually grows apart.

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐀 : the holiest love. girls love wolves. the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. violence is passion. red lips, sharp teeth. love letters in a diary. unrelenting support. getting lost in the woods. coming home to you. walking backwards into hell. revenge for my love. even death won't stop me. we can live forever. love is an open wound. too much love to give. bestowing your favor. a never-ending thirst. beauty even in death. ravenous desire. if only death had a heart to give. a mercy killing. these violent delights have violent ends.

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍 : childhood friends to lovers. they were something out of a dream. arranged marriages. learning to love. was it all really worth it? our guilt can know no bounds. revenge, my love. dismembered body parts. my beating heart in your open palm. your death destroys me. adam and eve. crossing the mountains. an antagonist in mourning. paradise lost. the loss of innocence. abandoning your dream. the tempest on the horizon. humans are the real monsters. my love is wiser than my hate.