#the consent is a bit dubious but not even a top 5 problem

[no-nic]

meeting "sukea" at a bar, no way this can go wrong ^^

#rei and tobi au; a bit of a fix-it, a bit of a ruin-it-differently

[sidespart]

The Fall of King Romulus Chapter 7

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him…

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Feedback appreciated.

NOW ON AO3 :D

Prologue Chapter 1   Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

The grey man was dead.

The grey man looked like he had been dead for some time.

What little skin he had remaining hung loosely from the bone. The eye sockets were empty, the patches of remaining hair were stringy and dirty. The skull had caved in around the crossbow bolt, revealing an awful wriggling mass of maggots on the inside. The stench of rotting flesh, which Roman had only been able to smell up close before, now filed the room, making him gag.

Roman squeezed his eyes shut, wishing desperately for whatever glamour had made it so hard to see the details of the grey man’s face to return. He griped Mittens’ soft fur tightly with his good hand, earning him a disgruntled meow.

“What the fuck.” A voice muttered.

Unseen by Roman, a figure emerged from the doorway. One with skin bleached white under the lamp light and eyes that seemed to glow an unnatural shade of violet. Most of him was hidden under a dark cloak, save for the fearsome looking crossbow he held at his hip.

Had there been anyone left to see, Virgil would no doubt have made an intimidating sight. At least until he reached out one foot to poke at the grey man's body and recoiled with an undignified ‘eeeeeew!’ when the flesh gave way easily under the pressure.

Virgil had served more years then he cared to remember in the Finaley’ed army. He had seen many dead bodies. That did not make it any better to hear one squelch.

“Okay.” He called, “Okay, the coast is clear and I shot a dead guy.”

Roman heard a second pair of footsteps approaching before a new voice asked: “Did you retrieve the bolt?”

“The bolt that is covered in maggots? No. No I did not.”

“That’s a waste of resources.”

“That is not my main problem with the corpse in the basement Loga- no don’t touch it!”

“This looks like several months of decay- but there’s no surrounding detritus – do you think they moved it here? For what purpose?”

“I don’t care! Maybe it’s just…some, some unlucky bath house guy that got left down here. Who knows! Just help me find the damm cat.”

“Ah yes,” Roman could hear the disdain in Logan’s voice, “The magic cat.”

On the ground, obscured from their view by the network of pipes, Roman kept his eyes firmly shut. So long as his eyes were shut, he was listening to Logan and Virgil’s bickering and was seconds away from rescue.

But what if he opened his eyes and they weren’t there?

Julius had been found of testing his curses’ limits in this area. He would order Romulus to ‘see’ imaginary monsters in the shadows and then have him describe them. Or to recount conversations that never happened. Or to forget ones that had. None of this research had ever been particularly successful - he couldn’t be ordered to alter reality, even in the privacy of his own head – but Julius had never quite given up on it.

What if he had found a way to make it work?

Roman could hear his own heartbeat, the fast paced thump melding with the rush of water in the pipes that surrounded him, making his head throb and his whole body tremble.

What if it wasn’t Virgil and Logan there at all? What if it was Niki and Marcus back again, or Lucius himself, or no one at all?

What if it wasn’t even Julius doing it, just his own pain-addled mind playing tricks on him?

Romulus bit back a whimper, squeezing his arms tight around his middle.

This was too much for Mittens, who let out a yowl of protest and wriggled out of Roman’s grip.

“Oh!” He gasped, eyes flying open “Sorry!”

Mittens ignored his apology, scampering away through the open door and disappearing into the gloom of the corridor. There was a shout, a sudden rush of footsteps and a loud clang followed by a short curse as someone tripped on one of the pipes running along the floor.

And then two men were standing over him. Twin expression of relief morphing quickly into concern.

Virgil swallowed hard, the healers eyes flicking rapidly over each visible injury before meeting Roman’s own.

“Hey there Princy.” Virgil said softly.

***

The journey back through the corridors was a lot slower than their journey in. At least Logan had managed to retrieve one of the lanterns from the maintenance room so he was no longer relying on clinging to the back of Virgil’s cape to navigate.

When they had initially followed the….cat….to the bathhouse they’d thought their luck was beginning to change. It was coronation day, all businesses were closed; it should have been an easy matter to sneak in. When Virgil had scaled the opposing buildings for some roof top reconnaissance however he had come back grim faced – the upper floors were full of soldiers.

The design on their uniform matched the symbol Lucy had drawn the night before, and that Logan had identified in the library that morning. It belonged to the house of Orenlla in Notaleveale. It was not three ‘Vs’ as Lucy had thought, but a stylised version of the three largest peaks on the Sarindu mountain range, which marked the border between Notaleveale and the middle kingdoms. The man she had seen had apparently been wearing his clasp upside down.

Despite his success, Logan had left the library disappointed. Ornella was a noble house in Notaleveale but not one significant enough to warrant a permanent residence in the middle kingdom city of Steveange. It was surely possible to find out where the contingent were staying – the townsfolk seemingly obsessed with the movement of the visiting nobility- but the librarians he spoke to all gave different suggestions, if any at all. Checking every possible address was going to take days.

As desperate as Logan had been feeling, at least he didn’t return to the meeting point with a cat.

Patton had gone to see the crone – or ‘Mama Tay’, as she apparently insisted Patton call her - who had no new information as to where Roman had gone or why he had left, but who had offered to help find him anyway.

Using her cat.

(“I don’t like it.” Virgil said.

“Thank you Virgil.” Logan said, relived to find at least one of his companions hadn’t lost their minds.

“It’s blood magic”

“It’s a CAT!”)

Apparently, when Mittens had scratched Roman at the crone’s – Mama Tay’s – house, it had collected enough blood for a simple locator spell. And Patton, bless him, had agreed to swap a bushel of fresh food from the market for an hours use of the magical bard seeking cat.

Logan had despaired.

Logan wasn’t quite ready to eat his words (dogs could be trained to track blood scents couldn’t they? Why not a cat? There was a reasonable explanation somewhere, surely) but even he had to admit, Mittens had been a lot more successful than any of them.

After Virgil had returned from the rooftop shaking his head, Mittens had meowed piteously until they followed him to a side street, where thin slits set at ground level vented hot air from the bathhouse basement. The cat had slipped in easily, and after a few minutes debate, Logan and Virgil had wiggled their way in after.

They’d used a rope to reach the ground, finding themselves at the base of a set of stairs. There was a soft glow at the top, presumably the main floor of the house, enough to illuminate Mittens’ tail as he trotted off deeper into the basement.

It was only Virgil’s night vision that prevented them from breaking their necks on the next set of stairs, but eventually they had made their way to the a well-lit and uncomfortably warm maintenance room.

And to Roman.

An injured Roman. A glassy-eyed Roman who could barely stand and started shivering as soon as they left the heat of the room.

“He’s going into shock.” Virgil muttered, fixing his cape around Roman’s shoulders. He pulled it tight, wrapping the ends securely, but making Roman whimper in pain. Not knowing what to do, Logan just held the lantern higher. It illuminated the cut on Roman’s sallow face, and the bruises that surrounded it. Bruises which continued over his shoulders and no doubt down his back. Logan had seen the stick, lying next to the corpse, it’s end strained with blood from where the skin had split.

Stupidly, he wished he’d taken the time to break it into a hundred little pieces.

When they reached the first set of stairs, they paused to let Roman catch his breath. His breathing was shallow and he slumped heavily against Logan’s side.

Logan had once watched Roman hop on one foot for almost a mile rather than swallow his pride and admit he needed help. Logan exchanged a glance with Virgil, not bothering to keep the panic from his face.

Virgil let out a long exhale an reached over to squeeze Logan’s shoulder reassuringly, shifting himself to take some of the bard’s weight.

“He’s not going to be able to climb out the way we came in.” Virgil murmured.

“Obviously.” Logan nodded.

That was okay. They had a plan B.

As if on cue, a distant roar rang out above them, followed by quite a lot of screaming.

“Issat Patton?” Roman asked, staring into the darkness with unfocused eyes.

“Mmhmm”, Virgil leaned over and pushed some of Roman’s damp hair away from his face. “He was meant to come get us if we weren’t out in twenty minutes. I think he’s early.”

“There’s at les’ a dozen of ‘em.” Roman slurred “Niki said.”

“Patton can handle it.” Virgil said firmly, though his eyes flickered to the ceiling, betraying his nervousness. “Can you walk?”

Roman nodded, though he needed both their help to actually manage it. It was painfully slow going, with Roman unsuccessfully trying to hide a wince of pain with each step.

The first flight of stairs was relatively short, but by the time they had reached the top Roman’s shaking was so bad it was making Logan’s own teeth rattle. Still, they pressed on, almost dragging the bard between them to the base of the much larger set of stairs that would take them to street level.

Here the noises from the floor above were much louder – the clash of steel on steel reverberating down the stairs.

Logan stared at the next obstacle, uncertain. There were what amounted to five flights, with a small flat platform at each turning point. There was a banister running each side of the stairs, but it was missing in several places. What was there didn’t look like it would hold much weight.

Above them, there was an enormous crash followed by a bellow of almost inhuman rage.

“Frog mode?” Roman asked drowsily.

“Frog mode.” Virgil said grimly.

The berserkers of Krutova painted their faces with the green and blue mud from the rivers and swamps that saturated their forest home. Legend said they could lie in wait for hours, hidden under the water, using hollow reeds to breath before leaping out on unsuspecting enemies with a monstrous frenzied rage, dragging their opponents to a watery grave – assuming they didn’t, quite literally, rip them apart first.

Logan had never seen Patton paint his face. And the big man did not like to talk about his time at war. But Logan had seen him fight off more than a dozen men in a bar brawl without breaking a sweat. He’d once seen him wrestle a wild boar just for fun.

Still. The men upstairs were trained guardsmen, not drunks. And they were armed. And it had only been a small boar.

Virgil was clearly having similar thoughts, his fingers twitching against his side, his eyes constantly flickering up and then back towards Logan and Roman. .

“Go.” Logan said, “We’ll follow you.”

Virgil hesitated, but Roman nodded, straightening up as much as he could “We’ll be righ’ behin’ you. Go help dad.”

Virgil dithered a moment more and then let out all his breath in a rush, reaching for the crossbow strapped to his back.

“Okay just. Go slow. We’ll come get you when the coast is clear.” he waited until they both nodded before turning and all but leaping up the stairs. Roman held his pose until he was out of sight and then collapsed once more against Logan’s side.

The scholar adjusted his grp on the lantern, and hooked his other arm over Roman’s back. With a grunt of effort, the bard managed to sling his left arm over Logan’s shoulder, leaving his uninjured hand free to grip the rickety banister. Logan squeezed, holding him tightly. Roman groaned as he pressed against the bruises and welts that coated his back but Logan held firm.

“One step at a time.” the younger man said softly. “Okay?”

Panting, Roman nodded, giving Logan a sickly lopsided grin.

The staircase spiralled five times before reaching the top floor. They made it round twice before trouble found them.

“You.” The man growled.

The man standing between them and freedom was generically handsome, with large eyes and a strong jaw. He had a passing resemblance to Roman; with the same dark reddish brown hair and tanned skin. He wore a doublet of pink and navy, with the three peaked mountains embroidered in gold thread.

“Luc’-“ Roman gasped out, “don’t-“

“Shut up!” the Marquis de Orenlla snapped. He held a wicked looking dagger in one hand, eyes ablaze. “Is there no end to your duplicity? You foul traitor, I should have you hanged!“

Also like Roman, he seemed to favour being loud over being coherent.

With a grunt, Roman removed his injured arm from Logan’s shoulder and clung to the banister.

“Go!” he shouted to Logan.

Logan spared him an exasperated glance and threw the lantern at the Marquis head.

He went down with a screech, rolling back and forth on the small platform to put the flames dancing on his embroidery. The dagger skirted away and over the edge of the platform.

“You go.” Logan snapped at Roman, pulling out his sword and stepping between the two men.

Technically it was Roman’s sword, the one he had left behind in the inn. But Logan has been taking their training sessions seriously and it felt comfortable in his hands. He pointed the blade a the Marquis throat, effectively pinning him to the ground.

“Wow!” Roman laughed and lent to the side to grin at the flabbergasted noble “I trained him.” he said smugly.

“Hurry up!” Logan hissed and to his great relief, Roman did so, inching his way behind Logan and starting up the next flight of stairs.

“Stop.” The Marquis croaked out.

Roman stopped.

Logan turned towards him, frustrated “Roman, I’ve got this – just keep-“

Later, Logan would blame the stress of the situation for just why he chose to turn away from his prisoner at that precise moment.

Before he had chance to process what was happening, he was falling. Pain rippling through his ankle from a well placed kick from the Marquis. He dropped the heavy sword almost immediately, only for it to be snatched up by the larger man.

Logan felt himself being dragged through the air, and all at once he was pinned against the Marquis chest, sword now held at his own neck.

He saw Roman start back down the stairs towards them and felt the Marquis’ hot breath against his ear as he shouted: “Stop!”

Roman stopped. One foot frozen in the air, he lost his balance almost immediately and toppled to the side, reaching out instinctively to grab the banister with his injured hand, letting out a howl of pain.

The Marquis shuffled backwards, dragging Logan with him, dangerously close to the edge of the platform.

“I’m serious, Romulus.” the Marquis growled. “Not one more step. Or your friend here is going to be even shorter.”

“I'm average height.” Logan muttered sullenly.

The Marquis snorted in his ear. “Where? In the Dwarf kingdom?”

“Lucius!” Roman whimpered, he was hunched over, cradling his bad arm to his chest. “Please – he’s just a kid!”

“I am only three years younger than you!” Logan cried indignantly.

“Oh right.” Roman muttered. “My bad.” And then Roman straightened up. He hadn’t been cradling his arm at all – he’d been working something out of his tunic.

Roman’s dagger, a dull pointless object in desperate need of replacement, came hurtling towards them.

The Marquis let out a shout and instinctively raised the sword to bat the dagger away. Logan took the opportunity to wrench out of his grip, blindly kicking out behind him as he did so.

His foot made satisfying contact with the Marquis’ knee, sending him toppling off the platform, a resounding series of crashes and shouts echoing through the chamber as he bounced down the stairs.

Logan hurried towards Roman as fast as he could, not bothering to turn around and see how far the Marquis had fallen.

“Can you move?” he asked breathlessly.

“I don’t think so.” Roman admitted from his prone position at the base of the steps. Logan bit back a wail of frustration. Roman truly looked done in, his eyes battling to stay open, and there was no way Logan was going to be able to carry him up the-

“Logan? Roman?”

Logan hadn’t been to a city temple since he left his apprenticeship. He had no particular interest in the Gods or their silly squabbles. But the sight of Patton - working his way towards them with his clothing torn and face splattered with blood that wasn’t his own – well. Logan was fairly certain he could pass for an angel.

“You’re safe now.” Logan whispered, although he had no proof of the long term truth of that statement, “go to sleep Roman.”

Roman did as he was told.

Part 8

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2021 | Day 23: Omegaverse

16 fics under the cut!

A Product of the Times | @pbandcas

Rating: Mature Word Count: 1,995 Main Tags/Warnings: Bottom!Castiel, Top!Dean Winchester, Omega!Castiel, Alpha!Dean, mating cycles/in heat, Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse Summary: "Why do you do it? Why do you let him mark you in every way, other than the one you both want?" "Because. When do we ever get what we want?" In which 2009!Dean can't understand why his and Cas' future selves aren't mated.

Trapped | @vampamber

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2,451 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, omega Dean, alpha Cas, heat sex, first time, pining Summary: Dean and Cas are trapped in a cabin during a hunt gone terribly wrong. What better time for Dean's heat to hit, right? Though at least his luck isn't all bad, because he has a nice angelic alpha to offer a bit of aide. After the emotional stuff gets worked out, at least.

Stripper-Gram | @vampamber

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,268 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, alpha Cas, omega Dean, stripper Dean, porn with plot, Dean in panties, panty kink Summary: When the unknown omega pulled away, Castiel couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his mouth. But then reality came crashing back and he remembered that he had no idea who this stranger was that had just kissed him stupid. The alpha stepped back, if just to resist temptation because those lips were made of sin incarnate. He cleared his throat before asking “Who are you?” The omega chuckled, the sound going straight to Castiel’s libido. “Dean Winchester, at your service. I’m your stripper-gram,” he explained. He smiled when he finished, and Castiel had to stop himself from whimpering again. Until Dean’s words properly registered in his brain, that is. “Wait, stripper-gram? What on Earth?”

Falling into your life | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,602 Main Tags/Warnings: Alpha/Omega, Knotting, First Time, First Kiss, Scent Marking, Omega Castiel/Alpha Dean Winchester, Top Dean Winchester, Sub Dean Winchester, Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Dom Castiel (Supernatural), True Mates, Sassy Omega, Topping from the Bottom, Abusive John Winchester, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg Summary: Castiel had just moved into his new shitty apartment when, to top it all, someone crashes through his ceiling right into his living room. Castiel is not amused and angry at the Alpha, but it turns out first impressions can be very wrong and the shy Alpha does seem cute.

When in Heat | @destielshipper4cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,812 Main Tags/Warnings: Allusion to past abusive relationship, Smut, Omega Cas, Alpha Dean, Top Dean, Bottom Cas Summary: All Dean wanted to do was get a drink with his friend Charlie, who owns an Alpha Service. But then a last-minute request comes in from one Castiel Novak who needs an alpha to help him through his heat. Since all of Charlie’s alphas are out on assignments, she convinces Dean to take care of Cas.

Arranged Marriage | @useless-fanfictions

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9,148 Main Tags/Warnings: alpha!Dean, omega!Cas, prince!Dean, prince!Sam, prince!Cas, dub-con, explicit sexual content, mating cycles/in heat, alpha rut, scent kink, John Winchester's A+ parenting, happy ending Summary: Alpha and soon-to-be king Dean Winchester has to step up and marry an omega from another kingdom to unite the two. Dean is upset about his bachelor life ending until he gets the chance to talk to the omega Castiel.

milles éclairs | @thanks-tacos

Rating: Mature Word Count: 11,902 Main Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort,Past Abuse,Alpha Castiel,Omega Dean,Hurt Dean,Arranged Marriage,Misunderstandings,Angst,Fluff,Alternate Universe - Roadtrip, timestamp Summary: Cas is pissed, he's pissed at Dean, and it's all Dean's fault. This is the first time he made Cas this mad, and the first time he can't sense any guilt or remorse in the alpha's scent. He's just angry, angry at him, and he doesn't try to hold it back. They're in the middle of Yellowstone National Park, surrounded by trees taller than mountains. There's no service, no way to contact anyone, and Dean can't walk. And it's all his fault.

Music to his Ears | @envydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 15,035 Main Tags/Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, truemates, Rejection, Bonding, Masturbation, Claiming, Scenting, brief mention of past Dean/Benny, Hospitals, Hurt!Sam, Hurt/Comfort, made up ABO medical stuff, Hurt!Cas, omega!cas, Alpha!Dean, Bookstore Owner Castiel, Pianist Dean, Bar Owner Benny, Mating, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: On the way home from work, Castiel hears the lilting tune of a piano and eventually goes to investigate. When he does he finds his mate in Dean Winchester, who rejects him right off the bat, sending Castiel into a debilitating heat. Ending up in hospital, Castiel and Dean finally meet again... Series Part 5 of SPN ABO Bingo 2017

Cursed | @destielshipper4cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 17,594 Main Tags/Warnings: Strangers to Lovers, Pining, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alpha Dean, Omega Cas, Bottom Cas, Top Dean Summary: Dean’s dick has been cursed and Castiel, best healer witch this side of the woods, is the only one who can help. Only lifting the curse turns out to be more difficult than expected.

No need for an Alpha | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 21,821 Main Tags/Warnings: Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha Castiel , Abusive John Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Michael is an asshole too, abusive behaviour against Omegas,First Kiss, First Time, Love Triangles, Knotting, Bottom Dean Winchester, Top Dean Winchester, Top Castiel, Bottom Castiel , Switching, Sexting, in Panties (both of them), Mating, Modern AU, Bakery AU Summary: Dean doesn’t need an Alpha, he can take care of himself, thank you. Sure he met this cute Alpha online, but there is one problem: He lied about his own second gender online. And then there is this Alpha group that comes into his bakery every thursday and makes his life even harder. Even though one of them… seems different.

On Breeding Vacation | @destielshipper4cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 23,345 Main Tags/Warnings: Mutual Pining, Dorks in Love, Cuddling & Snuggling, Omega Cas, Porn with Feelings, Alpha Dean, Mpreg, Top Dean, Bottom Cas Summary: Cas wants pups, but without an alpha, that dream seems out of reach. Luckily, fertility ranches have long since specialized in giving omegas who are incapable of being loved the family they so desperately desire.

Alpha Spunk | @destielshipper4cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 24,763 Main Tags/Warnings: Mutual Pining, PWP, From Sex to Love, Heat Sex, Rut Sex, Omega Cas, Alpha Dean, Top Dean, Bottom Cas Summary: In order to alleviate bad heat cramps, Cas’ doctor recommends ‘potent alpha seed.’ At the drugstore, he not only gets his prescription filled, but meets the sexiest alpha alive…

boulderplains, AZ | @thanks-tacos

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 27,942 Main Tags/Warnings: Omega Dean,Alpha Castiel,Bottom Dean, Top Cas, Past Abuse,Arranged Marriage,Alternate Universe - Domestic,Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con,Dubious Consent,Misunderstandings,Mentions of Violence,Hurt/Comfort,Healing,timestamp Summary: It takes Dean a while to recover, but he leans into Castiel's side all the same. As he calms, so does Castiel's heart, confused and slamming against his ribcage, undecided whether he should be aroused or scared or handling an emergency. It will be okay, Castiel tells himself, firmly. It will be okay. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if he believes it.

What A Difference A Year Can Make | @vampamber

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 31,385 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, Mpreg, omega Dean, alpha Cas, recreational drug use, true mates Summary: True mates. Something that rarely happens, and then only between an alpha and an omega. So the electric shock that Castiel felt the first time they touched had to be something else, because they were both alphas. At least, that was what Dean had claimed. And two people fitting together so perfectly, that could happen to anybody really, right? When Dean’s secret finally comes to light, though, it’s only a big deal until something bigger comes along. A lot bigger. Nine months worth of bigger. But they can make it through anything as long as they have each other. Even things like abrasive family members, body image issues, and out of control hormones. As unexpected as it was, and as awful as some of the changes felt, it still ended up being the best thing that had ever happened to either of them. It’s always amazing just how much can change in just one year’s time.

Lacuna (WIP) | @wynterfiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 48,141 Main Tags/Warnings: Omegaverse, Alpha!Castiel, Omega!Dean, Prostitute!Dean, Prince!Castiel, Bottom!Dean, Top!Castiel, Angst and Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Non-con (not between Dean and Castiel), slow burn, AU - Historical Summary: It's no wonder Castiel, Third Alpha Prince of England, feels the need for some freedom and independence when there are constant expectations thrown at him. So when the opportunity to leave everything for a few months appears before him, he takes it. Freedom feels amazing. But he never expected to find something even better. Dior is a high-end omega prostitute at one of the better brothels in Paris. He's not sure how life has managed to fuck him over like this.

Angels and Demons | @clarrisani

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 51,879 Main Tags/Warnings: Mpreg, Miscarriage, Torture, rape Summary: Demon Dean has captured a weakened Castiel and is intent on mating with him despite Crowley's advice. Sam is dead set on finding Dean and Castiel and asks the angels for help.

[bookofmirth]

Hello! I’ve recently seen the argument that e/riel will happen because the acotar spinoff books are in the adult romance genre (compared to the acotar books being put in ya), and adult romance books don‘t pull a “bait and switch” with love interests the way ya/na books do. Instead, adult romance books supposedly only put effort into developing one couple and will pull through with that couple until the end.

Tbh I don’t read much adult romance - usually just ya or adult fantasy - so I’m not sure how true this is, but I thought this argument was interesting because it literally would disprove e/riel lol.

Like if you look at the entire acotar series, then Elain and Lucien were mates before there was any indication of anything between Azriel and Elain. So then it would make sense for them to be the couple that will be endgame. And Az/Elain will be resolved without a huge romantic subplot because they really don’t have serious feelings for each other, it’s just following a pattern with the way Azriel attaches to unattainable women to avoid rejection and Elain trying to avoid the problems and feelings she needs to face by latching onto the ‘safe’ option.

And even if you are only looking at acosf since it’s the only book classified as adult romance from the beginning, then Az/Gwyn have more interactions throughout the entire story than Elain/Az. Like I guarantee if someone read acosf without reading the previous books, they would think Gwynriel would happen - especially with reading how the bonus chapter ends with Az thinking of Gwyn, not Elain.

I also think it’s interesting that e/riels claim it will happen because of their development, when in fact, the reason they probably won’t is because of their complete lack of development.

Sure, Az/Elain may be a bit farther along in the sexual attraction phase, but that’s it. They’ve been stuck in this limbo for 2 or 3 books? Nothing in their dynamic has changed. At all. That’s not development. They went from being polite acquaintances to polite acquaintances with sexual attraction. There is no indication that any deeper connection between the two has formed. Maybe some romances start off that way, but that’s just not how SJM writes. Even with Nesta and Cassian, there was actual development through acomaf and acowar and acofas before they got together in acosf. Nesta and Cassian go from hating each other, to Nesta revealing one of the most traumatic events of her life to him (the attempted SA), to saving his life because she realized she didn’t want to live without him, to becoming emotionally distant again over winter solstice, etc. You can actually chart the progress of their relationship - if you did with Elain and Az, it would just be a straight horizontal line.

Elain and Lucien have actual relationship development, even if they aren’t quite as far along yet. Their dynamic has shifted - from Elain avoiding him, to seeking him out, both of them going from being wary of the other to inquiring about the other’s wellbeing, etc (I don’t remember all of the elucien moments since it’s been a while since i last read the series, but I distinctly remember noticing changes in their relationship).

Sorry this got so long! But what do you think?

Hello! Sorry this took me a few days to get to! I think I know what discussion sparked this, and I gotta say that people need to understand that genres are a suggestion, not a rule book!

First off, the adult/YA distinction is about audience, not content. There is no "YA genre" or "adult genre". There are books intended for adult readers that could be of multiple genres, and there are books intended for younger readers that could also consist of multiple genres. I read a widely across both audiences and multiple genres.

Anyone who tries to say "but in adult romance this one specific thing always happens!" Well, no. Romance is probably one of the most rule-bound genres out there right now because readers want 1) consent, and 2) a happily ever after or the implication that it is to come. However, there are people currently writing romance, and they call it romance, where even those basic conventions are played with or ignored. Sometimes reader get mad, but that doesn't mean the writer is banned from using the phrase "romance" or else they will be thrown in RWA (Romance Writers of America) jail. There are multiple tropes, character types, story lines, there could be fantasy, it could be contemporary, it could be historical. And back in the day, consent was very dubious in romance, a lot of the time. I remember sneaking my mom's books. My point is that genres change, constantly, because of the stories that writers want to tell, and the stories that readers want to read.

Now granted, I don't read much YA romance because... I'm a grown ass woman. I've outgrown it, tbh. However, I wonder if people are referring to "bait and switch" in the way that sjm changes love interests? Because I haven't seen that as a "feature" of YA romance in particular. In acotar and ToG, the love interests changed not to trick the reader or make us off balance, but to reflect how the characters were growing.

There is literally nothing about romance as a genre that says that a love interest cannot change, and even if that were one of the major tenants of the genre that people expect, writers could still say "fuck this imma do it" because... genre is a guide, not a rule.

And Az/Elain will be resolved without a huge romantic subplot because they really don’t have serious feelings for each other, it’s just following a pattern with the way Azriel attaches to unattainable women to avoid rejection and Elain trying to avoid the problems and feelings she needs to face by latching onto the ‘safe’ option.

THIS.

They went from being polite acquaintances to polite acquaintances with sexual attraction.

AND THIS OMG

You can actually chart the progress of their relationship - if you did with Elain and Az, it would just be a straight horizontal line.

lmaooooo omg I love you

I agree with all of this. I also agree that it would work against the people who originated this argument to say "this ship has existed longer and so that's why people expect it or it should happen, because X genre says so".

1) This is not strictly romance, it's fantasy romance

2) Elucien were mates and a ship in the fandom months before e*riel were so this argument does seem self-defeating

3) There are zero rules that prevent sjm from fucking around with e*riel and then finding out they are poorly suited

4) Even if this were a regular ol' romance, there is no reason why a character can't have multiple partners so long as the HEA is still there or implied, if we're all gonna get up our butts about following romance conventions

5) Adult romance standalones do typically focus on one couple. However, that is not a guarantee. See: genre as a guide. I can think of multiple off the top of my head where an MC is in a relationship with someone else at the beginning of the book, or where the ex is a very recent, not quite dealt-with factor. acotar - I can't believe I have to write this - is not a standalone. Even if this spin-off series is described as following separate couples, it is a series, and the plot and character development don't just sprout out of nowhere in book five or six.

6) Genre theory is a thing, people can look it up! I am tired of typing haha

[everything-laito]

the FBI agent looking at my computer must be so incredibly concerned. Here’s Laito and Cordelia analysis, Part II

Hiya, Corn here! This is Part II of this analysis series! Part one’s here! 

Not getting into the trauma part of it yet. Just explaining abusive power dynamics and how incestuous relationships work. As well as Stockholm syndrome. Lovely! Lovely combo! Fuck!!!

Same trigger warnings as last time still apply!

As always, rant under the cuuuuut!

Ok, from last time, we’ve established the elements that were set in place for Cordelia to do this to Laito, when Laito’s trauma began, and the possible fact that he was groomed as a child for sexual exploitation. Wow. Yay. Amazing. This is so gross!!! Thanks, I hate it!!!! I know I usually cary these topics with just an informational tone but I just can’t with this ;lskfjklsajf But I’m here typing this, you’re here reading this, so let’s just get on with the grossness!

Section 3: Legal Definitions of Incest and Power Dynamics 

Now we’re gonna get into the flesh of the problem, and what we know happened. From last time, and common DL knowledge, Laito was coerced into having sex with Cordelia. I say coerced, rather than forced, because it’s not like Laito seemed to resist it. He seems to “willingly” give Cordelia that. Is dubious consent, consent? Oh fuck no, and dubious or coerced consent shouldn’t even count in here considering it’s straight up incest. Any type of incest, most especially between a parent and a child, is not considered consensual, even if it “technically is.” That’s how it’s handled in a court of law, at least in America (where I’m from and reside in), and I do agree with that morally as well. A “romantic” and sexual relationship between a parent (or adult family member; aunt, grandfather, etc) and a child (is just gross) preys upon the power dynamic between them. This isn’t any consensual BDSM power dynamic (obviously), or a constructive power dynamic in the workplace; it’s just a power dynamic already instilled into the relationship where it is taken advantage of. That’s not just fucked up incest, that’s an example of a toxic relationship from the get go. Also, there’s a power dynamic usually between a parent and child, but that doesn’t mean it’s always toxic. It just needs to be done responsibly, which good parents (or any adult in power) know how to maneuver around it and not take advantage of it for manipulation etc. 

In healthy relationships, you both start on equal ground. It usually never works out if you don’t see the other as an equal, whether you have a predisposed power dynamic at the beginning or not. I’m talking any relationship; family relationships, friendships, romantic, sexual, etc. Although you older folks might know about BDSM and how there’s a “power dynamic” instilled in the relationship, a chosen and consensual “power dynamic” still involves both parties seeing the other one as an equal––intrinsically. It’s just very different than a predisposed power dynamic. That even goes with friendship too! Or any kind of healthy, nontoxic social interaction! Taken directly from Psychology Today, “Shared power creates happy individuals and satisfying interactions.” People need to be on equal ground in order to have a healthy relationship. Which,,,, we know does not happen with Cordelia and Laito (and Laito and Yui for that matter, but that’s during another part of this series). An article I saw during the research of this explains further about how power dynamics can be constructive. This focuses more on the workplace, but it applies to this because it’s looking at the other person as another person (an equal) but uses that predisposed power for encouragement, empowerment, and constructiveness (like a good parent or adult role model would do). I hope this makes sense!

Basically Cordelia is abusing her power in order to do all this to Laito. That’s why grooming would make a lot of sense in this as well, because we know it’s definitely not the first time Cordelia has taken advantage of a power imbalance to her own selfish benefit. That’s why incest isn’t really explained with the same science as pedophilia. I forget if I’ve mentioned it before, but one way pedophilia can occur in a person if their brain was originally biologically wired in a way that sees children as sexual objects. With incest, it could also work like that as well, but it is mainly power abuse, like most sexual exploitation, harassment, assault, etc is. 

Section 4: Incest (I’d make a sweet home Alabama joke but that’s low hanging fruit)

Ok so now that we’ve gone over the legality of incest, and how power dynamics can be taken advantage of, we’re gonna look into the type of incest (yes apparently there are types) that Cordelia and Laito fits into. Also if this already wasn’t clear or anything, hi incest and pedophilia etc are forms of abuse, there is no justifying it at all. It’s abuse, no matter what’s said. I know these are fictional characters but I sometimes see Ayato x Cordelia and Laito x Cordelia etc posts and I kinda just wanna commit heinous crimes whenever I see that. Just the idea of that absolutely sickens me (on top of the abuse shown in DL already). Anyways, after all of that out of the way, let’s go into this. 

Since Laito is biologically 17, I’d say that he’s considered as a child (teenager) by demon world standards. We don’t know his age when Cordelia first physically exploited him, but we do know that his same “teenage” sprite is used during the flashbacks. Since his trauma fits so well with the aftermath definition of parent/child incest, I’m just gonna give y’all information on that. This is also called “child incestuous abuse,” which is also a form of child sexual abuse. 

I learned an interesting factoid researching this, and that is in Japan, the most commonly believed incestuous relationship was between mothers and sons. In the West, we think of fathers/daughters. In Japan, the media covers more on mother/son incestuous acts; while statistically, more father/daughter incestuous acts are taken place. Just something interesting(?) I found, and probably why DL chose that for storytelling too. 

In this Wikipedia article, taken from a scientific paper (I’d take it directly from the source but you need an account to get in and I think you need to pay for it), it says this:

A study of victims of father–daughter incest in the 1970s showed that there were "common features" within families before the occurrence of incest: estrangement between the mother and the daughter, extreme paternal dominance, and reassignment of some of the mother's traditional major family responsibility to the daughter.

Sure, this talks about father/daughter incestuous relationships, but if we take this and reverse most of the roles, it shows Laito’s situation to a T:

Estrangement between Karlheinz and Laito 

Extreme maternal dominance (aka Cordelia being very abusive/manipulative)

Reassignment of some of the parental responsibility to Laito (there’s many examples of “big bro Laito,” and Ayato and Kanato considers that they used Laito as a “sacrifice”––as a “shield” for the both of them. Sure this isn’t explicit parental responsibility shown through Laito but I’d say he acts more like a family member to Ayato and Kanato too)

Section 5: Stockholm syndrome? With parental figures? 

Laito had some interesting situations occur during this whole thing with Cordelia. One of the most infamous scenes from the game (that’s also illustrated in the HDB manga) is a flashback Laito has where he’s locked up, forced to see Cordelia and Richter have sex. He’s appalled by the fact at first, but then attempts to convince himself that he’s into it. However, I won’t get into the effects until the next part. 

I didn’t find much about Stockholm syndrome being in this specific case with incest and kidnapping a child etc. When you look up Stockholm syndrome related to parents you get quite the sexist “article” that definitely mocks the whole Stockholm syndrome thing and makes fun of guys being into Glee and such,,,, so that wasn’t a very helpful article. However, I’m just gonna mish mash and put a lot of concepts that we’ve learned together. But first, a look into Stockholm syndrome.

Stockholm syndrome occurs when an abuse victim develops empathy or even intimate feelings for their abuser or captor. This happens because any bit of kindness the abuser enacts towards their victim is taken so positively, that the victim “forgets” all the negative actions, and focuses on the positive ones. This isn’t some sort of “oh ya gotta think positive!” kind of thing, it’s how abusers get away with their bullshit and how someone can be so trapped in a relationship with them. It’s also called traumatic bonding or victim brainwashing (source). This doesn’t always happen with people who are held hostage, like in Stockholm syndrome’s name origin.

A parent’s influence can be a strong one. Doesn’t even have to be related to by blood. But a figure that is supposed to be nurturing—whether they are or not—still has power over the “child.” He definitely went through Stockholm Syndrome himself with Cordelia, considering the grooming and the “love”/hate relationship he has with Cordelia. I did some more digging, and apparently Stockholm Syndrome can still occur more commonly with sexually abused victims. Which we all know he is. With the possible grooming, on top of the power abuse and sexual abuse, creates an incredibly toxic concoction. Here we go. The (rotten) cherry on top. Directly from my HDB notes, here’s a snippet from his Maniac Prologue: 

Cordelia: Nnn…Hey, Laito. You are a good boy. Laito: …!! Cordelia: Right, Laito? Laito: Yeah, that’s right. I’m…I’m a good boy after all.  ーー Besides, I’m the type of person who only get more aroused from this kind of thing.

(from my notes:) Basically Laito convinces himself to be a “cuckhold.” It’s definitely implied how he just wants approval from Cordelia; this is how this abuse prolongs. 

(Also, if I ever said that Laito was locked up by Cordelia, my bad; it was Karlheinz who gave that order. I’m unsure where I ever said this, but I feel like I said it before, so I’m gonna clarify that right now too, oops! My memory hath failed me.)

Cordelia’s praise effects Laito in such a visceral way that he tries so hard to cope with the trauma in her favor. It’s incredibly messed up. But that’s the defining factor in this. From this, I do believe Laito has Stockholm syndrome on top of all of his issues. 

I think I’m gonna end it here for now. Didn’t expect to be this long, oops. Stay tuned for next time, where I’m gonna go over Laito’s trauma and how he’s been effected by it. Thanks for reading, FBI agent! And oh, you as well, dear reader! 

If you’ve read this far holy fuck I commend you -Corn

[sabraeal]

The Most Perverse Creature in the World, Chapter 9

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

It was a mistake, you realize, to ever think of the prince’s aide as still.

Anyone might look at him now and remark upon the languid ease with which he lounges, his long limbs stretching across the cab in a way that conveys a cavalier relationship with physical space while still not encroaching upon your own. A usual attitude for him to adopt, his neck craned in a way that makes your own ache to peek through the narrow gap between glass and shade.

All is as it should be, you would think, but--

He does not move, not a single muscle, save to breathe. There is no subtle dart of his eyes, no restless twitch of his finger, no mindless hum to disrupt your thoughts. He is utterly motionless; a statue molded out of bronze in the shape of the shadow you know.

Of all the mysteries that spin in your orbit, it is this one that your mind latches to, frowning as the carriage rattles down the lane. He had been fine enough in the bawd house-- friendly, even. Soft way you thought he saved for that young woman of his.

He hasn’t managed to look at you once since you left.

“Ah.” Obi startles, just slightly, gaze darting to your before scurrying away. It’s more than he’s managed the last quarter of an hour. “My lady. You seem...quite thoughtful.”

This is not your most pressing business, but it is the problem most easy to fix; a prince’s aide is a much simpler puzzle than a king. Especially this one.  

“I am,” you agree, settling back against the cushion. “I mislike how little I understand of all this.”

His brows lift. “You mean with the bawd houses, my lady?”

“Yes. No. Both.” Your fist clenches in the crape of your skirt. “His Majesty does nothing without a reason.”

Obi’s mouth curls, amused. “No, my lady. His Majesty does nothing without at least three reasons.”

The laugh that rasps from you is not a pretty thing, as your governess taught you. You’ve fallen far from fashion, but there is no need to stand on propriety with the man you pay to take you to whores. “That is true enough. But that is also what bothers me. If the king does nothing without achieving quorum, then what possible reason does he have to ask me to look into all this?”

Your aide does not rush to answer; he merely settles across from you, face thoughtful, and listens.

“Perhaps he means to extract a favor,” you posit, “after all, there is not a single man on that council who wants me there. Not if I’m digging in all the pockets they leave their coin in.”

“Blackmail.” His shoulders twitch, casual. “Maybe he wants to know who’s spending dill on the side, and thinks all your digging will dredge it up for him.”

“Ha.” You shake your head. “As if I could do a better job than the spies His Majesty already employs. You know as well as I that he asks no question he does not already know the answer to.”

Obi’s mouth hooks into a troublesome smirk. “Maybe His Majesty has a soft spot for outcasts.”

You remember too late that he can not see your dubious glance, not with the cascade of tulle that obscures you, but your silence seems to convey what your face cannot.

“Come on, my lady.” His teeth flash in the shadows. “Didn’t he take a poor widow under his wing?”

You cluck your tongue, derisive. “Izana Wisteria may be a fair king-- fairer than any of his line thus far-- but he is not a soft one. Even considering the poor widow he’s deigned to take notice of.”

He raises a brow. “Should Arleon be concerned about his future plans? Since His Majesty never does something without reason, of course.”

A younger woman might flatter herself with the thought, but you laugh, low and bitter. “The king of Clarines could do far better than to marry a count’s widow, even if Haki Arleon wasn’t the greatest beauty of our age. You are clever, Sir Obi, but you will not convince me that His Majesty could be swayed by something so paltry as sentiment.” You wave your hand. “I’m far too old to be queen anyway.”

His expression crumples into confusion. “Too old? My lady, that’s--” he shakes his head-- “any man could get an heir on you, if he could find his cock to do--.”

His teeth snap shut. “Ah, I mean...never mind, my lady.”

Between the dim of the carriage and the shade of your veil, it is impossible to tell his color, but you would bet your allowance that it was a far pinker shade than it was previously.

You shake yourself. There’s no allowance for you, not anymore, not when all the accounts are in your name. “Are you offering to try, Sir Obi?”

His eyes pulse wide. “Ah, no, that wasn’t-- I didn’t mean--”

“Of course not.” You smirk behind the safety of your veil. “Your lady wouldn’t like that now would she?”

“Haah.” He slouches in his seat like a dropped accordion. “I wonder...”

He may wonder, but you-- you know what you saw in that garden. His body curved toward hers and hers had matched, gaze just as bright and attentive as his own. All they needed was one good push and they’d both fall over this precipice-- and maybe into a bed.

Not that that’s any of your business, oh no.

“Well.” He bolts upright, like his puppeteer jerked his strings. “If he’s not soft for widows and whores, where does that leave us, my lady?”

You frown, peering out the sliver of window behind your shade, watching the cobbles pass. “Taxes.”

“Taxes?” You don’t blame him for sounding so dubious. After all, what windfall could be wrung from whores?

You are a novice in deciphering the delicate weaving of Clarines’ laws, but what little you know points to none. At least, not in helping them; Toshikazu’s laws would reap far more harvest than properly taxing the men who used them.

...Or would they? “I need to know more.”

He blinks. “About the madam?”

“Her, yes.” You stretch your fingers over the window’s sill and wonder how different the world will be when you no longer experience it through a film of lace. “And the girls, and their work. I ask a question to one girl, and when I pose it to another, she refutes the last entirely. I can’t get anything done this way.”

His mouth twitches. “Not even with all your notes?”

“No.” You form the word carefully, so he is fully aware you know his game. “The notes can only show me the gaps, not fill them. I need all the girls together, having the conversation between themselves. But the madam...”

Obi laughs, scrubbing at his neck. “Yeah, she won’t like that one bit. Even getting two to a room gets me the hairy eyeball. Good thing you pay such good money, my lady.”

Your teeth clamp down in a grimace, cheeks flaring beneath lace. Yes, you had known what this might look like, but to hear him put it so baldly--

Not to admit that Arluleon has ever possessed a modicum of a point, but you can see where some of his dire warnings about your reputation may be born. Not that it was any of his business.

“I need to get her out of the house, just for a night.” Your elbow balances on the pane, cradling your chin. “I don’t know how to do it. Or rather,” you admit, chagrined, “I do, but I lack the means.”

He tilts his head, a curious tomcat. “The means?”

“Surely you know she only services the most elite clientele.” When your finger taps against your veil, you feel nothing but the phantom pressure of it. “Or at least she would, if they were not busy with younger girls.”

“And a countess doesn’t make the mark?”

“A countess of a country seat? Never.” You sigh, veil fluttering. “Even if she would consent to service a widow of little consequence, I would need to be with the women.”

“Couldn’t you keep her waiting in your parlor?” he asks, needlessly amused. “Lords do that all the time.”

“Mayu would up and quit my service.” She’s a good girl, and an obedient one, but that would be a shade too far even for a saint. “Could you imagine her keeping that woman at bay for an evening? There would be arsenic in my morning tea, and I wouldn’t even blame her.”

“Ask Master.”

“To keep her in my parlor?”

“To request her company.” His grin shines white in the dim. “I’m sure he would be happy to help.”

You may be a country countess, but you haven’t rolled off any hay wagons. “The prince of Clarines would be quite a flashy lure, but I doubt His Highness would appreciate the madam’s services.”

His mouth tilts, sly. “I wonder...”

“I hardly matters anyway,” you decide, disappointed, “I could remove the madam, but her favorite still remains.”

Obi’s mouth purses into a thoughtful pout. “You think she’s a tattler?”

“So the other girls say.” You peep through the curtain, mind as bustling as the market outside. “She is young, pretty, and entirely the madam’s creature in their opinion. I haven’t yet spoken to her. Sumire.”

“Ah.” His mouth pulls bitterly wide. “Yes. She’s a hard flower to pluck. Your money hasn’t been good enough for it, at least.”

You nod, letting the curtain drop. “I rather doubt my name would get us much of anywhere.”

“She’s meant for finer hands than yours,” Obi agrees. “One of the boys said the madam wouldn’t be happy with anyone who didn’t have His in his title.”

“The girls said she used to be a lord’s mistress,” you tell him absently. “With her so young and so popular, I supposed she would hope lightning would strike twice, only with better prospects.”

He huffs out a laugh. “And why settle for anything less than a crown?”

“A crown,” you murmur, “or someone close to it. Obi--” his eyes widen as you turn, already braced for what is to come-- “why not put it under your own name?”

His jaw goes slack, eyes as wide and bright as coin. “M-me? My lady, I’m...I’m no one.”

“You’re the aide of a prince.” You gesture to the tags that dangle over his uniform. “A man within the royal circle. A catch, by any account.”

He shifts on his bench, shoulders hiked about his ears. “Just a messenger.”

“Sir Obi--”

“No sir, either,” he tells you. “Just Obi.”

You stare. “Surely not. How long have you been in service?”

“Ah...” He grips his shoulder, fingers digging into the top of its blade. “A year and some.”

“Ah, well.” You nod. “It’s only a matter of time. Another year or two and you’ll be a sir, at least.”

He laughs. “I don’t think so, my lady. You don’t give titles to guttersnipe.”

You blink. “Why on earth not? Zakura Shidnote is a baron! The man used to be a bandit.”

Obi chokes. “What?”

“He used to work for the old Count Sui. After he’d been replaced of course.” You’d only met the man once, but even as a child, you’d understood that the man was grossly incompetent. “Nearly killed His Highness, if rumors can be believed.”

It had been all anyone could talk about when you made your debut-- Zakura Shidnote, given a title, as if shoving mulch over manure could keep it all from stinking-- and now, a decade later, there are those who cannot ever recall him being anything different.

“In any case,” you press, not willing to cede the ground you’ve won with your volley, “even without a ‘sir,’ your position within the court would be more than enough to merit an audience.”

He hums, unconvinced.

“Your elevation is not an if but a when.” You have no children, not anymore, but you fold your hands over your lap as you did when you scolded Atoshi. “You would be an investment quite certain to mature.”

“I wonder,” he says in the precise way that means he doesn’t. You are half tempted to grab him by the shoulder, to tell him just how little you do not, but his mouth quirks, eyes lighting as he adds, “But Sir certainly is.”

Your brow furrows. “Sir?”

He waves you off. “Don’t you worry, my lady. I know just the way to get you in to see her.”

[solynaceawrites]

King of Nothing [1]

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: Nanatsu no Taizai | The Seven Deadly Sins Relationship: Estarossa/Original Female Character(s), Estarossa Moth Characters: Estarossa, Original Female Character(s), Moth, Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Romance, Established Relationship, Angst, Drama, Dubious Consent, Violence, Murder, Fantasty, Sex, Rough Sex Chapters: 1/5 co-written by @lickitysplitfic​ Summary: As a trial from her mother, Moth and Estarossa are sent to a kingdom to oversee a peace treaty. Upon arrival, they realize that the new king is a brutal tyrant, and a battle of wits ensues as Moth tries to decided between doing her duty or doing what she thinks is right. Part 5 of the Dark Side of the Moon series.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Moth leans out the window of the carriage with a deep frown. The palace looms before them, shining gold in the sunlight as they draw to a stop. There are a few calls from the footman and driver that are answered by the guard before the gate is slowly lowered with a loud creak.

"Think he's compensating?" Estarossa jokes.

Moth makes a face, about to chide him for such an obvious joke when she looks up. On the tops of the spikes of the gate there are dozens of heads in various states of decomposition. Her mouth drops open in horror as the carriage jerks into motion, and she quickly moves back onto her seat, shutting the curtain tightly.

"What is it?" asks Estarossa.

"This place," she murmurs. "It's awful."

He shrugs. "I don't know. Weather seems nice."

"Rossa," Moth hisses. "Did you not notice? The people are thin, almost starving. Their homes are little more than mud. The children are dirty. There are beggars everywhere."

"True. But we only saw a bit of the kingdom."

Moth rolls her eyes. "Yet the bit we saw has only proven the rumors of how the people are destitute." She wraps her arms around herself. "How can someone rule a kingdom and allow that to continue? How can you call yourself a king while your subjects starve?"

"I don't know. The soldiers seemed fed enough."

She shoots him an unamused look. "This isn't funny."

Estarossa sighs. "You're right, it's not. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, hm? You're here to oversee a peace agreement, not right the wrongs of a powerful monarch."

"He is only human," she scoffs.

"A human with an army," he reminds her. “And we’re not here to pass judgment on how he rules, no matter how much you or I might disagree. Leave them alone and focus on this agreement so we can get back to our lives.”

She bites her tongue, not wanting this to devolve into another round of bickering between them. Neither she nor Estarossa wanted to come here, particularly not when they were planning a simple excursion to the lakeshore to relax for a few days, and that and the fact that they came by boat has left both of them so irritable that simple conversations are leading to heated arguments. Moth sits against the cushions, folding her hands in her lap and pretending that she is in a cozy little cottage, or perhaps next to the lake with a glass of wine and a good book.

Anywhere but here.

When the carriage finally draws to a halt, the footman opens the door and helps her step down. Looking around only fuels her agitation. Everywhere are signs of opulence: the grass is lush and well-watered, the trees and bushes bear fragrant blossoms, and there's even a small gathering of peacocks resting by a little pond. Her lips twitch as she waits for Estarossa to join her, and she does her best to ignore his low whistle.

"He's definitely compensating," Estarossa remarks.

Moth shoots him a glare, but says nothing as she follows the footman inside. In the foyer, he pauses, turning to address them with an apologetic bow. "His Majesty regrets to inform you that he is preoccupied, and will be so until tomorrow. A matter of great importance has arisen that he must tend to."

"Uh-huh." Estarossa frowns. "And what are we to do until he is not . . . preoccupied?"

"There are quarters prepared for you where you may bathe and rest," the footman offers.

Moth glances to the grand doors on the right. "Certainly," she bites out. "Lead the way."

The castle is just as beautiful as she had feared. Moth calculates in her head the cost of so much marble and the people that must be paid to maintain the sparkling cleanliness of the floors and tapestries. Of course, when a king uses slave labor, none of those costs matter. Is that what he's done, she wonders?

Outside of their room stands a man who introduces himself as the steward. "Greetings, sir. I wanted to make sure your quarters are to your liking," he says with a smile, bowing to Estarossa.

Moth waits for him to acknowledge her, and when he doesn't, Estarossa glances down at her. "She's the queen, you know," he says. "Or about-to-be queen. Not me."

The steward makes a face, but then nods at Moth. "Very good. If you'll follow me."

The disrespect makes her skin crawl, but it's not as if she hadn't experienced this before. She decides to ignore the slight as they enter, and once again she is astonished by the room. It is covered in shining wood and marble, a huge fireplace on one wall, separate vanities for both on either side of a huge bed with an intricately carved headboard. Even Estarossa looks a bit impressed, and Moth walks through the room to look out the long, glass-paned windows before spying what looks like to be an even bigger washroom beyond.

"I hope Your Highness is satisfied?"

Moth turns to answer, but the steward is still stubbornly speaking directly to Estarossa. To her annoyance he snorts before gesturing towards the door. "It's great. Send up some wine, will you?"

"Of course." The steward shoots her a contemptuous look before he departs, and Moth, rather childishly, sticks her tongue out at his back.

"They'll never take you seriously if you do that, you know," Estarossa says blandly.

She frowns at him. "They already refuse to take me seriously," she retorts.

"So you want to give them more reasons for it?"

"Oh, excuse me for doing something harmless."

"Moth," he says, exasperated, "it's not harmless when it comes to servants. They know what goes on, even behind their backs. It's their business to. And now the steward has something to take to the king. 'The princess sticks her tongue out like a petulant child,' he'll say, and that will be the end of what little credibility you have here."

"Go blow it out your ass," she says, heading into the washroom. Estarossa laughs behind her, and her lips quirk a bit as she starts to run a bath.

The water isn't nearly warm enough, so Moth must use magic to bring it to a comfortable heat. As she soaks in the tub, she looks around at the intricate carving on the ceiling and the way the stone sparkles in the light. If the king sold even a tenth of the materials in this place he could provide grain for years to his people. So what is the problem? Merely ignorance?

Her skin is wrinkled by the time she reluctantly leaves the bath, not surprised when she finds luxuriously knitted towels for their use. She winds one around her body and heads back into the bedroom to see if their things have arrived, but stops, startled, in the doorway.

There are servants there, a half dozen, laying out an extravagant table of meat, vegetables, and fruit. The mix of smells makes her stomach rumble, but what catches her off guard is the nearly risque uniform of the servant girls. Their robes are little more than that: robes that cling to their bodies, nearly see through, and drape in such a way that Moth is sure at any moment a breast or thigh or any other body part will come spilling out.

She hesitates in the door, gaping at the display. All of them are young—the oldest can't be more than twenty—and pretty, with luscious curves. Concubines, is her first thought, then, Wait, we never heard anything about concubines. But her mind fumbles for another explanation, and when one turns to her with a bow and Moth realizes she can clearly make out her nipples through the fabric, she stops caring about why they're dressed as they are.

"Estarossa," she begins, turning to look at him. He's lounging on the bed, watching the girls unashamedly with hooded eyes, and her confusion gives way to a sting of anger with a pinch of jealousy.

One of the servants approaches her timidly. "My lady," the girl whispers, "allow me to help you dress."

Moth takes a deep breath, forcing herself to smile. "There's no need, but thank you."

"Please," the girl says, and Moth is startled by how close she sounds to tears. "Allow me to help you dress."

Another approaches, pulling her hair back. "Would you prefer this up or down?"

"I . . ."

Moth turns as a third is opening her trunks, another offering tea, another girl rubbing lotion into her skin. "Wait," Moth says, pulling away from their attention. "I can do this myself. I don't need such a fuss."

The servants look at one another in confusion. Moth glances at Estarossa, who looks like he is pretending to be asleep. "Damn it, will you help me?" she hisses.

Estarossa peeks at her out of one eye. "I'm fine here."

"You're an ass," she snaps.

“Just let them do their jobs,” he replies.

Moth heads back into the washroom, followed by the girls, and begrudgingly she lets one comb and braid her hair as the others unpack her things. She chooses a simple dress and allows them to help her into it, but when one goes down on her knees to place her shoes on Moth once again protests. "That's fine," she says, smiling at the girls. "I can take it from here."

"How else can we serve?" one asks, and the others murmur their agreement.

"Really, I'm fine," she smiles. "Would you all like something before you go?"

The servants seem confused, so she walks back to the bedroom. Estarossa is gone, but Moth decides to not bother asking as she moves to the table. There is enough food for a dozen dinners, and she gestures towards it. "You all seem so thin," she says with a small smile. "Can you take some bread for your families? Or some fruit?"

Several of the girls gasp, and three run for the door. "What is it?" Moth asks.

"We . . . we can't . . ."

"Nonsense." Moth smiles warmly and selects a small loaf holding it out to the girl that braided her hair. "Back in Cailleach, my handmaiden is a friend."

The girl shakes her head and steps away. "Okay, fine," Moth mutters, trying to maintain her smile. She moves to where her bag sits on the bed and takes out a small purse, pressing it into the hand of the nearest girl. "There should be enough for all of you," she says. "Will you share with the ones that brought the food in too, and you—"

Moth jumps as the servant gives a blood-curdling scream and runs from the room. The coins scatter on the floor as the others follow, and Moth is left gaping at the open doorway, where Estarossa now appears, leaning on the doorframe. Moth ignores him and moves to the window, peering through the glass at the kingdom below. So much opulence, and yet the servants are afraid of taking food or coin would otherwise go to waste; they are so terrified of it, in fact, that it cements the idea that had formed the moment she had seen the grotesque decorations on the castle gate. This king is a tyrant, cruel and greedy, and nothing good will come of his rule.

Bitterly, she thinks, I could always destroy this place. Surprised by the venom of her own thoughts, she shakes her head, studying the buildings that stretch into the distance. Those closest to the palace have lights shining from their windows and smoke curling from their chimneys, but the farther ones do not, as though someone drew a very clear line in the sand between the wealthy and the poor.

"What's wrong?" he asks, and when she turns she sees him sitting at the table, carefully picking through the heaping trays of food left for them.

"The servants," Moth sighs. "I tried to pay one but she . . . she just ran out of the room."

Estarossa clicks his tongue. "That was foolish of you."

"Why?" she snaps. "I can't pay for a job well done?"

"Servants aren't allowed gifts, my darling. She's probably getting a beating now, because of you," he answers. Moth stiffens at his tone, which is a mild amusement, scowling as he inspects a chocolate covered strawberry.

He takes a bite and then glances over. "And before you get it in your head to go find out, trust me, you will only make it worse. I told you to leave these people alone. They don't want your help."

"I'm beginning to think you're enjoying their suffering," she replies heatedly. "You've chafed against Cailleach's neutrality from the beginning, relying on and railing against it. Does seeing how they starve and bleed for a cruel king bring you joy? Does it scratch the itch you no longer can, away from your own kind?"

Estarossa only laughs. "This isn't how demons behave. Only humans can be this cruel."

Moth folds her arms and looks back out the window. "I can't stand by and let this go on."

There is a long pause as she watches the shadows, trying to find an answer. Her thoughts are interrupted when Estarossa's hands slide down her arms, and his lips press to her neck. He breathes her in deeply and murmurs, "Let's get this job done and go home. The sooner the better."

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Moth sends the servants away the next morning when they arrive, preferring to dress herself. That sets off another round of wailing, which wakes Estarossa up and has him grousing. "I don't know what they want from me!" she exclaims, exasperated when she finally convinces the last to go.

"Just let them do their work," he mutters. He walks to pour himself coffee from the fresh pot left on the table. "Stop getting them in trouble."

"I'm not," she hisses, but she goes to find something to wear, heat on her neck making it difficult to keep her embarrassment hidden.

They head to the great hall together where they have been invited to eat breakfast with the king. Moth tries not to examine the gold trimming on everything, the marble statues and intricate tapestries, the grandeur of the archways, the frescos on the ceilings. It is all too much, she decides, preferring the simple elegance of Cailleach, but even the finery of the palace does not prepare her for the hall.

There is a table long enough to easily sit a hundred. Silk covers it, and it is laden with food from one end to the other; Moth's mouth opens in shock, thinking this would be enough food to feed a village for a week. But there are no other guests, just them, and her stomach turns to think of it all going to waste. She looks around to see if there is a party coming, but the only other person is the king, who sits at the head of the table.

He spies them at the same time, and waves over. "Please, my honored guests, come sit," he says pleasantly. "I would stand, but I cannot at the moment."

Moth frowns at the odd statement as they approach, and they are only a few feet away when she sees why: there are two young ladies kneeling beneath the table, barely out of maidenhood, who eagerly service his cock with their mouths. "Won't you sit and break your fast with me?" the king grins, gesturing at the table.

Moth isn't even sure what the emotion that roils within her is. Estarossa must, because he takes her elbow and says something she cannot hear through the ringing of her ears to the king before helping her into her seat. Something nudges her beneath the table. One of the girls? Her suspicion is confirmed when it moves quickly away, as if afraid she will draw attention to a perceived slight.

The king is speaking—not to her, but to Estarossa—though it sounds muffled, like she has dunked her head underwater. I'll kill him, she thinks viciously, and Estarossa's eyes snap to hers as he gives a subtle shake of his head, unnoticed by their host. "Lady Alessa," the king says warmly. "I have heard much of Cailleach and your people. Tell me, are the rumors true?"

Moth forces herself to appear cordially interested. "Which rumors, Your Grace?"

"That you seduced a goddess and left him dead on the altar in favor of your demon lover."

The statement is so absurd she is struck dumb for a moment. Beside her, Estarossa bursts into laughter, his hand on her knee telling her just how fake his reaction is. "Moth, you did not tell me you cared so much as to kill a goddess for me," he laughs.

"Moth?" The king’s eyes go up as he studies her, and she swallows thickly when she sees him adjust in his seat. 

"My childhood name," she says. "My consort uses it as a term of endearment."

The king smiles. He leans his elbows on the table and presses his lips to his folded hands. For a moment his eyes close, and a gasp beneath the table tells Moth all she needs to know. "Moth," he sighs, his expression pure satisfaction. "I like it."

A shiver of revulsion goes up her spine. Had he thought of her? She hopes not; the way Estarossa's fingers dig into her dress tells her that he's had the same thought, and she wonders if his tenseness stems from jealousy or something else. "You may use it, if it pleases you," she says after a moment. "My closest friends and allies do."

"I'm glad." The king sits back in his chair and snaps his fingers. The two girls quickly scurry out from under the table, both bowing deeply before hurrying from the room. "Won't you eat something?" he asks, again gesturing to the spread, as if nothing had happened.

"I'm not particularly hungry," Moth answers.

The king nods. "I imagine Cailleach must be very different, and such rich and succulent food is unsettling for a clan that eats nothing but roots and sticks."

"What?!" Moth cries.

The king laughs and shakes his head. "Just a little joke! And an unfunny one, I see. I hope I did not offend you?" He tilts his head with a smile. "You are honored guests. Just say the word and anything you want you will receive, I put my life on it."

She and Estarossa share a glance, and what she sees there has her doing her best to dissuade him through their bond. But she finds it closed, and her eyes widen when he says quite casually, "If you have anymore like that, I would appreciate their company while bathing."

The king pauses for a moment before erupting into another of those laughs that set Moth's teeth on edge. "I would hate to insult our fair Moth."

"No insult," Estarossa replies lazily. "She allows me a mortal woman or two when I have a craving for them. I can't devour her soul, after all."

Chewing thoughtfully, the king nods and shifts his attention to Moth. "And you, fair bird? Shall I send some pretty things your way, as well?"

"I am not here for pleasure, Your Grace," she says through her teeth, trying her best to sound normal. "I want to focus on the negotiations."

"Of course," he says. "I understand completely. I've arranged for my advisors to be here tomorrow at noon, and we'll begin arguments then to decide the terms of their surrender. The rebel leaders will be escorted here in a few days. Will that suit you?"

"More than." Moth does not fully understand Estarossa's game, or what he hopes to accomplish, but she can play one of her own. With a sigh, she reaches up to loosen the collar of her dress so that it exposes the column of her neck and the sweep of her collar, fanning herself with one hand. "Your kingdom is truly lovely, Your Grace, but I'm afraid I'm far more suited to colder climes. It's why I chose Prince Estarossa, you see. A warm body for cold nights."

"Ah, you do not fool me, my lady!" he teases, shaking a finger at her. "Anyone can see how very much in love you are. But it is so unusual for a witch and a demon to find such happiness. And killing a goddess for it, no less!"

"I didn't kill a goddess," she mutters.

The king frowns. "My mistake then. You certainly can never tell with rumors." He taps his lip thoughtfully. "So many nasty rumors go around about people. Especially those of us who must rule. I'm sure there are any number of stories out there about me, for instance. I shudder to think what atrocities are laid at my feet."

"I'm sure that while they may be vocal, any who dislike you are few." The lie tastes like bitter medicine in her throat despite how light she keeps her voice. "Simply look at your home! Those who serve you are pleased to do so, and eager for it, I imagine."

"I take care of my people," he replies earnestly, placing a hand on his heart. "Their welfare is my only concern. It's why I overthrew the old king, who was cruel and destructive in his old age. The mind of the elderly can warp, and his had rotted long ago."

Moth presses her lips together. "If your people are so pleased, it's a wonder there are any rebels at all."

The king sighs loudly. "Jealousy, insanity, some are simply anarchists. You cannot reason with them any more than you can reason with a dog. They must be trained. Which reminds me," He continues, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair, "I understand that your servants displeased you. I'll have them taken care of immediately and new ones dispatched this evening. I have no tolerance for servants who cannot do their duties faithfully."

Estarossa sighs next to her, no doubt expecting an outburst from her. But Moth merely shakes her head, a pleasant smile firmly in place. "I was not displeased, Your Grace, rather . . . seeking a bit of privacy with my consort, if you understand."

His gaze is sharp on hers, his smile pleasant but not reaching his eyes. "Even more reason for them to be disciplined," the king replies. "They must anticipate the needs of their masters."

Before she can say anything, Estarossa chuckles. "If it does not offend, send them to us tonight. There are certain . . . acts that she prefers to watch rather than participate in, and those acts can be used as punishment in their own way."

Moth shoots him a glance, trying to reach him through the bond again, but Estarossa ignores her. Meanwhile the king erupts into laughter again. "I know we are going to get along so well!" he cries.

Moth takes a deep breath as he stands. "If you'll excuse me, I must go and see to my appointments before our meeting," the king says. Estarossa stands as he gives a respectful nod and walks out, but Moth stays seated, her hands balled into tight fists as she watches him go and fights the urge to send a dozen daggers behind him.

Once the door is closed and they are alone, Estarossa reaches for an apple, drawing a knife from within his coat to slice it. "An interesting fellow," he muses, more to himself than to her. "Would you like some?"

"I'm going to throttle you," she replies pleasantly.

He gives her a sideways look before shrugging. "Suit yourself. They're perfectly ripe, though. Be a shame to let them go to waste."

"Are you really going to—"

"Don't be ridiculous," he says, cutting her off harshly. "And don't insult me by asking that question."

Moth sighs and slumps in her chair. "I can't do this. I can't make nice like this."

"You don't have to," he replies. "I'll keep him flattered. You keep him guessing."

"Keep him guessing about what?" she gestures around them vaguely. "His head is full of rumors, he has girls suck him off while he eats. I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to keep him 'guessing' on."

"Because you're blind," he says matter-of-factly. "You always have been. Mortal men fall at your feet, and you think they've only tripped."

Moth snorts. "They're clumsy."

"Sometimes I think you must be intentionally playing naive, others I think you genuinely might be." She gapes at him as he pops a slice of apple into his mouth, closing his eyes with a hum. "Delicious."

"You're impossible," she huffs, standing to go.

Estarossa grabs her by the wrist and presses a kiss to her palm. "Perhaps," he grins, stroking his index finger along her skin. "But you love me."

Moth snorts and tugs her hand away. "I need some air," she says. "Try not to eat too many maidens while I'm on a walk, hm?"

"I'll come with you," he says, wiping his hands on a napkin, but Moth presses her hand to his shoulder. "I could use a minute to think," she says. "I'll be out on the terrace, within shouting distance. I promise."

He studies her for a moment, and then he settles back into his seat, his gaze softening. "Be careful."

With a nod, she turns and heads for the large glass doors to the back of the room. They open easily under her touch, the well-greased hinges giving not even a whisper of protest, and latch quietly back into place once she's stepped through them onto the terrace. Made of the same stone as the rest of the castle, the walkway has been decorated with potted shrubs and marble figures, and the view from it is stunning; it doesn't particularly seem to end in either direction, and Moth decides to go left, wondering if it wraps around the entirety of the castle as she paces and thinks.

It must, because mere minutes later she hears the king call her name. Breaking away from her running list of questions, she looks away from the mountains to her right as he approaches, a broad smile on his face. "Fair Moth!" he says jovially. "Good, good. I was hoping for some company on my stroll. Though I'm afraid I must ask where your demon has gotten off to?"

"Having a snack," she replies sarcastically. "I should be getting back—"

"Then allow me to accompany you," he says, holding out an arm.

Moth glances at it before squaring her eyes at him. "I'm afraid it would not be proper to be escorted by anyone other than my bonded consort," she says coolly.

The king barely masks his displeasure. "Then I suppose I will walk, and you will walk, and if some words are spoken aloud, would that be all right? I would hate to offend the Witch Clan's superstitions." 

The word superstitions makes her hackles rise, and she barely keeps her pleasant expression in place. Something must feel the same way, because there's a quiet echo of a snarl that sends a chill up her spine. "But of course." Hoping that she comes across as genuine, she adds, "I meant no offense, Your Grace. I'm afraid my . . . Well, I was lost in thought and you startled me, and I reacted poorly. I hope we can put it behind us?"

"That depends on you." Moth raises her brows, but he does not offer more, only extending his hand to gesture her ahead.

They walk about a foot apart, his hands clasped behind his back as Moth keeps hers to her sides. "What is it you want, Your Grace?" she asks.

"Only to be treated fairly, Your Highness," he replies. "You see for yourself how the kingdom is thriving. I wager there is nowhere in Britannia as glorious as this palace. This kingdom will rival the Goddess and Demon Clans if I have my way. But that won't happen if my policies are undone because of a misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding?"

The king halts, turning to face her. "Yes. While I may jest about the rumors I have heard of you and your people, I do understand your position. The Witch Clan has always been the one to resolve disputes that the other clans cannot, whether it be ending wars or," his lips twitch slightly, "investigating the rumored cruelty of a king."

Moth raises her chin. "I know my role. I am not here as a judge, simply a mediator."

"That is reassuring," he replies. "My methods may not be the same as yours, but our people are not the same. Our histories are not the same. Our clans are not the same."

"They may not be the same, but don't we feel the same?" Moth argues. "Humans, witches, fairies, giants, demons, goddesses . . . We all want peace. We feel pain and happiness, hunger and pain, joy and tenderness. Our ways may be different but we are not so different as you assume."

The king snorts. "As you said, you are here as a mediator to negotiate the end of this war. I hope you keep that in mind during your stay. Moving away from your sworn task will surely make things . . . complicated, wouldn't you agree?"

It's a not so subtle threat, and one that she would, under normal circumstances, have no qualms about rising to. Human arrogance has a tendency to give way to terror when faced with death, she has found, and mortal bodies break very easily. But she thinks of Estarossa's warnings, and forces herself to breathe through her nose to quell as much of her rage as she can. "I would," she replies. "My only concern here is to smooth your transition and help bring peace."

"Good." They resume walking, but he stands much closer than before, so that she is uncomfortably aware of him. "If you find yourself needing company while your demon is preoccupied tonight," he murmurs, "You may seek out whoever you desire. None would deny you."

"I would never do that," she answers sharply.

The king snorts, and she swears she can feel him touch her hip, but when she turns her head his hand is once more behind her back. "Interesting thing to know about witches," he muses. "I had no idea that the men could fuck whomever they wanted while the women were subservient. I had thought having a queen would put the women in charge."

Moth is debating the merits of simply pushing him off of the terrace when Estarossa appears, his expression of concern quickly smoothing away into pleasantness. "There you are," he says. "I was beginning to think you'd grown tired of me."

"Prince Estarossa!" the king beams. "Perhaps you can answer this question for me, as it seems our lovely Moth can not or will not. Is it subservience to you that keeps her from seeking the pleasures she desires, or is it a lack of interest?"

Moth's mouth opens in shock, but what truly surprises her is when he looks as though he is thinking. "I would have to say it's my giant cock," Estarossa replies.

The king dissolves into peals of laughter, and Estarossa winks at her as he is distracted. "Let's go in and have a drink, demon," the king says. "I want to hear more about your clan now that I've learned so much about the witches. We have a bit of time before the meeting."

"But of course." Estarossa moves to her, offering an arm that she takes. When she reaches down the bond, She finds him this time, but the crack is small, as though it's only there to ease her worries.

As they walk, the king points out the different buildings in the distance, the entrance to the mines, his tone indifferent. Moth says nothing, merely listening, allowing Estarossa to offer what replies he wishes while deciding on her next course of action. The king is already suspicious. Perhaps not so much of Estarossa, who seems perfectly comfortable acting like a lech and scoundrel, but of her for certain. Meaning more secrecy. Should she play the foolish princess?

The door opens and a messenger walks in, handing a note to the king with a deep bow. He smiles when he reads it and then stands. "I must beg your leave, my queen," he says. "I have something to attend to right away. I will see you at our meeting."

"Of course."

As soon as he is gone, Moth stands and stalks for the hallway. Estarossa is on her heels, but before she can exit he pulls her by the arm. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” she confesses. “To scream at something.”

"Every time you rise to his bait, whether it be a rumor that he creates or an offer for sex, you give him more ways to undermine you, to control you."

Moth wrenches away from him. "We're leaving then. I won't let him do this."

Estarossa laughs. "We're not leaving. We're not going back to Cailleach and explaining to Nemain how this king got the better of you." He steps up to her and points a finger, tapping her forehead. "You better start thinking, Moth. Otherwise you'll be under that table before you even realize what's happened."

She gives a growl of frustration and pushes past him again, heading back for their room. Usually when Moth visits a kingdom she enjoys the tours, seeing new places, meeting people. But what would be the point here? Everything is upside down, and everyone is either miserable or fake.

She spends some time writing, which normally helps Moth organize her thoughts and get her frustrations out on paper. But nothing seems to work, and every scenario she can think of, from killing the king herself to offering the rebels her support feels wrong. She needs to know more, but the thought of walking around or talking more with the king makes her stomach churn. Above all, she just wants to go home.

Estarossa appears just before dinnertime. Moth looks up from where she sits on the bed, trying to read but unable to concentrate. “I went to the village,” he says before she asks. “The tavern has shit for ale. Let’s get out of here.”

"Until peace is here, we can't." Her voice is hard, bitter with anger and disappointment, and she scowls, unamused with his joking. "And peace will not come. The people will continue to suffer, wars will be fought, blood will be spilled. When the next king comes, if he's like this one, the cycle will continue. We never should have come here in the first place. That mortal has no interest in anything to do with me unless it involves having me in his bed."

Estarossa laughs as he slides up next to her, nuzzling her ear. "Probably."

"You think that's funny?" she snaps.

"Not at all. I feel sorry for him." His lips travel to her neck, leaving a trail of kisses. "He has no idea just how very stubborn you are."

Moth chooses to ignore his mouth on her skin. "I am finding myself to be very tired of men. Quarrelsome, bickering fools who think with their cocks and believe that having one makes them superior."

"You are absolutely right." His lips are at her jaw now, and his hands move to her hips to jerk her onto his lap. "Luckily for me, I can't be counted among them because I serve my queen."

"You certainly think like the rest of them," she says dryly. Moth climbs off of him, ignoring his protest and heading to the vanity, where she sits to brush her hair. A servant had already done it, but Moth needs something to do with her hands.

Or a king will die by them, neutrality be damned.

"Have I ever told you the tale of the Sage?" she asks.

The sound of the bed creaking tells her that Estarossa has shifted, and the tightness of his voice when he replies, "No," tells her that she's irritated him.

"Eons ago, the Sage served a King. The King was a cruel, greedy miser, but the mask he wore in public was one of a doting, compassionate man. Only the Sage and the King's wife knew of his true nature, and they despaired the day he finally turned on his people." Moth sets the brush down and starts to braid. "So, they hatched a plot. The Queen, for that was what she was, was given a knife by the Sage, coated in the vilest poison she knew of. That night, as the King fucked her, she drove it deeply into his chest."

She pauses, taking a deep breath. "But then, needing a criminal to blame, she turned on the Sage, blinding her with that same knife before banning her from the kingdom. As she left, the Sage cursed her. All of her children would be monsters in mortal guise, just as their father had been."

Estarossa chuckles darkly. "I can't wait until we have children. You have such lovely bedtime stories."

Moth shoots him a look over her shoulder. "Why can't you support me in this? I know these people are helpless, but I want to do something!"

His eyes go darker, and she feels the swirl of his magic from across the room. There is also something in their bond, something sharp, as if he is tugging to get her full attention. "I'm here to protect you," he says carefully. "to keep you alive, to give my life for yours if I must. Not for these people. You are my life. Not a kingdom too stupid to know it is dying by its own hand."

She does not know if the fury that blinds her suddenly is directed at him, herself, her mother for sending them here, the king, or all of them. What she does know, a split second too late, is that she has teetered too closely to hatred. While Estarossa's decree cannot drain her like it does him thanks to the protection their bond gives them from each other, it still makes her nauseous, and the room spins as she puts her head in her hands.

"This place will ruin us," she says, her voice choked. "Even if we survive it, I will hate you for refusing to help them."

He is at her side in an instant, scooping her up and carrying her to the bed. Moth wants to fight him but feels too weak, turning her face away when he lays her against the soft pillows. A moment later he presses a cold rag to her forehead, and it is soothing as the nausea fades. "I love you, Moth," he says quietly. "I hate to see you suffer."

"I hate to see others suffer," she whispers.

"I know. It is a part of you I admire most." Moth glances at him as he presses the cloth to her cheek. "You possess more than this king. You have a job to do, but you do have the power to change things, even if it's not the way you want. Use the negotiations to expose what you can, and craft agreements to ease their pain. If anyone can do it, it's you."

She has nothing to say to that. Estarossa places the rag onto the table next to her before removing his shirt and trousers, holding her tightly once he has settled behind her in the bed. He murmurs quietly to her until he falls asleep, but despite the warmth of him and the steady lull of his breathing, rest eludes her. Her mind is too awake, too aware. Estarossa had called her a wolf earlier, a reminder of her place as a soldier, but what he does not know—or does not want to see in his belief that there is little darkness to her at all—is that she has muzzled herself here.

Had she come alone, without him, she would have simply done what witches always do to those who torture the less fortunate. The king’s heart carved out, his eyes placed into a box and given to the next in line as a reminder of what could befall them one day. Fear, to keep the peace, because that, too, is a form of neutrality, a little rebellion against the Nameless God's edict that he either allows or does not care about.

Yet Estarossa has also called her a fox: wily, clever, quick. and Moth knows that is what he wants her to be now. Immovable, unshakeable, working slyly behind the scenes to ensure the best possible outcome for this kingdom. But how?

[douchebagbrainwaves]

IT'S CHARISMA, 372

Certainly it can be launched. That's what you're addicted to.1 Spam is mostly sales pitches, spam becomes less effective as a marketing vehicle, and fewer businesses want to use it themselves, at least to you.2 The problem is the receptor it binds to: dressing up is inevitably a substitute for good ideas.3 I'll start by telling you something you don't have to explain why. But you know the ideas are out there.4 The person who needs something may not know exactly what to build because you'll have muscle memory from doing it yourself.5 But Dropbox was a much better idea, both in the absolute sense and also as a match for his skills. For coming up with startup ideas on demand. So you have two choices about the shape of hole you start with. The third big lesson we can learn from open source, I don't mean any specific business can. Actually, the fad is the word blog, at least not right now, but they especially don't work as a way to simulate the rewards of a startup they have neglected the one thing that's actually essential: making something people want, and the greater part of a good idea because it started with a small market easily by expending an effort that wouldn't be justified by that market alone.

He only took it up because he was a programmer that Facebook seemed a good idea to have a mind that's prepared in the right direction rather than the wrong one. I've described is near zero. Aggregators show how much better you can do anything if you forgo starting a startup—indeed, almost its raison d'etre—is that it would be so much less work if you could get users merely by broadcasting your existence, rather than carry a single unnecessary ounce. Was there some kind of salesperson. Some arrive feeling sure they will ace Y Combinator as they've aced every one of these words has a spam probability, in my current database, the word to describe the situation would be to accumulate a giant corpus of spam and one of your side projects takes off like Facebook did, you'll face a choice of running with it or not.6 Stripe is one of the keys to retaining their monopoly.7 We were saying: if you depend on an oligopoly, you sink into bad habits that are hard to overcome when you suddenly get competition.

I do before x? Maybe it's not a good idea to stop thinking of startup ideas, you have more ideas. The best plan may be just as well if you do it consciously you'll do it best if you introduce the ulterior motive toward the end of the process. Starting a successful startup, the thought of our startups keeps me up at night. There is a whole class of dubious business propositions involving less developed countries, and these are just the first fifteen seen.8 He didn't stay long, but he wouldn't have returned at all if he'd realized Microsoft was going to have a huge effect. And they know the same about spam, including the headers.9 That's what was killing them. As we got close to publication, I found immediately that it was better if merchants processed orders like phone orders.

Well, math will give you more options to choose your life's work from.10 Fouls happen. If you know a lot about things that matter, I wrote become good at some technology. 84421706 same 0. 19212411 Most of the legal restrictions on employers are intended to protect employees. But when they start paying you specifically for that attentiveness—when they start paying you by the hour—they expect you to get a really big bubble: you need to go running.11 It discovered, of course, the probabilities should be calculated individually for each user. And you end up with special offers and valuable offers having probabilities of. 06080265 prices 0. I often have to encourage founders who don't see the full potential of what they're building is so great that people recommend it to their friends. I think, is to step onto an orthogonal vector.12 A startup just starting out can't expect to excavate that much volume.13

And yet have you ever seen a Google ad? 9889 and. Think about what you have to do is give them a share of it. Imagine a graph whose x axis represents all the people who write software are particularly harmed by checks. Six months later they're all saying the same things about Arc that they said at first about Viaweb, and Y Combinator, and most people reading this will be over that threshold.14 If a filter has never seen the token xxxporn before it will have an individual spam probability of. As day jobs go, it's pretty sweet.15

If the present range of productivity is 0 to 100, introducing a multiple of 10 increases the range from 0 to 1000. We assumed his logo would deter any actual customers, but it did not. Even colocating servers seemed too risky, considering how often things went wrong with them. You build something, make it available, and if you can make it happen. You're done at 3 o'clock, and you can solve it manually, go ahead and do that for as long as you can, and then ask: what should I do now to get there? When one looks over these trends, is there any overall theme?16 Good ones, anyway. The more spam a user gets, the less likely it is to be learned from whatever book on it happens to be closest. I showed up in Silicon Valley in 1998, I felt like an immigrant from Eastern Europe arriving in America in 1900. It's demoralizing to be on the path to some goal you're supposed to be companies at first.

Yes and no. The malaise you feel is the same. Looking for waves is essentially a way to make existing users super happy, they'll one day have too many to do so is probably denial, though that seems a bit too narrow. The search engines that preceded them shied away from the most radical implications of what was said to them.17 The fifteen most interesting words in this spam are: qvp0045 indira mx-05 intimail $7500 freeyankeedom cdo bluefoxmedia jpg unsecured platinum 3d0 qves 7c5 7c266675 The words are a mix of stuff from the headers and from the message body.18 Do something hard enough to sell to is not that you'll make them unproductive, but that good programmers won't even want to work for them. Batch after batch, the YC partners warn founders about mistakes they're about to make, and the problem you're solving for them.19

Notes

I realize I'm going to kill. Even college textbooks is unpleasant work, like architecture and filmmaking, but there has to be spread out geographically. Most explicitly benevolent projects don't hold themselves sufficiently accountable. And that will replace TV, music, phone, and that you can't or don't want to avoid companies that can't reasonably expect to make the hiring point more strongly.

Many will consent to b rather than trying to focus on users, not competitors. Do College English 28 1966-67, pp. Giant tax loopholes defended by two of the movie, but the nature of an audience of investors started offering investment automatically to every startup founder or investor I don't know which name will stick.

If you try to go behind the rapacious one. Put rice in rice cooker.

Something similar happens with suburbs. Perhaps the most important factor in the mid 20th century.

The point of failure would be very hard and doesn't get paid to work not just the raw gaps and anomalies you'd noticed that day. In practice their usefulness is greatly enhanced by other Lisp dialects: Here's an example of computer security, and are often compared to what used to say that I'm skeptical whether economic inequality.

Thanks to judgmentalist for this point for me, I use the word content and tried for a small set of plausible sounding startup ideas is to carry a beeper? If Congress passes the founder visa in a time. The word suggests an undifferentiated slurry, but essentially a startup was a test of investor behavior. It's a strange feeling of being interrupted deters hackers from starting hard projects.

Which is not so good. If you're doing something that doesn't seem an impossible hope.

Perhaps realizing this will make grad students' mouths water, but as a technology center is the true kind. Not in New York the center of gravity of the 1929 crash.

They shut down a few months later Google paid 1. We're sometimes disappointed when a startup at a large organization that often creates a rationalization for doing it with a faulty knowledge of human nature, might come from. That can be done at a time.

E-Mail. But we invest in a domain is for sale. University Bloomington 1868-1970. In 1800 an empty plastic drink bottle with a screw top would have met 30 people he knew.

Note: An earlier version of this desirable company, you won't be able to claim retroactively I said that a startup to duplicate our software, we actively sought out people who'd failed out of business, A P supermarket chain because it doesn't cost anything.

Ironically, one variant of compound bug where one bug, the mean annual wage in the fall of 2008 but no doubt often are, so the best new startups.

Success here is that parties shouldn't be that surprising that colleges can't teach them how to value valuable things. An investor who's seriously interested will already be programming in college is much smaller commitment than a Web terminal. Yahoo was their customer. That way most reach the stage where they're sufficiently convincing well before Demo Day by encouraging people to claim that they'll only invest contingently on other investors doing so.

I swapped them to act. I have about thirty friends whose opinions I care about.

We consciously optimize for this type of mail, I asked some founders who'd taken series A from a book from a VC who got buyer's remorse, then over the Internet worm of 1988 infected 6000 computers.

Mueller, Friedrich M. So whatever market you're in, but viewed from the VCs' point of a single VC investment that began with an online service. 2%. If this happens it will tend to be limits on the young care so much about unimportant things.

Some introductions to other knowledge. You should probably be multiple blacklists. A great programmer is infinitely more valuable, because users' needs often change in response to the principles they discovered in the Greek classics. Which helps explain why there are some good proposals too.

Ed. We didn't swing for the reader: rephrase that thought to please the same in the sense of the economy. Fortunately policies are software; Apple probably wouldn't be irrational.

I was insane—they could bring no assets with them. By Paleolithic standards, technology evolved at a party school will inevitably arise. In fact, if you did.

Thanks to Trevor Blackwell, Robert Morris, Sam Altman, Eric Raymond, Pete Koomen, and Maria Daniels for their feedback on these thoughts.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Biting Off More Than You Can Chew; part 10

Summary: Ugh, Rus must be coming down with something

Note: I am on fire this week, so here is an update for my heat story! Finally!

Tags: heatfic, dubious consent, NSFW, frenemies to lovers, mates, first time, more if I think of them

PLEASE READ THE TAGS: This is a Heat story, so there are going to be issues of consent. I don’t do partner rape, nope, but hey, I want to be straight with y’all. I like heatfics personally, but I understand how they can be troubling for some people. So there it is.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Read Chapter 10 on AO3 

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

The next morning Rus wasn’t so sure the temperature problem was with the thermostat. He woke up to bones that felt gummy with sweat, his joints aching. Even his mattress was damp, the sheets tinged orange and Rus groaned as he struggled free of the covers.

Well, wasn’t this a piss syrup on top of his shit sundae of a month. After everything else that went down, he was getting sick on top of it. Probably all that stress was getting to him and his low HP pretty much guaranteed he took every little germ he ever met home for a visit. Whatever was wrong, it wasn’t bad enough yet to keep him in bed for an extended vacation, so he may as well get up.

The light creeping through the curtains was bright enough to tell him that Blue let him sleep in for once and that only made him feel worse. After bouncing his brother off the front steps yesterday, the least he could do was manage his own sentry duty.

Rus hauled himself off to the shower, letting lukewarm water wash away that uncomfortable stickiness. He wandered back to his room in only a towel without a single scolding or even a good morning, so Blue probably already left for the day. Most of his clothes were balled up in a corner of the room, but there were a couple of clean hoodies hanging in the closet and Rus slipped one on, breathing in the freshness of laundry soap. Normally, he didn’t give much of a shit, but if it was bad enough that Blue bitched at him, it was time to give all his clothes a good scrub.

That could wait for tonight when he was off-duty, and Rus finished dressing to head downstairs. Coffee was on his mind, black as the interior of his skull, and with enough sugar to turn it to slush.

Downstairs, he frowned at the splintered jamb on the kitchen door. He ran a finger over the damaged wood, taking in the gouges left by bone. Damn, his brother must've been losing his shit listening through the door and it wasn't like Rus could blame him. If he'd been on this side listening to Blue whining like he had, there wouldn’t be a door left.

On the table was a covered plate, left by his brother, and Rus lifted the cover to check out what awesome breakfast was waiting for him. Soft-yolk eggs and browned sausages, not quite cooled to the point of being rubbery, and toast dripping with melted honey butter. Tasty goodness and there wasn’t a reason that the sight of it should make his magic lurch with nausea. He dropped the cover with a clatter and turned away, covering his mouth with one hand as he struggled not to puke on his brother’s nice, clean floor. What the fuck, not ten seconds ago breakfast sounded a treat and now…?

Okay, definitely coming down with something.

Coffee still seemed like it was on the table and Rus poured himself a cup, but he kept the sugar to only a couple spoonfuls. It didn’t exactly settle his magic, but he didn’t feel like wrecking his perfectly nice sneakers anymore, so he supposed that was something.

He sipped it gingerly, considering. If he went back to bed, Blue might be irritated at first, but he’d get over it pretty quick once he found out Rus was sick. On the other hand, he didn’t feel that bad, and if Blue thought he was getting a bug, he could look forward to about a week of his bro fussing over him, playing nursemaid and filling him up with clear fluids and sympathy. That was always great when he was sick, not so much when he was feeling better and ready to hit the streets again.

By the time he went for a second cup, he’d made a decision. Try to hit up his sentry station for his shift and if he still felt shit by the end, he’d let Blue in on the fact that they were about to get hit with some germy visitors. That was the plan and he was gonna stick to it.

Probably.

Rus wandered outside and directly into a shortcut, stepping out by the rickety folding chair at his sentry station. He plopped into it, propping up his untied sneakers on the ledge. If there were any Humans thinking of showing up in the Underground, he hoped they’d wait until next week because for today? Rus wasn’t up to meeting any new ‘friends’.

~~*~~

Hot. He was so hot, so fucking hot, and he ached, bone deep ache, a niggling itch that started in his soul and twined down between his legs, begging to be scratched. Not by himself, no, just thinking about jerking off made him cringe. He needed something (someone) something else, he needed, he needed—

“Papy!”

His brother’s indignant cry startled Rus so much he nearly fell out of his chair, wobbling ominously until he caught his balance.

“huh?” Rus said muzzily. He blinked hard, wincing. The artificial light seeming painfully bright this morning. Or maybe more like past noon given his brother’s outraged look. He was about to ask, trying to get past the sticky, clotted mass that was currently his mind, but Blue didn’t stop, ranting on.

“Sleeping on duty, honestly! You didn’t even notice me coming up, how do you expect to catch a Human that way?”

“i don’t…uh…” There was supposed to be a pun of some sort that went there, just to see his brother howl in outrage even as he tried not to laugh. But all his thoughts were gluey, stuck on the fact that he was too damn hot. Rus pushed down his hood, exposing his skull to the chilly Snowdin air. Normally he didn’t exactly mind the cold, but it didn’t usually feel like such a glorious relief. It made him want to yank up his shirt, let all that cold air in to mingle around his ribs, and one of his hands actually twitched towards his shirt hem. He managed to wake up a little more before he got that far to find Blue had fallen silent and was staring at him with some concern.

“Are you all right?” Blue asked finally. The stars of his eye lights faded down into pale circles, rounded and bland.

“yeah, why?” Rus said distractedly. If only it wasn’t so fucking hot—

Blue reached out and Rus felt him swipe a finger down his skull, stared in bewilderment as Blue showed him the streak of orange on his glove’s fingertip. “Because you’re sweating terribly. Are you feeling all right?”

Rus wasn’t exactly sure how to answer that one. With his hood down, he felt a little better, that constricting fever easing up a little. He didn’t feel bad, he felt weird, fuck, wasn’t that just his luck? Probably catching the Spotted Monster flu or something.

“yeah,” Rus said slowly, still not sure if it was the truth. “i…think so? i was having a weird dream, maybe i didn’t sleep so good last night.”

“Why don’t you head home?” Blue said, with unexpected gentleness. “Do you want me to go with you?” He started to help Rus up and paused, a fleeting expression of disgust crossing his face. "Papy," Blue said exasperatedly, “did you put on the same sweatshirt as before?"

"no," Rus said, frowning. Yeah, most’ve his sweatshirts looked about the same, but he was sure he hadn’t. "got this one fresh from the closet."

"Maybe they weren't quite dry when I hung them up?" Blue waved a hand in front of his face. "I've never smelled such awful mildew, you can't smell that?"

Rus pulled up the front of his sweatshirt and gave it a good whiff. Soap, maybe a hint of sweetness from his sweat. Not mildew, though, or whatever Blue thought it was. “smells fine to me.”

“Well, that’s proof right there that you’re ill, brother,” Blue said dryly. “Go home and take a proper nap.”

“thanks, bro,” Rus said gratefully. Yeah, he was about ready for whatever coddling Blue felt like handing over. Before he headed out, he looped an arm around Blue and hauled him in for a hug, ignoring his groaning protests because hello, big brother privilege was higher than any stank out there.

He didn’t linger long, not with official permission to nap granted. Rus shortcutted home, to his porch rather than into his bedroom so he could kick off his shoes at the door.

The urge to strip off his sweatshirt and roll around in the snow was almost irresistible, but probably would get him a few looks from the folks in town. He settled for yanking it over his head in the living room and carrying it, the sleeves trailing behind him on the ground as he trudged upstairs to flop on his mattress, barely taking the time to toe off his socks.

A nap would help whatever damn fever was cropping up. He hoped.

~~*~~

When he woke again, Rus felt a little better. The sheets were still damp with sweat but the urge to roll around in the snow like a weird puppy had let up. Through the window, the artificial light was showing dimmer and soft, close to ‘dusk’.

A pleasant smell got Rus sniffing and on his desk was a food tray and a note from his brother.

Didn’t want to wake you, training with Alphys. Eat up and get more sleep, early duty in the morning!

It made Rus smile. Like he was fooled at all by that, if Blue thought he was even a tiny bit sick, he’d be tucked right beneath the blankets again faster than you could say ‘spaghetti aficionado’.

But Rus didn’t think it was gonna be a problem. Already he was hungry, ravenous even, and he scarfed down steaming soup hidden beneath the tray eagerly, practically tasting the loving care with which it was made.

When his magic was finished incorporating it, a different urge struck him and damn if Rus wasn’t ready for a drink at Muffet’s. Maybe something more, the fake night was young, and it’d been a long time since Rus had gotten laid. If you didn’t count weird outliers and Rus stuffed that thought firmly back. Willingly laid, thanks, and after he left a note for his bro, he headed out.

At this time of night, Muffet’s was loaded with regulars, most of them already a couple of drinks in. They called to him, waving and cheering, and Rus handed ‘em back a few of the stock puns he kept handy for just such an occasion, until everyone was laughing. Muffet gave him a smile as Rus walked up to his normal barstool, but it faded into concern as she got a good look at him. She set down the glass she was drying and walked over.

“Are you feeling all right?” she asked in that soft, flute-like voice of hers. “You look a little pale.”

“think so? sweetheart, all my mixed feelings need is a mixed drink, ” Rus gave her a winsome smile, “think you can scrounge me up something on my tab?”

All of her eyes rolled as one, but she was smiling as she poured him out a drink. Honey whisky and water, perfect, and Rus took a sip, spinning on his stool to take in the night’s offerings.

There. A group of some of the other sentries were sitting at a table. One of them towered over the others, even sitting. Pete, from the Bun clan, his long, velvety ears starting to droop from their normal ramrod straight point as he drank. Rus nursed his drink, savoring the sweet-smokiness as he watched Pete moving, the muscles rippling beneath his fur as he gestured. Yeah, Pete was usually up for a good time and he was strong enough to be a hellava fuck. He’d been one of Rus’s regulars back in the day, before he’d met the other skellies and his pussy train got derailed.

Welp, the way he felt right now, he was ready to choo choo his way back onto the track.

Rus tossed back the rest of his drink and slid back to his feet, wandering over to the group. There was nothing seductive about it, didn’t need to be. Rus had a reputation for being a pretty damn good time and he could feel several sets of eyes on him, weighing their chances. But there was only one he was interested in.

“Hey, Papyrus,” Pete said, and Rus didn’t miss the restrained hopefulness in it. Oh, yeah, this was cake and pie.

“hey, pete, wanna take a walk?”

His chair scraped as Pete shoved it back, practically stumbling to his feet, a rare Monster who actually towered over Rus’s impressive height. The grin that spread over his face was lascivious, eager. For about a minute. Then it faltered into a frown as he sniffed, loudly and obviously. “You smell kinda funny.”

Rus groaned. Fuck, was he cursed by some vengeful reverse-washu? “you’re the second person to say that to me today.” He made a show of sniffing his non-existent armpits. “i don’t smell anything. i took a shower, my clothes are clean, guess my normal sauce took a turn.”

“It ain’t exactly bad.” Pete leaned in closer, smirking, and he hooked a thick finger at the hem of Rus’s sweatshirt, lifting it just enough to graze over his hip bone. Oh, fuck yes. Big hands, big dick, and maybe it was a myth, but Rus’d put it to the test and found the theory proved in Pete. He was leaning in close, his beer-scented breath gusting over Rus’s face. They were about to put on a show if he got much closer and Rus was already tipping his head up, ready for a little PDA before getting down to business. Pete murmuring, “We could head back to my place if you want. Or out back, if you don’t, I—”

Rus could only blink in surprise when instead of getting a hard kiss, a strange expression crossed Pete’s face and he leaned away. “You know what, I’m gonna have to beg off tonight, Papyrus. Maybe another time.”

“sure,” Rus said, slowly, confused. Even weirder, instead of sitting back down, Pete tossed back the rest of his drink and actually left, what the fuck?

Okay, that wasn’t fucking weird or anything.

The rest of the table looked as confused as him, but their expressions changed to hopeful delight as Rus said, “guess this seat is empty, mind if i join you?”

None of them did and Rus was two free drinks in by the time another Monster left, wearing the same expression of confused dismay as Pete, then another. All too quickly, Rus was sitting at an empty table surrounded by half-filled glasses, wondering what the actual fuck was going on.

Turned out, it wasn’t just the sentries. Rus gave it another shot, another, and every person he approached was one he’d fucked at least one other time, even if it was nothing more than a blowjob in the alley behind Muffet’s, Rus on his knees, pantlegs drenched in the snow while he let his mind drift, all his thoughts blissfully silent while whoever it was fucked his mouth for all they were worth.

And every one of them turned him down, turned away with that same expression. His increasing desperation probably wasn’t much of a turn-on, either, the heat of the bar was starting to get to him. His sweatshirt was living up to its name by drenching in it, the fabric darkened with the wet magic dripping from his bones. He finally took it off, tossing it carelessly to the ground. He’d get it later, drag it home and toss it in the wash with the rest of his damn stanky clothes, but for now the empty bar was so hot and muggy, it was unbearable.

Rus sank unsteadily back down on his barstool, nearly toppling off to the floor. He caught his balance at the last minute, clinging to the bartop and wondering vaguely if he’d drank more than he thought as he slurred out, “hey, muff. how about i hang out a little while after closing?”

Muffet’s pretty face, normally so pleased to see him, was creased with frowning concern, “Papyrus, you should go home.”

That was the last straw, his soul pulsed, frantic and hurt and he was not used to being turned down. He and Muffet had an understanding, neither of them looking for anything serious. They traded gossip and sex and illicit goods, and it was a great deal, one of the best Rus ever made, so why--?

“wha…?” Rus shook his head, baffled. “seriously? haven’t i always shown you a good time?”

“Always.” She seemed a little confused herself, that same baffled dismay he’d been seeing all night. “I’m sorry, Papyrus, I’m just not in the mood. Maybe another time?”

He nodded and his head felt swollen and too heavy for the slender bones of his cervical vertebrae. Rus slid off the stool and stumbled out the door. The icy wind chilled him instantly, blowing through the feeble protection of his tank top and he stood for a long moment, basking in that blissful cold before starting to trudge his way home.

The entire fucking town of Snowdin wasn’t ‘in the mood’ and to add insult to injury, he saw two of the sentries who’d ditched him necking in the alleyway. He wasn’t so much of a pervert that he stayed to watch, but it sent a wild pulse through him right at crotch level. Rus kept walking, resisting the temptation to collapse into the snow, so fucking hot—hot.

Heat.

Rus stopped, standing so still that snow began to pile up on his bones. He was every kind of idiot he’d ever been called, idiot, moron, such a fucking fool.

“no,” Rus whimpered to no one at all, maybe to himself. No, no, no, Edge told him his body was his own, he’d told him he didn’t care if he fucked around. Of course he fucking had, he never mentioned that no one else would want him! The growing ache in his pelvis twined itself around the ungodly heat throbbing in his soul, mingled with the bewildered hurt of being turned down again and again. People fucking liked him, okay, liked fucking him, but this wasn’t about them, it was about the shitty heat.

Heat, he was so hot and he needed…he needed…he couldn’t fucking think. He needed to head home, that was it, home. Home? No, home wasn’t it. There was someplace else he needed to go. He started walking again, letting his feet carry him because they seemed to know the right direction. Through a door, downstairs, and he managed to focus blearily on the keypad long enough to punch in a number.

By the time he stepped through the portal, it was like he was walking in a fog of need, but he had just enough presence of mind to take a shortcut. The soothing cold vanished as he stepped out into a darkened room, there was nothing but the burning in his soul. Here, yes, this was where he needed to be.

“What are you doing here?” He almost didn’t understand the words. Not angry, only startled, and Rus jerked up his skull to look into crimson eyelights, set in a face that he knew and the flame in his soul became an inferno.

That was what he needed.

He reached out, a sob strangling in his throat. Tripped over his own stupid feet, but strong arms caught him before he could hit the floor. Rus tried to talk, to beg, plead for something, but the words strangled off before they could leave his mouth.

Distantly, he heard a low murmur next to his skull, blissfully soothing, “Shhh, I have you. I have you. It’s all right, I’m here.”

His soul yearned towards that voice and so did Rus, turning towards it to bury his face against a bony sternum and the sudden urge to sink his teeth into it, to bite, to mark, was impossible to resist. He heard a groan as he sank his teeth in, hard, tasting the hot, salty blurt of marrow as the bone parted. Breath hissing above his head, but there was no struggle, no protests. Hands held him in close, petting his skull, his back, anywhere they could reach.

This, this was what he needed, and when he lifted his head, still tasting hot marrow and blindly searching, a mouth descended on his, and Rus was lost.

~~*~~

TBC

[atruththatyoudeny]

MONTHLY READS | December 2018

Happy 1D Fanworks Appreciation Day! Thank you so much for all the hard work you put into your stories and the courage to share them with us! I am so grateful for all the amazing authors in this fandom! Here are the fics I read this month, as always, Top 5 + 12 more under the cut.

Captain Jack

by jaerie for 1D Fanworks For Charity | DARK DRUG FIC - Please read the tags on the fic page carefully! | a/b/o | 31k Louis has been searching for something and Harry is there to give it to him. Drugs, sex, disappointment, and the tangled web they’ve woven that keeps them trapped in the same cycle.

Better Not Pout, I'm Telling You Why

by runaway_train for Larry Holiday Fic Fest | Christmas | fluff | strangers to lovers | workplace relationship | 24k Niall wipes his hands again with his cloth, jaw tense as his eyes narrow in contemplation at the man in front of him. After a pause, he opens his mouth. “OK, I need to tell you something and you have to promise not to laugh.” Oh here we go, now the truth is away to come out. “Okaaaay…” He drops the towel. “Harry still believes in Santa Claus.” Louis hoots out a single loud chord of laughter. “Fuck off. No he doesn’t.” “He does. I swear.” Niall manages to say it with a completely straight face, but he must be taking the piss. “Niall, he’s twenty two. Do you honestly expect me to believe he’s managed to make it this far through life without someone telling him the truth that Santa isn’t real?” Or The one where Harry still believes in Santa Claus and Louis doesn't want to be the one to burst his bubble.

Santa Baby Honey

by SadaVeniren | Christmas | crack | fluff | humor | BDSM | exhibitionism | 28k “Let’s cut right to the chase,” Niall said, loading the powerpoint, which was just one page, comprised of Louis’ face and the words How do you solve a problem like this asshole? “It’s the beginning of November and Louis is already being a fuckwit. How are we gonna have him knock that shit off this year?” aka Louis is the CEO of a toy company and Christmas is a stressful time of year so his assistant decides the best way to make him chill out is by getting him laid through a Secret Santa

O' Christmas Tree

by Justalittlelouislove for Larry Holiday Fic Fest | Christmas | kid fic | fluff | 15k At a stoplight, he finds himself doing some retrospective thinking of his own. Instead of going over one of his fifty or so mental to-do lists, his mind drifts to Harry’s dimples, the way his whole face changed when he smiled, how some of the pine trees almost matched the green of his eyes perfectly. It’s- well it’s annoying is what it is. He can’t spend all his time thinking about some tree farmer with broad shoulders, he’s got bigger fish to fry. Girl Scout meetings, homework charts, client lists, lots and lots of very large fish sitting around waiting to be fried. or: Louis has a busy schedule to keep and a daughter to raise. He definitely isn't looking for a relationship. Enter Harry Styles, a local Christmas tree farmer that seems just a little too good to be true.

Along The Heather

by noellehenry for HLRegencyVictorianFicChallenge | Victorian AU | Jane Eyre AU | verbal abuse | physical abuse | Minor Character Death | panic attack | attemped murder | angst | mystery | 35k Orphaned Harry Styles grows up with his cruel aunt and cousins, before he is sent away to a boys' boarding school, which teaches poor and orphaned boys. Even though his aunt tries to undermine Harry's experience at the school, he does well in school, and stays on at the school as a teacher after he graduates. When he becomes restless after significant changes at the school, he applies for a job as a tutor at Thorgill Hall, teaching the younger brother of Mr. Louis Tomlinson. Harry develops romantic feelings for his pupil's brother... Thorgill Hall,however, holds a secret; it’s becoming slightly more eerie every day and when his life is threatened, Harry makes a drastic decision…

Your touch is the only thing I feel

by 2tiedships2 | a/b/o | strangers to lovers | fluff | 15k Liam. Liam was finally here. Louis kept his eyes closed and cuddled farther into Liam’s side, revelling in the pheromones Louis’ body desperately needed. He wasn’t sure how long Liam had been holding him, but Louis figured it had to have been at least an hour by the way his body had loosened. The need of an alpha’s touch seemed to have been temporarily lifted from his mind. Louis listened to the sounds of the pub around him. It was louder than before he had fallen asleep and he briefly wondered why Liam hadn’t just woken him to go back to their flat. “Who the fuck are you?” Louis’ eyes flew open at the sound of Niall’s voice, and the arm that had been around Louis shoulders lifted in the same instant. He missed the warmth immediately. Louis looked from Niall’s stormy face over to the person who was definitely not Liam. The alpha Liam impersonator, who smelled a lot better than the actual Liam now that Louis was alert, looked back at Louis with wide eyes and familiar furrowed brows. Or the one where Louis refuses to settle for just any alpha despite intense touch deprivation. Fortunately Harry isn't just any alpha.

Pull your-elf together

by EmmyLouWho for Larry Holiday Fic Fest | Christmas | fluff | pining | 4k Louis looks Harry up and down. “Hang on, aren't you a bit tall to be an elf?” “Alright, Princess Leia,” Harry says, and Niall loses it. “Ohhhhhh,” he says. “Harry, we are definitely going to be good friends.” Or: Santa's Winter Wonderland is a great place to fall in love.

And Touch Me Like You Never

by runaway_train for Larry Holiday Fic Fest | Christmas | implied/ referenced drug use | implied/ referenced alcohol abuse | mildly dubious consent | angst | roommates | coming out | friends with benefits | dom/sub undertones | friends to lovers | pining | 35k “Lets move back a bit yeah?” Harry clutches at his waist with a free hand and tugs him to move through the crowd until they are almost at the back of the group and settles them both beside the far wall. “There. That better?” Louis looks up at him, as if he’s a tad dazed. “Uh, yeah, thanks. Can’t really see much from back here either though.” Harry lifts a shoulder and grins at him, placing a hand on the wall behind Louis to pen him in. “We’ll just have to create our own fireworks then, won’t we?” He says it jokingly with a wink, and Louis laughs but he seems nervous. He must know that Harry is harmlessly flirting. Harry flirts with everyone after all, including Louis. “Do you think this is a good idea Haz?” Louis asks quietly, almost too quietly in the clamour of the room, his head bowed as he scuffs his shoe on the carpet. “Stop over thinking it Lou, it’s one kiss. What’s the worst that could happen?” Or The one where Harry and Louis agree to be each other's New Year's kiss and it ends up being a lot more than they bargained for.

Head Over Heels

by Sasparella76 for Larry Holiday Fic Fest | Christmas | enemies to friends to lovers | 26k Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles are both up and coming editors at Cowell Publishing. Louis thinks Harry is brilliant at his job and beyond gorgeous. It’s just a pity that Harry is also the most annoying man Louis has ever met.

Holiday Greetings (And Gay Happy Meetings)

by 2tiedships2 | Part I of It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year | a/b/o | Christmas | strangers to lovers | enemies to lovers | fluff | 18k "Onwards to drop me off at Robert's before you go to Harry's!" Louis proclaimed when they were safely in the car. Or at least Louis was safely in. Niall was still brushing the snow out of his hair that Louis had accidentally dropped on him. "We're picking up biscuits first," Niall grumbled as the snow melted into his hair. "You can wait in the car." After three times of the car sounding like it was dying a slow and tragic death, it finally decided to start. "This is what happens when you try to change the name of your car after five years," Louis said as a reminder of Niall's stupidity. "You'd be upset too if you were a car named Greased Lightning with a passenger trying to get it renamed to Dusty." "To be fair," Niall explained, "the name Dusty does seem a bit more accurate." "Make sure to leave the car running while you're getting whatever you're getting from Harry," Louis said in disgust. "This car is going to choke for good after that comment and I don't want to be stuck at Harry's place when that happens." Or the one where Niall's dead car and and a foot of snow conspire to force Louis into spending time with an alpha he hates.... or does he?

(That's Just) The Way I Am

by lululawrence for 1D Fanworks For Charity | fake/pretend relationship | lights angst | 17k There was no way Harry would want to bring anyone out for an introductory trip like this. The fighting between himself and his father was sure to be be worse than usual and father still hadn’t accepted Harry’s pansexual identity. Harry wasn’t dating anyone at the moment, but at this point he almost wished he were dating a man just so he could incense his father. The door jingled, pulling Harry’s attention away from the window and to the man who had just walked into the cafe. Now that was exactly who Harry should try bringing home. The man was dressed in ratty black skinny jeans and what was obviously a self cut tank top that used to be a Stone Roses t-shirt. His black chucks had holes in the canvas, indicating exactly how old they were, and his maroon beanie wasn’t in much better shape. The more Harry studied the man’s smoky eyeliner rimmed eyes and the lipstick he had swiped on to match his hat, the more Harry started hatching an idea. What if Harry really did bring this man home?

I Just Wanna Give You Love

lululawrence for 1D Fanworks For Charity | soulmates | famous/not famous | 18k Graham Norton appeared on the screen introducing his guests and out of nowhere, everything in Louis’ world was turned upside down. Louis gasped as he intently took in the man on the screen, smiling and waving from his seat beside Sir Ian McKellen. “Oh my God,” Louis said before it all sank in as to what it meant. “Holy fucking shit!” “Louis William, you watch your mouth,” Jay said. “What has got into you?” Feeling like a madman, his palms to his cheeks, Louis couldn’t help the tears of surprise, relief, and fear as he turned to his mum. “What colour are his eyes? What do you call that colour?” “Louis, are you telling me that the man on the screen, Harry Styles, is your soulmate?” Or the one where the world is in black and white until you meet your soulmate, but Harry is world famous and Louis is...well...not.

This is a Rainbow War

by lululawrence for 1D Fanworks For Charity | famous/ not famous | friends to lovers | fluff | pining | travel | 15k “So what are we doing?” Niall asked as he slipped in. “Harry seems to really like rainbows,” Louis said, purposefully vague. “So let’s go ahead and make sure he’s really in the spirit.” Louis untaped the flag he’d used to hold it together and showed Niall what he had inside. He’d been keeping a wide variety of flags from each show and gathering them until he had enough to cover Harry’s entire dressing room with them. “Oh this is going to be great,” Niall said with a chuckle. “Oh my God,” Shawn said excitedly. “It’s going to look like someone puked pride flags all over a campsite.” “Exactly,” Louis said. Or, the one where Harry's a famous singer, Louis is part of his road crew, and after Harry gives Louis a special assignment regarding rainbow flags, things maybe turn out a little differently than either of them planned.

Naughty or Nice

by noellehenry | Christmas | miscommunication | innuendo | humour | fluff | 10 Louis never intended for his boss, the very attractive Harry Styles, to find out he has a temporary, additional job as a Christmas Elf at Harrods Department Store. When he gets a request to show up in his elf costume at Mr. Styles' office, after office hours, Louis' mind goes wild...

Nobody Likes To Be Played

by rosegoldhl for Girl Direction Fic Fest | Girl Direction | infidelity | implied/ referenced homophobia | fluff | friends to lovers | emotional/psychological abuse | 19k The first thing she realized as she walked into the bar was that there was some sort of gig from an unknown, obscure rock band, the kind of music Louis enjoyed. The second thing was that the place was packed with teenagers and university students, and Harry looked out of place in trousers and a polka-dot shirt. The third was that this outing was destined to ruin her life.

Until I Found You

by dimpled_halo | a/b/o | Cam Boy/ Porn Star | enemies to friends to lovers | slow burn | fluff | 45k Harry Styles is the popstar of the century, or so the media proclaims. He’s linked to every omega he’s seen with, donned as an alpha lothario who isn’t ready to settle down any time soon. His team works hard to publicise him as an alpha who can’t keep his knot in his pants, but not everything is as it seems. Louis Tomlinson, an aspiring musician working as a porn star and camboy, is waiting for his big break. When he meets Harry Styles he can’t stand the alpha that only uses his power and fame to bed as many omegas as possible. He runs into him at a party and hopes to never see him again only to find that Harry’s assistant is dating Louis’ best friend. To make matters worse, Harry’s about to embark on a world tour and is in need of a guitarist at the last minute, an opportunity Zayn uses to put in a good word for Louis. What happens when the opportunity that Louis has been waiting for finally comes, but at the price of having to share the stage with one Harry Styles?

Merry Birthday

by jaerie | Christmas | a/b/o | soulmates | soul marks | 9k Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson have unfortunate soulmarks branded onto their skin. The first words their soulmate will ever speak to them are two of the most common greetings, so common that they don't even notice when it finally happens for real. A Christmas soulmate AU.

[themagiciansreccenter]

Author Spotlight: greywash

Every week we are going to be interviewing a writer from The Magicians fandom. If you would like to be interviewed or you want to nominate a writer, get in touch via our ask box.

First things first, tell us a little about yourself.

Hi, I'm greywash! I usually go by Gins, I'm 37, I'm an engineer, and I live with my beta/writing and queerplatonic life partner HBBO (havingbeenbreathedout) in the cheap(er) seats outside San Francisco.

How long have you been writing for?

I apparently "wrote" and "illustrated" a story for my mom about a dragon who forgets his best friend's birthday when I was three, so. It's been a minute. I kill fewer crayons these days.

What inspired you to start writing for The Magicians?

Well... basically, I followed @longnationalnightmare in from another fandom, and a few people on my Tumblr dash were reblogging gifsets, so I originally watched the show basically just for more context. (The threeway. By "more context," I mean "the threeway.") Anyway, it took me about 0.3 episodes to be completely hooked: I had read the books a few years back and was ambivalent about a lot of things in them, so when I started watching the show I was expecting a lot less than I got? I'd expected a sort of silly B-show with lousy acting, and, I mean... it is frequently *very* silly, but then it turned out that the cast ranges from 'very good' to 'incredible', and the interpersonal dynamics are *fantastic*, and those are both pure fannish bait for me. The show's not perfect, but they fixed a lot of my problems with the books, a lot of which lived on a character development level... I think the show really has done some incredible work with Quentin, especially; and also with depictions of complex, liminally-sexual queer friendships, like the relationship between Margo and Eliot, which I feel like I've never encountered represented this well in any other visual media source, ever.

Who is/are your favourite character(s) to write? What it is about them that makes them your favourite?

Ooh, that's hard. Eliot is just my hands-down full-stop favorite character, but there's always that tricky question of "who is your favorite character to write *in the point of view of*" versus "who is your favorite character to write *about*," especially when you have a relationship or relationships you're really invested in (for me, the asymmetrical Quentin/Eliot/Margo triad). When I want to write stories that are love letters to Eliot Waugh, which is often, then I want to write from Quentin or Margo's point of view, because when I write Eliot's point of view, I am inevitably writing love letters to one or the both of them.

Do you have a preference for a particular season/point in time to write about?

Well, since I came into the fandom during the post-S3 hiatus—I started watching the show in October—just by default that's where most of my work is grounded, so far.

Are you working on anything right now? Care to give us an idea about it?

Oh boy, I sure am! I have a lot of work to do on my 39 Graves fic, and then I still have, hm, probably another... twenty or thirty thousand words, ish? On "The Marriage Plot," which is the sequel (...sort of) to "Firebird" and also my sort of... emotional raison d'fanfic, for The Magicians. It's sort of a, uhh... well, let's call it an un-arranged-marriage fic, is the best way I can think of to put it.

How long is your “to do list”?

Oh gosh. It's atrocious, but it's also not all for /The Magicians/. There's "The Marriage Plot," but I also have a long-running /Sherlock/ WIP that got toootally hijacked by me suddenly desperately needing to write hundreds of thousands of words about Eliot and Quentin not getting married, and so I'm just getting back into that; and then I have 39 Graves. I also still owe my partner a /Sneaky Pete/ storylet and have two other outstanding prompts from the summer, one for /Lewis/ and the other for... I.... totally don't remember! /The Good Place/, I think? I saved it around here somewhere. On top of that, I'm doing fan_flashworks bingo over on Dreamwidth, and I don't want my entire bingo card to be "The Magicians," though so far that's been somewhat difficult to resist. And I love the weekly prompt idea that the Rec Center and the Neitherlands Library are running for S4! I had a blast writing for the "Identity" prompt and am looking forward to this week's as well. Well, at least I write fast.

What is your favourite fic that you’ve written for The Magicians? Why?

I think I have to say "Firebird," because I haven't finished "The Marriage Plot," and who knows how that'll go; but they're so inextricably linked in my mind it's hard for me to think of "Firebird" as like—its own separate thing? I guess I can say that "Firebird" was really uncomfortable in places to write, so I'm proud of myself for getting it done without flinching away from all the, like, body horror and murder and super dubious consent; and I think it does what I want it to do. We'll see how I feel when I finish "The Marriage Plot."

Many writers have a fic that they are passionate about that doesn’t get the reception from the fandom that they hoped for. Do you have a fic you would like more people to read and appreciate?

Well, I definitely haven't been here long enough or written enough stuff to have that feeling, but—let's say "The Get Down," which is just a little bonbon about Margo and Eliot being best friends and banging a psychic. I love themmmmm~ ~ ~

What is your writing process like? Do you have any traditions or superstitions that you like to stick to when you’re writing?

I'm not particularly superstitious about writing, but I am hugely invested in my writing routine—I'm a write-every-day person, and I do mean 'every day'; I'm on a 2,179 day streak on 750words.com—that's a little shy of six years. People are usually horrified when I admit this, but: I get up at 5:15 in the morning seven days a week so that I can put on headphones and write for at least an hour and often more like two before work, or whatever it is that I'm doing that day. (I also go to bed at like.... eight forty-five. I am a party animal.) I also very frequently write on my lunch breaks and have the excellent fortune to live with my writing partner, so we spend loads of time writing on the weekends and talking about fiction. This is literally the life of my dreams, but you have to be a very specific kind of obsessive weirdo to feel that way, I think.

Do you write while the seasons are airing or do you prefer to wait for hiatus? How does the ongoing development of the canon influence and inspire your writing process?

I am too much of an egg in this fandom to have an answer to this one yet, I think. :) I probably wouldn't start a longfic during the season, but shortfic, sure, why not?

What has been the most challenging fic for you to write?

"Firebird," because of all the aforementioned body horror and murder and super dubious consent. I am a delicate flower, who happens to be fascinated with narrative about people confronting their personal monstrousness. It's a tough row to hoe, man.

Are there any themes or tropes that you like particularly like to explore in your writing?

For /The Magicians/, the particular dead horse that I love to flog is Fillorian marriage, and the implications that forced fidelity have for consent; and also just for how intimacy *works*, within a marriage or a long-term relationship where that sense of choice, of choosing and being chosen, is so much of what lends richness to the relationship.

Are there any writers that inspire your work? Fanfiction or otherwise?

Nonfannishly: Georgette Heyer, Sarah Waters, Herman Melville, Miranda July. Fannishly.... whoo boy. In /The Magicians/, I'm still catching up on all the great stuff that people have written! @longnationalnightmare , @adjovi , @achray , @shmazarov, @numinousnumbat , and @ohmarqueliot are some of my favorites so far... in other fandoms: gosh, where to even start, I've been in fandom for 20+ years, we could be here a while. I guess since we're on the subject (sort of) of the monstrous, I reread @1001cranes ' "disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage" the other day and was just as floored by it now as I was... gosh, was that really seven years ago? Well, it's evergreen, go read it again. @septembriseur for fiction about altered consciousness. @drawsaurus for the interplay between warmth and brittleness and humor and darkness. @helenish for her endings. @havingbeenbreathedout for the interplay between sex and story, and basically everything else as well.

What are you currently reading? Fanfiction or otherwise?

Right now, I have open on my laptop: (1) @astolat 's "And I Alone Have Escaped to Tell You [which I've read before], (2) @ohmarqueliot 's "Reaching in the Dark" [which I haven't started], and (3) what is, in context, the most ironic thing *ever*: a handbook on strategies for managing ADHD. What? Don't judge me.

What is the most valuable piece of writing advice you’ve ever been given?

Basically that learning to write is just figuring out how to ask yourself "What are you trying to do with this _______?" (comma, word, line, paragraph, chapter, story), and then figuring out how to answer. (Thanks, Dad!)

Are there any words or phrases you worry about over using in your work?

Oh, I mean—I'm pretty okay with even the totally predictable bits of my narrative voice, I don't stress about it too hard anymore, but yes, there are a bunch of words I *know* I overuse. Especially since I'm a little bit blind to repeated words if I'm reading and not listening to my work read aloud, which—I try to do at least one pass where I get my computer to read to me when I'm editing, but I need to have both time and focus to make that work, both of which, I find, are often in short supply. "Tells"—he tells her, she told him—is *the worst*; I'm always looking for it my brain just skips over completely, it's like it's not even a word for me anymore.

What was the first fanfic that you wrote? Do you still have access to it?

Oh dear. I'd been in fandom for several years before I started writing, but as I recall, the first thing I actually wrote was an exceptionally overwrought and tragic Snape POV Remus/Sirius story. I have no idea what happened to it and I'm almost certainly happiest that way.

Self-edit or Beta?

Both!

Comments or Kudos/Reblogs or Likes?

All are delicious.

Smut, Fluff or Angst?

Smut.

Quick & Dirty or Slow Burn?

Quick and dirty on the sex and slow burn on the feelings.

Favourite season?

Season Two

Favourite Episode?

Cheat Day

Favourite book?

The Magicians

Three favourite words?

lovely, devastating, yearning

Want to be interviewed for our author spotlight? Get in touch here.

[bakudekuficlibrary]

Do you have any fics where BkDk have the their “first time” together?

Hiya! Here’s a mini-list of fics tagged as “First Time”!

-Ellie

40 Works.

Before Midnight by DriftingGlass ( E | 211,528 | 28/28 )

Izuku Midoriya takes the same train to and from school Monday through Friday, morning and night. His only company during these lonesome hours comes in the form of another boy his age—a teen with scarred hands and blood gem eyes, a stranger with ash-blond hair who walks in a shroud of danger and mystery.

“Would you stop with that fucking muttering, idiot?”

And before Izuku can find his footing, his life becomes a full-blown collision course thanks to walking cannonball Katsuki Bakugou.

(And along the way he may have found the missing fuel to his fire).

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | Underage | Implied/Referenced Child Abuse | Emotional/Psychological Abuse | Attempted Sexual Assault]

drag me to the deeps of your heart by halcyonwhispers ( E | 5,945 | 1/1 )

Everyone presents on their 17th birthday, and while Katsuki has already (alpha, big fuckin’ shocker), he awaits his boyfriend’s presentation to finally get over the nonexistent (slight) curiosity over Izuku’s new rank.

He can’t be an alpha, not crybaby, overthinking Deku. Anyways, both his parents are betas, and all that genetic and biology shit says Deku’s bound for that road.

(he thinks)

SeriesPart 1 of The (Im)Proper Way to an Alpha-Omega Courtship

[Underage]

Honeymoon High by Butterfree ( T | 115,021 | 18/18 )

“OI, FUCKFACE! If you think you’re just going to waltz into this fancy-ass church with your fake as shit smile and your miserable bitch of a wife while my friend is sitting on the street carrying YOUR BABY, then YOU need to step right down here SO I CAN DETONATE YOUR ASS UNTIL NO ONE CAN RECOGNIZE YOUR LYING FACE, YOU DIPSHIT EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN BEING!”

A beat of silence.

And then all hell broke loose.

It started with a ‘SLAP’ resonating from the bride who activated some quirk to maximize the pain that her ex-fiancé felt. A lady near the front fainted, knocking over the table with the wedding cake and a glass swan sculpture. The scattered remains caused the ring bearer to jump up. Her quirk accidentally activated and sent the brides’ maids into the air. A man with half white and half red hair rushed to save the statue, but ended up tripping over a power line which engulfed the room in darkness. It didn’t take long for everyone else in the building to follow.

In the midst of the glory Katsuki felt at the complete chaos, a calloused hand grabbed his sleeve. He was met with wide and curious green eyes. “Excuse me, I’m the groom. Do I know you?”

.

Fuck. He crashed the wrong wedding.

[Graphic Depictions of Violence]

Don’t Set Your Drink Down by Crandberrycrush ( E | 79,363+ | 20/21 )

With sudden clarity Izuku realized he had broken the first rule of going out. Never leave your drink unattended.

Not-so-useless Deku by reigncloud ( E | 9,778 | 5/5 )

Katsuki just presses even closer, shoving Deku against the wall. “N-no!” Deku flails a bit, uselessly of course, and futilely tries to push Katsuki away. “Kacchan, don’t get so close!”

“Holy fuck, Deku. Is that what you’re trying to hide?” Katsuki has his thigh between Deku’s legs, and he can feel the other boy’s rock hard dick pressing against him. Deku’s hips jerk forward just a bit in response to the pressure of Katsuki’s body. “Shit, you absolute pervert. You fucking like this, don’t you?”

[Underage | Mildly Dubious Consent]

My Youth Is Yours by lalazee ( E | 2,419 | 1/1 )

“I love you.”“Gay.”“Are we really having this conversation while your dick is - oh.”

addendum: immersed by Ramabear (RyMagnatar) ( E | 2,733 | 1/1 )

After the confession on the beach, things do not cool down between Izuku and Katsuki even after they return to Izuku’s home together.

SeriesPart 4 of standing in awe of death

[Underage]

Panic by iknewaman ( E | 22,725 | 1/1 )

Katsuki’s experienced a load of ‘firsts’ in his lifetime, but his most memortable ones include the firsts he shared with Deku.

[Underage]

springtime of youth by claimedbydaryl ( E | 25,592 | 6/6 )

Now, Katsuki was capable of at least acknowledging that Izuku was his friend, but Izuku doesn’t think Katsuki knows that their rekindled relationship would entail things like talking, and almost-dates, and unsaid feelings.

(Or, the five times Izuku knew he would never forget the innocent sweetness of their childhood friendship despite all that had happened, and the one time Katsuki realised he had not forgotten it too).

addendum: connected by Ramabear (RyMagnatar) ( E | 3,699 | 1/1 )

Katsuki fulfills Izuku’s wish to become closer, become connected.

The first time sets the precedence.

SeriesPart 9 of standing in awe of death

[Underage]

Playgrounds and playing fields by Stars1Are1Metaphors ( E | 16,872 | 1/1 )

It starts as a game. Doctor and nurse, they call it. They’re childhood friends and there isn’t anyone they trust more than each other.

But somewhere down the line Bakugou and Midoriya end up in a very… complicated relationship.

[Underage]

[On Hiatus] synthesis by DriftingGlass ( M | 31,325+ | 6/? )

They didn’t know how it happened, or when a concept so fickle and ridiculous blossomed in the garden of doubts, anger, and pain in which they so frequently visited.

Between scarred hands and bloodied knuckles, unspoken thoughts stirred like petals in springtime rain.

Bakugo was not prepared for the undeniable change spurring between them.

Unfortunately, neither was Midoriya.

[Underage]

Storm Stayed by actualdevil ( E | 4,221 | 1/1 )

Inclement weather leads to finding shelter and reluctantly sharing a bed. Also, Kirishima was supposed to be here, damnit.

Took It Like a Champ by InfiniteTeal ( E | 3,238 | 1/1 )

Midoriya takes it like a champ when Bakugou forces him down to give the most miserable and rudest blow job of his life. He’s the one that leaves Bakugou speechless in the end.

[Underage | Dubious Consent]

Mark Me. Make Me Yours. by decadentbynature ( E | 10,062 | 1/1 )

Midoriya is the only Omega at UA and he’s been hiding it well but there’s one issue that threatens to expose him: his attraction to an Alpha, Bakugo. After being told to give some paperwork to Bakugo, Midoriya lets him into his dorm room and is immediately overwhelmed by his scent. Unable to help himself, he gives in to his urges, only to be discovered by Bakugo but instead of becoming enraged, Bakugo decides to give Midoriya exactly what he wants

[Mildly Dubious Consent Becomes Consensual]

May-December by Disney_Princess_Izuku ( M | 8,291+ | 2/3 )

Midoriya Izuku is quirkless, a single father, and a Beta to boot.

If that’s so, of all the people in the world, just why did Bakugou Katsuki (alpha, a Pro Hero in Training with a great quirk, and eighteen) picked Izuku as the poor recipient for his affections? There were a lot of omegas in Katsuki’s age range that he could pick, so all this attention and attempts on seduction the blond was using on Izuku made zero sense.

He really should have cleared up that childhood crush with Katsuki when he had the chance. Flattered as he was, he really couldn’t accept Katsuki’s… proposals.

Problem was: the interested twitch in Izuku’s pants was telling a different story.

[Age Difference]

Birthday Secrets by DMMegsie ( E | 8,815 | 1/1 )

During their first year, with all the hectic events, birthday celebrations fell to the wayside. However, now in their second year, the class is trying to celebrate everyone’s special date…. except for a certain explosive temper student.

Katsuki Bakugou didn’t really celebrate his birthday through middle school and never told anyone when the date was.

It was only when some of the class realizes that Izuku Midoriya knows, that trouble starts brewing. It also brings the question to mind of: Why does Katsuki hate his birthday in the first place?

SeriesPart 1 of Only Comes Once a Year

[Underage]

Young Blood by Lilith von Beilschmidt (LilithK) ( E | 5,981 | 1/1 )

Bakugou hadn’t gone to class and his mother asks his neighbour, Izuku Midoriya to ask for his due homework. Of course, she doesn’t know about the tense relationship between those two… And neither does Midoriya know about what was Kacchan doing when he came into his room. A little one-shot fanfic, basically a pwp because I wanted them to masturbate each other. That’s it.

[Underage]

Top hero by pixiebob ( E | 2,579 | 1/1 )

He had expected Deku to be sweet and innocent.

Alright, Deku is sweet.

He always smiles at him, he loves to cuddle, and he is just so open with his feelings he can say the cutest things and make Katsuki feel like exploding from embarassement.

But fuck innocent.

Midoriya Izuku is all sloppy kisses, plush lips trailing on neck, breathy laughs, hands under shirt.

I Miss You by kayjscage ( E | 5,618 | 1/1 )

Izuku didn’t think it would be so easy to start repairing a broken friendship, but Katsuki found him very persuasive.

To Mend A Hero by BluKrown ( E | 8,665 | 2/2 )

After being attacked by Shigaraki, Midoriya has been recovering.A week has gone by and Bakugo is obviously concerned about it.

[Underage | Past Rape/Non-Con]

[On Hiatus] When It Isn’t Like It Should Be by gobeyond ( M | 2,461+ | 3/? )

Jesus, what is wrong with this world. How the fuck did Deku end up an alpha and I’m the omega?

Katsuki had always been sure he would present as an alpha and Deku would be an omega. But what happens the results are actually the last thing he was expecting?

[Underage]

you have nothing to hide from me by QueerPinoy ( E | 2,582 | 1/1 )

Midoriya Izuku is ashamed of who he is. Who… they are? Who she is? He’s still not sure but he sure as hell doesn’t want to think about it right now. He pushes his femininity away like it’s a shameful thing, something to stay hidden, keep to himself. Sometimes he slips, lets a gesture through. Once he even painted his nails and kept them on for a whole day – black, an acceptable nail color for a boy going through his teenage angst. But this, the Izuku, he saw looking at himself in the dress he had mail-ordered, is his secret. The dress doesn’t quit him quite right – it drapes where it should be tight, falls too low on his torso, but it’s still precious and he still grins a stilted smile when he looks at himself in the mirror. No one would ever know about this dress. No one would ever know how he felt.

Bakugou Katsuki is the opposite. He could probably be stealth if he wasn’t so bombastic about who he is. He doesn’t even whisper it, doesn’t just tell his friends – he yells it out. “How the fuck am I more of a fuckin’ man than you?” “I’ve got more balls than you without even fucking having any!” He never bothers hiding. He has no shame. Izuku yearns to know what that’s like.

SeriesPart 3 of bakubowl

Belatedly by beebuzz ( E | 4,911 | 1/1 )

“It wasn’t a preposterous question. They’d done Things, plenty of things after years of pining and tension abruptly vanished, but never this.”

The boys fumble through their first time together with a lot of uncertainty and a heavy amount of taunting.

SeriesPart 2 of Steadfast

Hero Pants by zubateatscakes ( T | 1,077 | 1/1 )

Rated T for the first part. Katsuki and Izuku are about to do it for the first time, but then Bakugou notices something that completely turns him off.

True Colors by creatiwriter ( E | 4,051 | 1/1 )

Katsuki Bakugo has never been good at showing his true feelings, but that doesn’t stop Izuku Midoriya from trying.

You Talk Too Much by DastardlyDaisy ( E | 3,215 | 1/1 )

Bakugou and Midoriya have a strange relationship

[Underage]

stranger things by failbender ( M | 945 | 1/1 )

They’ve been dating for two months now, but sometimes it’s still strange.

Prompt fill: “You were never just my friend.”

SeriesPart 1 of prompt drabbles!

It Started With An Apple Slice by illu_nii ( E | 8,184 | 1/1 )

Was it for better or for worse? Usually I could tell. But this time, Kacchan wasn’t giving me any hints. Of course his actions toward me lately have been rather concerning for my friends, but to me it was just how Kacchan was. It was normal…

Right?

Birthday Surprises by DMMegsie ( E | 8,946 | 1/1 )

It has been two months.

School and the end of a term has really kept both Izuku and Katsuki apart with the exception for brief moments here and there in private.With their budding relationship a secret, and Izuku’s birthday on the horizon, it is only natural they’d want to take things further.

This is a sequel to the fic Birthday Secrets.

SeriesPart 2 of Only Comes Once a Year

[Underage]

Chapter 1 of Love in a Week by anonymousCat ( E | 450 | 1 out of 4 )

A series of one shots for katsudek week.

Learning to live by Luciel (Bananenfisch) ( M | 2,890+ | 3/? )

No man was created equal. Midoriya Izuku learned this harsh reality at the age of eight. It was not the diagnosis that he was quirkless, which shook his life.

No, it was not this diagnosis that destroyed his life. It was something much more serious.

or

where All Might is Midoriyas father. All is nice and peachy until Midoriya gets sick and they have to deal with the consequences and then Bakugo fucking Katsuki steps into Izukus life and becomes Izukus own special Hero.

[Major Character Death]

Endeavors of the Mind by Kattfish ( M | 22,027+ | 3/? )

Bakugo and Midoriya both struggle with different aspects of their newfound relationship. Katsuki wants to be more open with his affections for Deku, but is hindered by his intimacy issues. Izuku covets Kacchan’s affection, but is too afraid of being overbearing.BakuDeku-centric with mentions of KiriShido and TodoMomo. Yaoi. M/MLemon flavored chapters.

same ol’ mistakes by dekuberry ( M | 483 | 1/1 )

Izuku felt reborn, under a gaze he has never seen before.

Worth the Embarrassment by Zeekcat101 ( E | 2,771 | 1/1 )

Bakugou wants Midoriya to train NOW! Midoriya doesn’t even get to use the bathroom before he’s being dragged away, which ends up being both a curse and a blessing.

Fuckin’ Cleveland Ohio by QueerPinoy ( E | 2,377+ | 1/? )

Katsuki had a stupid, wonderful idea, and, of course, Deku had to suffer through it too.

consent is sexy by The_Potatoe ( M | 300 | 1/1 )

In which Katsuki and Izuku are very in love, and value communication.

Delicate by maiume( T | 554 | 1/1 )

Izuku waited for it for so long, he couldn’t help being anxious.

All Eyes on You by ibreatheakaashi ( M | 4,254+ | 1/? )

“Bakugou!” Uraraka pulls on him, forcing him to trail behind him. He hangs back, getting a clear look of him. He looked the same, same blonde wild hair, unable to be contained- just like him. His piercing red eyes stared directly at him, they were hardening and unmerciful, just as he remembered.

His sleeveless black and grey plaid jacket, showing of his bare arms.They were still muscled, he suspected it was due to Kirishima well being. Underneath his plain white shirt nearly see through, the jeans he wore couldn’t possibly be anymore tighter, hell they looked good.

—

aspiring ballet dancer Midoriya Izuku dreams of following in his mother’s footsteps, he wants to become the best. when he gets into Julliard, his dreams become true one step at a time. he finds out that his childhood friend Bakugou Katsuki, a talented hip-hop violinst is also attending.he believes he changed. but did he really? or is he the same arrogant boy he met 5 years ago? can they work together and rebuild their friendship, and if so than will he fall to him?

Инструкция by Explodocat ( E | 5,422 | 1/1 )

Каччан не так идеален, и в первый раз у него не получается.

How are we doing? We have a Submitter Feedback Form for anyone who wants to give us a piece of their mind! Thank you in advance if you complete it. If you have never sent an ask, but want to give us feedback, we have a Follower Feedback Form, too!

[ereri-fanfics]

Fic List #5

Not What I Need (But I Want It All The Same)  by atotallyoriginalusername

Status: Ongoing

Words: 5,096

Chapters: 2/?

Last Updated: 2017-05-29

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Angst, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asshole Cats, Introspection, Present Tense, POV Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), POV Third Person, Rated E for future chapters, this might take a while, Slow Build, I'm trying, British English, My terrible understanding of American Colloquialisms, I've only been to America twice, I've learned most of it from movies, Which means I've stereotyped you, I've probably insulted your culture, I'm sorry America, I'm not confident about this, Terrible space imagery, This probably doesn't have any plot really, Eren is an angry boy, Levi is a bit of a moron, but I love them both, Fuck is used like punctuation, Cos I swear a lot, i like to swear, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, This is probably not as miserable as the summary makes it out to be, and I have a very strange sense of humour, I've probably insulted your religion too. I'm sorry, POV Eren Yeager, Homophobic Language, Casual misogyny, Cocktail Themed Innuendo, I have grammar ocd so i keep editing this

32-year-old Levi Ackerman doesn't realise just how bored he really is. Jaded, stuck in a routine of work, gym, clean, oblivion and bordering on clinically depressed, to say things are a bit shitty is an understatement.

24-year-old Eren Jaeger has a problem. Fired from his job as an English Teacher after assaulting a student's father (the guy was an asshole), he just about manages to avoid jail time thanks to his lawyer (and ex-lover, also an asshole), and now he has to spend the next six months in anger management classes with some pacifist asshole looking down on him and showing him how to "cope with things".

When Levi's asshole cat knocks a bottle of his best scotch from the roof of his apartment block, almost killing one unsuspecting Eren Jaeger, neither man realises how much of an impact it will have on both of their lives.

A Dangerous First Love by Kiaki

Status: Ongoing

Words: 7,943

Chapters: 4/?

Last Updated: 2017-05-29

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Cafe Maria, Police, Alternate Universe, Modern Era, High School, Gangs, Titans, Shiganshina Trio, University, College, Romance, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Sex, Love, Crimes & Criminals, Murder, Prison

Eren’s life is at an all time low. His half-sister and best friend, Mikasa and Armin, have both been accepted into Trost University, but Eren has been rejected by yet another college. All he wants to do is prove that he is worth more than his father, who mysteriously vanishes. Little does Eren know, that his father didn’t just abandon him for nothing.

It’s the trio’s final year at Shiganshina High, and after a celebratory coffee, Eren meets Levi, an attractive barista at the cafe whom he can’t keep his eyes off. What Eren doesn’t realize, is that this short, raven-haired man has messy past that Eren would be safe to avoid, and that Levi has connections to him that bring them closer than either of them could have ever realized.

The Meaning Of Life by pyxy_styx

Status: Ongoing

Words: 87,956

Chapters: 35/?

Last updated: 2017-05-29

Rating: Teen And Up

Tags: Physical Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Fluff and Angst, No Smut, Implied Sexual Content, Slow Build, Eating Disorders, Off-screen Relationship(s), Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con

"I once again closed my eyes wondering if I would live to see another day, or if I even wanted to. Because honestly, what was the meaning of this life?"

Eren Jaeger is in an abusive relationship and struggling to leave, and when things take a turn for the worst he has no options left. Months later he's back on his feet, and when his friend and manager invites him to a party, he's decides to take a chance and start living his life again. That's when he meets him, Levi Ackerman. He's falling fast, but he's afraid of ending up in another abusive relationship so he pushes Levi away, but one night Levi will there when no one else is around. Will Eren finally understand the meaning of life?

Heavydirtysoul by Sereiin

Status: Ongoing

Words: 92,570

Chapters: 27/?

Last Updated: 2017-05-30

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - High School, Underage Drinking, Recreational Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Infidelity, Promiscuity, Teenage Drama, Angst, Angst and Porn, Self-Harm, mentions of dubious consent?, Suicidal Thoughts, Character Death, mentions of depression

Eren has a boyfriend, multiple fuckbuddies, and a blatant disregard for anyone's feelings but his own. Is it ever too late for a chance at redemption?

Levi doesn't find himself to be a masochist, but he must be for falling in love with somebody so unattainable. When loving someone comes at the expense of yourself, how much are you willing to give--how much can you give before it breaks you?

(Or the petty teenage drama nobody asked for. Teenagers are (stupid) people and people make mistakes, everything has a consequence, and sometimes addictions are soul consuming.)

Addicted To You by Happys_Dragon

Status: Ongoing

Words: 63,255

Chapters: 17/?

Last Updated: 2017-05-28

Rating: Explicit

Tags: erenxlevi - Freeform, levixeren - Freeform, Past Relationship(s), Character Development, Relationship(s), Smut, slight sexual tension, Multiple Pairings, Bottom Levi, Top Eren, AU, Student AU, Fluff

Overcoming an addiction is tough, Eren could spout out in detail just how agonizing it could be, but when he becomes entranced with someone and not something, his mind might be changed forever.

I'll find your voice in my mouth, I'll wear your clothes 'til you come home by unhappy_turtle

Status: Ongoing

Words: 8,720

Chapters: 6/?

Last Updated:

Rating: Mature

Tags: Past Drug Use, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Brief Mention of Suicide

“I love you,” Levi says, attempting to put every aspect of what he feels into the complicated emotion.

“Love you, too.”

“No, Eren, I love you.” He repeats, just so Eren will hopefully understand the depths of the word.

"Dude,” Eren says, “I know. Catch you later.”

Beached by morebeesthanyoucouldimagine

Status: Ongoing

Words: 23,851

Chapters: 10/?

Last Updated: 2017-04-24

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Fluff and Smut, Slow Build, merman eren, Angst and Hurt/Comfort

A curious merman is washed ashore during a storm and found by Levi, who decides to show his new fishy friend what it's like to be human before sending him back to the sea. Slow build with lotsa fluffiness along the way! There will be smut (eventually), so hang in there!

Rise On Freedom’s Wings by Icecat45

Status: Ongoing

Words: 36,289

Chapters: 18/?

Last updated: 2017-04-24

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Light Angst, Friends to Lovers, Switching, Wingfic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Trust, Healing, canonverse, Comfort, Bonding, Intimacy, Fluff, Fluff and Mush, Praise Kink, Massage, Body Worship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Enthusiastic Consent, Masturbation, Watching, Blow Jobs, Naked Cuddling, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Shower Sex, Hand Jobs

After the Titans are defeated, Levi and Eren are sent on a short expedition beyond the walls in winter. Neither of them planned on taking shelter from a blizzard, just the two of them, in a cave with only a fire to keep them warm.

Not only that, but Levi has been hiding a truly incredible secret. A secret that Eren accidentally discovers. And the discovery of this secret will eventually bring the two of them closer than they would have ever imagined.

The Ackerman's Guide to Dating by StarChaser93

Status: Ongoing

Words: 173,346

Chapters: 32/?

Last updated: 2017-04-23

Rating: Mature

Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Homophobia, 104th Training Corps - Freeform, Humor, Pranks and Practical Jokes, everyone's in high school, just because I need it, Levi and Mikasa are twins, Eren Yeager Has Heterochromia Iridum, Pining Levi, Pining Mikasa, Awkward Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)

Levi and Mikasa start a new school. The first problem arrives in the form of Eren Yeager. The second problem in the form of Annie Leonhart. The third problem? Their very conservative parents who don't know their kids are gay.

So they come up with a plan of attack.

Levi will 'date' Annie while Mikasa 'dates' Eren, and when they finally get them to stay over for the night their parents will insist on the 'couples' staying in separate rooms.

Jokes on their parents, though.

[wingsoverbros]

"The Rising Sun - A little improvement goes a long way" or “My thoughts on SPN 13.02”

For previous episodes - Season 12 - Season 13: 13.01

Sorry, folks. I’m running a bit behind, due to family issues and internet access issues. I’ll try to speed up. I’ve finished writing 13.03 and are working on 13.04 as we speak, so they’ll be up shortly as well. I hope to be caught up soon.

Now, on to Supernatural 13.02 - "The Rising Sun”

When I noticed which writers had been assigned to this episode, I immediately downgraded my expectations. Eugenie Ross-Leming & Brad Buckner, the writers we all know of as "Buckleming", aren't exactly known as great writers. They have issues with continuity, writing the characters in not-quite-in-character ways, and a tendency towards creating  characters who engage in inappropriate actions. They inevitably make me wish that the pair would go through a good writing practice workshop during their off season.

Interestingly, they actually did fairly well this episode. They managed to write the characters generally in character or had reasonable explanations as to their odd behavior and splashed Cas references liberally everywhere (especially over Jack). That’s not to say that they don't have a lot of room to improve, though. For one, the many potential bad guys were all in definite need of improvement to avoid them being rather flat. And it wouldn't be a Buckleming episode if one of the characters didn't do something gross.

Buckleming have always done better when writing for a character with little or no backstory, a new guy. Jack fits that bill, having only a single episode of backstory, so it's no surprise that he comes off the best in his episode. I'd actually spent the hiatus a bit concerned about this character, but between last episode and this one, I find myself looking forward to seeing more of him this season. The character is adorable, an earnest and very friendly puppy of a guy. He just wants to be a good guy, it seems, and it deeply upsets him that Dean doesn't like him. He's very personable, and the behavioral and visual similarities between him and Cas don't hurt either. He clearly took a lot of influences from Cas, a fact that isn't lost on Dean, it seems. The look that came over Dean's face when Jack sat down and excitedly started watching Scooby Doo cartoons was heartbreaking. It clearly reminded Dean of Cas watching the Road Runner cartoons in "Hunter Heroici".

I was quite pleased at how Dean came across in this episode as well. The depression and severe fatigue Dean is suffering from in this episode actually worked to make it easier for Buckleming to keep Dean in character. Now, granted, he's not at his best state of personality - he's currently in something resembling the middle part of season 7, when his depression over Cas and Bobby rendered him angry, sullen, judgemental and frequently drunk - but with the depression and Jensen's superior acing, I actually recognized the Dean shown to us in this episode. Considering that one of the most out-of-character version of the guys I've ever seen was in a Buckleming episode only a half of a season away, I'm taking the fact that I understood Dean and *didn't* want to cream him in this episode as a win.

I also got a bit of a personal thrill out of Dean referring to Jack as his step-son. I know it was simply an easy way for Dean to explain his traveling with a teen he's clearly not completely comfortable with, but considering Jack thinks of Castiel

as his father, it gave my Destiel heart all sorts of happy-happy-joy-joy feelings. (Claire has a brother now! Yay!)

Sam tends to come off better then Dean with this writing duo, but even he sometimes gets the short end of the stick. Luckily, Sam shone like a star in this episode, his enormous heart and optimism that maybe they *can* manage this and possibly save Mary and maybe even Jack reminding me of his determination to save Dean in season 10. Here's hoping he can manage to do so without involving the loss of any friends or allies, unlike that season.

I also liked the family meeting about being on the same page about Jack. It was very mature, very parental. I'm hoping, in the end, that Sam is right.

When I saw Donatello in the trailers for the season, I actually got excited. Not for Donatello , although I like him well enough, but for the possibilities. If he was back, I reasoned, did that mean that Amara was spitting people out? I began to hope that it meant that in the future, we could see some of the better characters from season 10, such as Deputy Jenna Nickerson from "Out of the Darkness, Into the Fire" and "Form and Void". So imagine how disappointed I was when he stumbled into the hotel room, asked the guys if God was with them, and told them he was soulless.

That aside, he actually came across fairly well in the episode. His character wasn't much different then it was in 11.21. He was a little subdued, but considering that it was how Len was in the second half of "Thin Lizzy" and Sam was in much of the first half of season 6, I could easily dismiss that as a side effect of soullessness. And I do admit to enjoying his work-around for having a conscience. The world would be a better place if more people asked themselves "What would Mr Rogers do?"

Buckleming usually has terrible pacing issues, often writing scripts that drag terribly, only to try to smash all the plot into the last few minutes. They actually managed to avoid creating an episode where too much happened in a clump, but only, it seems by giving them a script where very little actually happens. The episode is just the group sitting in a hotel room, with one tiny dramatic moment at the end. At first, I thought it might be as close to a bottle episode that Supernatural gets, but the bar scene and relocation to Jasper, Wyoming prevented it from fitting that description. Hopefully, they work on their issues, so that next time, they can actually have an episode which is both well-paced and exciting in *some* way.

Although the good guys were rather surprisingly written fairly well, the bad guys in the episode were in some serious of some improvement. Most of them, the newer ones that Buckleming got to create wholesale, were rather two-dimensional and lacking any form of depth or personality. Even the already established character was insufferable in this episode (although that may just be the character default for him now.)

The primary example of a terribly written character was our new Prince and regent of Hell, Asmodeus. From the rather unnecessary accent to the over-the-top reactions and the totally white suit, The whole character screamed "I need to be thought through a bit more." His outfit was likely trying to recall the white suit Lucifer wore in "The End", but with the accent and behaviors, the outfit just gave him the impression of being a stand-in for the mascot from a well-known national chicken restaurant. Likely not the impression they were going for. And when did the Princes of Hell get so needy and kiss-ass? Both Asmodeus and Dagon were desperately attempting to get on Luci's good side. Ramiel could have cared less about Lucifer or Hell, preferring to fish instead. Azazel was worshipful of Lucifer in "Lucifer Rising", but I never got the impression that he'd turn into a social climber type of suck-up. He always seemed a bit more smooth then either of the 2 most recent Princes.

However, I am willing to acknowledge part of his problem may have just been the actor overdoing things. We'll have to wait and see.

Speaking about actors overdoing things...

Lucifer spent the episode coming across as kind of whiny. He's always been the type where the less we see of him, the better bad guy he is (he was frightening in season 5), and his recent saturation of the episodes isn't doing him any favors. At this point, I can't see it ending well for him.

R: Micheal  L: Lucifer

Michael didn't come across as frightening or powerful so much as flat and un-involved. They could have been purposely written that way to compare them to the original emotionless state of Angels in our canon base universe, but it just make them look poorly written (or acted), especially as the Archs were never written as unemotional. Angry, definitely. Concerned, absolutely. Smug, yes. Rather depressed, certainly. But never unemotional.

The episode also has an odd set of demons of whom we see very little. The Shedim, our 3rd possible season bad guy and second set introduced in just this over-ambitious episode, were presented with little info canonically other then the fact that Asmodeus is obsessed with them, Lucifer feared them and wanted them locked up, and that they are locked up somewhere in Hell that no one can reach. What little we could see certainly looked interesting, all mottled skin and clawed fingers. It was interesting to see Buckleming putting down the footprints for a new monster, especially since they were clearly not allowed to say much, and I look forward to seeing what the others do to the monsters to fill them in. Of course, it's possible they never appear again, but if they do and it goes well, maybe Buckleming could be utilized in the future by writing out the vague set-ups for new characters. Since we can't get rid of them, it seems, that would give them something else to do with minimal damage to the series. At the very least, set-ups for new characters would prevent everyone from their tendency to write in horrible ret-cons for already well-established species.

It wouldn't be a buckleming episode without a character doing something particularly gross, often related to consent or sexual violence. Examples from recent seasons include Mr Ketch brainwashing Mary in 12.21, and the out-of-character sexual activity of a dubious state of consent between Castiel and a disguised Reaper in 9.03. It just seems to be something that this particular set of writers has some trouble determining the appropriateness of, so I was not really all that surprised when they featured a moment of attempted sexual assault between a random hunter and Mary in the AU. It's something that would happen, so while I wasn't happy it was there, I could ignore it. What I really was weirded out about was that it was seemingly only inserted in order to give Lucifer a change to save her from something nasty. It took away Mary's agency and turned her into a "damsel in distress" in order to make a character who literally exist to destroy humanity and violate the consent of other characters get a "good guy brownie point" by saving a woman from rape. It was creepy and made my skin crawl. It's sad to see that despite their attempts to improve of late, there's still some things they don't see the value in improving themselves about.

Pop observations:

When he walked in, Asmodious smote 2/3rds of the demons. At this point, how many do they have left in Hell?

Dean was hallucinating Sheep on the road while driving? (good to know I'm not the only one that happens to.)

Jack just called Chuck "grandfather." I'd *love* to see Chuck's expression at that. Ditto about Amara.

Jack's power must be connected to will and emotion. It makes me wonder how Cas controls his powers.

Dean referred to himself as someone who fought with the old man, but still just wanted his approval. Did Buckleming forget every episode but "Bad Boys"? Or does this mean my theory of Dean's sarcasm and humor being a passive-aggressive rebellion against his dad is actually right?

The AU angels being very *robotic* and much like a modern para-military force isn't what I would have expected, but it did make sense.

Don is tracking him? That's handy. If Jack goes bad or runs away, they can "Don-jack" his ass.

"I read about Hell. It doesn't sound nice." - Well, it's certainly not a recommended vacation spot, no.

Can we, like, not show Jack (or anyone, really) trying to kill himself anymore? It's hard on the viewers. Thanks in advance.

I was not really looking at this episode as being anything good, considering the writing team assigned to it. Luckily, it seems they have worked at improving themselves, so the episode was better then I expected. They managed to treat the hero characters well enough, and they seem to be trying to work on their issues, although they still have far to go. Most notably, they still need to work on recognizing their missteps on some serious issues, so that they can address those as well in the future. With this set, I won't be holding my breath, but a girl can hope.

The previous episode did well, and I actually like one of the new characters. This episode wasn't as successful, and the new bad guy sucks, but it was at least fun to watch Jack and Don. All in all, the episode was decent, and a rousing success for this writing duo. The season seems to be going well this season. Here's hoping that future episodes, both from Buckleming and the others, do well.

Next episode: We're going to see Jody! There's the return of Psychic Missouri Moseley from "Home" from all the way back in season 1. It's the first connected episode leading the Fan Tulpa'd spin-off series "Wayward Sisters", and was written by Berens, one of the better writers. Plus, if the spoilers are correct, we might see Castiel! It's gonna be one heck of an episode!

See you there!  

[lightnovelfreedotcom-blog]

Chapter 10 Light Novel Alter World

The altar melee was a piece of cake. With the regularity of a grinder, my pet kept working on whatever gnolls happened to be around. At a certain point, his health dropped to 90% only to restore gradually back to his signature 100%. The Head Shaman, the local mini boss, cast a bit of rather useless magic, clouding my bear in blue smoke and piercing him with bolts of purple lightning. The fire show came to an abrupt end when Teddy finished with the last defender and turned his attention to the shaman himself. After a dozen hits, another level 17 corpse lay sprawled on the floor. Ding! 15! Six levels in an hour and a half. Awesome. I frisked the corpses piled about and bent over the shaman, curious. A heavy bronze key and a little silver ring. I thought first that it was the quest key which opened one of the cages. It wasn't. Apparently, it opened the squeaky door that led to the dungeon's second level. The ring was a different story. Lore Ring Item Class: Uncommon Durability: 20/20 Effect: +3 to Intellect Nice. I tried it on, and the mana bar jumped up thirty percent. I glanced at the clock. Only three minutes left until the mobs respawned. I gave it some thought and decided to stay for a new mop-up. I had to admit I liked the ring so much I could use another dozen. I jumped up onto the altar and froze in the lotus pose, watching the show. Teddy won again, 9:0. The loot surprised me. No key this time. Either it didn't drop twice or it was rare loot to begin with. In the latter case, the key could be of some value so I could try to get some money back for it. The ring I did get, albeit different. Gold sapphire ring Item class: Common Durability: 20/20 Effect: none. Just a pretty trinket. I raised the ring up to my eyes. Nice one. I threw it into my bag adding it to a handful of other jewelry. I could sell it or give it to the girls I'd met—their numbers steadily growing, luckily for me as I was already itching for it. Especially because most females here looked like Barbies on steroids, covered with token amounts of lace, transparent silk and some jewelry. The sight of slim Elven maidens doing their corpse runs like some bikini beach joggers, was too much for any red-blooded male. Damn those art designers. A plague on both their houses. The sex question was more than resolvable here. You could give in to temptation in your own house or in somebody else's with the hostess' consent. Brothels were another answer to it. All in all, sexual activities in virtual reality were more than popular. Before the arrival of the FIVR, a quarter of all Internet traffic had been porn. Now imagine, instead of two-dimensional pics and dubious-quality videos, the ability to experience a more than real gratification with the most beautiful of all Internet girls. This was one of the cornerstones of the FIVR success. Sex, entertainment and adrenaline, multiplied by one's superiority complex, all in one unique product. Mind boggling. I shouldn't have thought about girls. I shook my head dispersing the unwanted images and had another swig of herbal tea sending my thanks to the Three Little Pigs' innkeeper. Then I turned the key in the heavy carved door. A wide staircase led down, lined with smoky torches. "Hummungus, come, pup. Be quiet." History repeated itself. Here, mobs were juicier, level 18 and above, growing stronger as we approached the third underground floor. After half an hour, I received a new message. Congratulations! You've received Achievement: Immortal. You've stayed alive for ten subsequent levels! Reward: +500 to Fame Fame Alert! Your Fame has exceeded 1000 points! You've reached Fame level 1: "People are talking about you". Friendly faction vendors might surprise you with lower prices. You will also gain access to some secret quests.

Re monster light novel

Not bad at all. My joy was slightly spoiled by the fact that all these achievements were cheats, to a point. Had it not been for my free Teddy ticket, I'd still be a nonentity. I made myself a solemn promise not to think too much of myself and to generally keep a low profile. After a few more minutes, the already level-19 me fought my way to a wide corridor leading to the floor's main hall. There I could fully appreciate the developers' sick sense of humor. The staircase down to the third floor was right opposite the gnolls' barracks. Whether it was AI trying to be funny or this was the basic layout, I didn't know; all I could see was that they were falling in on the drill ground in front of the barracks. A dozen and a half warriors, all my level, plus a level-22 Gnoll Chief and the floor's mini boss, a level 25 Gnoll General. The biggest problem was, they stood shoulder to shoulder. Any party that fought its way down here would have to deal with the entire gang. There simply was no other way. It didn't feel good. Seventeen mobs against a pet, however tough, and I couldn't even interfere for fear of pulling aggro onto myself. My current level was purely nominal: all my skills remained level 5. I was a walking bag with lots of available characteristic points and talents. I still had to get my three talent points from Grym for level 10. And I still had to choose specialization in order to unblock new skill tree branches. My last levels had brought me nine more points which I didn't really want to invest even if I had somewhere in which to invest them. I needed to get a bit of sleep first and think clearly. In other words, my pet was the only real force that counted. I was little more than a walking talking makiwara. I stepped a safe distance back, blessed my pet and, choosing the General as target, pressed 'Attack'. The Gnoll Overseer would be next. I wanted to minimize my pet's exposure to the strongest opponents. Even when still alive, Teddy hadn't been known for good self-preservation skills. He lunged at the opponent with all the enthusiasm of reckless courage. Immediately his life bar began to shrink. It took Hummungus twenty seconds and 15% hits to finally put the General to rest. The Chief took slightly less. And still the gnolls were too many. Way too many. They surrounded Teddy and started pounding his sides and back, nailing him with crits. Soon he had ten opponents and barely half life left. After another minute of melee, the ratio became seven to forty. Three to thirty. Two. One. Done. I breathed a sigh of relief. Good boy! I came over to the bloodied beast and patted his chewed ears. "Way to go, Hummungus. You made your daddy proud." I let Teddy regenerate. We had another three or four minutes before the gnolls respawned. He needed a bit of rest, and it wasn't a problem to mop up the hall again. The mobs would respawn one by one, in the reverse order of their death. Teddy risked virtually nothing against singles. I checked the corpses again collecting the booty. About a gold piece's worth of cash, half a dozen bracelets and a couple Soul Stones. Loot was getting more interesting here, with a variety of steel weapons, armor and chainmail. All had decent defense parameters albeit without any extras. Unfortunately, I had to leave it all lying on the ground: my modest strength didn't allow me to lug around hefty objects. As Murphy's law would have it, I might not be capable of even lifting some of the more promising loot ahead. Talking of the devil. The Gnoll General dropped a sheer treasure: a massive key, a red bracelet of the type I hadn't seen before, and a pair of heavy chainmail gauntlets. I ran a check: Red Bracelet. Serves to identify gnoll elite. Item class: Common Durability: 25/25 Weight: 0.24 lb. Effect: +5 to Armor, +1 to Strength Excellent. I slid the bracelet onto my wrist. If I got another one, I'd wear it on my other arm for some added strength and a bit of armor. Waste not, want not. No point in selling it even, at least until I found an adequate substitute. I weighed the gauntlets in my hand. Chainmail Gauntlets. Crafter unknown. Item Class: Uncommon Durability: 45/45 Weight: 3.3 lb. Effect: +12 to Armor, +3 to Strength Great item. Had to be worth at least ten or twelve gold. In the bag it went. Good job Necros couldn't wear heavy armor, otherwise I'd have to choose whether to sell or keep them. My inner greedy pig stirred happily. Things were looking up. The questions of finding a roof over my head and some daily bread in the shape of a potful of meat and potatoes had ceased to hang over me like some sword of Damocles. Now everything I earned on top I could invest in gear and character growth. Good job, too, considering I'd spent my first day busting my ass, and all I had to show for it had been barely enough for a bed and a meal. "What the &ç@$!" yelled the gnoll who'd respawned first, only an arm's length from me. His heavy saber swooshed over my head. I ducked behind the bear's back just in time. The warrior tried to get to me again. I barely avoided a stab to the face. The pet stepped in and pulled aggro onto himself with a couple of expert hits. Whew. I crawled into a relatively safe corner, waited five seconds and began draining the mob's life. So stupid of me. I'd nearly got myself killed, too busy examining the trophies. By the end of the melee, I calmed down a bit and made a mental note to be more careful in the future. I ended up with level 20 and a lovely pair of hammered steel greaves, with +15 to armor and +4 to strength modifier. Looked like the General only dropped heavy armor. Not my thing. Worth picking up, anyway, even if only to sell it. Pointless hanging about much longer. I still had the dungeon's lower floor to do. Both loot and experience were better there. I allowed the pet a few minutes to regen and walked down the stairs. Here, the rooms didn't resemble dungeons any more. It looked more like a second-rate mansion house. A few bits of furniture stood against the tapestry-lined walls lit by large bowls of burning oil. Who'd have thought the place was that serious. Here, the gnoll warriors were replaced by guards, far more dangerous. Mainly I came across groups of three: two guards plus either a sergeant or a caster. The mobs' levels were predictably higher. The night was going to be anything but relaxed, our little outing quickly turning into an obstacle race. The bear was still capable of handling the trio without much trouble albeit losing one-third life. I really needed to know how to restore his health. Or rather, I was sure that Necros of my level had to have it somewhere but I stuck to my resolution not to fiddle with the stats during the marathon. Really, would I hole up in some dark corner and, brain-dead with fighting, try to solve single-handedly such crucial problems? Not a good idea. A mistake could cost me dearly. So I had to weasel our way out. Bit by bit I managed to use the Deadman's Hand to control one of the guards. In the meantime, Teddy dealt with one or two gnolls depending on how clean the pull was. Then he finished off the one I controlled. A quick meditation, and we moved another hundred feet, heading for the throne hall which housed the juiciest monsters and the sweetest loot. I was also quite worried about the absence of quest keys for the Drow cages. I had to keep going if only to locate the place or the mob who dropped them. In another hour and a half, I did level 24 and received another achievement, for staying alive for fifteen subsequent levels. Another thousand Fame points into the kitty. Then, quite unpredictably, a new message popped up: Congratulations! You've received Achievement: The Untouchable. Your enemies have failed to deal you damage for 5 subsequent levels! Reward: +500 to Fame Apparently, I'd done good. I hadn't made a single mistake. Luck had a lot to do with it, of course. Only they seemed to be sort of generous with their Fame points. If it continued like that, I was going to walk out of the dungeons to a red carpet reception. On we went. Corridors, rooms, halls, gnolls, gnolls and more gnolls. I was already sick to death of their dog chops. Was it my imagination or were they really emitting that canine stench? My eyes ached from the torch flames. Patches of light danced amid shadows and wisps of smoke that clung to the ceiling. My fatigue started to show. I found a safe room, parked Teddy and lay flat for ten minutes or so, relaxing with my eyes shut. Gradually, I felt better. I munched on a totally yummy sandwich washing it down with sweet tea, eternally grateful for the buffs. Teddy refused the food point blank but sniffed the tea with interest. Some funny zombies around... Then I checked my bag to see if I could get rid of a thing or two. The last couple of items had sent me into overload. Seven thousand copper were weighing me down but it would be stupid to leave them, right? Luckily, the third-floor mobs dropped silver. On the bottom of the bag, I discovered a whole mine of Soul Stones. I chose ten or so of the stronger ones and destroyed the rest which gave me a small bag of magic dust—a crafting ingredient meant for alchemists, blacksmiths and the like. That seemed like changing one bunch of trash for another, but it would be a shame to leave it, wouldn't it? By then, the pet had regenerated. I didn't feel that bad, either. Time to go. As it turned out, our safe room was only a few steps away from the throne hall, in some sort of auxiliary corridor. I had a good look around. A long room, brightly lit, with pairs of brutal-looking guards frozen statue-like by the columns that supported the vaulted ceiling. The throne stood against the far wall. On it sat the Gnoll King surrounded by his entourage. They weren't packed too close together. From where I stood I could just about pull two monsters at a time. So we got the show going. Between the two of us, we smoked three pairs of gnolls in less than five minutes. I kept casting Deadman's Hand, controlling one of the guards as Teddy dealt with his partner. My pet killed a mob in thirty seconds, and all that time I kept my target nailed to the ground as it cursed and tried to squirm itself free from the invisible bonds. Then we advanced a little to take over the mopped-up space. One last effort. We only had the King, the Priest and two of the officers left. The officers looked top class. Up to their balls in armor, with double swords on their backs, these level 28 beasts could put up a serious fight. And still I thought they wouldn't be a problem as long as I saved my pet enough life, for we didn't have enough time to meditate. And we still had the dungeon boss to take care of. I started the fight using the same tried and tested scheme by controlling the officer next to me. The mob struggled, helpless, and groaned as he drew his two swords. The second guard swung round and dashed for us. The King and the Priest remained seated, childishly ignoring the danger. This, of course, was only gaming convention. Gnolls' aggro zone didn't exceed seven or eight paces. Once outside it, you could dance and bare your ass in full view of the monster. Having said that, the higher your opponent's level, the more aggressive he became. Some mobs were so amazingly hostile they could sense an enemy miles away, sometimes from the other end of their location. The officers proved stronger than their lower-ranked buddies. They had more life and showered us with hits. Still, the eight-level difference was nothing to sniff at. After another minute plus a bag of nerves and twenty percent off the pet's life, two more corpses were added to the hall's interior design. We took a short break to regen and decide on our tactics. I had no idea about the King's abilities. No good taking the risk pulling aggro onto myself. Should I freeze the Priest so that the pet could attack the King? No good. The Priest was a caster himself. Even tied to a spot, he'd make mincemeat of me. So all I could do, really, was set Teddy on them, then play it by ear. I selected the Priest as target. His being a mage left him with less life. Also, I hoped that I just might disrupt his concentration and stop a couple spells. Just to make life a bit harder for him. Teddy, attack! The moment he crossed the aggro zone's invisible boundary, the King cast some ability that blew away a third of Teddy's life. Immediately, the King started reciting a long spell while the Priest pierced Teddy with a lightning bolt. The pet pounded him back. Twice the Priest failed to cast a new spell until finally he managed to send two curses, one after the other. Then it was my turn to open my eyes wide. The King summoned his pet, a zombie gnoll. Was he a Necro too? Or rather, judging by his heavy armor and the abilities he had, he had to be a Death Knight. I highlighted the zombie. Level 20, too low for a Nec. The King cast another curse and reached for his two-handed sword. For another fifteen seconds the fight could go either way. Then the Priest finally collapsed and we were on the rise. Teddy still had 40% life left when I joined in, casting one Life Absorption after another. Another minute of vigorous fencing, and the hall fell silent. The first couple of guards respawned about a hundred feet away from us. Still, we were relatively safe for a while. The pet needed time to regen, so I was going to do the next round on my own, mopping up the five mobs by the throne. The hall was big and crowded enough for us to pull a guard or two when we needed, as long as we kept an eye on the ticking clock. I crawled out of my corner and, stepping cautiously over the corpses, came up to the pet. He only had about 10% life left and looked it, too. I smoothed out his disheveled fur. "Go take some rest, Ted. Well done." I could use a break, too. My nerves were in shatters. Heaving a sigh of relief, I slumped onto the throne. Comfortable enough. Would be nice to haul it back to my Three Little Pigs room. "Great job, dude," a voice said right over my ear. I jumped. Bug's tiny outline appeared out of thin air. "You asshole!" He gave me a happy grin. "You've nearly scared the pants off me," I continued. 

Dungeon ni deai o motomeru no wa machigatte iru darou ka

"Where've you been, you son of a midget?" Bug sat down comfortably onto the slain King's corpse. "Been to town, sold up, raised sixteen gold, by the way. I can give you half if you want. It's only fair. Thought I'd go back. You think I didn't see you were permanently online? Got some grub on the go in case you're interested." So! The kid was smart, organized and quick to deliver. Cautious, too. And quite prepared to go half in the hope of more profits. Slick operator. "How did you get here through all the doors?" I asked him. Bug produced the bunch of lockpicks and clanged them in the air. "Took me half an hour to open the one on the first floor. The mechanism wasn't too difficult but honestly, I've never really bothered with the skill. The second one I must have gone through right after you. It stood open and all the barracks were empty. But I think I took a wrong turn, so at stealth speed it took me an hour to get out. When I came here you were up to your eyeballs in gnolls. I decided not to distract you." "You did right," I said as I kept replaying one particular thought in my mind. "You can keep the gold. I didn't want it to begin with. I have another offer for you. How would you like to earn a bit of money working as a wardrobe?" "What do you mean?" "Look. I fully intend to stay here for a while. There'll be loads of loot. If you took a dozen pieces of armor and the same in cold steel, that's it, you're in overload. We'll do it differently. We'll put you behind the throne, in this archway here. Then we'll be loading you with everything the gnolls drop. It doesn't matter if you can't move. What's important is that your bag can accommodate anything—this throne if necessary, as long as you don't exceed the 100 slots limit. Is that what your bag is—basic for 100 slots? So we'll stuff it solid. Otherwise, what's the point of going virtual?" The kid still wasn't getting it. Had I overestimated his talents? "And how do you want me to lug this throne back?" "Easy. You'll get a free ride to your spawn point. All you need to do is wait for the mobs to respawn. Then you remove stealth and off home you go. Three hours later, you go to the cemetery to find your grave. It'll be there for a week before it finally decays. In the meantime, you take the items to the store bit by bit. We'll go fifty-fifty, what d'ya think?" Instead of replying, Bug rose and stood in the archway trying to impersonate a wardrobe. He spread his arms wide as if opening the imaginary doors, then opened his mouth—apparently, signifying the top shelf—and mumbled, "All set. Load me up!"

[wingsoverbros]

"There’s Something About Mary - She may have developed freezer-burn" or "my thoughts on SPN 12.21"

For previous episodes: 12.01 - 12.02 - 12.03 - 12.04 - 12.05 - 12.06 - 12.07 - 12.08 - 12.09 - 12.10 - 12.11 - 12.12 - 12.13 - 12.14 - 12.15 - 12.16 - 12.17 - 12.18 - 12.19 - 12.20

Now, on to Supernatural 12.21 - "There’s Something About Mary"

It's amazing that last episode, I was complaining about the ruin of a pair of lovely characters in an otherwise well-written episode, and wondering if they were killed by the show-runners orders. This episode, we lost another lovey character in a horrific way, but this episode was not so well written. I think we've got our answer.

In an attempt to stay positive about *something*, I'm going to divide this up and cover the good and bad elements separately. First, we'll get the bad things out of the way. (It's a Buckleming episode, so obviously, the bad was very, very visible.)

The episode decided to start out upsetting us all as soon as possible. In under then 5 minutes, the opening scene of the show consisted entirely of the fridging of one of the best minority characters the show has come up with in years, a deaf lady hunter that fans adopted immediately as a favorite, solely so that Sam would have something to angst over throughout the episode. She didn't even have the dignity of having any lines. And she was killed by something that she wouldn't have any defenses against, or warnings about. How the hell would a deaf hunter track or defend against an invisible dog? And that wasn't even the worst part of how Eileen (and several other female characters) were treated in this episode.

One of the things that rather irritated me was the line that appeared part of the way through the episode, when the brothers received a letter from the now-deceased Eileen. She asked to stay with the guys for a bit, while using the line "I don't want to be girly.." Excuse me? Since when is being "girly" something to be excused? I know quite a few women that love being quite feminine and could still hand you your ass on a silver platter. Why is being "girly" a problem? Guys pride themselves on being "Masculine" and they (usually) don't get harassed about it like women do the last few years. What is it about the current social environment where being a girl (and being proud of it) is such a bad thing? Have people become so threatened by the "different from you" that it must now be punished however and wherever possible, even in our entertainment, consciously or not?

Maybe it's an issue with the writers being older? My mom is close in age to the lady writer of the episode and she didn't even notice the line until I pointed it out. She grew up in California in the age of the late 60s gender wars, when being feminine was the status quo and being a tomboy or downplaying femininity seems to have been preferred for the cool, edgy young people. If she didn't notice the issue there, then I'm not surprised Buckleming didn't notice. I guess it's hard for some to adjust to the modern "I'm whatever I want to be, and I'm still kick-ass awesome" mentality.

This show has always been a bit "anti-other" (usually monsters), but it's been getting better over the last few years. We really don't need it to go backwards into the misogynistic past again, not when it's been doing so well with getting over itself about diversity in race and orientation in the hunting community. Become better, Supernatural, not worse. And if you need to shed a writing duo (and possibly a show-runner) to do so, so be it.

This show has a problem with removing the agency of female characters over the years, and I was not pleased to see the return of that particular issue. Over the years, some particularly strong female characters have found themselves being controlled by various men, a subject that has some fairly distasteful implications for the view of how strong female characters should be treated. Bela back in season 3, for example, frequently bested the guys. The result? Not only was she frequently insulted and abused by Dean (and served as a sex object by both guys *and* the writers), but she was controlled by the demons. To add insult to injury, she was given a last-minute background of parental sex abuse.

That could have been overlooked as just a complicated character choice if it weren't for the fact that for years after that, most of the strong female supporting characters have suffered similar fates. Ellen and Jo were blown to kingdom come to get them out of the way. Lisa was not only shipped off to Michigan, but she was rewritten from the laid-back yoga instructor into a bit of anti-Sam harpy before finally getting the rest of the characters literally erased from her consciousness. Anna was tortured into becoming the terminator and set on fire by the biggest male figure (outside of Chuck) in the series. Pamela Barnes and Sarah Blake were both fridged to provide Sam chances to navel-gaze and threaten the bad guys, which is a better end result then we got from Meg's fridging. Charlie was tortured to death in a bathtub by a friend of the Nazis. Hannah got turned into a kabob to upset Cas. Rowena has spent about half of her time on screen in chains at the hands of both bad *and good* characters. Alicia was gutted last episode.

Even the bad guys have this issue. Compare Metatron's season 9 incarceration end with Naomi's season 8 "drill to the head" ending. She wasn't a good guy, but if Metatron deserved a chance to redeem himself, so did Naomi. At least the next female big bad, Amara, made it out alive, even if she was repeatedly beaten up in the process.

At this point, the only female characters we have left that qualify as strong characters are Mary, Jody, Donna, Claire, Alex, Rowena and maybe a few MotWs (mainly, Kate and Bess.) And all of these are currently under threat.

The loss of agency by Mary is troubling because of this. The complete and total brainwashing is something I thought I'd never see again after Anna died. It's horrifying, watching a character as strong and iconic as Mary Campbell Winchester being turned into a remote-controlled toy by a male character so stereotypical 1940s-60s British that I half expect him to start narrating a WW2-era safety film sometimes. "This is Mary. She might look nice, but she could be a plot from the enemy. Here's what could happen if you touch her. *flash to slides of diseased body parts*"

It doesn't help that he's treated the other female characters he's been in contact with horribly. The character is a slime-ball, one with clearly inappropriate intentions with the brainwashed Mary, and watching him control her is really creeping me out. I wouldn't have been surprised if the writers (especially this pair) had attempted to write in a "dubious consent" scene involving Ketch and the brainwashed Mary. They've already set-up the background for it (another reason why I disliked that particular story thread.)

I honestly hope it's Mary herself that kills Ketch now. The only hope for redeeming the story-line and regaining her agency is Mary breaking the brainwashing and slaughtering Ketch, especially if he's threatening her sons at the time.

This season has a thing for repeating past plot elements. In most of the episodes, this has come off as essentially a call-back to previous seasons. This episode, though, it's  been less of a call-back and more of a simple "copy-and-paste" due to a lack of good ideas. The big one was Crowley's "death" in this episode. It was an almost exact duplicate of the death scene in the opening of season 11, but this time, it was even more obvious that he didn't die. It makes me wonder about Lucifer's intelligence levels. Lucifer is still an angel, and Cas has shown that they have heightened scenes, plus Luci had a physical connection to Crowley's vessel. You can't tell me that he wouldn't have felt Crowley smoke out of his vessel. Hell, he should have at least heard it, or heard/smelled the rat.

Kudos on the new vessel choice, though, even if it's very temporary. Crowley is indeed a perfect rat.

It's interesting that Luci didn't know about Dagon. Isn't he supposed to be powerful and highly intelligent? Why didn't he didn't do a welfare check, to at least threaten a bit? He know she was facing the Winchesters and Cas. Given their track records with monsters, he'd have done a check.

Luci isn't the only one that dropped a few common sense points. Why have they dumbed down of Winchesters this year? The Men of Letters have marched into the Bunker repeatedly over the last year, and the Winchesters know the MoL have access to military technology. They also know the MoL don't trust the US hunters and wants to control them, that they have a hate-on for some of them, a few of the MoL that they dealt well with have gone away and the rest wanted info on the hunting community, and that they don't particularly like that the guys have made their home in a MoL property. Knowing all of this, it never occurred to them to even look for bugs? I'm not a particularly paranoid person, but that's one of the things I'd have done first. The one they found in the Bunker isn't exactly small. On top of that, the guys have experience with being bugged before. In season 5, they learn that Crowley had bugged them a while before. You'd think they'd learn.

I'm astounded by the hypocrisy of the MoL. They spend all season bitching at the Winchesters for working with friendly monsters, demons and witches to stop the bigger bad guys from accomplishing their end goals, while they  simultaneously work with the exact same bad guys to achieve nothing more then personal control over the world at large. They could care less about stopping the monsters. Considering they're human themselves (presumably), that makes them worse then both the Winchesters and allies *and* the monsters they look down on.

In the same vein, I wonder about their sanity levels. No group that advances the ranks by killing off your competition is even remotely sane. I also still wonder how they avoid gaining unwanted attention. Hunters try to avoid killing each other, working together to minimize casualties, yet still end up attracting the attention of all branches of law enforcement. How do the MoL avoid it if they actively murder each other? Their body counts must be astronomical. And how do they keep the ranks filled? There can't be that many crazy people in Great Britain. If this is how they do things, all their enemies would have to do to take them out is spread a few rumors and the MoL will eat themselves alive.

This episode, they also seem to be falling to poor writing stereotypes, as well. Lady Toni decided to respond to capture by giving them a long Monologue of Doom, telling them the plan of the MoL, including who they were targeting. It's a wonder the Mol succeed at anything. I was actually surprised when Ketch didn't come out twirling the ends on a Snidely Whiplash-esque villainous mustache.

And speaking of the end of that episode... They're sealing a pair of people famous for their ability to outlast *everything* and always escape, even if they have to die first, in a Bunker they've lived in for 4 years to die, complete with the walking and talking means to find out all your secrets. Be sure that walking encyclopedia has a grudge against you as well, especially if she has a reason to really want to survive. (Buckleming clearly forgot she has a son. I wonder if the rest forgot as well?) The MoL have clearly discovered a sure-fire means of achieving your own longevity. (Ketch is a colossal idiot)

Now, the guys haven't exactly been the smartest this season, but when they inevitably get out of the bunker, they should definitely institute a series of changes:

1) kill *all* the MOL. 2) change the effing locks (there's *got* to be a way to do that.) 3)change the bunker programing to cut it off from outside control.

For that matter, the Bunker was designed to be a safe-house for the study of magic items. That assumes that they'd realize that someday, they might be under siege from outside by someone powerful wanting what was inside. What kind of bunker doesn't have a kill switch on the inside to prevent exterior control? Or at the very least, an escape hatch in case of emergencies? Were the 1930s MOLs insane? Dim?

Could have done without the Lion King moment at the end there. Why put that in?

Well, now that I've frustrated myself, it's time to try to talk about the good of the episode.

I like that Jody is tied into the hunter network, and knows enough to know Sam would want to know about Eileen. She seems to have taken over the place that Bobby once had, a thing that I think he'd probably be at least a little amused by, considering that he was interested in her back in season 6 and 7. I just hope she has a better ending (and as long of a series run, frankly.)

What do you want to bet that dog whistle scene with lady Toni comes back to bite Ketch in the ass later? God, I hope so. Even if I do hope Mary kills him, I'd love for that dog whistle thing bit to come into the end result.

The guys did show a bit of intelligence in an otherwise frustrating episode by leading the MoL goons into a trap. I also liked that Sam was  holding a gun on Toni, with that stone-cold expression on his face. It was clear that he still holds a bit of a grudge about that kidnap-and-torture sequence at the beginning of the year.

Surprisingly for this pair, there was no noticeable No Homo moment for Dean. There was a moment that could, with some thought, encourage the Bi Dean and Destiel camps. After he and Toni smacked each other around (including a near-knee to his groin), he joked to Toni "you keep that up, we're gonna have to start dating." Now, he could have meant the contact with his junk, but considering how fast that flew by, I'd like to think he meant the beating. It'd make sense, as for Dean, violent fighting and flirting seem to often occupy the same scenes. And Cas gets into fights with Dean on more then one occasion. It probably means nothing, but I do love the thought.

I love how protective Dean is. Toni tried to taunt the guys by telling them how Mary was sleeping with Ketch. Dean didn't take it well (anyone get the impression that deep in his soul, that boy is a romantic at heart? And definitely a Mama’s boy.) It's a good thing for Toni that Sam stopped Dean from crawling into the back seat to throttle her. (I also enjoyed Sam's slightly nauseated expression. Nobody likes to think of their parents sleeping with people. Especially not people who aren't the other parent.)

Morgan Shepard's expression in the control scenes was very well done. You can definitely see Crowley's panic at the (to him) unforeseen events, and his resignation when he realizes he can't do anything. The writing may be sub-par on this show sometimes, but at least the acting is top notch. (I was surprised when he did make it out of the episode, though, even if the rat bit was rather clumsily telegraphed. I've been expecting Crowley's death for a while now, since he's up against Lucifer. But who knows, there's still two episodes left. Maybe Luci will go instead.)

Not much good, eh? Well, I tried. Instead, have a number of neutral observations, to wind down:

"Rule of thumb. If you think we killed someone, we probably did." - Toni. A good rule to have about anyone in this show, really. Including the writers.

Crowley called Castiel "The Winchesters love slave". He's just jealous.

Mary didn't know about John mistreating/neglecting the guys as kids? I guess they hid that, and she didn't pick up anything from the journal and stories. That's gonna be an interesting discussion later.

The Crowley puppetry scene was fun, but I doubt Crowley would be that slow to understand normally.

Dean did nothing but head-shots on the MoL minions, and didn't even blink. He's 1) got fabulous aim, and 2) clearly no longer cares about killing people if they're trying to hurt him.

Mary's brainwashing is gonna make Dean's abandonment issues and guilt trips worse. Next episode is going to be angsty.

I'm not feeling real optimistic about the finale after this episode. This one had the same issues with character mistreatment in the plot as the last episode, but didn't have the saving grace of being well-written. Hopefully, it's better then the last two, plot-wise, and infinitely better then this one writing-wise. Either way, it's over for the year on Thursday. Buckle your safety belts, cross your fingers, and ready the shock blankets and your choice in comforting refreshments.

2 episodes left, back to back on May 18.

Due to the final night being 2 episodes long, I may have to take longer to write and post, or divide the review in half. Either way, I'll make a note of it on this tumblr (here) and my twitter page.

Stay tuned.