#the constellation effect chapter 1

[skzdarlings]

vexatious vixen ; felix x reader ; part 2/2

masterlist.

PART 2/2. READ PART 1 HERE. ( READ ON AO3. )

You always get what you want. When an unassuming security guard named Felix stops your latest venture, you escalate the stakes until he has no choice but to put you in your place.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: romantic comedy. strangers to enemies to lovers. cat-and-mouse. dom/sub dynamics, dom!felix and sub!reader. brat tamer!felix and brat!reader. everything that transpires is fully consensual with implied conversations on kink preferences, and an established colour safeword system before the scene. that being said, they still get a lil kinky. please heed the following content warnings: fear kink/cnc, hiding, chasing, lots and lots of dirty talk, fingering, blow jobs, face fucking, throat fucking, a little bit of crying, penetrative sex. (protected but dirty talk like it's not.)

(chapter word count: 7750 words.)

enjoy! <3

-

The gentlest nip of a summer breeze moves through the settling blue darkness.  Everything feels romantic.  Everything except the handcuffs chaining you to Felix,  Security Guard of the Year, Man of the People, and Defender of Propriety and Pop Star Penis.   

Felix does not look at you as he drags you away from the stadium.  He smiles sweetly at passersby, doing his best to hide the handcuffs no thanks to your flamboyant gesticulations, but it dissolves again to that grim, determined countenance. 

Felix has an interesting face, so many sharp lines, but the overall effect is somehow delicate.  A body of contradictions, slender but strong, a stark masculinity rippling beneath the glittery prettiness he happily indulges in.  Blue hair should not look that good on anyone, but you doubt anything could make him look bad.  He sparkles like the glitter star on his cheek. 

You poke that cheek.  A muscle in his jaw twitches.  He looks at you sideways, all pretty brown eyes and a constellation of even prettier freckles.  

“Do not,” he says. 

“Do not what?”

“Just. Do not.” 

You obey his demand for silence.  For about six seconds. 

“So how long have you been a security guard?” you ask amiably. 

“You’re really trying to have a normal conversation with me,” he says.  “Now? After that introduction?”

“I prefer the term meet-cute.”

“We wrestled on the ground then you handcuffed us together and threw away the key—”

“Adorable.”

“Right.” He picks up his speed.  You could easily keep pace but you decide to stagger along like he is too fast for you, whining as he drags you behind him.  Felix sighs but slows his pace.  To your surprise, he answers your question.  “A month,” he says.  “I’ve been working there a month.” 

“And you’re already gunning for CEO,” you say.  “Considering how dedicated you are to bringing justice—”

He slams to a stop.  Your chain jingles when you collide, hands smacking together.  He faces you. Wisps of blue escape from his half-ponytail to dance across his face.   

“I already told you,” he says.  “My job is checking tickets.  Chasing you down was my personal pleasure.”

“You’re a sick bastard,” you say.   

He smiles.  It is a gentle smile, seemingly sympathetic out of nowhere, his eyes softening with the lift of his brow.  He has an uncanny ability to make softness more threatening than roughness. It gives you a shiver. 

“Let me guess,” he says.  “You don’t have a job, do you, sweetheart?  You can’t hold one down.  You don’t know how. Your parents have money and it’s nice, sure, but they were overbearing your whole childhood, weren’t they?  Until one day they decided you were grown and just stopped caring.  And now you’re out in the world with no more rules and you don’t know how to deal with it.  Except by acting out.  It’s fun, right?  Looking for trouble.  Makes you feel something for a minute.  Because even though you have everyone fooled into thinking you’re this wild and carefree person, you’re locked up inside.  You’re not scared of consequences because you’re already trapped.  Oh, uhh, stop me if I’m getting cold, yeah?”

You just stare as he blithely runs his pretty mouth. 

“You don’t really care about the prize, it’s just about the chase,” he continues.  “You told me I was a good boy, yeah?  Your words.  And you think you’re bad.  A bad, bad girl,” his deep voice drops even more, like the heavy-handed thud of a low blow, striking some place intimate inside you, “but that’s not really true, is it?” 

He smiles that particular smile again, full of affection and tenderness, an expression that is completely alien to your brash and aggressive nature. 

“Deep, deep down, you just want to be good,” he says.  “But you need to earn it to enjoy it, don’t you?  You need someone to tell you that you can, that it’s okay.  But you don’t make it easy.  And you’ve been running for so long, you probably can’t even remember how it feels when someone cares enough to catch you.” 

You suddenly feel the weight of the handcuffs. You expected this dull pretty boy to have a hidden mean streak to rival your own, not for him to blast through your barriers and drag your innermost thoughts to the surface.  To say nothing of his perfect speculation on your background. 

“So what, you’re some kind of stalker with a philosophy major?” you ask. 

He is still smiling. 

He laughs, a low chuckle.  He looks like a star, glittering silver and blue in the moonlight. 

“No, I’m not,” he says.  “I’m just the same as you.  Vexatious, apparently, because I’m all smiles all the time.  Just so good, you know?”  He is almost theatrical in tone.   “Of course, that’s technically the opposite of you.  Isn’t it?” 

When you don’t answer, he touches your chin, just his fingertips.  It is still enough to guide your face to his, locking eyes. 

“I said, isn’t it?” he asks, his tone sharper. 

If he is insinuating that you are only pretending to be bad, then that means he is only pretending to be good.  If you are secretly good, then he is secretly—

His mouth hovers close to yours.  He abruptly steps back. 

Oh.  You blink quickly.  Yes.  Of course.  It is always the real bad boys who take care to be good, isn’t it?  He does not need to flaunt it.  He can just smile at you. 

“Come on,” he says, interlocking your fingers with his.  He tugs you along, humming to himself as he leads you down the street.  So seemingly innocent.  Grinning to himself like the cheshire cat. 

You stare at those freckles, the glitter stars, his dimples. 

A vexatious vixen, indeed.

“So that Jisung guy,” you say. “The one who gave you these handcuffs.  He thinks you’re a nice guy who needs some adventure in his life.  It was just a prank gift and he thought he was being funny.”

“Yup,” Felix says, popping the sound.

“Little does he know you’re actually some sick and twisted pervert,” you say.

“Tsk,” he says, looking at you with a cheeky grin, as if to say what a silly girl you are.  “I’m not sick.  See, unlike you who bothers everyone whether they like or not, I only chase the ones who like to run.  Twisted, on the other hand… well…” 

The handcuffs jingle, strung around your joined hands like the red string of fate.  You look at each other, starlight on your faces, a noisy arena behind you and a game ahead of you. 

You smile back at him. 

You still intend to win.

-

It is a twenty minute walk.  Your conversation weaves around implications, some very forthright flirtations, and a couple scandalizing explanations.  Despite his previous goading, Felix is far more reserved in his desires.  He blinks when you describe a very dirty scenario and get detailed.   Very, very detailed.   

“Um, right,” he says.  “Fun as that sounds, I’m pretty sure that constitutes as a human rights violation.”

“So?”

“I, uhh, prefer to do things that don’t get me put on an Interpol watch list.” 

“Coward.”

You nonetheless accept this and describe a totally different scenario.  He looks a little wan. 

“Where would I get a rocket launcher?” he asks when you are finished. 

“I dunno, get creative.  My friend Seungmin once—oh shit, my friends!”

“Wait, huh?  Your friend Seungmin has a rocket launcher…?”

You take out your phone to find a gathering collection of texts from Seungmin and Minho, ranging from teasing you about losing your touch to asking if you got arrested and they need to bail you out.  Your friends are a nightmare which is why you like them, but they always get you out of trouble in the end. 

You confirm you are safe, that you already left, and that you are trying to have sex with a hot, insane, kinky sadist of a security guard.  

“You know I can read everything you are typing right now,” Felix says.  “I am standing right beside you.  You’re typing with a hand literally attached to mine.”

“Well, mind your own business.”  You do not bother hiding your texts. 

“You are giving them my name and address,” Felix replies.  “It sounds like my business.” 

“Well, it’s not.  We’ve already established the world revolves around me.  You’re the supporting character, pal.” 

“Right,” he says.  He blinks at the screen.  In a more serious voice, he asks, “Do you want the postal code too?” 

It never hurts to be thorough.  You type the address and send it to the boys. 

Good thing you waxed, Seungmin writes. 

Felix squints at the screen and tilts his head like a curious cat.  “You waxed for a concert?” he asks, giving you a once-over.  “What did you think was gonna—”

“I am prepared for every eventuality,” you interrupt.  “It’s why I always win.”

He holds up your handcuffed wrists and cocks an eyebrow.  “Is this what you call winning?” he asks. 

You smirk, your whole expression bright despite the suggestive wiggling of your eyebrows.  “Matter of opinion, I suppose,” you say.  “And my opinion is the only one that matters.” 

“Right,” he says, forcing a frown.  Despite his efforts, a smile is tugging at his lips.  He suffices to roll his eyes and march ahead, yanking you along behind him.  “Come on,” he says.  “We’re almost there.”  

Once your friends have your information, you put your phone in your little purse.  You turn the corner and find yourself looking at an absolutely gorgeous house.  Your jaw drops as Felix leads you up the driveway.  It is an ostentatious design to say the least.  You pass a gate mounted with two lion statues.  

“Not my style,” he says when you gawk at the stone kitties.  “This place belongs to my parents.  They usually rent it out but they let me live here while I go to school.” 

“So you weren’t kidding,” you say, a funny sensation in your chest and stomach.  “About your background, I mean.  You and me really are alike.” 

You realize the sensation in your chest is an inkling of feelings.  Genuine, heart-felt, soul-stirring feelings. You look at Felix and see a lot of yourself, though he is like a mirror version, exactly the same and completely the opposite.  It makes you huff, holding a hand to your stomach like you can control the butterflies there. 

“What’s wrong?” Felix asks, pausing at the front door. 

“When was the last time you had a feeling?” you ask.

“A… feeling?” he asks.  He stands silent for a long moment.  When he realizes you are not going to elaborate, he asks, “What kind of feeling?”

“Just a feeling,” you say.  “You know.” 

“Uhh.”  He blinks quickly.  “I have feelings all the time.  Every day.”

“Wow,” you say.  “That sounds exhausting.  Explains a lot about you.” 

“All right.”  He shakes his head.  He reaches into his back pocket and fishes out a set of house keys, twirling them around his fingers until he finds the right one. 

“Wouldn’t it be funny if I threw those keys too?” you ask.

He gives you an exasperated look.  You grin.

With a shake of his head, he sighs and unlocks the door.  The foyer lights flicker to life and the house alarm starts ringing.  It gives you a punch of adrenaline which has the predictable effect of getting your blood pumping.  Your body does not know the difference between fear and desire.  You have only been here two seconds but you are already licking your lips. 

Felix is none-the-wiser.  He flips open the alarm panel and punches in a code.  It beeps and goes quiet.   You look at each other in the soft golden glow of the foyer lamplight.  He still looks stupidly pretty, blue hair and glitter, sleeveless shirt and jeans.  Unassuming, gentle, sweet.  Not at all like he could throw you over his shoulder or manhandle you in the grass.  But he can.  He did.

“Come on,” he says, tugging on the chain between you. 

You feign disinterest but your eyes scour his space.  You pass through the kitchen where there is an array of baking utensils drying in the dishes rack.  The entire kitchen is clearly maintained with great care.  The rest of the space is a little chaotic, shelves and desks and units overflowing with technological equipment that you can neither recognize nor name. 

“I build computers,” he says, catching you staring at the pile of miscellaneous parts.  “Sorry for the mess.  I wasn’t expecting company.” 

This is uttered dryly and you wave it away.  You do not want to admit you find it somewhat endearing.  Your hobbies primarily consist of keeping the local PD on their toes, but you appreciate the practice of a craft.  It only adds another layer to this weird dude, pretty but athletic but intelligent but ridiculous but charming but geeky.  And just as competitive and crazy and freaky as you. 

“Bedroom’s this way,” he says.  “And, uh, don’t get any ideas.” 

“Too late,” you answer, though truthfully your filthier fantasies are fracturing in wake of the reality of him.  The computers, the baking tools, the wall of games and consoles, collectible toys and ughhh why did he have to be kind of adorable and secretly have a personality.  Mutual objectification is more your style.  Not quivering under a gentle touch and feeling… feelings. 

“You look like you are thinking way too hard,” Felix says, pausing at his bedroom door.  “It’s freaky.” 

“Not thinking anything,” you say, because you are too busy feeling to be thinking.  Ugh.   You shake it off and push open his bedroom door. 

He shakes his head and leads you in.  He has a pretty elaborate gaming setup, the rest of the room plain in comparison.  His bed is neatly made and you cannot help but envision a mess of sheets.  Yes.  That is more your thing.  Taking that sweet and gentle façade and corrupting it, right down to the core.  You want him to lose control.  You want to drive him crazy.  You want to draw this out, use the handcuffs and—

“Aha,” he says. “Right here.”

He pulls open a bedside drawer.  A pair of handcuffs is sitting inside it, the key right on top.  He takes it out and immediately unlocks you. 

The cuffs fall to the floor.  He scoops them up and jingles them in your face. 

You stare at them then slowly meet his gaze.

“Oh,” you say.  “You evil son of a bitch.”   

He looks at you with a soft little pout, like he cannot imagine why you would be upset and you are hurting his oh-so sensitive feelings.  But he knew you wanted to play him.  He knew you wanted the handcuffs a little longer.  Now there is no reason to linger.  Now you can just walk out the door and never see him again. 

He is going to make you ask for it. 

That is not your style.  You hate being out-smarted.  And you really, really, really hate losing. 

“Right,” you say.  “I guess that’s it then.”

“Guess so,” he says.  “Bye.” 

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

You are still standing in his bedroom.  It is dark but there is an elaborate lighting rig around his computer, all bright blue neon and blinking lights.  You are swimming in blue, breathing it in.  His hair, the room, and moonlight. 

You will never see this colour the same way again.  Of that much you are certain. 

“Blue,” you say. 

His brow crinkles.  “Blue?” he repeats. 

“Mm.”  You look around the room, pretending you are unbothered by the intensity of his gaze.   “Red.  Yellow.  Green.  Colours can say a lot, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” he says, exhaled on a breath.  The neon light catches the little star on his cheek, glinting at you.  He is dazzling.  This moment is larger than life.

You take a step back, holding his gaze. 

“Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go…” you drawl, backing out of his room.  “It’s amazing what you can say with just a colour…” 

“Uh-huh,” he says.  He looks at you like he did at the arena, maybe even more intensely.  Now he knows what you are capable of doing.  Now you understand each other. 

He follows you, assessing every step you take.  There is a subtle flex to the lean muscles of his arms, reminding you that while he is beautiful, he is also capable of more. 

“And what does blue mean?” he asks.  “To you?” 

You walk backwards, an unspoken understanding that once you turn your back, the game begins.  So you hold his gaze, smirking, inviting.  The foyer lights flash on and gold light fills the space between you, casting shadows across your smiling faces. 

He walks like a predatory cat, slow and smooth.  His confidence is easy.  He needs no grand display of machoism.  He just smiles that pretty pink mouth.  The glitter on his cheek sparkles.    

“Blue is the colour we show on the outside,” you say, “when deep down we really want something else.”

“I see,” he says.  Abruptly, his intensity vanishes when he laughs and says, “Put it back.” 

Somehow, despite diverting his attention, he still saw your slight-of-hand.  You swiped the closest object, a little jewel-encrusted clock on the nearby table.  You waited until your body obscured the view but he still saw.  

He can read you that easily, predict your moves that well.  Because it is not as though he loves the clock.  It stands out from his things, clearly one of the ostentatious designs, courtesy of his parents.  You can read him that easily too.  He does not like gaudy, shiny little knick-knacks.  He likes neon and blue and you. 

“Put what back?” you ask.  You have reached the front door.  Your hands are behind your back, the bauble in one, the other twisting the doorknob. 

“I’m not gonna ask twice,” he says. 

You push the door open. 

“I’ll give it back, if that’s what you really want,” you say.  With a suggestive little smirk, you ask, “So what’s your colour?” 

Red to stop.  Yellow to pause.  Green to give in. 

“Blue,” he says.  To play. 

You smile.  You hold up the bauble, wink, then zip it into your purse.    

“In that case,” you say, “you’ll have to catch me first.” 

His expression changes in an instant, that playful giggling gone as quickly as it came.  He breathes and it fills him, makes him look sturdy, makes him look ready.   

“Sweetheart,” he says.  “Don’t make me do this.” 

The softness of the pet name is completely undone by the dark tone of his voice.  There is nothing soft about him.  He is ice cold blue and burning red heat at once, searing you with his eyes, the way they rove your whole body.  You feel each glance.  A shiver races down your spine.  Instinctively, your body braces itself, fearful of that voice and that gaze. 

It also gets you so, so hot. 

All that tension snaps. 

You turn and run, bolting down the driveway and past the fancy gate.  You are quick on your feet, practiced and lithe.  You show him no mercy this time.  Earlier you were unprepared, severely misjudging his capabilities, but you will not make the same mistake again. 

You glance over your shoulder.  He is no where to be seen so you slow your pace, bemused. 

A minute later, he comes tearing around the corner and your heart starts pumping again.   Just like back at the arena, he grins as he thunders after you. 

An instinctive little yelp leaves your mouth.  You resume your pace, booking it for the corner of the block.  There is a little patch of green park so you run there, disappearing between the bushes. 

It seemed like a good idea but the streetlight barely breaks the thick tree branches. It is darker and eerier here, genuine fright overcoming you.  You come to a clumsy stop, fumbling with your purse to grab your phone.  A flashlight will stop you tripping, but it will also lead Felix right to you. 

You hear him behind you, clambering through the bushes.  Your heart leaps.  The darkness makes you forget this is all pretend.  You run without a light, dashing down the narrow path and squinting for even a glimpse of street light.  You need to get out of the bushes otherwise you risk falling on your face, then he will be right on top of you in seconds.   But running on the road will expose you too quickly. 

You will not surrender that easily.  He knows that. 

Torn between the garden and the road, you get a brilliant idea.  You dash back onto the street and hope it takes him a minute to follow.  He is not behind you so you race back to his house. 

There is no way he will circle back here.  He knows you want a chase, so a chase is what he anticipates.  He would never guess you ran back into his house.  Oh, you can’t wait for the look on his face when he finds you perched on his bed, feigning boredom as you wait. 

You run back up the driveway.  The front door is closed and you crash right into it, assuming it would be unlocked.  Nope. He locked it.  Maybe that is why he was delayed. 

You spin around, halfway expecting to find him there, ready to push you up against his door and cage you in.  But no, you are still winning.  He is undoubtedly still running through those bushes. He will circle the whole block before heading back here.    

You hurry down the side of the house, looking for any open windows.  You do not think he had time to set the alarm.  Did he?  Maybe that is why he was so far behind. 

The side gate is unlocked so you slip into the backyard.  You come to a surprised stop because it is a beautiful landscape.  The greenery is pristine and there are little couches and chairs scattered around.  There is a shed, some storage trunks, a fire pit.    In the middle of everything is a pool, sparkling blue in the golden lamplight.  Of course. 

You do not rush. You cross the yard in a slow walk, taking a moment to catch your breath.  You strategize your next move.  Should you pose on one of the pool chairs?  Wait by his back door and knock when he gets home? 

Your thoughts are interrupted by a low hum.  Someone is making their way down the side of the house.  

You panic.  You are often caught scampering around places you are not supposed to be, so instinct propels you to hide.   You run to one of the storage trunks and duck behind it. 

No sooner have you hidden does Felix stroll into the backyard.  He is a little dishevelled, a few strands of hair escaping from his half-ponytail, but he seems mostly unbothered.  He moves at a leisurely pace, humming to himself as he swings the gate open. 

He pauses there, leaning against the tall fence.   You are quite certain the world has never been this quiet.    

 “I know you’re here,” Felix says, his deep voice shattering the silence. 

Your heart leaps into your throat.  You should have known better.  Of course he had the same idea as you.  Now what?  How can you outsmart someone who can predict your every move? 

You peek around the storage trunk.  Felix is smiling, all dimples and delight.  Even his eyes are glittering as he swings the gate shut.  He looks across the yard as he curls his fist around the padlock.  He slams it shut, effectively locking you in with him. 

So that is why he took so long.  He unlocked the gate before giving chase.  He laid a trap and you ran right into it. 

His walk is more of a prowl, a slow but steady tread across the grass.

“Come out, come out,” he sing-songs, uncannily chipper. 

You cannot believe you are about to be beaten so quickly.  It has your head spinning, your heart racing from your run, your adrenaline pounding as he approaches. 

Your heart tempers itself when he stops.  He pokes his head around the fire pit to see if you are hiding there.  

“Sweetheart,” he says, casting his gaze around the yard.  “You don’t need to hide.  I promise I’m not mad.”  He strolls around the pool, looking from here to there, even up at the trees.  He hums thoughtfully to himself.  “Now, now… If I was a troublemaker who needed to learn a lesson, where would I hide…”  He ducks behind a pool chair, frowning.  “Hmm, hmm, hmm…” 

He stands for a minute, tapping his chin.  You want to glean some semblance of your surroundings, but you do not want to take your eyes off him.  You are convinced if you do, he will manifest right beside you.  So you look at the house then at him, the gate then at him, the trees then at him.   You almost want to scream.  He is not even moving and he has you completely captivated, every last sense in your body attuned to him. 

“Pleeeeease,” he says in a long drawl, a cute little tone.  He ambles over to a different storage trunk and lifts the lid.  “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

He slams the lid down so hard it makes the unit wobble.  Even though you are far away, it makes you jump.  You have to cover your mouth to stop a yelp from escaping. 

You stare as he leans over the other unit, peering behind it.  He huffs in frustration when he finds nothing.  Despite the angry grimace, when he stands upright, he is wearing that saccharine smile. 

“You’re hurting my feelings, sweetheart,” he says.  “I thought we were turning into friends.  Don’t you want to be my friend?” 

He flings a chair out of his way, then swiftly drops to his knees to peer under the picnic table.  He is getting closer, bit by bit, which is somehow more terrifying than if he beelined right at you. 

He is giving you time, you realize.  He wants you worked up.  He wants your heart racing.  He wants you quivering and soft and afraid. 

You look around frantically, searching for an escape. 

Your hope rises then plummets.  The back door is ajar but that is an obvious trap.  It leads into the house but there is no way you are crossing the yard without him seeing you. 

You jump at another slam.  It was the shed door.  He is stepping inside it, rifling through the yard tools in case you are crouched inside. 

“Come on,” he says into the shed.  “Don’t be scared.” 

You take a deep breath.  You have only seconds to cross the yard while his back is turned.  You do not waste another moment, jumping to your feet and running as quietly and as quickly as you can. 

He is just as quiet.  You shriek at the sudden arm that catches you, just like it did at the arena.  Felix tackles you onto the grass again, pushing you down on your back and covering your mouth. 

You wrestle him, just like last time, ignoring his laughter as you claw and bite at him. 

“You’re a little mean, you know that?” he says, waving his hand after narrowing dodging your teeth.  He dives back in, undeterred, grabbing your face in one hand.  “Yeah, that’s it,” he says.  “Fight me.  Brat.” 

You do not surrender easily, but he manhandles you with the same effortless skill as before.  There is no doubt he has training that you lack, flipping you in his arm then pushing you down on your front.  You kick your legs as he straddles your backside.  He brings your hands together on the base of your spine. 

You know what is coming and it makes you shriek with frustration.  Just like last time, he slaps the handcuffs on your wrists and locks your hands behind your back. 

“You stupid little—” you start, your words stifled when he puts his hand over your mouth and yanks your head up.  He holds the handcuff key in front of your face, then makes a show of throwing it.  You are pretty sure it is still in his fist, but the very idea has you whimpering into his palm. 

“That’s better,” he says, slowly taking his hand off your mouth.  It hovers like he expects you to start screaming.  You just exhale heavily, glaring.  “All right,” he says.  “Very good.  Come on.” 

You play at obedience long enough to get off the ground.  He helps you stand, then you immediately kick at him.  He tries to grab your leg but you dodge the swipe of his hand, running the opposite way. 

Your balance is thrown, dizzy from the takedown and the handcuffs.  He catches you quickly.   You yelp when he sweeps you off your feet, boasting all that hidden strength again. 

He carries you over to the deck where he drops down, sitting with his legs spread to fit you in between.  With your back to his front, he pulls you against him, an arm across your chest to keep you pinned together. 

“Oh fuck you,” you say, wriggling helplessly. 

“Not quite,” he says, laughing.  “I’ve been picturing something else.” 

He covers your mouth again, catching your shriek when he tugs your shirt open.  The flannel falls down your shoulders and he yanks the tank top down, getting a handful of everything you inadvertently flashed him earlier. 

Despite the force of his initial touch, he is not rough.  You might have kept your cool if he was; you are used to rough, fast, hard.  But his hand is tender, almost loving, a slow touch that trails from your neck down your chest, thumb circling the peak of your nipple before he squeezes your curves in the cup of his hand.   It is maddeningly slow and careful, your whining trapped in the palm of his hand. 

“This is what I was picturing,” he says.  It sounds like a growl, his deep tone just above a rough whisper.  His lips graze your ear and you shiver. 

You gasp, taking in deep gulps of air when he frees your mouth.  A weak whimper is all you manage when he hooks his legs around yours and pries them apart.  His hand dives down to your shorts, making swift work of the buttons. 

“Yup, just what I thought,” he says as his fingers sink inside you.  “Do you feel that?” he asks, as if your attention could be on anything but the thorough, rolling touch of his fingers, torturing the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs.  He slides his fingers into you with no resistance whatsoever. He starts finger-fucking you, laughing when you moan, when you rear up under his hand for more.  “Mmm, yeah, you want it don’t you?”  You try to resist but it is hard, especially when he teases you, making you chase him with your hips.  He just laughs again, slowing his touch maddeningly.  “God, that’s hot,” he says.  “You might be a brat but your pussy...   It’s begging for it, isn’t it?  Does it like this, sweetheart, hmm?  Hmm?” 

He is absolutely torturing you, rubbing those swollen nerves to the crest of an orgasm then withdrawing, again and again, until you swear it burns.  You make a strangled sound, clutching his hand on your chest, still cupped possessively on your naked breast. 

“Tell me,” he says.  “Tell me how much you want me to make you come.” 

“Mmmph,” is your oh-so intelligent reply. 

“You can do better than that,” he says.  “Come on.  Show me how much you want it.  You can’t lie to me, sweetheart.  I can feel it, hmm?  Gonna feel it when you come.  Gonna feel your pussy get nice and tight around my fingers, asking for it, baby—oh yeah, what’s that?  What’s it want?” 

“Ugh, fuck you,” you whine. 

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart,” he says.  “Fuck you.  You can run that pretty mouth but I know what you really need.  You’re gonna be begging me for my cock, to fill you up and make you feel all full for real. Isn’t that right?  Go on.  Show me you want it.  Show me.” 

Your chest is heaving.  Your eyes close.  You concentrate on that orgasm, chasing it desperately.  It approaches rapidly and your thighs start shaking. 

He covers your mouth again, once more predicting you.  He knows you are about to come.  This time he takes you right over, groaning in your ear, clutching you tight while never once slowing the deft thrust of his hand.  You scream into his palm, the intensity of the orgasm washing over you.  The blue light of the pool flickers even with your eyes closed, seeing nothing but blue, blue, blue.   He surrounds you, his voice, his moans, his touch. 

Your hips buck, your heart skipping a frantic beat when pleasure turns to sensitivity. He chuckles but stops, dropping his hand off your mouth.  You catch your breath, slumping against his chest. 

He touches your face with the hand he just used to fuck you, wet fingers streaking across your mouth as he turns your head.  You blink at him and part your lips just for him to shove his fingers in your mouth.  You cannot help but moan, eyes closing as you suck the tangy wetness right off his fingers.  You watch when he takes them back, when he licks them for himself.  Strands of blue fall across his forehead.  He looks as flushed and filthy as you feel. 

He grins around his fingers.  Then he grabs the back of your neck and pulls your face to his.  He kisses you for the first time with the taste of your pussy on both your mouths.  His kiss is deep and bold, as if you are already his.  You are dizzy when he stops, gasping when he pecks your lips with sweet, chaste little kisses. 

“Gonna uncuff you now,” he says softly.  “Because for what we do next…”  He grabs you by the throat and you mewl, clenching around nothing when he rolls his hips under you, showing you how hard he is.  “Yeah, sweetheart.  For that, I need all of you.” 

You sit quietly while he uncuffs you.  You feign complacency, standing on shaky legs when he guides you upright.   You fix your shirt, glaring at him, though it is a little harder while you are still catching your breath. 

He was right about one thing; you need him like you have never needed anyone.  You are throbbing, completely and totally aching with the loss of his touch.  You have never felt such clear pulsations, your body begging for more even while your expression is petulant. 

You follow him to the open door.  One step, two steps. 

Then you say, “Blue.” 

You take off running into the house. 

He laughs incredulously, not even making an attempt to grab you. 

He slams the door shut behind him.  You skid to a stop in the hall, listening to the gentle beeping of the alarm as he arms it from the inside.  It is the same quiet threat as the padlock; there is no escape. 

Giddy, excited, practically vibrating with anticipation, you run and hide.  There are boxes and tables piled high with gadgetry, not to mention his couch and bookshelves and general appliances.  Plenty more places to hide than that big back yard.  And when he finally does find you, when you have worked him up the way he worked you up—

That is what winning is all about. 

You sit in your hiding place, breathing hard.    

“Sweetheart,” Felix says in that too-sweet voice.  His footsteps are slow, unhurried, casual.  “Stop hiding.  I said I didn’t want to hurt you, but if you keep this up…” 

You peer at him between some boxes.  He stops in the middle of the room, catching his breath too.  The glittering amusement has left his eyes.  They are narrowed, his flushed cheeks and sweaty hairline only exacerbating his predatory air. 

He unties his half-ponytail, then bends over to run his fingers through the length of it.  He flips back up, all that blue falling prettily in place.  He licks his lips as he prowls through the room, looking behind boxes, ducking under tables. 

You shuffle with him, moving when he does.  He checks your previous hiding space with a jaunty, “A-ha!” then curses. 

“Come on now,” he says, turning around.  He smiles like a shark, all teeth, hungry despite the innocent flash of a dimple.  “You’re only hurting yourself,” he says.  “I know you, sweetheart.  You’re in here somewhere, and you can’t tell me you’re not thinking about what it’s gonna feel like when I catch you, yeah?  Hmm.  You’re fast.  I bet you’re flexible too.  I bet I can get you into all sorts of positions.  Get you making all sorts of noises for me…” 

It is a struggle to be quiet as you move.  Your limbs are still shaky.  Every word out of his mouth makes your breath catch. 

You swallow hard, freezing when he pauses.  Did he hear that?  Maybe not.  He turns the other way, heaving a deep sigh before he laughs.  It lacks amusement, a harsh sound as he turns and turns. 

“Come out, come out,” he sing-songs.  In a harder voice, he snaps, “Stop hiding from me.”  Then he smiles again.  He turns in your direction slowly.  “You’re not scared of me, are you?” 

You cover your mouth, cowering down when he seems to look right at you.  Your heart is pounding so hard, you would not be surprised if he could hear it, even feel it, shaking this whole damn house. 

“If you come out on your own,” he says, “I promise to make you feel good.  You’ll come so hard, you’ll forget how scared you are.” 

You keep that hand over your mouth, fighting to keep quiet.  It stifles a shriek when he suddenly waves at you, a drole little finger-wiggle.    

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says.  He crouches down, putting himself at eye-level, peering between the boxes that shield you.  “Don’t make me come get you,” he says.  “I’ve been nice, haven’t I? Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.”    

You shuffle to the side.  He slaps a hand over his face, shaking his head while he laughs. 

“Right,” he says.  “Fine.  We’ll do it that way.” 

You bolt when he does, shrieking as you clamber around some equipment to get away.  You manage to escape to the foyer, cursing when the automatic lights flash on.  It feels like a spotlight, illuminating you in the middle of that big empty space with no where to hide. 

You can hear Felix stomping after you.  You scurry into the kitchen, looking around frantically for somewhere to hide. 

You yelp when he bursts in behind you.  This time, he does not give.   He grabs you roughly when you try to run again.  With very little effort, like you are scarcely more than a mild inconvenience, he lifts you off your feet and slings you over his shoulder.  He says nothing while you curse and squirm and slap his back. 

“You know what I wonder?” he eventually says, marching you right into the bedroom.  “I wonder… if I make you cry, is that gonna make you tighter, you think?”  He slides you down his body, holding you flush against him.  He smiles.  “Worth a shot, no?” 

And then he handcuffs your wrist to his wrist and tosses the key across the room.

“Oops,” he says. 

He grabs your throat and you gasp, spilling onto the bed when he pushes you.  He puts your on your back then straddles your chest, swiftly unbuttoning his jeans. 

“Open up,” he says, practically prying your mouth open, just giggling when you bite at him.  “If you bite me,” he says, two fingers shoved deep in your mouth, “I promise, I’ll give you something to be fucking scared of.” 

You were right.  You will never see the colour blue the same way again.  You will never be able to settle for anything less than Felix again. 

With a whimpery sigh, you relent, blissful as your mouth falls open.  He shoves his clothes out of his way, just enough.  He is rock hard and wet at the tip when he guides your mouth around his dick.  He cradles your head gently, even if the rest of him is not gentle.

You moan, your pussy literally twitching for attention as he shoves into your throat and makes your eyes water.  You take him well and he groans, pulsing in your mouth when tears start running down your face.  He fucks your mouth and throat, a back and forth that has your seeing stars.  Eventually he pulls back, laughing as runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Oh, baby,” he says.  He reaches down to wipe a tear.  “I wanted to do that the second you started mouthing off to me.”

“Asshole,” you say, though it comes out with a giggle. 

He laughs, sliding down your body to get between your legs. He gets your shorts and underwear out of his way, kissing across your pussy and up your stomach.  He lifts your shirt and crosses your breasts with his mouth, leaving little bite marks in his wake.

With the hand cuffed to yours, he interlocks your fingers sweetly, pressing it into the mattress.  Then he swoops up.  He kisses you, his tongue a soothing touch after everything. 

You moan, literally shaking with need as he smiles against your lips.   He speaks in that low, rasping voice when he says, “I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you realize you’re gonna come all over my cock.” 

“Oh god,” is your rough reply. 

“It’s Felix,” he says.  “You’re gonna be screaming it in a second, aren’t you, sweetheart?” 

He has a condom in his bedside drawer.  Though you see him put it on, he still leans down to dirty talk, holding your throat as he whispers, “Was gonna be nice and wrap it, but you don’t like it nice, do you?”  He spreads your legs with his own, pushing down with his hips.  You whimper when the head of his cock glides over where you are very wet and very needy.  “No, sweetheart,” he says.  “I’m gonna have all of you.  And you – are gonna – take it.” 

He punctuates this with short thrusts, gradually easing inside you.  You moan, canting your hips to meet him, needing more.  When he starts fucking you in earnest, your whole body gets pliant like it never has before.  You let him hold you, tethered to him by the handcuffs and something else, something to do with those feelings inside you.  You let them melt into the physical sensations.  When he touches you, working you into an orgasm while he is deep inside you, it all washes over you.  You come with a cry, screaming his name just like he said. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he says.  Your bodies are flush together, chests touching, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist.  His face is in your neck when he laughs.  It is not a fake laugh, not coloured darkly, but ringing with true amusement.  “What’s your name?” he asks.

You laugh too, whispering it against his mouth when he leans in to kiss you.  He groans, kissing you, and says your name against your lips when he comes.  It binds you to him more effectively than the handcuffs. 

You lay there for some time afterward, all that pent-up adrenaline taking its time to dwindle.  He lays on your chest, your free hand in his hair, stroking it.  Eventually he looks at you with wide eyes. 

“I’m not, you know, like that, I mean—” he says. 

“I know,” you reply, massaging the nape of his neck.  You get uncharacteristically bashful.  Usually your partners, being more dominant, are the ones offering consolation to you, and you seldom need much.  Felix, you can tell, needs something, and it draws something out of you that you hardly knew existed.  Something tender and soft, that enjoys touching him and soothing him and making him smile. 

“Do you still have that, uh, feeling?” he later asks. 

You nod.  He smiles. 

“Me too,” he says. 

“That’s nice.  Can we get the handcuff key now?” you ask, making him laugh. 

The handcuffs end up on the floor with your clothes. 

This is usually the part where you run away, but you think you are done with running for a while.  You lay down with Felix, side by side, washed in the neon blue light.  You take a breath and roll onto his chest, resting your head there, and he runs a hand down your back in a soft caress. 

“I’m just glad I didn’t wax for no reason,” you break the silence, making him snort.  He slaps a hand over his face, shaking his head.  “What!  Don’t look at me like that or I’ll try and sneak into another concert when you’re on the clock.”

“Mm, will you?” he asks, grinning.  “I better be prepared.” 

“Oh no, I’m not messing with you.  I’m picking an easier target next time.”

“I’ll find you anyway,” he says.  “Can’t hide from me, sweetheart.”

“Hmm,” you say, hiding your face because that squishy feeling in your chest is back.  “I still won this round.” 

He lifts your face so he can look at you.  Your eyes close when he swoops in and kisses you.  You can’t even pretend to be annoyed with him anymore.  Vexatious vixen, indeed.   

“I think,” he says, “we might have tied this round, sweetheart.” 

“Fine,” you say.  You kiss again, long and sweet.  Then you bop him on the nose.  “But next time it’ll be me.”

He sighs but smiles, shaking his head.  Then he cups your face and pulls you in for another kiss.   

[bitchy-craft]

Let's Get You Hyped Up | Pick A Pile

Hello and welcome to this Pick A Pile! In here you'll find a few things that'll hype you up. I hope you guys enjoy and find this useful. Do make sure to leave comments down below on your experience! I do want to remind you all that this is a General Pick A Pile which means this is for a lot of people; therefore keep what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Masterlist > Questions > Paid Readings

Pick A Pile!

Pile 1:

You're a force to be reckoned with, a spark of potential waiting to ignite the world with your brilliance. Each day is a canvas, and you hold the brush. The universe has bestowed you with unique talents and dreams, and it's time to unleash them with unbridled passion. Remember, challenges are just stepping stones on the path to your success. Embrace them, conquer them, and let them mold you into the unstoppable individual you are meant to be.

You've already overcome obstacles that once seemed insurmountable, proving your resilience and determination. Your journey is a testament to your unwavering spirit. Visualize your goals, for that's the first step in manifesting them into reality. The world eagerly awaits the mark you'll leave upon it. Your story is one of inspiration, growth, and triumph. Believe in yourself, as others believe in you too. The energy you radiate is infectious, and your impact is boundless.

So go forth with confidence, head held high, and a heart full of determination. Every effort you put forth, every leap you take, is a leap towards greatness. You've got this!

Pile 2:

You're a dynamo of potential, a powerhouse of creativity just waiting to explode onto the scene. Every sunrise brings a fresh chance to seize the day and make it your own. Embrace the challenges that come your way, for they're the secret ingredients that shape your success story.

Life's journey is a rollercoaster of experiences, and you're fearlessly riding every twist and turn. Your ability to adapt and thrive in the face of uncertainty is awe-inspiring. Remember, you're not just a participant in life – you're the director, crafting your narrative with every decision you make.

Dream big and dream often, because those dreams are the blueprints of your destiny. As you forge your path, know that your enthusiasm is contagious and your potential limitless. Your actions have a ripple effect that extend far beyond your awareness, touching lives and igniting the flames of possibility in others.

So march ahead with unwavering confidence, a trailblazer towards your goals. With every stride you take, you're paving the way to the extraordinary. Believe in yourself, as others believe in you too. You're a beacon of light, illuminating the world with your radiance!

Pile 3:

You are a constellation of infinite possibilities, a symphony of potential waiting to be composed. Your uniqueness is a gift to the world, a mosaic of experiences that only you can bring to life. Every day is an opportunity to add a new chapter to your story, and you hold the pen. Embrace the unknown with excitement, for within it lies your next adventure.

Life's challenges are like the weights that sculpt a strong and resilient spirit. With each trial you face, you're refining your character and gaining the tools to conquer even greater feats. You've already shown your capability to adapt and overcome, proving time and again that you're not just a passenger in this journey – you're the driver.

Visualize your aspirations vividly, for the mind is a powerful magnet that attracts the future you desire. As you walk your path, remember that your enthusiasm is contagious, and your potential knows no bounds. The ripples of your actions extend far beyond what you can see, touching lives and inspiring others to chase their dreams.

So stride forward with courage, a trailblazer on the path to your aspirations. Every step you take, every dream you chase, brings you closer to the extraordinary life you're crafting. Believe in yourself, as others believe in you too. You're a shooting star, lighting up the universe with your brilliance!

[genshin-scenarios]

Chapter 1: the city of wind and song

Reembarking Starlight Masterlist

Characters: Paimon, Diluc

-> Chapter 2

During a dark and lonely night, countless wishes from Teyvat sang to the heavens, illuminating the sky. 

From beyond, a shooting star dashes and dives, until it finds itself burrowed against the soft sands of Starfell Beach. 

They're filled with nostalgia as they cast their sights on the glimmer of constellations above. But how was this possible? How have they arrived in a world they knew to be fiction?

Just as the outlander wonders this aloud, a notification box appears in the air.

“Welcome to Teyvat.”

-

Despite how many days it’s been since you woke up at Starfell Lake, the fact you were in Mondstadt—actual Mondstadt—still feels like a dream.

Since then, you’ve settled into a routine within the city’s walls after meeting Paimon and Outrider Amber. From the charming bustle and music that streams through the air, you have no doubt that Mondstadt was at its most beautiful under the sparkling Sun.

But many questions remained: how were you even in Teyvat, and how can you get home? You seemed to possess the Traveler’s qualities—but then, why didn’t you run into Dvalin at the start of your journey? And what was the mysterious interface that’d pop up at times, leaving clues and directions like you were in a game?

You’re simply learning as you go, earning mora from daily commissions whilst getting used to adventuring. Children with paper windwheels and dandelions pass, making a beeline towards you when they notice you’re there.

“Um, Traveler…” A girl with pigtails shyly offers the flowers to you. “Do you think you could do the same trick from yesterday?”

Paimon seems to hold the same anticipation as the children when you shut your eyes and conjure anemo into your palms. You envision a breeze, guiding it in a spiral flow to pick up the dandelions and scatter their seeds into the air.

Despite how you were still new to using the Traveler’s powers, it’s as if their skills have been pre-programmed into you with only your personal experience as a limit. Your little audience celebrates with a cheer, and you ask what wishes they were hoping to come true.

“I want Mom to feel better soon.” The brunette says eagerly. “She came down with a cold and has been down all day.”

“I’m sure she’s relieved to have thoughtful kids like yourself.” You then smile at her little brother, who’s the quieter of the two. “Did you wish for the same, Ciel?”

“Yes…! We’re getting ingredients so we can cook for her tonight.”

You end up helping the kids carry their groceries home, bidding them farewell at the door. But just as you were contemplating what to do next, a notification appears.

‘Would you like to continue the search for Dvalin’s tears?’

Ever since you found the first teardrop crystal in Dadaupa Gorge, the system seems to have activated a stream of precollection side quests for you. You’ve been accepting these tasks and accumulated three scarlet gems already, hoping it'll help speed up the story later.

“Shall we explore the outskirts now that we’re free?” You propose to Paimon, watching a line of golden dust lights up the way.

This, and the system’s other game-like effects, seem to only be visible to you.

-

The Thousand Winds’ Temple is a colosseum-like ruin with a pacing Ruin Guard and eroded stone pillars. You feel the tremor of heavy stomps from the edge of it, peeking over to assess where the ‘treasure chest’ with the tear is.

“Looks like we’ll need to light up those torches.” You search for pyro with your elemental sight. A flaming flower comes into view, which you quickly run to fetch.

“Is that going to work?” Paimon asks as you reach the first totem, angling the flower above it.

“If I use a small burst of anemo like this…” You hold your breath. The wind swirls pyro onto the totem, lighting it with an approving hum. “There!”

Once all the torches are activated, a resounding thump echoes from within the temple’s iron gates. You see a mechanism releasing itself, but between that and you is the Ruin Guard, who you’ve successfully tip-toed around…

…Until now, when it spins on its heel just in time to spot you hurrying across the grounds.

“Get down!” Paimon exclaims, watching it get into position to launch its rockets. You duck behind a pillar which crumbles behind your back. 

You feel the Ruin Guard stomp towards you, and you dart around to attack it once it wanders close. Your blade collides harshly against its metal form, forcing you to grit your teeth. 

It'd take too long to chip at its body instead of the core on its head, especially when your weapon isn't suited for carving metal. An idea sparks. You ask Paimon to distract it while you create some distance, only to hear the machine charging up its bombardment again.

You hurry to concentrate anemo down the length of your arm and aim it like a makeshift crossbow. The core’s just a little to the left—!

Time seems to slow down as you hear Paimon’s panicked shout. The Ruin Guard’s rockets fly towards you. You release your shot too late.

One of the missiles intercept your attack, rendering it useless. You need to move. You need to shoot again before the Ruin Guard can jump and crush you under its feet. But your legs stumble to a clumsy dodge—and a searing heat bubbles into view just as you're on the brink of danger, exploding the rockets in a fiery attack.

Two more are deftly blocked by the flat side of a claymore, which shines with a ruby hue.

Before you can figure out who has come to your rescue, your attention snaps back to the Ruin Guard that's leaped into the air. Right as you and the stranger flee to the side, you pivot around just in time to spot an opening to the robot’s core, and let the anemo from your arm fly.

The world resumes its normal speed. You see that the stranger is wearing an ivory mask. He has a high ponytail with fluffy, scarlet hair, and you finally realise why he seems so familiar when his searing gaze lands onto you.

Oh.

You’ve just been saved by the Darknight Hero.

[imadethisaccountforwhispangle]

hello isat fans!! just uploaded a fic centered on sif's religion and the constellations - AND it has beautiful illustrations done by an amazing artist from the community!!! here's a little taste below the cut, just to getcha hooked ;]

(You’ve been having trouble falling asleep lately.) (And more often than usual, as well.) (You know you’ve always had trouble with your circadian rhythm, but…) (It never got this bad, before.) (Ah. . .)

(Well, it makes sense, you guess.) (Everyone else is also processing everything that happened, even if it has been a little while.) (So it’d make sense that you’re also still feeling the effects, right?) (Everything that happened…) (The reality of it often still eludes you.) (Despite living it, breathing it…) (Enduring it. Surviving it.) (...) (You sigh.)

(As sleepless as you feel, and as active as your mind is…) (The last thing you want to do right now) (is to open your eye.) (Because you know you’re already dreaming.) (Dreaming that same dream again.) (The same stupid dream, where every time nothing changes.) (Where every time you give in and look, it somehow makes you feel even worse than the last time.) (And every time you wake up panicked, sweating, shivering…) (. . .) (. . .Ha.)

(Hah!)

(...Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?) (Like the Universe isn’t done playing some sort of cosmic joke on you after all.) (Just…) (Great.) (How blindingly great.) (...)

(You breathe in. And out.) (It’s just a dream.) (Concepts and thoughts cobbled together by your own brain.) (Arbitrary neurons firing into nothingness.) (So what if the same ones just so happen to be firing again and again and again?) (Coincidences happen all the time, right?) (And these aren’t even coincidences.) (They’re just dreams.) (And they aren’t real.)

(...That’s right. They’re not real.) (And they’re not your present reality, either.) (It’s all… behind you now, after all.) (...) (Your eyelid clutches a little less as you compose yourself.) (You feel it lose that sense of pressure, as if someone has carefully lifted the weights off of your eyelid.) (But                    you still don’t want to open your eye.)

[ART DONE BY MAKIROLL!!!!! THEIR SOCIALS R CREDITED IN THE NOTES OF THE FIC PLS CHECK EM OUT]

[myfavoriteficss]

Scream Masterlist

This Masterlist includes all of the Scream fan fiction I have reblogged. Enjoy.

Updated: 12/30/2023

Masterpost

1. Tara Carpenter

Written by: @bingwriterxo

the shakespeare exhibit: part 1 - part 2 - drabble 1 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 (18+) - drabble 2 - part 7 - drabble 3 - part 8 - drabble 4 - part 9 - drabble 5

distrust

Written by: @delfiore

The Happiest Girl In The World

Written by: @gyuhji

Forbidden

Written by: @heavenlylie

lover

Written by: @house-of-lovin

(1) over - (2) love language - (3) safety net

protect her

Written by: @jazzyoranges

Harleys in Hawaii

Written by: @junoxans

Under The Mistletoe

Movie Marathon Madness

Anywhere You Go, I'll Follow

Without You

You Saved Me

I Got You

Written by: @kaisacobra

A Little Bird Told Me

Written by: @lesbianpepsi

‘Cause I’m a jealous, jealous, jealous girl: Part I - Part II

Written by: @lonelym00n

The Devil Likes the Pirate: (1) The Devil Likes the Pirate - (2) There’s No One Else I’d Rather Kidnap - (3) Is It Okay to Run When You’re Feeling Weak? - (4) Just Friends - (5) The End - (Epilogue) The Road to Recovery

Written by: @mikavlcs

(1) Shade Astray - (2) Purity Weeps - (3) False Meridian

Written by: @simp4wom3n

The Quiet One: Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV

Written by: @somekindofpoet

Skin Deep: Part I (18+) - Part II (18+) - Part III (18+) - Part IV (18+) - Part V (18+) 

Spin Me Round (18+) 

Written by: @talesofesther

late night blues

you're all I want love to be

warmth in winter

Written by: @the-oblivious-writer

Let The Light In: (1) Princess Tara - (2) Alamort - (3) Nosy Friends & Conflicting Feelings - (4) Leave That For The Adults - (5) Shit-faced - (6) Knight In Shining Armor

Pretty Girl: (1) Pretty - (2) Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse! - (3) Unspoken Words - (4) Honesty & Confessions - (5) A Soggy Picnic

After The Storm: (1) After The Storm - (2) Repeated Mistakes - (O.S) Vigilantes & Branzino - (3) The Police Will Handle It

Touch Tank

Memories

Written by: @tonyspank

Till Death Do Us Part

Written by: @toournextadventure

Movie Night: Part I - Part II - Part III (18+) - Part IV - Drabble I (18+) - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII

Bad Dream?: Part I - Part II

Written by: @vioartemis

The one for you

2. Sam Carpenter

Written by: @carpentersghost

Champ of Pain: [One]

Written by: @httplilyyy

Breaking At The Seams

Written by: @laenordeservedbetter

Sweet Nothing

the demon i cling to

Written by: @talesofesther

souls tied, bound to burn: Chapter 1

secrets I held in my heart

constellations

3. Amber Freeman

Written by: @bingwriterxo

a drunken kiss

no strings attached...right?

Written by: @junoxans

Cause And Effect

Beer Runs (18+) 

Written by: @lockettelullaby

Nailed It Baby

Written by: @lonelym00n

Green-Eyed Monster

[freyadragonlord]

Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint - ANIME PREDICTION

Since they announced they are making an ORV anime just a couple of days after I started reading the novel for a second time, I decided to take the chance and try to estimate what the flow of the adaptation is going to be, and how many seasons it’s going to take to adapt the whole story.

(Why? shrug emoji)

Disclaimer! I only read the pre-revision version of the novel, so I cannot take into consideration any change made in the final version of the story beyond the point that is currently been adapted in the webcomic.

For the purpose of this chart, I imagined “standard” anime seasons made of 12 episodes, each around 22-23 minutes long.

I accounted for the fact that the novel’s chapters are longer later on than they are at the beginning, so while for early seasons I estimated that each episode would adapt between 4 and 5 chapters, towards the end it changed to be between 3 and 4 chapters.

I tried to imagine which scenes would take more screen time, and which were more or less likely to be omitted.

Finally, I considered which would be the more effective point to end each season, in order to give it a sense of “completion” and end with an exciting arc.

With that in mind, I estimated that the anime adaptation is going to be 11 seasons long, divided as such:

Season 1 =

Start: The beginning of the novel and the First Scenario. End: Dokja’s first resurrection after fighting the Red Dragon, and him experiencing Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint - Level 3 for the first time. Chapters adapted: 1 to 56/57

Season 1 introduces most of the main characters as well as the rules of the scenarios. The focus of the season is on the conflict between incarnations, showing how the end of the world unearths the ugliest, most ruthless side of certain people – including Dokja –, but also a strong sense of cooperation and companionship.

We also get to know the core aspects of Dokja’s personality: his approach for overcoming the scenarios and tricking incarnations, constellations and dokkaebi alike; his soft spots beneath his mask of coldness; the depth of his relationship with Ways of Survival, and the first hints of his trauma; his strategy to sacrifice himself in order to win.

Season 2 =

Start: Dokja talks with decapitated Sooyoung, and the War of Kings begins. End: Dokja makes three promises to 41st Yoosung after failing to save her, and he beats up Paul. Chapters adapted: 57/58 to 110

While the conflict between incarnations continue with the War of Kings, in this season the role of villains shifts more clearly towards the constellations (particularly the Historical-Grade constellations) and the dokkaebi, and the way they manipulate humans and situations for their own personal gain.

We are introduced to Stories as a crucial source of power and status that incarnation can earn through their action. This season also introduces the remaining main characters of the first part of the novel: Sooyoung, Yoosung, Sookyoung and Seolhwa.

Season 3 =

Start: Dokja makes a deal with Dionysus and goes to the Underworld to recover 41st Yoosung’s soul. End: Dokja learns about his Fate from Dionysus, while his companions destroy Paradise. Chapters adapted: 111 to 168

From the Underworld to Peaceland to the Constellation Banquet to the Dark Castle, this season sees a change of scenery as the characters finally leave Seoul, and they start making friends and foes from other countries (or other dimensions).

Kim Dokja’s Company is created, and Olympus is immediately introduced as one of its greatest opponents, but also as one of their strongest potential allies. In general, as Dokja finally gets to meet the Constellations face to face, some of them turn out to be friendlier and more helpful than expected, while Dokja officially starts the process of becoming a Constellation himself.

Season 4 =

Start: Kim Dokja’s Company wonders who is the person who Dokja loves the most, while Dokja gets kidnapped by his mother. End: Dokja wins the Revolutionary Game, he finds out that Joonghyuk came to look for him in the Demon Realm, and he receives the First Revision of Ways of Survival. Chapters adapted: 169 to 220

This season is about Dokja’s past, his trauma, and his family – the one from his childhood, but also the family he has made since the Apocalypse started, and all the way to him hatching Biyoo’s egg. It’s a season about the people who love Dokja, and the people who Dokja loves, and the length they would go to save each other.

The Fourth Wall’s role in the story becomes central, first in a villainous and then in a helpful way, and a new Wall is introduced through Jang Hayoung. The power of words and Stories grows into a tangent, physical presence, and we get to learn the ways in which Dokja influenced Ways of Survival, both in the past through his comments, and in the present through his actions.

Season 5 =

Start: Dokja learns the content of the First Revision, and he meets Asmodeus for the first time while saving Joonghyuk. End: His constellation supporters incarnate to fight for Dokja, Kim Dokja’s Company wins against Surya, and they earn their first Giant Story after winning the Demon Realm. Chapters adapted: 221 to 275

This season is all about the Demon King Selection, from the moment Dokja and Joonghyuk gain the qualification to participate, to the quest to find stronger allies, and finally to their victory. We get to find out more about Joonghyuk’s past regression, we finally meet one of his greatest enemies – Anna Croft – face to face, and the Transcendents become vital allies of the main characters.

The Constellations (and the Demon Kings) are officially done interacting with the story only indirectly, and they start to physically incarnate into the scenario either to fight against Dokja, or to fight at his side.

Season 6 =

Start: As Kim Dokja’s Company recovers from their last battle, they learn that there is a bigger disaster coming, while more of Eden starts paying attention to Dokja. End: First part of Gigantomachia, Dokja and Joonghyuk kill Ares together. Chapters adapted: 276 to 331/332

The Secretive Plotter is finally, properly introduced in the story, and we start to see hints about the identity of the Outer Gods, as Dokja witnesses the lives of characters from another world. Sooyoung’s importance grows, both in the 1863rd Round and in the main world line, and her role as a strategist is established.

The scenarios’ number rises exponentially, and with it the difficulty of its challenges, as even the strongest Nebulas start to feel threatened. Eden becomes more involved in the story, looking for ways to avoid its destruction, while Olympus tries – and fails – to defend itself from Kim Dokja’s Company’s revenge. The status and power of Dokja’s Nebula begins to grow beyond the Star Stream’s expectations.

Season 7 =

Start: Second part of Gigantomachia, Poseidon and Hades join the battle unexpectedly, and Dokja finds out that his mother was injured. End: Kim Dokja’s Company clears the Kaizenix Archipelago scenario, and they go together through the portal towards the next battle. Chapters adapted: 332/333 to 381

Dokja’s Big Freak Out season. From the agony of having to choose who to save between his own mother and Sangah, to his companions finally finding out about Ways of Survival, Dokja goes through a downward spiral of self-doubt and guilt, culminating in his confrontation with Joonghyuk on Reincarnation Island. Dokja, Sooyoung and Joonghyuk are established as the “reader, writer and protagonist” trio.

The Great War of Saints and Demons is introduced, and angels and devils alike seem to want Dokja’s destruction as much as they wish to destroy each other.

Season 8 =

Start: The Great War of Saints and Demons officially begins, while somewhere in the pit of Hell, a mysterious Apocalypse is awakening. End: Dokja learns the truth about the Outer Gods from Secretive Plotter, and he agrees to help them. Chapters adapted: 382 to 423

This season deals with the different victims of the Story. First, the representatives of the Oldest Good and the Oldest Evil, who cannot help but fight each other even when it brings to their own destruction, because their Stories are so strong that they consume them. Then, those beings the Star Stream determined to be enemies for the constellations and incarnations to fight: the dragons. Finally, the Outer Gods, the “useless characters” that got expelled from the Story and deprived of their memories and identities.

The Secretive Plotter – Yoo Joonghyuk – turns out to be the biggest victim of the Story of all, and Dokja learns a horrible truth about Ways of Survival that partially changes his future plans.

Season 9 =

Start: Dokja and his companions enter (separately) the Journey to the West, while Joonghyuk is haunted by his fight against Secretive Plotter. End: Kim Dokja’s Company successfully recover Hyunsung’s soul, Dokja evolves into a Myth-grade constellation after fighting against Ra, and the group finally feels ready to face the Outer God Kings. Chapters adapted: 424 to 466

This season introduces peculiar scenarios where Kim Dokja’s Company have to roleplay as characters from other stories – first in Journey to the West, then in Oz -, and two new Nebulas (Emperor and Papyrus) try and fail to defeat Dokja and his companions.

Joonghyuk is going through an identity crisis after fighting and losing against another version of himself, which eventually leads him to remember that he’s not actually living in his 3rd Round, but rather the 1864th. The 999th Round becomes central to the plot, first through 999th kkoma working with Dokja, and then by introducing the other Outer God Kings.

Kim Dokja’s Company is really fed up with Dokja sacrificing himself, and even Dokja starts to admit that maybe surviving the apocalypse to live a relaxed life with his companions wouldn’t be so bad.

Season 10 =

Start: Dokja and his mother are healing their relationship, then the battle against the Outer God Kings begins. End: Kim Dokja’s Company work with the Outer God Kings to defeat the Dokkaebi King, and the group manages to save their constellations. Chapters adapted: 467 to 511

This season is battle after battle after battle, and every constellation, incarnation, dokkaebi and Outer God has to join the fight and decide where they stand: either with Dokja, or against him.

The season begins with Dokja talking to his mother, and ends with him seeing (a fake version of) his father. The Outer God Kings start as foes and end as allies. Dokja has to choose what kind of reader he wants to be.

Season 11 =

Start: Kim Dokja’s Company crosses the Final Wall and goes to meet the Oldest Dream. End: The End Chapters adapted: 512 to 551

The Reveal and the Epilogue. We learn what it truly means to be a reader, to be a writer, and to be a protagonist. The end.

[aylen-san]

An emissary from the future

Finwë's son... He couldn't even say whose son he was! No one could say anything definite about him, and that gave him an advantage. After all, before Kanafinwe Macalaurë had joined this group of quendi, no one knew who Finwë was or where he came from. And so, for some reason unknown to him, Maglor found himself in the distant past, long before he had even been born in Aman. Here, on the shores of Kuivienen, even before he met Oromë, Macalaurë Kanafinwe had sat among other elves and listened to songs composed under the stars.

He tried to adapt to his new life, hiding his true origins and knowledge whenever possible. Macalaurë soaked up the atmosphere of the Age of the Firstborn, savoring other lands unfamiliar to him. He was amazed by the beauty and grandeur of the primordial world, where every day was filled with discovery. In fact, there was no such thing as day and night. In fact, only the stars twinkled in the dark blanket of the sky.

Maglor knew he had to be careful and attentive not to give away his knowledge of the future. Though he was not sure he was any good at that. His goal was not only to survive, but to fit into this society, to find his place. He savored the moment, sitting under the stars, listening to the songs that spoke to his soul.

Maglor touched the grass by the lake with his fingers, feeling its freshness and softness. He lifted his head and looked up at the vast sky, where the constellations created for the first elves shone brightly. These stars were the same as in his time, but seemed more alive and closer. The sounds of laughter and the melodies of elven songs, reflecting the joy of newfound life, filled the air around him. He felt a part of that harmony, of that early and innocent age. These Quendi had not yet known the fullness of darkness and the struggle against it, nor had they been torn by conflict. The hilt of the sword burned his palm, reminding him that he came from a time when blood and battle were the order of the day. Of course, Maglor could have thrown it away, but he stifled the thought as soon as it arose. This idyll is only outward. Morgoth is still at large, and dark creatures roam the vastness of Arda.

How is it that his name is Finwë now? It's a long and sad story. It wasn't long ago that Maglor was forgiven by the Valar and allowed to return to Aman for his contribution to the fight against Sauron. After nearly all the Eldar of the Fourth Age had left the shores of Middle-earth, Kanafinwe decided it was time for him to leave as well. His heart was filled with hope and relief as he once again set foot on the sacred lands of Valinor. But for some unknown reason, perhaps through the intervention of a force he could not understand, he found himself here at the beginning of time.

He had to survive among those who did not know him, who did not know his deeds and sins. He adapted by becoming someone else. The name Finwë became his new identity, and no one questioned it. Perhaps it was a blessing from the Valar, giving him a chance to start his life anew. In the company of the little-known Quendi, Maglor felt a long-forgotten sense of youth. His body felt light, unburdened by his long years in Middle-earth and the effects of fighting evil. He wanted to sing with them here, at the dawn of his people's time, under the glittering stars, to find joy in music and art again.

Time passed and he gradually became part of this community, learning from them and sharing his songs. His new comrades accepted him as he was, asking no questions about the past. In this world without war and hostility, he could feel free and real again. Every day brought new experiences and he savored every moment. Sometimes, when he was alone under the stars, he remembered his former life, but those memories no longer brought pain. He had found his place here, among his ancestors, and felt that he had finally found peace.

In their simple dwellings, woven from branches and covered with soft moss, he found comfort and peace. Maglor marveled at how cozy and warm these primitive homes could be. Each evening, the elves gathered around a common hearth, where they prepared food from what nature had given them: the fruits of the trees, roots, and wild honey. They told their stories, laughed and sang, and it was in these moments that Maglor felt a part of their family.

He learned many things: how to fish in the clear waters of the lake without a rod or net. How to weave baskets from reeds. How to make potions from healing herbs. Maglor studied the skills diligently, trying to be useful and not stand out from the others. Every day he became more convinced that here, at the dawn of time, it was possible to start a new life, to leave all the mistakes and sins behind. And for a while, he pretended that guilt and fear of an uncertain future did not bother him. After all, he is not the real Finwë!

[starswritewhispers]

Dragons & Denial- Chapter 2

A03

Chapter 1

Chapter 2.5

Natsu stared at her, expression aghast as if she were the insane one. Lucy huffed, striding away from him in a poor attempt to contain her spiraling emotions. “Is this all just a game to you?” She demanded, refusing to turn around and face him. “How many of my decisions are you going to snatch away?” “I–” Natsu’s voice sounded unsure, something that seemed oddly out of place on the dragon prince. “I just-” “Just what ?” She sneered, whirling around to face him. “Thought it’d be funny –” “Woah, woah, woah,” the flying blue menace interrupted, shooting in between them. “This is a good thing! The guy you love and your fiance are one and the same!” “I’ve been lied to for years,” Lucy countered, crossing her arms. “How is that a good thing?” “Well, if you just agreed to talk to me,” Natsu argued, frowning at her. “I didn’t want to be mat–married to a complete stranger .”

“I didn’t want to be married at all ,” She hissed back, ignoring the flash of hurt in the man’s eyes. “I was quite content hating you–” Her voice had begun to rise, her fingers clenching into fists at her side. “You hated me before you even knew me!”  Natsu’s own voice had matched her volume, smoke curling out of his hands. “It’s not my fault that this happened, but I was trying to make it easier on both of us.” He groaned, dragging a still smoking hand down his face. “Fucking–” “Then why didn’t you tell me?” She asked, quirking a brow. “If the whole thing was to make this marriage easier–” “Because I liked having someone who wasn’t scared of me!” Natsu snapped back, eyes wide with anger and an emotion she couldn’t quite place.  She wasn’t sure who was more shocked by his admission–him or her. “I planned to tell you but–” His voice trailed off, slowly growing more soft.  “I just–” He sighed helplessly, collapsing into the chair by the desk. “I’m sorry.” He finally settled on, running his fingers through strands of his pink hair. “I–” Lucy frowned, feeling sympathy tugging at her heart. “It’s–” It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t. But she didn’t want to rub salt into an obvious wound. She walked over to him, looking down at the prince for a long moment before deciding. “I’m Lucy Heartfilia, nice to meet you,” She settled on, sticking her hand out to shake. Natsu stared at her hand with a bewildered expression. 

“Are ya feeling okay?” He asked after a long, drawn out moment of silence.  Happy made a sound of agreement next to her and she rolled her eyes, keeping her hand outstretched. “ Obviously , I know that,” 

Maybe this was a bad plan.  The prince was clearly some degree of stupid. “We’re starting over,” She breathed out, bringing her spare hand up to pinch her nose in frustration. “Try to be friends and everything.” At her words, Natsu lit up like the constellations she studied, beaming at her. “I’m Natsu Dragneel,” He took her hand, the same bright grin etched on his face as he shook it enthusiastically.  “I hope we can be good friends.”   Lucy offered him a small smile back, squeezing his hand gently before releasing it. “Aren’t you two, like, engaged,” Happy cut in, effectively ruining the moment. “So you have to be more than friends.” A series of exaggerated kissing noises followed his statement and Lucy wished the cat didn’t have wings so she could throw the furball out the window.  

“It’s political,” she reminded him with a glare. “We don’t have to do anything–” her voice trailed off, a pink flush rising to her cheeks. “Other than at the wedding, I suppose.”

The obnoxious sounds were back tenfold, followed by Natsu throwing a pillow at the cat.  Lucy was seriously reconsidering her decision.

[writing-for-life]

From time to time, I just need to flog the goods (speak: my fics) on here because I’m notoriously bad at it. So have one of my favourite chapters from The Light of Stars, and read the rest on Ao3. Bye 🤣

[Oh, before I forget: Even if the thing has been published for a while: I still love your comments, and it’s not weird to comment on a completed fic. We don’t suddenly stop caring just because a fic is finished. Actually the opposite.]

The Light of Stars (76,167 words) by Writing-for-Life

Chapters: 31/31 Fandom: The Sandman (Comics), The Sandman (TV 2022) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Female Character(s), Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Character(s), Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Other(s), Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Reader Characters: Original Female Character(s), Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Lucien | Lucienne (The Sandman), Fiddler's Green | Gilbert, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Matthew the Raven, Desire of the Endless, Original Male Character(s), Destiny of the Endless, Death of the Endless, Despair of the Endless, Delirium of the Endless, Dusk (The Sandman), Night (The Sandman), Hob Gadling, Thalia Callaghan (OC), The Gatekeepers (The Sandman) Series: Part 1 of The Light of Stars

Creating Stars

Thalia felt an inner restlessness that would not dissipate, and it could neither be manoeuvred with work nor distraction. She didn’t want to go to sleep yet because it meant seeing him, and while she wanted to, she also needed space. Space to tune into her feelings, space to let her soul speak. So she decided to go for a walk to create that space, despite the late hour.

It was a beautiful clear, if cold night. Autumn had closed in completely; the air felt sharper, the balmy feel of summer was gone for good. However, she hadn’t seen the stars so beautiful in a long time. It was rare to see them so clearly because of light pollution, and for a moment, she wondered why they shone so brightly tonight. It stopped to matter—their beauty made her feel small, but connected to the universe in a way that was new to her.

As she kept walking, she began to agonise over her time with Morpheus coming to an end. If her stories weren’t what had brought her to him, what else was there to explore? She understood, on a deep level, that she wouldn’t really lose him, that he had always been there, as he was for everyone. And yet, it wouldn’t be the same. Thalia had long realised she wanted him the way he was now—fully present with her in both her dreams and waking hours.

Thinking about it too much made her head spin and her heart ache, and the pain was sharper than the night air.

She wrapped her coat around herself tighter and pulled up the collar before looking up to the sky and taking a deep breath. Her attention was drawn to three intensely bright stars that lined up in almost perfect symmetry. Something about them felt significant. Just when she was about to check her mobile phone for constellations, she was overcome with a feeling of deep peace and clarity.

Let the stars remind you of your strength and courage. Your guidance springs from hope.

It was almost like she could hear someone, or something, say these words to her, and she neither doubted them nor did she feel afraid.

There was no hubris in her realisation that her effect on him was as profound as his was on her, and that all of it was somehow meant to be. Perhaps finding him was the universe’s plan, and while it might have been beyond her comprehension, she trusted it. She didn’t care if anyone else would be able to understand—she just knew it to be true.

She also knew he was with her, even before he began to speak.

“It’s Orion’s Belt. The three stars are called Alnitak, Alnilam and Mintaka. Some also call them the three sisters.”

Thalia turned around to face him, and for a moment, the way he looked in this darkness completely took her breath away. Something about him was night, but he was also light. Not the incandescence of the sun, but the reflection of a thousand stars in a pool of cool water, or the moon’s soft sheen in a hazy winter sky.

“You should not be out on your own at this time of night,” he said softly, and the slight hoarseness in his voice sent shivers down her spine.

“Are you worried about me?”

“What if I were?”

Diamonds set in gold was all she could think of when she looked at the stars in his eyes.

“Maybe it would mean you cared more about me than you want to admit.”

He stayed silent, eyes firmly fixed on hers.

Thalia could tell his breathing was shallow, not least because he seemed to breathe in perfect synchronicity with her, and she was acutely aware that none of the air she inhaled seemed to reach the bottom of her lungs.

She took a cautious step forward, reached out her hand and touched his face. For a moment, he allowed her hand to linger and leaned into her touch so subtly that it was hardly noticeable.

And yet, she did notice.

She sensed it with every fibre of her being, and she wished this moment of exquisite tension and closeness would last forever.

It didn’t.

Morpheus laid his hand on hers, his touch cool, and gently removed it from his face. He bowed his head and exhaled deeply.

When he looked up again, his eyes met hers, aureate stars shimmering. “I care about your safety, and you are not safe out here.”

The air between them remained charged.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t doubt it for a second, but…”

She put two fingers on his lips and shook her head. “I think the real reason you’re here is that you like my company. Maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to wait until I’m asleep?”

Morpheus didn’t shrink back, neither from her touch nor her brazen claim. The stars in his eyes were flashing and flickering in a dance of cool blue and warm red until they finally settled on the richest, most fluorescent indigo she had ever seen.

His lips were soft against her touch. Thalia became painfully aware how much she wanted to kiss them, and she was also cognisant of the fact that she might not be able to hide her thoughts and feelings from him. If she was totally honest with herself, she didn’t care. She decided, there and then, to let him in because she wanted him to know.

And from the look in his eyes, she could tell he did.

She felt his breath on her fingers, and his eyes were burning like molten copper. He laid his hand on hers once more, but this time, he gently pressed her fingers against his lips. For the briefest of moments, it felt as if he were kissing them so lightly that it might as well have been an illusion.

He closed his eyes, swallowed hard and removed her fingers, but he held on to her hand when he said: “Let us walk, Thalia Callaghan.”

Although his words felt like a cold shower, she couldn’t help but chuckle. “Uh-oh, the surname, I’m in trouble. In any case, you still have a talent for changing topic.”

As they began walking, he finally let go of her hand. “So I should.” He gave her a sideways look. “And you are not in trouble, although I might change my mind about it.” The faintest smile lit up his face before he refocused on the path ahead.

“Tell me about them.”

“About whom?”

“The stars. What were their names again?”

“Alnitak, Alnilam and Mintaka.”

“They are beautiful. It’s like they… called out to me tonight.” She hesitated. “Does that sound weird?”

“Not in the slightest.” He gently shook his head. “They are testament to the powers and wonders of the universe. Some believe they created the seasons, others think they are a symbol of the divine feminine and her strength. And then there are some who think Orion, the hunter, was transformed into the greater constellation after his death, and they like to see it as a symbol of bravery and courage.”

“Which one is true?”

He glanced at her. “All stories are somewhat true, even the ones that started as lies.”

Thalia stepped out in front of him and began walking backwards in her usual way, only that it was a lot harder in the dark, real world than it was in the Dreaming. “You sound as if you know but don’t want to tell me.”

He smiled faintly. “I do know.” Out of nowhere, he stopped. “Turn around.”

Thalia’s heart began to race the moment he stepped behind her, so close that she could feel him despite the fact their bodies didn’t touch. He moved his arm over her right shoulder and pointed. “Follow my hand with your eyes…”

She focused on what seemed the dimmest of the three stars.

“You are looking at Mintaka. What you cannot see is that she isn’t one star, but a whole stellar system, formed over 12 million years ago. And yet, she is very young, much younger than Earth. So are her people, who abhor violence but unfortunately also value conformity above all else. Some of them dream of being different, and to break free one day.”

Thalia felt her breath catching in her throat and turned her head to look at him. Their eyes briefly connected before he moved his head closer to hers and whispered in her ear: “Eyes straight ahead.”

It took all her resolve to follow his hand again, which slowly moved to the left. “This is Alnilam. She is the youngest of the three, 6 million years younger than her oldest sister, and she is alone. She is the brightest of them, some say the most beautiful. She lives and breathes and dreams of escaping her solitude before she stops burning and it is too late.”

Thalia couldn’t help but reach for him and let her hand rest on his upper arm. He inhaled deeply. His fingers were less steady than she had expected them to be when he pointed farther left.

“Alnitak is really a twin. The slightly younger one is stable, the other is unstable and perpetually circling her sibling. Over the past 7 million years, the elder was responsible for the death of three separate developing lifeforms. They both dream of being separate and free from each other.”

Morpheus slowly lowered his arm, and she removed her hand to face him. When she looked into his eyes, she knew everything he had just told her was true, and yet, it was beyond her comprehension.

“They live? How is this even possible?’ she asked.

“It is just as possible as my standing with you here right now.”

“And you are there for all of them?”

He nodded. “I have been for billions of years.”

She shook her head in disbelief, eyes wide. “I know Lucienne said you are old, but…”

“I have seen them come and go.” He looked up to the sky. “The nebula you can see right below Alnitak has been the birthplace of many stars. And when they start to dream, I am there.”

Thalia searched the sky. “I can’t see it.”

“It is there, trust me.”

“I do. I just wish I could see what you see.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

“I know full well what I wish for.”

Morpheus looked straight into her eyes, and she could tell he was trying to judge whether she understood the true depth of her admission.

“I do,” she replied.

He looked surprised. “It seems we have learned to communicate without words, Thalia Callaghan.”

“We’ve been doing so for quite a while, it’s just that turned tables confuse you.” She blinked slowly, and the air charged with electricity again.

Morpheus seemed to get lost in her eyes.

“What are you looking at?” Thalia’s mouth was dry, and her voice nearly gave out.

He hesitated for a brief moment before whispering: “Close your eyes.”

Her deep trust in him made her do as she was told. A moment later, she sensed him, inside her head, her mind, her soul. It was nearly too much to bear, and yet, she didn’t want it any other way. A sweet dizziness enveloped her.

“Open them again…”

Clarity set in slowly. She didn’t know where they were or how they got there, and it didn’t matter. It felt like floating in space, yet her feet were touching the ground. All she could see was darkness and light and stardust, orange, pink and red. The stars were too numerous to count.

“Is it real?” She couldn’t help but reach for him because she felt unsteady.

“As real as your body and mind can handle.”

Thalia was completely overwhelmed, and silent tears began to fall. “I have never seen anything so beautiful.”

“Neither have I.” Morpheus was looking at her, and she could hardly breathe. He reached out his hand to catch a tear from her chin that had been slowly running along her jawline, all the while carefully avoiding to touch her face.

When he opened his hand, the droplet transformed into a tiny speck of light, shimmering like a diamond. He released it, and it moved away, floating, scintillating, and turned into a star right before her eyes.

She gasped. “Is it real, too?”

“If you believe it is, does it matter?”

Thalia couldn’t take her eyes off it. “When I wake up, will it be gone?”

“You are not dreaming…”

She turned her head to look at him. “But…”

“…and it will be here for as long as you remember it.”

“How could I ever forget?” She just didn’t care any more and embraced him.

Thalia could feel his resistance within an instant. He had somewhat become accustomed to the touch of her hand, but maybe feeling her body touching his was too much, and she immediately regretted her decision to act on her impulse.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

He stepped back ever so slightly. “I… Perhaps I underestimated the human need for touch.”

Thalia mustered up all her courage. “Maybe it’s not just humans who need touch. For what it’s worth, I don’t touch indiscriminately. I just want to be close to you.” He didn’t react, but she was determined not to give up. “Can you promise me something?”

His eyes narrowed. “I am not sure whether I can.”

“Maybe you should take a chance and trust me, just like I trust you.”

The stars in his eyes looked like the most beautiful, shimmering moonstones she had ever seen, and they made it hard for her to focus.

“Proceed.”

Thalia couldn’t help but smile at his attempt to be formal, all the while only managing to sound wary.

“I want you to…”

“Want?” He raised one eyebrow, and strangely enough, she knew he was back with her. And apparently he knew she knew, because he began to smile.

“Yes, I want you to promise that you will remember tonight. And that you will remember the star we just created when I am gone, so it will keep on existing. Can you do that?”

He just nodded and turned his head to look into the distance.

Thalia stepped in front of him. “Please look at me.” She only noticed then that his eyes were brimming with tears. “Have I said something wrong?”

He shook his head. “I promise I will remember tonight. I will remember you, Thalia Callaghan…”

[highlordofkrypton]

Day 4, Prompt 1 for @tamlinweek: Calanmai.

I've been wanting to write a fic for just Andras, and it is still on my to do list. Please read the notes!

For those looking for smutty! Tamlin at Calanmai, may I direct you to this chapter of Wildflowers, no previous reading needed (I think?): Click for Tamsand Calanmai smut. This is chapter is also referenced, so you can read that for added angst.

Read Calanami (Reprise) on AO3 or below the cut.

“What is this?”

“An intervention.”

“A support group.”

“For what?”

Andras looks between his two friends, confusion etched into his pale features. He tilts his head, pale hair tumbling over his shoulder like a curtain of starfall. The three of them make quite the constellation—the gold of the sun, the fiery blaze of comets and the silver of moon. None of them are quite as mysterious, or as insightful as the celestial beings.

Together, they are a lovely band of idiots.

“Have you ever been with anyone before?” Tamlin asks, cautiously. It is a sensitive thing, the intimate prowess of a male. Andras has not lived through the war, he does not know the crassness that travels through the camps. At Court, formality and hierarchy still rules, and it might very well be to the detriment of his love life. There’s just something else about the raw passion—

“With anyone you love,” Lucien clarifies. It’s important. There’s a difference.

A deep flush colours Andras’ expression. It takes him one, two, three tries before he moves past stuttering into an actual coherent response.

“That’s what you’re here for?! Get out.”

“We know how important this is to you—”

“And to the Court—”

Lucien turns to Tamlin and leans in, whispering but Andras can hear them perfectly well. “I thought we weren’t going to mention that part.”

“But it’s true.”

“It’s additional pressure.”

“I can hear you.” Andras growls, folding his arms. He’s already changed to the loose tunic and comfortable pants for the ceremony. “I know what to do. I’ve been to Calanmai before. Many of them. If you recall, I’m the one who brought it back, remember? With your help of course, thank you for that, Luce, and no thanks to you, Tam.”

“Hey! I showed up!”

Both Lucien and Andras level Tamlin with a deadpan look. They both recall the epic and a half that was luring a half-feral High Lord out of the woods to come perform his courtly duties. No, his duty to the entirety of Prythian.

“Anyway,” Lucien steers them back to the topic at hand. “Both Tamlin and I have experience with romance. Not actively—”

“Ouch,” Tamlin chimes in.

“Lucien! You can’t just say that!”

The grin on the Fall Faerie’s face is sly and all-too-amused. Tamlin doesn’t seem too hurt by the comment either, but Andras is shocked on both their behalves. Neither of them have had good outcomes when it comes to love. More specifically, their love lives ended in brutal murders—plural!

“A morbid sense of humour is a permanent side effect of grief, unfortunately.” Lucien tries for somber, but he’s not very believable. These two are his best friends, and they know he’s being smart about all this.

“And rage problems,” Andras chimes in.

“Hey!” Tamlin frowns.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve had to deal with your cranky arse for years. You threw a tree at me that one time. A tree!”

“I told you to go away,” the High Lord mumbles under his breath. Fair is fair. He warned his stupid self-appointed (at the time) commander to stop doing stupid things. “This isn’t about me! You asked if you could perform the Calanmai, so we,” he gestures to himself and Lucien. “Want to make sure all goes well. Now, do you know which parts fit with which?”

“Tamlin!” Andras covers his ears, unwilling to listen to his High Lord tell him about the birds, the bees and the pollination cycles of beautiful Faerie ladies he’s had a crush on for, at least, five years. He flops on his bed, groaning.

Tamlin grins and sits on the bed, patting his knee. “Pretend all you want, but I know you’re nervous. You’ll do fine.” He pauses, thoughtful. “The thing is… There’s nowhere to hide.”

The mood tempers, and Andras tips his head upwards to look at Tamlin. No one dares to interrupt him. This moment is theirs—quiet vulnerability shares across the years together. Outside, they are High Lord, Lord-Emissary and Commander, but here they are brothers.

“Even if you don’t say anything, she’ll feel it in your touch. It’s the closest thing to baring your soul to someone, the magic will sense it and Ailsa is damn perceptive. You should tell her.” Tamlin perks up, as if he didn’t bear his soul to them. “And, well, if it doesn’t work, I guess I can let you do it next year.”

“It may seem terrifying,” Lucien supplies, but Andras is quick to jump in.

“I’m not afraid. I love her. I’m just worried about all the growling. It’s kind of… embarassing?”

Tamlin’s jaw drops and Lucien’s snort echoes through Andras’ chambers. The Calanmai has a way of turning him feral and give in to his primal senses. After all, the ritual reconnects him to nature and draws out his baser instincts. He has spent most his life in other forms, and finds home in both fauna and flora. It’s not embarassing!

“It manifests differently for others,” he grumbles under his breath, folding his muscular arms across his broad chest. The sulking doesn’t last because he’s ruffling Andras’ hair affectionately. “You weren’t raised in the wild, you’ll be fine.”

“You weren’t either!”

“The previous High Lord didn’t growl. He was quite… fine. At least, until he found privacy with the Maiden in the caves.” Lucien had never actually attended Calanmai, and the ceremony was closed during the war, but he has heard stories about the different celebrations across Prythian. “And you’re not a High Lord, it should not affect you as much.”

“Okay, then I’m fine.”

“But I can scent—”

“Tamlin, what did we say about smelling us.”

“I told you I can’t help it.”

“What did we say about telling us what you scent on us.”

“Hm, if I recall, it was something about you disliking how I can smell your bullshit?”

“Can you both get out of my room? I’d like some personal time before I have to perform the most important ritual to our culture.”

“Ah, yes,” Tamlin nods sagely. “You might be inclined to find release now to last longer later, but—”

“Get out!”

***

“Let the celebrations begin,” Tamlin concludes his speech. He raises his arms, and his small but loyal Court cheer in response. The borders are still (mostly) closed to the other Courts, save for Summer, and Tarquin winks at Tamlin playfully.

He descends the dais, ever-willing to concede the spotlight to his priestesses and his commander. This is Andras’ moment, and he is eternally proud of his friend’s courage. No one else would dare to take a High Lord’s place in anything, but Andras had bothered to ask, and he had been terribly considerate of Ailsa who has been Tamlin’s maiden ever since he returned from his self-imposed exile.

To her, or anyone in the Court, the role of being Maiden is an honour. Andras did not want her to lose her right in the Great Rite to particiate because of his affections. Little does he know, he had already won her heart when he asked her beforehand (so not to make her feel forced to perform with him), and promised that he would put himself at the mercy of the High Lord for her. It’s the gesture that counts; the Spring Court knows that their High Lord is kind and good.

Music reverbrates in Tamlin’s chest as Andras begins his hunt in the crowd, looking for his Maiden. He joins Lucien in watching the festivities, his friend has never participated. Instead, he takes the opportunity either to socialize or reminesce. Tonight, the Lord-Emissary looks terribly thoughtful.

“First love,” he hums over the lip of his goblet.

“Hmm.” Tamlin agrees.

“You performed your first Calanmai with him, didn’t you?”

They don’t say his name. Not now, not ever. The High Lord of the Night Court is still alive, but they treat him like the dead. Worse than, actually. They give him no reverance and no remembrance.

The memory is an ache in his chest. Rhysand had saved him. His assignment to the Great Rite had been a punishment from his father; his father had known what Amarantha had done to him, and yet, expected him to let his Court touch him freely. Tamlin had run from it like a coward, and Rhysand had guided him home. Rhysand had been his safety.

His emerald gaze watches Andras as he takes Ailsa by the hand, grinning wider than Tamlin has ever seen. He latches onto their happiness. It’s a simpler kind of love, unlike the undertaking that had been falling in love with his enemy.

What if—

What if he had killed the son of the Night the first time they crossed paths?

You bit me, laughs the man made of Dreams.

You stabbed me in the heart, recounts the Wildflower.

“You’ll ensure everything goes well?” Tamlin asks Lucien, and Lucien frowns.

“You’re not running away, are you?”

“No, no, just going for a walk.”

“Tam.”

“Today is a good day, and I want it to stay that way. I’m just going for a walk. I will return, I promise. No hiding. You know where to find me, anyway.”

Tamlin realizes that he’s happy here with his best friends, but there’s a wall that limits his joy. So, for the last time, he will mourn his lost love, and then, he will be finally be free.

[savage-rhi]

Mending Shadows // Chapter 1

Summary:

Y/N was a simple Scavenger of Lucis, until meeting a deadly blow at the hands of an infected creature. At the crossroads of death, they are found by Niflheim’s cryptic Chancellor with his own agenda. Now bonded to Ardyn Izunia, and tossed into the world of Niflheim, Y/N struggles to cope with their new life as an Imperial Icon all the while battling their feelings toward their fate and that of Ardyn’s.

Click here to read on AO3

Two years before the fall of Insomnia…

Eos’s night sky was scattered with stars and bustling with vibrant colors. Purples and blues danced side by side in the cosmos while constellations signaled their presence. There was a robust earthy scent throughout the Duscae region, symbolizing that the spring rains had dwindled down. Even with the engine of the car roaring, Ardyn occasionally heard Anaks and other creatures let out their nightly bellows and chirps. The Lucian kingdom was always active. Life could flourish in even the darkest of crevices. Even someone such as Ardyn himself. 

Static began to chime from the Vixen’s radio. Ardyn adjusted the frequency so he could listen in. 

The war continues to rage between Niflheim and Lucis. The impasse among political leaders is still in effect. It has been reported from King Regis’s councilmen, that Emperor Adlercapt and his advisers have rejected the proposed consolidations. “...We have failed to appease Niflheim’s tyrannical appetite, and we strongly urge the imperial representatives to reconsider our offer.” A spokesperson stated. 

King Regis had this to say about the failed negotiations. “...Our doors remain open to Emperor Aldercapt should he wish to meet in the middle. This does not mean the people of Lucis will tolerate this ongoing grotesque invasion from Niflheim. If an inch of Lucian soil is tainted by the empire's weaponry while both countries remain locked in negotiations, I will respond with strength.” 

King Regis’s statement has been met with praise and contention. An imperial councilman stated the following: “...The king assumes Niflheim is full of savages. We imperials wish to usher in a new era by spreading our wealth among the Lucian kingdom. Niflheim’s technology and advancements are essential to the world at large, and it is Emperor Aldercapt's wish to ensure the people of Lucis don’t get left behind.” 

An imperial adviser who was at the negotiation table between Lucis and Niflheim had this to say regarding the recent fallout. “...The people of Lucis have been grossly misinformed. Emperor Aldercapt has declined to accept anything for now until Chancellor Izunia returns from his leave of absence. As an act of good faith, Emperor Aldercapt will establish a ceasefire, until he hears his final advisements from the Chancellor and his counsel." 

It has been reported that Chancellor Izunia has taken to illness. There is no word for when he will return to the Emperor's side. 

Both parties of the war have reported feeling relief from the ceasefire recently established. King Regis stated his appreciation earlier this week, giving hope that the next round of negotiations will bear fruit. “...I will forward the courtesy to the Emperor. The armies of Lucis will stand down for as long as the imperials halt their movement. I wish Niflheim’s Chancellor good health while he rests.”  

The kingdom of Lucis will be celebrating prince Noctis’s 18th birthday next week. The prince couldn’t be reached for comment. King Regis will--

“Spoiled brat…” Ardyn huffed and turned the radio off. He sighed, having enough of the real world for the time being. His place in the war was important, but in the grand scheme of things it was of little consequence to his personal endeavors. So long as he could get Niflheim from point A to point B, Ardyn didn’t care much about current events or the emperor's trivial affairs. He lazily gripped the steering wheel of his car and made a left onto a back road after coming to the edge of the highway. 

The detour Ardyn took was a perilous one. He was surprised the Vixen was able to withstand the intense vibrations generated by the debris below the tires. Every few seconds, the car would bounce, causing his body to shift uncomfortably in the driver's seat. Ardyn gritted his teeth and bore most of the impact. Occasionally a curse would depart his lips, but he was quiet. Had it not been for the companion on the passenger's side, there was no doubt Ardyn would’ve behaved irrationally. At the very least, he would’ve loudly exclaimed his disdain for the road. He wasn't one to shy away from road rage on his lonesome. However, in the presence of company, Ardyn liked to keep up appearances that he was precise and collected. A gentleman by all counts. For the public to see his true colors, it would unravel everything he had worked hard to manipulate. 

Y/N was sleeping soundly curled up in the seat opposite Ardyn. The Chancellor's long black coat draped over them like an oversized blanket. Ardyn side-eyed Y/N’s body, turning his head when it was safe to take his eyes off the road. Even in the darkness, he could make out their exhausted features. The spider web veins of the scourge had receded away from their face. He was disappointed that patches remained, but progress was progress. At least Y/N’s color was returning. 

“Oh dear,” Ardyn quietly sighed. His shoulders slouched while he leaned back into the driver's seat. From the distance, he could see the first rays of the sun begin to peak over the mountains. It was only a matter of time before his skin would burn from the warmth of the light.  At this point in the game, Ardyn was used to it. His cells could regenerate quickly enough to where there would be no long-term damage. It didn’t make the experience any less painful. Alas, Y/N needed the protection of his garb more than he did and thus Ardyn allowed Y/N to continue resting. He could get his coat back at a later time.

Though he was calm, Ardyn was enraged at himself. He should’ve disposed of Y/N. Killing them would’ve been the ultimate act of mercy given how the scourge ravaged their soul. Ardyn could practically feel Y/N’s very atoms call out for release. The daemons and minds he carried in himself debated against his choices. Ultimately, the ends justified the means as far as Ardyn was concerned. 

“Ridiculous though, isn’t it?” Ardyn said aloud to himself. He doubted Y/N could hear anything, much less be conscious enough to comprehend his words. “This…wasn’t part of the plan.” 

For as confident, as he was, Ardyn didn’t anticipate a wrench being thrown into his plans. The fault lay with him though he tried to pin it on Y/N. He knew deep down the little spark of hope that was his humanity, appealed to his callous nature to take pity on them; to find purpose in keeping Y/N around. 

“If this is your doing,” Ardyn bitterly said while his eyes briefly looked up at the stars. “I’ll make sure that you get a taste of misery when the end comes for the brat prince and myself.” 

He doubted the dragon king--the great Bahamut--would pay his words any heed but it did erase some of the tension Ardyn had been bottling up. 

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind, to say the least. Not that it hadn’t been entertaining . Ardyn’s mission was a dangerous feat and no doubt would cause trouble. He wouldn’t have it any other way. After all, he was a far cry from the healer he once claimed to be. This Ardyn, Chancellor Izunia of Niflheim, thrived on chaos. He wielded it like a child that discovered his parents locked gun, and learned quickly how best to play with fire. In this case, even if Ardyn failed he’d still win in the end. Sabotage and diversion was part of the game and he managed to score both thus far against his opponent. A common foe he shared with Y/N which in turn led him to this odd relationship. 

“What am I to do with you?” Ardyn thought aloud. His hardened gaze once more landed on Y/N’s body. The muscles around his eyes eased, and Ardyn could feel himself relax. It was kind of nice having a partner in crime. Not that he’d admit it aloud. As far as Y/N was concerned, Ardyn didn’t want them to get the idea he did them a favor out of the kindness of his heart. No. Every action carried a price. That was how Ardyn viewed his relationships with most. The mentality left little to no room for emotional attachment. 

“Yet here you are,” Ardyn muttered bitterly. His hands gripped the steering wheel, concentrating his frustrations into the pads of his fingertips. The Vixen continued to stroll over the endless terrain with Ardyn determined to keep driving until he reached his checkpoint. 

Hours passed since Ardyn began his journey, and he settled down at an establishment with Y/N in tow. When asked about Y/N’s precarious state of rest, Ardyn concocted an emotional tale on the fly to the bookkeeper. The story worked its charm and gained the sympathies Ardyn was looking for. The hush money he added as “tip” also garnered him privacy in case his adversaries decided to snoop around. 

Once Ardyn placed Y/N on the couch, he looked around the hotel room and rubbed the back of his head. The face he made was one of indifference. The place was shallow compared to Ardyn’s refined tastes, but it would make due until Y/N would wake up again. 

Sleep was a commodity an immortal such as himself didn’t need much of, the same could be said for food and drink. Ardyn however needed a break. Laying dormant for a few hours and letting his body be was the best medicine for his current ailment. Having the scourge was a painful curse. Every day for every hour and second, Ardyn’s body was in a state of turmoil. Akin to being stabbed twice over in all the nooks and crannies his vessel contained. If the daemons and minds he absorbed weren’t giving him strife, his physical form took the mantle. Despite being numb to the scourge for 2,000 years, even he had his bad days. 

There had to be drawbacks to his immense power, and having the gift of immortality. The Gods needed to have their checks and balances. And on Bahamut’s end, give Ardyn that extra push to carry out the prophecy of ending the Lucis Caelum bloodline. Ardyn understood that even if he didn’t wish to proceed with familicide, living forever wasn’t an option. Not in this sorry state. 

While Ardyn made himself comfortable in the room after tucking Y/N in, he grimaced hearing the sound of his cell phone going off. Nonetheless, he was quick to answer the device. 

“Are you enjoying your little escapade in Lucis, my friend?” Verstaels' voice cracked with amusement on the other end of the line.

“Very much so!” Ardyn chuckled. He was sitting on the edge of the bed now, kicking off his boots, and shimmied out of his vest while keeping his cell phone pressed between his ear and right shoulder. 

“MedZin is in shambles at the moment. Whatever documents they held dear relating to the scourge, and our research has been destroyed. All their drives were wiped along with key witnesses.” 

“That a fact?” Verstael mused on the other end then hummed. “I didn’t anticipate you’d be so thorough in such little time given how tight security was reported.” 

“It so hurts my feelings you doubt my prowess,” Ardyn smirked. He could feel a sense of pride swell in himself. He loved undermining Verstael’s assumptions. The old man had a dime a dozen these days.  

“I made no such proclamations.” Verstael scoffed. “I must say, perhaps you are projecting? I sense from your voice that you are… winded .” 

Ardyn glared while he adjusted his cell phone, now holding it like normal to his ear after his necessary clothes had been stripped away. He stretched his legs and grunted. 

“I assure you, my friend, I am most euphoric.” Though they were cordial and had a respective friendship, neither Ardyn nor Verstael could deny the cold facts regarding their personalities: that each man had ambition and a large ego. It was inevitable they’d take friendly swipes at the other. 

“Given your state of being,” Verstael began. “I assume you won’t be too upset when I inform you that your rendezvous point has been moved.” 

“Moved?” Ardyn was appalled. He raised a brow. 

“Yes. Moved.” 

“I take it I’m not traveling to Galdin Quay as planned?” 

“I’m afraid so,” Verstael sighed. “You’ve been out of the loop while playing your role, so allow me to explain what has been going on during your absence. Negotiations between Lucis and Niflheim have failed. Emperor Aldercapt claimed a ceasefire and Lucis agreed to it. While the armies are on break and focusing their efforts toward the west of Lucis, Aldercapt is moving the Niflheim armada to the seas between Lucis and Accordo. Should anything happen, you cannot afford to be seen in that vicinity. As far as Aldercapt is aware, you’ve been at a research lab recouping with my aid.” 

Ardyn sighed and rubbed his forehead. He begrudgingly replied. “Of course, our beloved emperor would make such a bold move. He might as well offer the armada on a silver plate to the Lucian army at this rate.”

“For what it's worth,” Verstael interrupted. “I did try to persuade him otherwise. He wouldn’t have it.”

“Nothing I can’t fix when I return.” Ardyn mused. His tone was sly while his mind already concocted ways he could mold this unfortunate situation to his benefit. “I’m positive I can convince Aldercapt to take a more diplomatic approach.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Verstael laughed. “As much as I’d enjoy ransacking the Lucians on the coast, it’s definitely not an area I’m keen on destroying. The resources alone are worth more than the armada itself.”

Ardyn was beginning to grow tired of the conversation. The more relaxed he became, the more his mind drifted into a numbing fog. A rare treat for the likes of himself who was constantly bombarded body and soul. Ardyn wanted to relish in it while he could, especially with not having to entertain Y/N while they slept. 

“Where can I anticipate meeting with Niflheim’s finest?” Ardyn cut to the chase as the upper half of his body collided against the mattress. His legs continued to dangle off the edge of the bed, toes flexing every so often. 

“Head toward Cape Shawe, but keep yourself northbound and inland. There’s a spot with no civilians where an airship can pick you up without detection. You’ll know when you see it. Personal guards will be at your disposal too, led by Commander Tummelt.”  

“Grand,” Ardyn murmured. He didn’t have the energy to tell Verstael to be more specific. Not when he was so close to checking out his consciousness. Ardyn prepared to hang up until Vertsael cleared his throat, signaling he had at least one more matter to discuss. 

“Did you happen to pick up anything or anyone from your little getaway? It’s imperative I know about it now.” 

“Perhaps.” Ardyn chuckled. 

“Perhaps?” 

“I’m playing with an idea. That’s all I can elaborate on.” 

Ardyn tensed. His head leaned up from the mattress, eyes locking onto Y/N who remained sound asleep on the couch with his coat bundled around them. He made a face, knowing he couldn’t remain silent forever nor keep Y/N’s presence away from his militant companion. The old man would find out sooner or later.

Verstael sighed. “This better not become a passion project that’ll get in the way.” 

“Oh come now!” Ardyn laughed. “I thought you enjoyed it when I brought unwilling participants into our little schemes!” 

“Not denying it,” Verstael scoffed. “But given the circumstances and risk of you being in enemy territory, I’m afraid I can’t ravish the thought.” 

“You’ll come around, I’m sure.” Ardyn smiled and while the opportunity presented itself, he hung up and shut his cell phone off. There would be no more interruptions for the night. 

Ardyn let out a breath he had been holding back and his racing thoughts dwindled down. He brushed some of his long locks away from his face, letting the deep maroon strands drift across the pillow behind him. He thought about his previous words. The muscles in his body tensed while he made a fist with his right hand. 

It would be so easy to give Y/N to Verstael for experimentation. Ardyn had done it numerous times with many people. It was all part of a little game he and his companion shared to keep their projects cost-effective and without alerting Aldercapts treasury. Ardyn would use his charisma and status to lure people into his inner circle, and when the victim grew trusting toward him in full would he reveal the trap. He picked his targets with careful consideration, especially if there was a high likelihood they’d bear fruit toward Verstael’s experimentations with the starscourge. 

Verstael wasn’t going to lay a hand on Y/N, that much Ardyn knew. Though he considered himself a corrupt man too far gone in his own misery, Ardyn prided himself on keeping promises. At least when he truly valued the other person. Y/N was still a precious commodity he needed. He’d keep his word to them, for now at least. 

A painful throb began to flex on the underside of Ardyn’s skull. Grunting, he shut his eyes. Flashing images sprang forth into his peripheral while sounds echoed against his eardrums. Laughter, warmth, cities, and faces came and went. People Ardyn didn’t know but felt connected to. Experiences he himself never endured, but his body could remember every touch. Ardyn wished that Y/N’s memories were more coherent. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could undergo these random trespasses to his psyche. 

Ardyn turned and lay down on his right side to ride out the experience. His golden eyes traveled down the length of his body, once more lingering on the couch. He watched Y/N’s chest rise and fall underneath the darkness of his long coat. Their breath was faint, and every so often they’d adjust and pull the jacket over themself when it would fall from their flesh. Ardyn glared at them. The contempt in his eyes was noxious. He wanted to snuff them out right then, and not have to worry about their welfare. Alas, a wave of possession forced Ardyn to relinquish the intrusive thought. 

“Should’ve just left them behind,” Ardyn muttered bitterly to himself. Things would’ve been easier if he didn’t let his heart out of the cage for the first time in centuries, but he made his bed and needed to lie in it. 

Ardyn closed his eyes, allowing remnants of what he assumed sleep felt like to wash over him. Maybe this time around he’d dream. Maybe he’d finally see a familiar face that wouldn’t haunt him. He had to hope. Just this once. 

Notes:

This is my first attempt at writing a reader x canon fic, and writing with they/them pronouns. I myself am nonbinary, and I acknowledge that certain story elements are influenced by my experiences being a female bodied person. I hope despite this, that most readers will be able to enjoy themselves in this work. I don't have a timeline for chapter updates, other than to post when I have the spoons/hit points. Thank you for reading, and for being supportive 💙

[dhr-ao3]

The Constellation Mark

The Constellation Mark https://ift.tt/NV26J5P by Caffeinated_and_Sleepdeprived Hermione Granger hates stumbling across magic she doesn't know about, especially antiquated chauvinistic pureblood rituals that effect her life. Words: 951, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M, Multi Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson, Astoria Greengrass/Luna Lovegood/Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass/Blaise Zabini Additional Tags: Soul Bond, Domestic Violence, Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Bisexual Theodore Nott, Ron Weasley Bashing, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, i don't know how to tag things, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Stalking, Domestic Violence isn't between main pairings via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/gLhMOG0 August 23, 2024 at 07:05AM

[niuttuc]

New budget Commander cards: Wilds of Eldraine: Multicolor and colorless

You know these by now, we’ll go color by color, mixing main set and commander set. Reprints can be included if they brought the price down under our bar or are otherwise notable. All the cards presented here are under $2 at time of writing Note that the set hasn’t officially released yet, so some prices may still be inflated, and others might spike in the future. Cards will be evaluated as part of the 99, not as commanders. This is the second of two multicolor write-ups, the other focused on the adventures from the set.

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A 4 mana creature that needs additional mana AND to untap before doing anything is not a winning proposition she can do some pretty fun things with enchantments though, be them auras or not. By herself, she can pay two to scry 2 and draw a card with unbridled growth, for example, as many times as you have mana. Is that worth the effort? Probably not, but it's a fun option for enchantment decks. She does work with auras or enchantments with great etb effects like Sage's Reverie or Mantle of the Ancients... But those cards don't need help to be good already.

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If you can avoid the third chapter, either through saccing, destroying, blinking, or removing counters from the saga, this is a great rate for clones, particularly nonlegendary, hasty ones. Hate Mirage is a decent card, and this trades immediate value for more value in the long term, but if this make you two (or more!) permanent clones for four mana, it's a great card!

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Those creatures that make everything enter with a +1/+1 counter are usually already three mana at least. This is that, but enabling a bunch of enchantment synergies instead, and coming packaged with some minor upsides (Trample from the Monster Role and Ward 1 from the Royal Role will be the most common choices.) And this is a 3/4 ward 1, essentially, for three mana. It doesn't go infinite with Persist like the +1/+ counter variants, nor with tokens, but it's great at triggering constellation or pumping up an All That Glitters... Or a Virtuous Role from the same precon.

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I mentioned in the Red write-up that Rakdos aristocrats was getting more and more tools lately, mostly focused on combat aristocraty things. This just gives an extra body and death trigger for every nontoken creature, which should do wonder in Aristocraty decks. And at the very least, it triggers by itself too.

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This tappy legend that wants you to tap things is good when you tap things. If you have a deck built around that, like Rhoda and Timin, here's a couple new auto-includes! That might be in consideration for your command zone, to be honest.

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Two mana looters are quite good these days, uh? Two mana for a looter that also flies and can pseudo-reanimate by itself with flying... Is probably a great option for any deck that wants to do things with their graveyard, but at its best in reanimator decks. And it can keep shifting afterwards! Not much to say here other than this is a great two-drop.

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X/X flier for X is already pretty good, making a few food tokens along the way and then drawing you a card a turn makes this solid. At least, if you've got a deck to fit it in, Simic isn't the most food-y color.

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And we close multicolor with a Faerie that wants you to play Draw Go. It's a bit weird that she doesn't have flash herself, unlike Nymris, but there's still a bit of value there. With that said, this would likely be pretty far from my preferred option for instant-speed payoffs.

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I like Azor's gateway, looting like that on something that doesn't die easily is pretty convenient to see more cards, however, discarding is better than exiling cards. Here, we have essentially that, without the dream of flipping (which is vanishingly rare), but with the ability to do more shenanigans with Treasures or store up mana. This one will play better than it looks.

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Another one that's likely to get brushed off, but this is I think a pretty underrated way to draw cards in commander at this point. Six mana is a lot, don't get me wrong, but it's in two installments and people do play their Rishkar's Expertises and Return of the Wildspeaker. This gives you a nice upside of managing attacks early, and then it's not uncommon to see four, five or more creatures tapped in commander, at which point this is more than worth the cost. You can activate both halves at instant speed, and the draw doesn't need to tap, so you can also tap down a thing before cracking it for one more card. I haven't seen many commander players mention this, but if you want a big burst of card draw outside of green or blue, give this crown a try!

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A mana rock for 2 is not as notable for commander as it is for Standard, but it's still relevant to know about. There's plenty of other options for rocks, particularly colorless ones, but this one probably would go best in an equipment deck, as written on it, where it can pull double duty as a rock early and an equipment late. How often will that actually be relevant? Probably almost never, but it's on theme?

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The cheapest Act of Treason that any deck can get access to, and one of the first. It's not super efficient or anything, but stealing creatures from the board outside of blue (and red for temporary like this) is very rare and is very potent. This one in particular could see use in white or blue to be blinked and reused, in black to sacrifice whatever you stole... It's pretty specific, but good to know about.

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Reprint

This reprint didn't bring Soul-Guide Lantern under our threshold because it already was very cheap. It still is, cheaper than ever. It's probably the best non-committal option for graveyard hate outside of manabases, and responsible players do play graveyard hate. Do it. It's one sided, it's a single mana, it cycles if you don't need it, it can be fetched by Urza's Saga, and it has a new art that probably looks amazing in foil.

[rotschopf-thedrow]

WIP WensSaturday

Got tagged by the wonderful @cr-noble-writes <3. Thanks!

Rules:

In a reblog (or new post/w rules attached) post up to five filenames of your WIPs, not titles, file names

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be something you wrote in the last 7 days (we're posting progress here. If you haven't made any, go make some and come back to post!)

After you've posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from, write 3 sentences on it anyway and then 3 more on another to share!

That's it! You can invite others to join in or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request.

Tagging @dandenbo, @clericofshadows, @commander-krios, @nyamadermont & @mrsd-writes, if you want to. And of course, everyone else who wants to play.

I think I'm one of those strange people who have to name their files correctly to find them again LOL.

[Firestone] 01 Chapter 01 - Firestarter (1. Chapter of Chris Shepard's ME1 canon)

[Mass Effect] The Pendulum (Cameron Shepard's story post-ME3)

[Mass Effect] The loneliest Hour (Kaidan and ... someone XD set from two months after Shepard's death until Shepard's retrieval after ME3)

From The loneliest Hour:

He flinched when another patron squeezed in beside him, one of their hands entering Kaidan’s field of vision. It was a nice hand, all things considered. It looked strong and capable. Very well taken care of. Some intricate ink on the side of the hand that travelled up to the pinkie. “Two neat double shots of Green Spot please. If you have it, mate.” The voice and British accent rubbed along Kaidan’s spine, prompting him to risk a glance further up a finely muscled arm covered in more ink of stars and moons and constellations. That was no omni-tattoo. That was the real deal. He stopped his investigation at the sleave of an Alliance shirt and returned to staring at his beer bottle. He didn’t need that kind of complication right now, no matter how much he longed to just lose himself in someone else for a night. His career was on the line as it was, both Hackett and Anderson waiting for him to make up his damned mind about whether he’d leave the Alliance or not. On the other hand, what was he supposed to do if he did resign? Go back to his parents? Take over the orchard? Join his cousin on his freighter? Space out on the couch in his PJs, taking Red Sand?

[dryad-of-the-dogwood]

The Grav Jump Tango Chapter 5: Bad Luck Pairing: Sam Coe x Spacefarer

Excerpt below the cut for main story spoilers

Sam had to admit, whatever these Artifacts actually were, they put on one hell of a light show when they got together. And in spite of Walter’s half sarcastic guesses about what they were doing, it felt obvious that Cassandra’s opinion was on the right track. Weird visions that sounded strangely tactile from a bunch of Artifacts that created a similar spinning particle effect when thrown together and gave unexplainable power over gravity? There was definitely something behind that, and it was far too convoluted to be a bomb. At least she looked mildly pleased when Matteo backed her theory.

When interest had begun to fade and the members of Constellation started to scatter—likely to various research tasks depending on their own theories—Sam caught Cassandra’s eye. She gave some kind of curious glance at the railing he was leaning against as she approached, and when he offered to keep traveling with her so long as she understood Cora was part of that deal, she laughed.

“I’m reasonably certain Herc would stage a mutiny if I ever tried to ban Cora from my ship,” she joked, then smiled a little more seriously. “You’re both welcome, I thought you knew that. Though I probably won’t be going anywhere for a couple of days—need to get my hands on some supplies and next steps from Vladimir. Last I heard, he still needs some more planetary survey data before he can narrow down coordinates on any more Artifacts or temples. What do you think are the odds of another random terrormorph?”

“Let’s hope for low,” Sam said with a chuckle. “I’ll admit, I am curious about these temples and the connection to your ‘crazy gravity powers.’”

Cassandra grinned. “All right, then next time we find one, you’re with me. If you thought the gravity shenanigans around the Artifacts are weird, just wait until you see one of those things.”

And true to her word, Cassandra found Sam in the Lodge’s basement the next evening while he was testing out a new weapon mod. She had the charm on full power, leaning over the edge of the workbench toward him and wearing that smile that made her look like she was up to something. “So, still interested in helping with that survey so we can track down another temple to explore?”

Sam pretended to be skeptical, despite feeling oddly pleased she hadn’t changed her mind. “You know, I’m always up for an adventure, but that look in your eyes makes me suddenly question if I’m supposed to be terrormorph bait.”

Cassandra put a hand over her heart like she was wounded at the very suggestion, her eyes widening in what was probably supposed to be an innocent expression. It didn’t work, with the basement lighting casting her irises more yellow than green, making the mischief in them almost glow. “Sam,” she said in a startlingly low voice that was smooth as silk. “Would I do that to you?”

That tone, he suddenly felt certain, would haunt his dreams.

[spiribia]

I just read every available chapter of Hound and I love it so much. Your poetic descriptions and symbolism works so well with the narrative and the characters. So many things about Seraph, like her posture and way of speaking, that shows her fixation on her duty- like her pose when sitting by Luna in interlude 1- she's sitting by Luna, wanting to be by her side but facing away from her. She's too ashamed and scared to actually connect to her so chooses to do it through an acceptable way, by being her knight. At least that's my interpretation I could be wrong. And the next chapter, the prose about Seraphs feelings for Luna is so fucking good. The fact that Seraph wants to keep going and not want to rest just showing how much she's fixated on this duty of her. And how her duty shows what she thinks of herself, that she's only acceptable when doing this thing that's useful and denies her own feelings. And the contrast to Luna and her concept of duty as a princess!! The constellation symbolism in Canis Minor was amazing. They are the stars! "Constellations are for coherence and relevance to man, not ... to stars" they are the stars! And Seraph cares more about what people think of her than her own feelings, so she only does what is "coherent and relevant" to others or tries to at least but her feelings for Luna are so strong... Again I might be taking it the wrong way but that's how I think it is, sorry if what I'm describing wasn't your intention

thank you so so much!! you're pretty spot on with my initial intent with these and it's super cool to see meaning read out of something i made & that stuff i meant to convey is coming through effectively. it really means a lot THANK YOU ETERNAL for your thoughts and kind words.