#the only bindings that don’t fully release her to no one

[dipperscavern]

Do you think the starks have had direwolves throughout history or do you think the recent generations of starks are the first? Cregan should’ve had a wolf!!!

oooooooh. this is a really good question thank you!!

i think there have been a few. probably not consistent, and i think the recent generations of starks were definitely first in a few hundred years. why do i think that? so u see

when ned takes robert down to the crypts, we see direwolves occasionally curled at the feet of the lords of winterfell. it could just be a stark sigil thing, but i think it suggests they owned direwolves, and they were buried alongside them. there’s no mention of/confirmation that they did own direwolves in the past in the books (or show i’m pretty sure, but the books r canon and the show isn’t) — but it’s george martin. this guy squirts for speculation.

& the starklings having direwolves were sorta like dany and her dragons. on the same scale? no, but they said direwolves hadn’t been sighted south of the wall in hundreds of years. plus, the connection the starklings had with them was so insane. especially in the books, greywind leading robb and his army down an undiscovered/unforeseen path that lead them to victory, nymeria following arya throughout westeros, not even mentioning all their silent communications. and the way the lords reacted to them and their wolves… they were def the first in decades.

and yes. CREGAN SHOUKDVE HAD A WOLF!!!!

[dentos-wife]

Let’s talk how about Chrom and Robin’s bond evolved over time

With everyone clamoring over the new emblem I wanted to take a look back how we got here with their relationship and why I think at this point Chrobin is the intended or inferred Chrom pairing when it didn’t used to be.

In 2012 we got Fire Emblem Awakening, and as Chrom was related to Marth, his inferred pairing was Sumia a pegasus knight as a nod to Caeda, Marth’s canon wife. Granted because part of Awakening’s charm is you could pair anyone up, you didn’t have to pair Chrom up with Sumia if you didn’t wish to. But to IS she was the intended choice.

She had special scenes with Chrom and was the most likely to end up paired with him if you weren’t gunning for a specific wife for him

And you see her here in the opening with Lucina

Robin is you, the avatar, they don’t even have official art, just them with a hood

They had a canon design what we all know now but it wasn’t really used. And that should have been it as far as IS was concerned. Awakening was their last hurrah. And then FE blew up.

Robin’s canon design is now getting used, both the male and female version are now in Smash Bros. Then we have Warriors and Heroes and the Awakening cast shows up more. But not Sumia. Perhaps it’s because she’s not popular or the people flocked to Cordelia instead but she is the pegusus knight everyone loves. Sumia isn’t even in Warriors or the base FEH she gets added much later to FEH only with other less popular Awakening characters.

It’s here when FE became more maintstream I believe that IS changed their tune on Sumia being the intended wife and retconed it. I fully think Sumia was dropped and they no longer had an intended pairing for him all because she just wasn’t popular. Him and Robin were close of course they always were, obviously some would see it as friendship others would see it as something more the usual nothing really changed there.

And then 2022 ten full years after Awakening’s release...this happened

Couple things here. I fully believe the reason Chrom was paired with MRobin here instead of FRobin is for two big reasons reasons.

1) If they paired him with FRobin it canonizes a pairing so MRobin is the safer option, FEH doesn’t usually pair men and women unless they’re already a pairing. So MRobin got paired with Chrom and FRobin was on her own but she still has lines about how much Chrom meant to her.

2) MRobin is the more popular Robin as has been shown every year in CYL and he’d even win next year

So Chrom and Robin were always close it was a no brainer to make them a duo unit, they picked the male version on a very family oriented banner.

That said some of these lines...well let’s just say if a man and a woman were saying that to each other there would be no doubt here. Imagine if this Robin was the female version

Robin: There's Lissa, Emmeryn, Lucina, Frederick... I think we've got gifts for everyone. Don't we? Chrom: Well, all but one. What would you like your gift to be, Robin? Robin: What? Me? You can't just come out and ask like that, you know. There are rules! Chrom: You know I don't care about that. Just tell me what you want. Robin: Truthfully...I can't think of anything. Chrom: You don't want anything? Aw, come on. Think of the bind that puts me in. Robin: You gave my life meaning when I had nothing—not even my memory. The sense of purpose I've found at your side, working for peace in the world, is all I could ever ask for. Chrom: You're not alone in that, you know. I feel the same way. That's why I wanted to give you something nice. To show you how I feel. Robin: All right, all right. In that case, why don't you give me one of those flowers you're wearing? Chrom: It's only going to wilt. Robin: I'll press it into one of my books. That way I'll never forget this Day of Devotion.

Snippet from their duo convo. Usually when someone gives flowers it’s considered a pretty romantic gesture I’ve heard plenty of people call this alt playfully the gays and yeah this is very strong.

FRobin even comments on them in one of her lines.

“That man with Chrom is a Robin from another world, right? They get along so well, I'm almost jealous...“

There was no need for that line at all, we can tell from their lines how flipping close they are but they felt the need to have another character comment on it in base lines

I do believe MRobin was used not to canonize a pairing...at first. And then they gave up because it looked like people really liked it going even further in the next year.

In Awakening Chrom and Robin refer to themselves as two halves of the same whole which is already a loaded term. But it’s never been used after and was just part of the game

Enter the next time they pair up as the Emblem of Bonds which brought that back for the first time since 2012, in full force

Correct me if I’m wrong but no one besides them have referred to each other as their other half in Awakening

Lucina does it in Engage. For reference other half means husband, wife or partner (romantic). I think after the Valentine’s alt they decided sure why not and now they’re really going in with Robin being Chrom’s other half when they only touched the term once past Awakening in a FRobin cipher card. Other half in Engage is Robin and he pops up when engaged with Chrom to mix magic with the attack. I don’t doubt you can mean a friend with this term but when paired with everything else they say to each other, it’s pretty strong evidence it’s further than friendship.

Okay now for the the ultimate Robin is now Chrom’s intended partner view, Legendary Robin also released this year

“Tactician of Ylisse. Celebrated as Exalt Chrom's other half in the legends that followed their exploits. Appears in Fire Emblem Awakening. “

I saw some people argue exalt could mean Lucina too but no it doesn’t, it clearly means Chorm it says so and if you didn’t believe that, we got a map that was the two called Chrom and his other half. Which is Robin.

His art also references his other half status, he now wears blueish green jewelry which stands for Chrom and the brand of the exalt is on his chest plate

Finally in his damage art he once again has the symbol of the exalt formed in magic.

And a ring, some have argued it’s his clothes but usually the magic gauntlets he wears are on his middle finger and not under his gloves; pretty sure it’s a ring, it’s even on the ring finger of his left hand, where you generally put a wedding ring.

All this together is some very strong evidence, but put it with everything else they’ve done since last year and it’s clear to me, IS now is pushing Chrom and Robin as the intended pairing. Not canon like Marth and Caeda or Alm and Celica, but intended like they do with Eliwood and Ninian and some others I’m probably forgetting. And because MRobin is who they use and their “canon” sort of like FCorrin is the “canon” Corrin, IS is strongly hinting at MChrobin

Which fascinates me, we went from Chrom with a intended implied wife to scrapping it and pretended it never happened to this, Chrom with an intended husband. Him and his best friend, both two guys, very much in love. In ten years IS changed it’s mind on the intended canon pairing that isn’t even possible in the base game. They are a fate defying duo, the emblem of bonds, the exalt and his other half, two halves of the same whole and they are showing that in symbolism harder than ever. I think that’s really cool

To end this I’m aroace and see romance a little differently from the amatonormic norm Chrom and Robin could just be really good friends lord knows I also think friendship should be just as important as romance BUT if they were, it’s very clear they are each others most important person over any wife they might separately have.  But even that doesn’t follow a typical heteronormative relationship no? Chrom and Robin’s bonds are so strong they transcend the concept of romance and friendship as we know it, there is no name for the type of love they share it’s beyond us.

But what about Lucina? (and Morgan) In a world with magic, dragons, people dying and coming back to life, time travel and more the idea of two guys somehow having a child is no longer far fetched at all really, or even surrogates exist.

Also they act like kind of like dads with her and it’s really cute

Now granted IS could remake Awakening and MRobin will still not be able to marry Chrom and this whole analysis would have been for naught but I think if they do remake it they’ll add it. Look at how many people have been introduced to them just through Heroes and Engage you don’t think people are going to want to pair up the exalt and his other half in their game?

To sum it up, yes there literally is no heterosexual explanation for where IS has taken this. It wasn’t originally the intended pairing but it sure is now, I don’t think there is any room for denial anymore until we see what they do with a remake.

[vir-tanadahl]

[DAV Spoilers] My Thoughts on Solas

Look, I know this might be an unpopular opinion, but these are just my thoughts. Take what resonates with you, and feel free to leave behind what doesn’t.

Under the cut, because spoilers!

I don’t think Solas was acting OOC.

TDLR: We are dealing with the Dread Wolf for most of DAV, not Solas.

This is not the Solas we know from DAI. In DAI, Solas concealed his identity as the Dread Wolf, embodying a part of himself from before he fully assumed that role. Now, however, he has fully embraced the mantle of the Dread Wolf.

 2. The comment about hating blood magic? It was a lie. Solas knows that, in this world, blood magic is despised and viewed as evil. The truth is, he sees it as a tool—both in DAI and in DAV. He lied to the Rook, manipulating his words to earn their trust.

3. I don’t think he intended to kill Varric—I think it was an accident; if that were his goal, he would have done it long before. If you slow down the cinematic, you can see him lower his head, a gesture of shame. But then again, this is the same man who killed Felassan. It is still shitty that it happened though.

4. Solas doesn’t trust the Rook, and he isn’t going to be as open with them as he was with the Inquisitor. Unlike the mentorship he offered the Inquisitor, Solas sees the Rook purely as a tool. He will never confide in them about his feelings for the Inquisitor, whether as a friend or a lost love. This time, he’s a tactician, a strategist—cold, calculating, and entirely focused on his goals. In my opinion, if Solas were to confide in the Rook, it would feel out of character. They haven’t developed that level of trust, so in my opinion, it would come across as fan service. 

5. I don’t believe Solas and Mythal had a romantic relationship. Although Mythal called him ‘love,’ the evidence in DAI suggests it was more likely reverence than romance. As Brené Brown describes, reverence—a deeper form of admiration or respect—is often rooted in a profound connection to something greater than ourselves, encompassing adoration, worship, or veneration.

6. It’s possible that Solas was bound by a geas, which would explain his intense reaction if the Inquisitor drank from the Well of Sorrows. This could also be why Mythal remains central to his story. He tells both the Rook and the Inquisitor that he cannot stop—not that he won’t, but that he cannot. Perhaps, before her death, Mythal commanded him to avenge her, binding him to her will and compelling him forward.

Update to 6: However, if it wasn’t a geas, then it speaks volumes about Solas, his choices, and the theme of regret that runs through DAV. Honestly, I hope it wasn’t a geas, because that would highlight his fallibility, showing just how far he’s gone and the struggle he faces in trying to reconcile (and failing) with those choices. It would also explain why he feels bound by his actions, believing he cannot turn back and why Mythal remained central to his story because he came into this world for her and he "failed" her. By releasing him from her service, Mythal allows him to see that his path wasn’t shaped solely by his own choices. He’s been carrying the weight not only of his decisions but of hers as well—and he isn’t responsible for her choices. Mythal had to be the one to make him understand that.

7. Solas's wisdom has twisted into pride. He's fixated on erasing the mistake he believes he made, on fixing what he thinks he broke. But this pride blinds him to the beauty of the world he inadvertently created. If his wisdom had remained pure, he might have seen that this new world, born of his error, holds its own beauty—and that not every mistake needs to be undone. It feels like Solas embodies Wisdom, while the Dread Wolf represents Pride.

8. Solas does care about people, but his wisdom has twisted into pride. The Dread Wolf, however, leads him to view their deaths as necessary sacrifices—a means to an end

9. Solas/The Dread Wolf created a prison that even the gods could not escape it—because escape would mean confronting the pain they caused and accepting any regrets tied to their choices. The gods refused to do this, seeing their actions as justified. Solas, too, remained bound, unable to face his own regrets and the pain he caused, needing to believe there was purpose in them. He is shocked when the Rook escapes, as he doesn’t believe (or literally just cannot accept this due to being under a geas) anyone can truly accept their regrets and move forward.

10. The Dread Wolf using spirits of chaos—and other similar entities—as tools in his war makes sense. He chose spirits that wouldn’t be corrupted by the task, a calculated and strategic move, even if it’s ultimately a morally questionable one.

IDK take it or leave it.

UPDATE:

I also believe that the essence of Mythal, which released him from her service, ‘died’ after freeing him. The essence he carefully preserved could only watch and observe the world, as Mythal herself stated she couldn’t exist outside the Fade. I think Solas knew that. This fragment of Mythal, the one he knew, who just released him from her service no longer exists anymore.

[ornii]

Tara Carpenter x Male Reader?

Funny enough, I was never a big Horror Fan so the Scream series went under my radar. Conveniently enough I decided to watch the latest one and I gotta say not too bad.

Trust

Takes years to form, can be broken in one moment.

After a short but memorable service in the Army, you were able to take an honorable discharge after barely a year, after searching a Home you saved your squad from a makeshift IED. It Left a few scars, but that was the last of the physical damage, mental damage can never truly be measured and heal fully, but you’re managing. Hearing the Murders of Woodsboro, and Tara surviving thankfully.

You and Tara had been friends since moving to Woodsboro years ago, just kids at the time but there was something really different about her, you couldn’t put your finger on it but she always lit up the room, and specifically took your breath away. Leaving for Basic Training, you never got a chance to admit it, but you knew once you returned it was the first thing to do on your bucket list.

So when you were discharged, Blackmore University was a nobrainer to attend. But it was only downhill after that, the Killings return, and it seemed to return just as you did.

It was all too much of a coincidence for anyone else to ignore. So they did the only sensible thing.

You were standing in the middle of the apartment, unsure of what to do. You were essentially surrounded by Tara, Sam, Chad, and Ethan. “I don’t understand..” you said, your eyes tracing along the eyes staring at you. “You think.. it’s me?” You ask. And Chad stepped up first.

“We heard what happened at Woodsboro, it just, takes someone pretty skilled to do that stuff..” he said, Chad had an attitude that he didn’t want to believe it, but a capable man with a knife is pretty tough. You looked over to everyone else, Quinn seems indifferent, Sam was reluctant to speak and Tara couldn’t look you in the eye.

“Tara, Tara look at me…” you pleaded, Teary eyed she slowly looks up to meet your gaze.

“You really think I could do this? I came back here for you, why would I…” you slowly trail off, silent as you truly were at a loss.

“I don’t want to believe it..” she said, “but.. it just all looks bad..” She admits, and that truly broke your heart, the one person you wanted to believe you, before you could say anything, Ethan walks over putting his arm around Tara to try to soothe her. Ethan always had a slimy attitude, and you never really felt, safe around him. But seeing him do that to Tara made your skin crawl. Something about this, about all of this, was way off.

“(Y/n), Quinn’s dead, we have to stop this before more people die; if it isn’t you then the police are gonna release you.” Sam explains, and they wheel an office chair with arms over for you to sit. Seeing how distressed Tara was, you very reluctantly sat down on it, and allowed them to bind your arms to the chair. Tapping your foot restlessly, you eyed Ethan. “Feel safer now?” You said obviously with sarcasm, and Ethan give this look. Of disappointment.

“Look I know service does a lot to the brain.” He started, and you realized just what he’s about to do.

“No you fucking don’t..” you cut him off sternly and harshly, knowing his plan to blame your PTSD and use it to label someone as unstable. Ethan gives you another look, as if he’s hiding a smile.

“Let’s give him some fresh air at least, would be better for him.” Ethan walks over and calmly pushes you to the balcony, “it’s for your own good.” He mutters a bit abruptly, and walks back to the others, you can’t hear what they’re saying but Tara eyes you a few times. You wanted to plead and beg for her to listen to you, but it would have been for nothing, she’s already convinced it was you. Your train of thought was cut off by footsteps around you, mostly above, you hear them and look up to see someone heading down, it was too dark to make out who it was, but once you saw the flash of steel with their knife you instantly knew.

“Guys! Guys!” You shook and kicked to get their attention, they all looked over as you fought to break free. You screamed for help, It was too late, heading down the fire escape, Ghostface made their appearance, grabbing your legs they lifted you up and over the balcony, you felt the instant dizzying sensation of being tossed and your head slammed hard against the lower balcony rail, it all went dark after that but you tumbled against more rails and slammed on a hard sheet metal roof and slid off onto the ground.

Somehow, you still lived. Opening your eyes slowly you see the hard New York ground and the wheels of a dumpster, using what strength you had you were able to stand up, seems the chair broke most of your fall, but still causing cuts and bruises and probably a cracked rib or two. Using the dumpster you prop yourself up and reach into your pocket with your bloody hands to your cracked IPhone, it was near impossible to make any calls, but one app did catch your eye. Find my IPhone. Tapping on Tara’s name you spot her location, a old theatre. Tearing off the tape on your wrists you look around for anything to defend yourself, all you see is a sharp end of plastic from the fallen chair. Snatching it you make you plan.

You stand up, feeling a hot burning pain in your leg, specifically your ankle which probably has a torn ligament or shattered bone. You push the pain down and limp your way to the theatre. Pushing the door open with your bloody palms you limped in, to a sight you least expected. You watched Ethan terrorize Tara, who looks ready to fall off a ledge, Sam barely holding on as Quinn, who never was dead approaches, and Detective Bailey, aiming a gun at them all. It was all a ploy to kill you and lessen the numbers. Ethan’s words “for your own good” kept running in your head, he set you up to get killed. All that military training began to pay off, you crouched with a bad limp and had to crawl to avoid making too much noise, you crept up behind Bailey and didn’t hesitate. You took the sharp plastic and rammed it into the side of his neck with force. Using his other hand he tries to hold his neck to keep the blood loss. You reached and gripped his hand hard, forcing him to Aim at Quinn and crushing his tigger finger. A bullet flies and almost hits Quinn, Sam looks up to see you and you continue to force him to pull the trigger until one bullet gets lodged right in the head of Quinn. She drops dead and so does Bailey. You stood there, silent as Ethan turns to see you. You didn’t care why he did it, you didn’t care to even ask.

“Get Tara up.” You gave Sam her order and she took the change to yank her sister up while you handled Eathan. He danced the knife around his hands, waiting for you make a move but you knew better. You kept calm and locked in. Ethan thrashed at you to land a hit but you kept calm, keeping your distance and avoiding close cuts. You watch in go for a stab, you open your arm, he goes past it and you lock his arm under yours, with one swift jerk up you snapped his arm, you cocked back and began to hammer his face in, punch after punch. Ethan stumbles around and with one judo throw you slammed him into a table, exhausted from the ass beating you promptly put on him, he lies there, laughing.

“You don’t deserve her, I always wanted to stick something in her… and she picks you, a fuckin freak who cries when fireworks go off..” Ethan spoke with venom though his bloody teeth. You looked at him, disgusted.

“Cry me a river.. and fuckin drown in it.” You grabbed him, dragged his head to the edge of the table and lifted up your arm and slammed your elbow right into his eyesocket, his neck snaps back with a crunch, as he lays there, dead. (Y/n) slumps down, exhausted. After dispatching three serial killers like John Wick he finally breathes as the nightmare is over.

The FBI and Police arrive, taking statements and doing some investigating and body clean up. You were getting the cuts and bruises patched up, and the ankle looked at.

“Hairline fracture. Gonna need some time for it to heal but you’ll be walking again.” The EMT gave a warm smile to you and went to tend to Sam. You leaned your head back to finally rest, you felt a presence approach, he could immediately tell it was Tara.

“…What do you want?” You said, you tilt your heard back forward and look at her. She looked good, even if she was getting murdered half an hour ago, still so.. beautiful. “Can We.. can we talk?” She said, almost in a whisper. You scoot over the ambulance seat to let her sit down.

“I’m… so sorry I didn’t believe you. And you almost got killed for it..” she bit her bottom lip to keep from crying, as angry as you were, she got baited into it, you put your arm around her.

“I wish you trusted me but I understand why you didn’t, let’s just, relax first.” You felt her lean into your arm, content with how things are finally.

“Yeah.” She closes her eyes to take in the moment, and you finally let this nightmare end.

[harryforvogue]

Harry sets the hair dryer down on the table beside Yasmine’s shoulder. Her eyes blink open to glance at him curiously through the mirror, hand already reaching for the dryer to take over. “Got tired?”

He shakes his head, staring back at her reflection with a pensive look.

It was his idea to dry her hair for her since her arms were sore from yesterday's therapy. Despite taking a hot bath immediately after to soothe her muscles, the ache had made it tough this morning. They’d showered together, Harry’s gentle fingers massaging the shampoo into her scalp, gliding the conditioner down her ends, and his palms carefully smearing over her eyes to remove any suds from her face. He’d held her jaw in his hands and bent down to kiss her softly, thumbs rubbing over her wet cheeks. 

He’d usually be handsy in the shower, but this time he only held her and kissed her face, eyes never straying from hers. It unnerved her for him to be so silent, but it also excited her to have all his attention.

“What is it?” she asks him, because a silent Harry is something to be worried about.

Harry almost smiles at the immediate frown on her face. It’s a default expression for her, and oh how he loves it. “What do you think about marriage?”

Yasmine freezes. The frown disappears, but it’s now replaced by apprehension.

“Marriage,” she repeats.

“Mhmm.” He runs his thumb over the back of her neck. She shivers.

“It’s. Well, it’s marriage.”

“Astute, my love.”

“It’s legally binding.”

“That it is.”

“Webster Dictionary defines it as–”

“Yasmine,” Harry says quietly, but firmly. “First thought that comes into your head. Go. Marriage.”

She blinks and automatically replies, “You, of course.” And then she has the audacity to look concerned with her own answer. “Oh.”

He smiles fully then, whirling her around so she can see his face. She looks up at him quizzically, but lets him push her hair back over her shoulders. Instead of kissing her, he hugs her to his torso, pressing her face into his stomach. “Okay.”

“Okay?” she says, muffled against his shirt. 

“Just wanted to see something.”

He squeezes her tightly, hard enough to make her wince, but not hard enough to make her cry out. He smooths his hands down her back then, and then releases her, reaching for the dryer again.

“Whoa,” Yasmine says, placing her hand on his to stop him. “Listen, I’m not a very big romantic person, but there’s no way I’m going to allow you to propose to me while you’re drying my hair!”

Harry ponders over this for a minute. “Would it help if I got on one knee?” And then he does so, bringing the dryer along with him.

“Harry!” She puts her hands on each shoulder, scooting closer to him. The wild look in her eyes is still there, but it’s now mixed with…delight?

He shakes his head. “Yasmine, you have no faith in me. Why would I propose to you like this?”

“I don’t know! Why are you asking me about marriage?”

He gives her a pointed look. “We’ve been dating for over a year, not to mention you made me wait throughout grad school for you to come around. I hope you know that I’m fully committed to you and would like a life with you. You are mine. This is it for me.”

Yasmine feels her face flush, swallowing hard. Her heart hammers in her chest and the entire world melts away. It’s just her and this ridiculous gem of a man. “I thought that was a given. And unspoken.”

“It was. But now I’m saying it out loud so you know. Because I know things get lost between us sometimes, but I need to be clear now.”

Oh.

“I started dating you knowing you were the last woman I’d be with. I will do many, many things to ensure that. I will let you win as many fights as you want, put up with your worst habits if the need be. And I need to know if we’re on the same page about this.”

Something inside her squeezes. He looks so serious, eyes unwavering, jaw set, that it makes her shiver again. He’s rarely ever this intense about anything. His hand strays from the dryer, taking one of her hands instead, pressing her open palm to his heart.

“Of course,” Yasmine blurts. She grabs his shirt, tugging him a little closer. “We’re on the same page about that. You can’t get rid of me now.”

Harry nods once. “Good.” He then kisses the top of her head and then stands, her hand falling away when he reaches his full height. He manually turns back around and parts her hair once more, ready to dry it again.

“Harry,” she says before she gets drowned out.

“Hm?”

“I don’t have high expectations about a proposal. I need to clarify that.”

He finally smiles, his eyes clearing. He kisses her head again, more firmly, and then sighs against her. “It’s been years and you still think so little about my wooing skills.”

“I’m just saying. It doesn't have to be big.”

“I know, baby.”

The pet name makes her inwardly soar. “But just not while drying my hair.”

“It would make me happy,” he admits softly. “To propose while taking care of you. Something I consider my only purpose.”

“I mean it.” She tries to sound strict, her breath catching at the confession. She fails completely.

“I know,” he says again, and then hugs her tightly. “I know.”

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

織姫

cw. f!reader (afab), canon divergent, manga spoilers, established relationship, dissociation, canon-typical violence, non-linear storytelling

pairing. makima x reader

notes. part of the man is a blazing star universe so i would give the two previous fics a read before diving into this one as it is key to understanding everything here. in a way, orihime 「織姫」 is a love letter to what was originally a duology so i hope old readers enjoy spotting the references! i had a lot of fun experimenting with detailing, when not to use it and even when only relying on only dialogue to carry a scene and i hope the payoff works in my favor.

Dawn is a time of day you appreciate more when you don’t have work.

While you ordinarily complained how the hours in those days vanished before you could enjoy them, dawn has always been the exception. Your early mornings have always moved slower compared to the rest. It’s a slow, quiet whisper you value fully, especially now as you enjoy the sound of the waves as you walk your assorted mix of pets on the beach. You’re sure the two of you look like quite the pair with your seven dogs on their leashes and one of your two cats in a leashed harness.

Makima is a woman bathed in the light of dawn. 

You release a sigh of satisfaction, watching your girlfriend go ahead of you as your dogs stretch their legs.

It’s in how the morning rays dapple her form in near perfect circles. In the hues of her pale carmine hair that cascades across her bare skin. It’s even in the gold of her eyes, much like the yellow sun that peeks through the horizon.

It’s strange to think that this time two years ago, Makima had been a colleague you couldn’t stand to be around. Now you’ve willingly allowed a string of fate the exact shade as her hair to bind you both in the most irrevocable of ways.

“I won’t use my power on you, in exchange, we have to stay together forever. We’ll eat a lot together, sleep together, and live a happy life together.”

The contract of a lifetime ー marriage in its own right.

Gone are the days of patrols, weapons and putting your life on the line to ensure the safety of the general populace.

How peculiar this entire journey has been.

You will never pretend your reasons for joining the Bureau were pure of heart; you’d never dreamed of glory or protecting others.

For Makima, you’d gladly put your entire being on the line.

It goes against the nature of the Control Devil to have equal relationships.

Makima has one with you.

Moral ambiguities be damned. I believe in you. It’s a vow you know you will take to your grave as you watch your lover pause, wondering what has caught her excitable dogs’ eyes. Bagheera’s crooked tail tip twitches in interest, bounding forward with clumsy footsteps and you chuckle as you increase your pace so the cat can see it too. Tora, on the other hand, is comfortable in her backpack carrier. This is how mornings are done in your family. “What’s got the troublesome octet so excited?”

“They’ve found a crab,” her voice is amused and mellifluous. Crab sounds like a wonderful idea for dinner and you’re sure she has the same idea when you hear dulcet giggles slip from her person. Like a child, Makima turns to face you with her lips stretched into a delighted smile.

It’s then that carmine suddenly becomes jet and there’s a mole underneath her left eye that wasn’t there before.

Ah.

“[First], I want crab for dinner!” Nayuta beams brightly.

“Damn you have expensive taste,” you tease in spite of your stupor. Right. Those memories aren’t mine.

The dogs you walk remain but all but two of five of them are different from the seven you could have sworn were with you just a moment ago. Bagheera isn’t with you either, succumbing to his health issues years ago when you were still a child. All that remains of the cats you adopted is Tora, an old lady you left at home to snore on the couch with the Power's new kitten.

“Have ‘em,” Himeno told you shortly after you moved in with her in the quiet town of Shonai. “They were yours anyway. Oh, but Meowy’s always been Power’s.”

The ringed eyes are the only part of Nayuta that is the same as the woman from your memories. The eyes and the braid you know she'll twist her hair into later.

You wish the image of that woman would disappear.

Thankfully Nayuta is seemingly unaware of your dilemma. “I’ll get some in a few checks,” you promise and you receive an impish grin in return. You smile instinctively, your earlier troubles assuaged.

It’s a magic only Nayuta possesses.

The magic is disturbed when one of the dogs yelps in pain and Nayuta guffaws at the display of a small crab latched onto its nose.

You wonder if you had grown up surrounded by humans if you would find her reaction unsettling. As one raised among devils and fiends, however, Nayuta’s reaction is only standard even as she yanks the crab away with ease and tosses it into a returning wave. “That’ll teach you not to play with crabs,” Nayuta laughter subsides into chuckles as she pets the pup’s head.

You love the dawn.

How the wind runs its invisible fingers through Nayuta's hair much like a musician strumming the strings of a harp.

How the light of the sun crests Nayuta's head much like a halo although you're sure the god of such beings will likely you spurn you for the comparison. How ironic that a devil is the closest comparison you have to the opposing pole.

When it’s like this, it’s easy to pretend you and Nayuta are the last ones on earth on this beach.

There are no devil hunters, no other humans and there are no other devils either.

You digress that the truth of your reality is fine, however.

You work 6 out of 7 days in a week at a local convenience store all the while Nayuta pursues a degree through online courses at Tohoku University. Himeno goes to the pub once or twice every other week to indulge in the non-alcoholic beverages her sister allows her to drink. Even Power somehow manages a steady job helping Ichika sell the vegetables she grows in the garden. A well-placed hat and even a Fiend can blend in to some extent.

Work is limited for a Fiend in hiding from the government.

Everything is limited when it’s the Control Devil remaining out of the government’s sight.

“Do you ever wish you could actually go on campus?”

“Not particularly.”

Nayuta’s never really been a people person though, so you suppose it truly doesn’t matter to her whether she can physically attend Tohoku or not. So you subsequently deduce that she likely won’t care that she’ll be limited to working remotely for the rest of her life either.

Nayuta fingers dug into the back of your shirt, body tense. Her abilities required she believe one was lesser than her for her to order them, that was impossible when you were both scared out of your wits cornered with nowhere to go.

The woman kept an eye on you both, weapon drawn in one hand, phone in the other. “I found the C-”

Unwittingly, your mind drifts back to the red-haired woman as you watch the loose strands of Nayuta’s hair dance in the wind. Makima.

You don’t know much about the previous incarnation of the Control Devil save for what tidbits you allowed Himeno and Kishibe to tell you. Himeno did her best to sugarcoat it but blunt as Kishibe was, you know for certain that Makima wasn’t the kindest individual.

“ー kept her on a tight leash when she was alive,” the drunkard raised his flask to his lips for the tenth time in the three minutes. Every fiber of your being burns with a hatred for a man that isn’t wholly your own at the comment. “But even with that leash, she was a ticking time bomb. So keep this one on a leash that’s even tighter. Otherwise, she’ll turn out like Makima again.”

Makima is Makima, Nayuta is Nayuta.

ー is ー, you’re you.

“Hey, Nayuta, pick a country,” you call for the one you love. The one you love. The proof is when she turns and Nayuta is all that remains. You don't hate Makima. You don’t think it’s possible to hate any incarnation of the Control Devil. But Makima is who ー loved and their sun had long since fallen. “One that doesn’t have a devil hunting association in it.”

“Seychelles,” Nayuta doesn’t miss a beat, grinning the devilish grin you adore all the while. “We still need to have our honeymoon.”

A dirty sheet turned into a veil rests on jet black hair while you recited your on-the-fly vows.

“Yeah,” you chuff as you rest your hands in your pocket. “I owe you one, huh?”

A honeymoon and the whole wedding too.

ー

“What’s this new job of yours again?”

“I got a gig cashiering the next town over,” you pinch the green collar of your uniform as a physical display of your employment. 

Himeno’s one eye closes as she hums thoughtfully into her mug, “what about your job at the konbini?” Her smile is as plastered as wet cement.

“It doesn’t pay as much,” you shrug. It isn’t the first time Himeno has made some sort of stir about your sudden change in employment, it likely won’t be the last. “If I’m gonna get paid to kiss ass all day, I at least wanna get paid more than chump change.”

“You make chump change as a cashier no matter where you work,” you choose to ignore Himeno’s comment. When her sister’s sharp stare of disapproval lands on the former devil hunter, you know the conversation will be dropped for now. Thanks, Ichika.

Ichika smiles kindly, always a touch too gentle and understanding. It’s easy to appreciate the woman’s soft-hearted nature. “Well, I for one, am glad you have a pay raise even if it’s somewhere else,” the dark-haired woman tells you. “We both are,” her soft blue eyes dare her sister to disagree with her sentiments. Himeno is smart enough not to voice against them. Gentle as Ichika is, Himeno will always crumble at the threat of her anger. “What time will you be home? We should eat something special to celebrate!”

“Crab sound good this weekend?” At your suggestion, Nayuta perks with interest for the first time since breakfast began. You bump your knees together lightly. With what you’ll be making now, you can afford to buy her crab every night. “I can pick some up before I head back after my last shift of the week.”

On the other side of the table, Power is just as interested in the suggestion. “Crab,” the horned woman inquires with a fiendish grin. “Finally something worthy of my taste buds! Servant,” the Blood Fiend’s strawberry-colored locks whip around in her excitement. It’s only barely doused by the unamused look Himeno shoots in her direction. Barely. “Human,” an improvement. “Make a crab dish for us!”

Ichika takes Power’s demands in stride, “I think crab would be a nice treat. Don’t you?”

Matching blue gazes share a quiet conversation before Himeno relents with a tired smile, “I guess crab isn’t that bad an idea.”

Power guffaws with prideful glee as Nayuta’s expression twists into impish satisfaction. Her few-weeks-old dream of crab will finally be fulfilled. A peaceful glow washes over you as you take in the sight of her drinking miso soup from a finely polished bowl.

Himeno’s house is a far cry from the abandoned building you both once called home.

The wooden floor is clean, not dirtied from even filthier shoes and haphazardly drawn images made with sharp rocks used as chalk. In this house, you have three meals a day. The limit to what you can take is no longer reduced to only what you’re able to carry.

It’s a life you always dreamed you’d one day share.

Although admittedly you never accounted for the additional humanoid bodies living in it. 

“Well, I gotta get goin’,” you slurp the last of your black tea before wiping your lips with the back of your hand. “See you guys later,” you stack your dishes neatly atop one another, waving off Ichika’s attempt to take them from you. “See you later,” you tell Nayuta warmly, pressing your lips against hers for only a  moment to spare yourself from feeling one of Power’s dirty napkins hitting your shoulder. “Have a good day at school.”

“Call me for lunch,” to the untrained ear, it’s a demand. To one as experienced as yourself in the language of Nayuta, it’s a request.

It’s an uncannily peaceful morning for a household of humans, fiends and devils. One that religious zealots would lose their minds over. 

On an ordinary morning you yearn for the comfort of your and Nayuta’s bed and letting the hours roll by as you embark on your quest for work. This time, your stomach twists with discomfort as you hit the freeway.

It’s nearly an ordinary morning.

As you promptly pass the exit that actually would have led to the town next door, you know the last chance for ‘ordinary’ has sailed. The nearly three hours long drive it takes to get to Sendai is long enough for you to stew in your guilt. You park inconspicuously near the woodsy outskirts of the city, thumbs resting on the steering wheel.

It’s too late to turn back now, you remind yourself. I’m doing this for us.

Two adult passports.

Visas.

Housing.

Food.

Permanent Residency.

You’d never be able to save for it all with the chump change you’d been making at the local konbini. Nor would Nayuta ever be able to live a free life under the restrictions placed on you by those who took you in. There is no major country in the world Nayuta can be free in.

Nayuta had been a stranger, once upon a time. A stranger who never existed in your conscience and whose life you never perceived.

Then your eyes met and you experienced the birth of a universe.

You’ll gladly put your entire being on the line.

“Do you want to protect Nayuta?” Your grip tightens for a moment longer before finally reaching for the duffle bag you hid underneath the passenger seat.

“Well yeah, obviously.”

“Then follow two rules. Stay away from major cities and don’t join the Public Safety Devil Hunters.”

You've technically broken only one of Kishibe’s rules.

ー

Your parents used to take the first day of school very seriously.

It was always a momentous time when you went up a grade level. Photos were snapped constantly and after the first day ended successfully, there’d always be some sort of celebratory dinner. When you saw Ichika tearfully take in yours and Nayuta’s uniforms, you can tell things in this household were going to go the same way.

“The two of you are starting to become young women,” she smiled sappily, polaroid camera already in hand. “It feels like it was only yesterday you two came here and now you’re already going to school! You’re both so beautiful!”

Nayuta certainly was, you wanted to say. Her chin-length black hair now stretched to the upper middle of her back, framing her gold-colored eyes perfectly. But that would only make Ichika gush further about how you both were equally gorgeous like a proud mother.

You’d have thought you and Nayuta were infants when you were brought to this house with how Ichika coo’d and aww’d. Except the two of you were already thirteen when you’d come to the Nagano household and a year later, the school term had been going on for a few months. It had been unclear if you’d be starting high school or being held back. Donned in the dark brown uniform of Higashi Middle School, you knew the answer.

Even Power had on a uniform, refusing to be left out of the celebrations.

“That’s right, our little women,” Himeno laughed, holding an energy drink like it was a beer can. “Smile for the camera!”

You were able to turn the corners of your lips into a smile but, if anything, Nayuta’s scowl only deepened.

“Nayuta,” Himeno sighed in frustration. “I know you’re upset that you and [First] are in different classes but we’ve been through this. It’ll be good for you. Ichika,” she looked to her sister for support, blue eyes pleading. “back me up on this.”

Nagano Younger placed the camera down with an empathetic smile, “don’t you want to make friends?”

Ringed yellow eyes practically glowed as Nayuta sharply looked at the woman, “what do we need friends for? All [First] needs is me.”

The Nagano sisters shared a look that was a mixture of concern and exasperation. The primary debate of the weekend had finally reared its ugly head just before you were due to leave. Before either of them could say anything to placate their youngest ward, however, Power's manic laughter filled the air. When she had her fill of amusement, she rubbed the bottom of her nose as her laughs faded into chuckles. “The Great Power was once this immature,” Once? “Nayuta!” She points a sharp nail in the direction of the only other non-human in the house. “Stop behaving like a child! You’re reflecting poorly on my teachings!”

“Bark like a dog.”

Power dropped on all fours and barked the moment the demand left Nayuta’s mouth. The actual dogs in the house went into an excited frenzy, barking alongside with her.

“What did I tell you about taking your powers out on people because you’re upset,” all hints of playfulness left Himeno’s body in favor of displeasure. “Nayuta,” she placed her energy drink on the table at the young devil’s silence. Ichika sighed quietly, placing her camera down before she quietly turned to the kitchen.

“The two of you need to learn how to interact with people. Outside of the house,” the former devil hunter took a glance at the barking fiend. When she sighed, you knew Himeno likely thought that even the interactions within the house needed some work. “Now hurry up and turn Power back.” Nayuta directed her gaze to the nearest window instead. “Nayuta, I’m not asking.”

“Just wait a moment,” Ichika’s lark-like voice rang from where she went about her business. Hurriedly, she arrived with two bowls of ice cream in hand. With her sharp sense of smell, it captured Nayuta’s attention immediately and she held out her hands expectantly. “Don’t you have something you need to do first, young lady?”

Nayuta blinked, seemingly confused as she followed her gaze to where Power crawled on the floor. In the blink of an eye, the barking stopped. “Thank you,” Ichika nodded in satisfaction before she finally handed you both a bowl each, winking at you knowingly.

Power returned to her feet, cheeks hot with anger but whatever she was going to say, she stopped in her tracks the moment you held the bowl of ice cream Ichika gave you directly under her nose. It only took a beat before the Blood Fiend grinned, lifting the bowl as if it's her newest kill. “Gahahaha! I suppose I can accept your humble offerings,” you snorted quietly at the display. If anyone was the child in this house, it was her.

Himeno threaded her fingers through gray and navy blue hair with a whiny sigh, “everyone in this house wants me to age, Ichika. And we can’t just use ice cream to bribe her into behaving! Why does she get ice cream if I don’t get to keep beer!”

“Because your doctor said to either quit or be placed on a liver transplant list so you’d have a head start,” Himeno withered under her sister’s less-than-amused glare. “And I hope you savor that energy drink. Remember what we agreed on - one can per month.”

“And it’s always the smallest size possible,” Himeno grumbled, looking much like a child herself. If you hadn’t known who the older sister was, you would have assumed otherwise. “And low in sugar so it tastes absolutely disgusting.”

Ichika ignored the jab, knowing her sister would drink the disgusting low-sugar drink regardless. “Nayuta,” she began thoughtfully. “I know how important it was for you that you and [First] be in the same class. But there are going to be times when you have to interact with other people and we want you to be able to navigate those times with ease. There are going to be more opportunities for you both to be in the same class, we just want you to be okay with times where you aren’t.” When Ichika looked to you for assistance, Nayuta’s golden gaze turned to you as well.

We can socialize and be in the same class at the same time, can’t we? Truthfully, you hadn’t been thrilled with the class assignments either. It had been you against the world before you met Nayuta when you were left alone on the streets of Beijing. Not knowing what would happen to you with your parents gone, school didn’t seem all too important. You think you might have liked school, you truthfully can’t remember. You even had friends, good friends. You couldn’t seem to remember their faces either. Too much had happened to hold onto those memories.

The last time you’d been in school, you were seven.

It took a fair bit of home study for you and Nayuta to be ready for even middle school. If you had to go to school again, you wanted it to be by each other’s side. The school administration had different thoughts, it seemed. But underneath Ichika’s hopeful eyes, you couldn’t bring yourself to spurn her goodwill. You liked Ichika, she was kind. “If we’re in different classes, we can go on dates for lunch. And I can walk you to class each day, like in the movies.”

It’s only when she heard those words that Nayuta looked even remotely enthused about your separation.

“See?” Ichika’s smile widened in her appreciation.

“Alright,” Nayuta leaned against you, not entirely pleased but no longer entirely upset.

It was a solid victory as far as Ichika was concerned.

The rest of the morning went smoothly. Nayuta and Power indulged in their ice cream and when they were finished, Ichika indulged in getting her celebratory photo. Power held her peace sign while yours and Nayuta’s arms were linked tightly. Lunches packed and promises of an extravagant dinner made, the two of you finally left home hand in hand.

ー

“I know damn well that a Fish Devil costs more than that,” you scowl at your employer. “I didn’t drive over two hours to Sendai for you to stiff me on the price. I’ll take this to Yamaguchi if I have to.” That’s the problem with these underground devil hunting jobs. If someone wants to short change you, they will short change you. It’s been five months since you’ve begun your dealings with Nishida and the oaf never ceases trying to pull the wool over your eyes.

“Come on now, [Last],” the slimy businessman raises his hands as if placating a child. He looks more like a Pimp Named Slickback with his crinkled purple suit than someone who works in devil hunting. You suppose one working under the table can’t complain. “We’re old friends, aren’t we?”

“Tell me that when we’ve known each other for a decade,” you point your gloved finger against the desk two, three, four times. Each thudding strongly against the tabletop rattling the bloody axe you’ve placed on it. “550,000 yen. I don’t want even a decimal less.”

Nishida’s lips curl in dismay, “have I ever told you that you’re a real bitch to work with?”

You’ll continue to be one until you’ve gathered all you could, “acknowledgement from the queen of bitches is a real honor. I want my check.”

He rolls his eyes and calls you a few more choice swears under his breath, but he finally complies in writing a check with the correct amount. If you had been anyone else, perhaps Nishida could have paid you the 230,000 yen without issue. Perhaps you’d have even considered that a steal. Your training under Kishibe and Himeno taught you more about pricing devils than you were prepared to admit.

What are the ethics to killing devils when you are dating one?

You decide to follow the devil code of ethics. Kill or be killed, it’s that simple.

It’s never been a question if Nayuta would spurn you for such acts if she were to ever learn of them. It’s the fact you know Nayuta would follow you to Sendai in a heartbeat.

“I found the C-”

You will never bring those unfinished words to reality.

Carefully you remove the gloves on your hands to even more carefully extract your wallet from the ziplock bag you keep it in, placing your check within its pockets. Then you tuck it all away once more before donning a clean pair of gloves instead.

“Ugh, I’m getting hot just looking at you,” Nishida groans, eying you as if you were equal parts insane and excessive. You wonder if he’ll ever get used to the lengths you go to make sure no trace of blood and the smells of other devils touch your person. You don’t even put your axe in the car, it hasn’t been there since it had been a new purchase. No, you keep the rusting thing right here in Nishida’s crappy building in Sendai’s slums.

Trying to hide something from Nayuta’s nose is like trying to rob a bank blindfolded. “I told you already, I don’t want the blood getting on me. Killing devils is gross,” you wave the man off. Five months you’ve been doing this and you haven’t slipped up yet. Your ritual is the same each time ー before you start hunting, you dress in what is practically a glorified hazmat suit. Once work is done, you take it all off with gloves covering your hands and dump it in the trash.”

“It just seems like a lot of hassle,” Nishida scratches the back of his head, nonplussed. “If this ever gets in the way of your job, don’t come crying to me.”

“This coming from the man who doesn’t do the hunting himself is crazy,” you click your tongue in unsurprised annoyance. If it means keeping your proclivities a secret from the house, you’ll wear the hazmats again and again. “I’m not coming in tomorrow, I have a date with my girlfriend. Something you know nothing about. Well, you did. Until about a month ago, right?”

The look on Nishida’s face almost makes you feel better about his attempt to scam you. Almost. “Just go home before I decide to take my offers of employment elsewhere!”

You chortle with pleasure as you finally exit his dusty office.

When you arrive home, the wind must have blown your scent through the door or a cracked window because you walk into Makima’s arms the moment you pass through the door. “Welcome home, [First],” Makima greets you adoringly, red tresses brushing against your jaw. Her arms are as warm as her voice, wrapped around you as loose as one called the Control Devil will allow.

It’s instinctive, how quickly you return the embrace. “That professor finally off your ass?” Strange. Since when has Makima been a student?

Nayuta pulls away from you slightly, just enough to look you in the eye as you converse. Nayuta is the student, you remember. Business management is what she studies. “I don’t know why he-” Nayuta blinks as she takes all of your visuals in. “[First], what’s wrong?”

Your smile falters, “it’s nothing, I’m just tired.” Tired of the memories that don’t belong to you. “Management just really loves working their best employee.” You’re happy tonight is Himeno and Ichika’s pub night where they never drink alcohol but do engage in the card games with the locals. Himeno’s been trying to catch in the midst of a lie you’re sure no one can detect. 

“Want me to talk to them then?” Nayuta is too quick to offer her services. I’m earning more than enough now. “I’ll get you a manager’s salary too.”

“Nah,” you shake your head. “I just want it to be tomorrow for our date already.” You’ll be dying silk scarves in town and then you’ll head to a restaurant. If it weren’t for the restrictive life forced upon you by the world you live in, maybe the two of you would live somewhere more exciting. Somewhere with more than enough novelties for you to gawk at in awe.

Nayuta snorts at your dramatic lament, “you’re so cheesy.”

“You’re the cheesy one,” you blow a raspberry against the juncture between her jaw and neck and Nayuta squeals immediately.

“Gahahaha!” Nayuta ducks away and you giggle in return. She’s always been a bit ticklish, you’re simply the one lucky enough to do so without repercussions.

“I know ways to make tomorrow come much faster,” Power’s snark cuts through your flirting like a dull knife. The Blood Fiend rarely ever sits still unless it is mealtime or she is watching something thrilling enough. The evening news normally is usually not something that makes Power lay down in the middle of the living room floor on a throw pillow yet here she is. "Being stricken with blunt force guarantees many hours to pass you unknowingly.'

You raise an eyebrow at Power’s unwarranted attitude, “what’s got you in such a shitty mood?” 

“They mentioned the Chainsaw Devil on the news earlier,” Nayuta recounts as if telling you the weather report. She looks over her shoulder at where Power lays coolly. “It’s the anniversary of when the Bomb and Chainsaw Devils showed up in Tokyo.” Right, I forgot. They only showed up once however many years ago and still the news would cover it like it could happen again at any moment. You secretly believe Hayakawa Power hopes for the same. You never met Hayakawa Denji, you only heard the stories. He sounded like an even bigger handful than Power.

Power is all that remains from everyone who once claimed the Hayakawa name as their own.

“Don’t mention that name in front of me!” Power snarls without looking in your direction. She doesn’t move to change the channel regardless.

“Pitiful,” Nayuta comments but her grip around you tightens in spite of it as she rests her ear against your chest.

Pitiful.

You open one too many bags of popcorn while Nayuta puts on one of the Inazuma Eleven DVDs Power got on her birthday last year. The five dogs excitedly run around the house to the sound of Power obnoxiously singing "Stand up! Stand up! We love football!" Tora is content to rest on your lap and Meowy the Second takes off with her second popcorn kernel.

To wait this long for someone who ran away and never looked back is pitiful.

A Power who isn’t living up to her proudly chosen name is even more so.

You breathe in the scent of Nayuta’s shampoo as she rests her head on your shoulder. It really is too damn pitiful.

ー

“You ever wonder why there are devils but no angels?”

One of Nayuta’s classmates’ words piqued your interest from the other side of the room. Nayuta’s eyes followed yours in vague interest at the students piled in the corner. The only one you personally recognized was Yamada Moe, your class’ president. True to your word, you were on a date for lunch.

As much of a date it could be at school, anyway.

Everyday the lunch hour reared its delicious head, you’d make your way to Nayuta’s class to eat with her. “I mean, think about it. If devils are physical manifestations of the things we fear, why are there no physical manifestations of the things we love? Like, there are plenty of people who love snakes. So why’s there no Snake Angel?”

“A Chicken Angel would be pretty damn powerful then,” a different girl, likely the class clown, chirped. “But would angels be biblically accurate?” Her eyebrows move mischievously at her suggestions.

“Don’t say that,” Moe covered her mouth with her hand as she giggled. Her deep dark brown hair, the color of charred wood, is pulled back into a ponytail and her green eyes sparkled at the thought. “I’d love to see a Hamster Angel then.”

“Or even a Mermaid Angel! That would be so pretty!”

“Mermaids aren’t real, Rika.”

“Neither are zombies but there’s still a Zombie Devil,” ‘Rika’ sputtered in her defense, cheeks pink. “Everyone’s afraid of zombies and everyone loves mermaids, so both would exist by that logic!”

You considered their words with a silent hum. Himeno said she met an Angel Devil once, I think. I wonder how strong he is.

“ー and Makima had promised me to protect him if anything ever came out about him but, well,” Himeno trailed off before vaguely gesturing towards you. You remembered the discomfort of it even as the woman brushed it off with a warm palm placed on your head. “It’s fine though. Kishibe’s given me no updates concerning him and in our business, that’s a good thing. That twerp is doing just fine.”

If an Angel Devil is the manifestation of humanity’s fear of angels, you wondered what a Devil Angel would be like.

“Rika, Tomoko,” Nayuta placed her chopsticks atop her empty lunch box before resting her cheek on her hand. “Give me your desserts,” she yawned. Beneath the table, her legs twined with yours.

“Sure thing, Nayuta,” Rika beamed, holding up a pudding cup enthusiastically.

Tomoko nodded, looking relieved, “my mom packed me too many things anyway.”

Moe glowered in your direction.

It was almost reminiscent of the times you were both street urchins and Nayuta used her powers to ensure you’d be able to eat that day. The only difference is, as Tomoko and Rika walk the moderate distance to your half of the room, that you no longer are that desperate to eat. Nayuta smiled when she saw, among their treats, was an anpan roll with roasted black sesame seeds. Sweets were the secret to this young girl’s heart, all hints of disinterest washed away. Cute. “It’s one of your favorites, [First],” enthusiastically she opened the packaging before raising it to your lips. “Does it taste good?”

You relished the mixture of bread, sesame and adzuki beans on your tongue, “yeah, this is pretty nice.” You looked over at the unsuspecting girls who are too happy to help. Too happy and unaware of the reality of the situation. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem,” Rika brushed off your gratitude with a dispassionate wave of her hand. “What kind of angels would you guys be excited to see? Mermaid Angels would be pretty cool, right?”

You shrugged, not wanting to reveal your inherent bias, “I can’t really imagine what an angel would be like. We’ve never seen one.” 

“I just think if we had angels, they would be the ones fighting devils,” Tomoko sighed wistfully, light years away from where you were gathered in class 3-C. “Love is the strongest thing in the world, right?”

“The power of love is cheesy,” Nayuta scoffed.

The three of you ー Tomoko, Rika and yourself ー shared a look of varying degrees of disbelief.

“Since you find it so cheesy, maybe you can finally stop blocking the halls when you makeout and cuddle in the hallway,” Moe rolled her eyes from where she still sat, nose scrunched in equal measures of disgust. Her eyes held your own with a look of annoyance and you couldn’t hold back a snort.

“We are pretty annoying, huh,” you snickered, winking at how Nayuta was still holding the pastry near your lips. Laughter of agreement followed your admission from those sprinkled across the room save for two individuals. If Nayuta had been someone else, perhaps she would have withered under the scathing eyes of class 3-A’s president. Because she wasn't someone else, though, she met the glare with her own. “Even the Love Devil would hate us,” you bit into the roll once again, stealing Nayuta’s attention.

“The Love Devil is probably ugly anyway,” Nayuta replied with a petulant smirk.

Lunch continued without further hiccups, much to your relief. The desserts were eaten and the desks were back in place and it was time for you to head back to class. Nayuta still wasn’t entirely pleased at your class assignments, but she got better about it the following months. The ‘dates’ and walks had kept her placated.

“Thanks for that, [First],” Himeno sighed gratefully when Nayuta was in the bath after your celebratory dinner. “When are kids supposed to stop having temper tantrums? We really don’t need her having one at school. You have to be her anchor.”

You’d have done that even if Himeno didn’t want it. “I’ll pick you up after class,” you told Nayuta unnecessarily but you knew she liked the reassurance. You’d always come back for her even if there was distance standing in the way of that.

“You can make out with Nagano later,” Moe scoffed as she walked past you to room 3-A.

Nayuta glared over your shoulder at the brunette, “she’s ugly.”

“I do gotta get to class though,” you sighed heavily, throwing an arm over Nayuta's shoulder. She returned the gesture with both arms thrown around you. “My adoring fans in 3-A await me.”

“You don’t need your adoring fans when you have me,” Nayuta hugged you tighter and you don’t find yourself disagreeing.

You tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, “that’s pretty true. Those guys mean nothing. You’re my number one.” Gold eyes looked at you like you were a dream before you had to turn around.

“Why do you even like her?” Moe scoffed as you caught up lazily. “She’s awful.”

“She’s cute,” your lips curled at the waves of irritation directed at you further. 

Moe’s expression contorted into one of disgust at your answer, storming ahead of you. “People like you disgust me. You’re bullies.” We still sit next to each other so you’re not really doing anything, you know. Knowing it would be pointless telling the girl that, you looked over your shoulder to wave at Nayuta one last time before ducking into class. 

“At least pretend to pay attention,” a quiet whisper from your right caught your attention. You shrugged, unbothered. You’ve withstood more terrifying things. Whatever you failed to do, that only seemed to upset the class president even further. “Follow along with the text before the teacher calls on you.”

“I forgot my textbook,” you whispered back, directing your eyes forward.

“You didn’t think to ask someone to look at theirs?” Moe asked incredulously.

You thumbed in the direction of the empty desk to your left. Kinomiya wasn’t there to mooch off of that day. “And it isn’t like you like me, or anything. I’ll just get the notes from someone else.”

“Unlike you, I’m a good person,” Moe muttered, raising her desk just enough that it wouldn’t make a sound as she pressed it against yours. “I’d have shared if you asked.”

“There are no good or bad people, just good or bad actions,” you countered her belief with one of your own. There aren’t even any devils that are purely bad. They only become bad to you because they killed someone you care about. Or because they destroyed something you considered precious. But if there was a devil that killed other devils and rescued people, you’d say they were good.

This philosophy could be applied even to angels.

Angels would only be considered good if they did help humanity fight against devils. If there were angels in an unseen place known as Heaven, they definitely didn’t feel called to fight against the apparent wicked. They didn’t feel called to defend the apparent helpless humans of Earth. And by that definition, that would make them bad creatures. Angels would be bad to you. “And if you have to say you’re a good person, you’re probably not as good as you think you are.” Moe gasped, brow furrowed in her offense as you leaned closer to read the page. “Thanks.”

She couldn’t have made it more apparent how much she hated you with how quickly she separated her desk from yours at the end of the day. You shrugged, not particularly bothered by the reaction.

Some people never meshed with each other and that was that.

Moe hated you and you were indifferent to her existence.

You initially believed Nayuta’s thoughts were the same as yours until she started wiping your arm as if it were filthy after school.

“You stink,” Nayuta’s nose scrunched in obvious displeasure, rubbing your arm as if she could scrub the smell of Yamada Moe away. Even now you were in awe of how strong her sense of smell was; Moe hadn’t even been wearing perfume. “Why do you smell like her?” If she meant to be intimidating in her glare, she failed before she could even try. Her furrowed brow was more cute than nerve racking. 

“I forgot my textbook so we had to share,” you recalled the glares and looks of dismay. “She was not happy about it. I think Bags was lying on it so I didn’t see it when we were leaving.” You’d simply remember to check your book bag more thoroughly tomorrow morning. When you were a sizable distance from campus, you recalled the earlier discussion from lunch. “What did you think about all that angel talk at lunch today?”

“That humans are dumb,” as if realizing how that sounded, Nayuta pressed against you as you walked down the path apologetically. “99% of them.”

“You can say it, a lot of humans are dumb,” hands still woven together, you side step away just long enough to playfully tug Nayuta against. Power’s characteristic ‘gahahaha’s slip from Nayuta’s lips again, you aren’t sure when she started unconsciously mimicking her. It’s cute though. “Angels are just angels, even if they did exist. And it wouldn’t be like there’s a guarantee they’d want to just help humans either.”

“That’s because humans are arrogant,” Nayuta didn’t hold back her criticism with her concerns of offending you assuaged. “And they want to control the nature of everything. Fish swim, plants photosynthesize. Hurting is fine for devils.” 

You chuckled at her choice of words, “I’d be the Pride Devil.” You took ownership of the inherent arrogance you possessed as a human of this good year. 

“You’d be the [First] Devil,” Nayuta argued head tossed back joyously at the thought, giggling all the while.

“I don’t think enough people hate me for that to happen,” you chortled as you swung your hands back and forth. “Class Prez might, though. Maybe I should watch out. What if a [First] Devil does show up, am I gonna be replaced?”

Nayuta snorted affectionately, gold eyes bright like the sun, “you’re so dumb.”

A peaceful silence fell over you both and you released a satisfied breath. You wanted moments like this to last forever. “One day,” you looked at the orange-red sky above. “I’m gonna get old. At least, if I don’t die before then. But whatever ends up happening, we’re gonna be different,” you promised before Nayuta could protest what you’d begun to announce. “We’re not like them.”

ー and Makima’s time was too short; you’d heard that enough times since living with the Naganos.

That wasn’t going to be you and Nayuta.

“We’re not gonna be like them,” you promised, squeezing her hand tightly. “We’re gonna live forever.”

ー　

When was it when the image of Makima began to haunt you like a ghost?

You remember now, it had been in October of your first and last year of middle school when Nayuta finally started braiding her hair. You’d been fine that morning up until she came to the kitchen and you dropped the jar of pickled radishes, quietly sobbing until you caught a fever.

“Do you hate my hair being like this?” Nayuta asked in the quiet of the room you shared. It’s large and spacious, fit for three people. You never understood why the third bed in the room was kept when Nayuta never slept in any bed that wasn’t your own. The dogs and cats got a kick out of it, at the very least. So did Power who was shuffling about in the kitchen, banging pots and pans.

“I think it’s pretty. You’re pretty no matter how you do your hair.”

“I found a picture of the old me in Himeno’s room. The old us. She had her hair like this in all of Himeno’s memories too.”

“You used your powers on Himeno?”

“When she took a nap the other day. I wanted,” Nayuta trailed off, arms wrapped around her knees and eyes downcast. You were too hot to cuddle but she sat on the floor by your side anyway. “I wanted to know what the old me was like. Himeno didn’t like her very much. She liked the old you better. She liked that Aki person more though.”

Power’s Aki, you recalled from the photos  in a photo album Ichika made for Power’s birthday. “Himeno likes you though. I told you before, we’re not ー and Makima. It doesn’t matter if she didn’t like her.” Maybe Himeno had a thing against redheads.

“She thinks it sometimes. I can tell.”

I know.

“The old man said I was selfish when he met us.”

“I like that you’re selfish. We both get to be selfish at this point. Do you know how long we were in that dump?” You shared a laugh at the memory of the dump in question. The mattress was old as sin, rock hard and the blankets you owned couldn’t keep crickets out let alone the cold. “I miss robbing that one guy with the dolphin apron. He made the best dumplings. Wish we could have found the secret formula so we could still make them.”

“Humans can be dumb but the food is really good,” Nayuta’s lips turned upright.

You shift a bit so you can lay on your side, facing her more clearly, “do you remember what it was like in Hell?”

Nayuta shook her head, braid dancing to the motion. “Only little bits and pieces, but it’s blurry,” she disclosed, words soft. “I only remember wanting to leave soon.”

“When I was a kid, I always thought I was missing something,” you hold out your hand and Nayuta’s fingers slip into your own. You never knew another hand could be this warm, not even when your parents were alive. You don’t think you’d truly been warm until you met the girl who changed everything. You wanted to hold onto this life; hold it for as long as you could. You disavowed that there’d be a day you’d stop being you and Nayuta stopped being Nayuta and the new versions of you would run into the dawn hand in hand. You and Nayuta would live forever. “I’m really happy that I found you.”

Any sentimentality in the room was immediately blown away by the sound of Power kicking open the door.

“We have a doorknob, Power,” you groaned. Then you caught a whiff of the smell of broth, chicken and vegetables and raised yourself into a sitting position. Taking note of your realization, the strawberry-haired fiend puffed out her chest proudly as she presented the tray to you. The bowl was filled to the brim with soup, sloshing over the lip as she stepped forward and the crackers were worse for wear because of it. “You cooked?”

“Homemade! Straight from the can!” Power placed the tray on your lap, hands resting on her hips. “You humans are fragile creatures, so I decided to grant you my assistance.”

You had to purse your lips together to prevent yourself from laughing. “You know what, thanks, Power,” you let the fiend have her moment. Her homemade straight-from-the-can soup smelled pretty damn good.

ー

“Ichika, are you dating anyone?”

“What brought that on so suddenly?”

You shrug from where you sit at the kitchen table. “Because you never go anywhere unless it’s the farmer’s market,” you point out deftly. Work and home, that’s all either Nagano sister seems to have time for, save for the occasional pub night. No one in this house has much of a social life when you ponder it for more than two seconds. “We were kids before but it’s not like you don’t have a life now.” 

“You’re all still kids to me,” Ichika’s laugh is light and playful, like she’s daring you to protest otherwise.

“Power might be,” you lean back in your chair with a quiet snort. “She’s always been a handful.”

It’s rare for the house to be this quiet between the dogs and Power. The former are on a walk with Nayuta and the latter tagged along with Himeno to the market. Power has a child-like nature you doubt will ever fade. If something happens to Ichika and Himeno, what’s going to happen to Power?

“I recall all three of you being handfuls,” Ichika continues washing away at a plate with a laugh. “I’m not sure how you remember it but you and Nayuta had your moments too.” You remember your last first day of middle school and how Nayuta turned Power into a dog. You can recall many instances of Power falling prey to Nayuta’s power, truthfully. Himeno hated it. “Well, you had the least amount of tantrums, so I suppose I can give you that.”

You snort, lips curling in amusement, “name one tantrum I had.”

“I distinctly recall the time you were upset Himeno ate your leftovers.”

“That was different,” you cross your arms resolutely. “I counted everything I had left and put the numbers on the box!” If Power has a child-like nature, Himeno is a permanent child at heart. “I told her if she wanted something, to let me know. But she didn’t! She just wanted to mooch off my plate!” How many times has she put me through this? She hasn’t changed since I quit working at the Bureau.

“Himeno, I’m getting something to eat. What do you want?”

“It’s okay, I’m not hungry.”

“Himeno,” you eyed the woman with your lips pressed together and eyes narrowed. “I’m getting something to eat. What. Do you want?”

“Nothing, ー, geez! I’m not even hungry!”

“Liar, because I know damn well the moment I get back you’re going to want whatever I’m having! You know what, at this point, get your ass up. We’re leaving.”

“Wow,” Himeno held a hand against her chest, mockingly crushed. “This is how little you trust your best friend? I thought we had something special.”

“I trust you as much as I trust Nanaka not to poison me the first chance she gets,” you’d only been working for Japan’s Public Safety Devil Hunters for a month and the brunette still hated you. Apparently the transgressions of being assigned the partner of her beloved Makima was too heavy a crime. “I think I saw a new Italian place open up by the convenience store ran by that Brazilian couple I told you about.”

“Are you alright, dear?” You rub your forehead as if the motion will chase away ー’s memories with a vengeance.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I never worked at the Bureau, you remind yourself. And I don’t want to. I’m no hero. That was ー’s desire. You only desire that which is most simple. “But you never answered my question. We’re not kids anymore.”

Ichika sets aside her wet rubber gloves on the drying rack, wiping the remnants of moisture onto her apron. “You don’t have to worry about me, [First]. I’ve never been the social butterfly, my sister’s always been the brave one.” You wonder what memories Ichika recalls as she takes a seat in her usual spot across the table. “That’s why she became a devil hunter. But even when we were in school, she got along with everybody.”

“You said you were in the tea ceremony club, right?”

She perks up in pleasant surprise, “that’s right! I’m surprised you remember!” The summer before you started high school, Ichika pulled out their old yearbooks from when they were students. “It feels like just yesterday both of you were in high school.”

“It basically was just yesterday.” It hadn’t been long at all since graduation and your classmates flocked out of Shonai to various major cities across the country. Everyone but the two of you. “High school was… better than middle school.”

“That it was,” you know from the slight frown on Ichika’s face she is remembering exactly how much of a mess your time at Higashi Middle School had been. So much so you transferred to Kitahoro Middle halfway through attendance. “It was hard for the two of you.”

ー

“[Last]?” A voice that twinkles like a bell calls for you. “[Full name] is that you?”

It’s a little past lunch that Saturday afternoon and the day is sleepy for both humans and devils. You hadn’t seen so much as even a trace of devil activity, deciding to have an early lunch after tossing your weapon of choice underneath a dumpster in a back alley.

You turn around at the sound of your name, fearful it is Himeno who has found you.

Thankfully, this person is Himeno’s opposite in every way.

Their eyes are green instead of blue and their hair is a dark brown instead of navy.

I know this person.

“Oh, Class Prez,” you blink in realization. Yamada Moe, in the flesh. “It’s been a while.”

ー

On a school day like any other it announced that Kiritani Tomoko had been killed by a devil. Rare as that was in a small town like Shonai, everyone had been shaken up. 

“How ironic,” you heard the whispers from the adults around you. “It was the Rooster Devil. How ironic when her family raises chickens. Even here in Shonai, devils are everywhere.”

Adults who in the same breath greet Power and Nayuta with warmth whenever they are seen walking down the street.

Hypocrites.

Tomoko’s death is unfortunate but you won’t pretend it was something that impacted you personally. To the president of 3-A, Yamada Moe, it was an unforgivable blow. You didn’t see her during lunch in 3-C, nor did she come back from lunch despite leaving her bookbag and pen on her desk.

“Rika’s not here, either,” Nayuta told you when you pointed out the empty desk.

You aren’t saddened by the death of Kiritani Tomoko but you know of a death you couldn’t recover from.

So you don’t fight it when your teacher tells you to find where Moe has slipped away to and you don’t drag her back from the ponytail when you find her crying on the rooftop either. “Hey,” you closed the door behind you.

“Just go away,” Moe shuddered, holding herself tighter. “Why are you even here?”

“Hori-sensei wanted me to come find you.”

Moe raises her head with hot anger, eyes red and weary, “like you suddenly care about being a good student.”

“I told you before, didn’t I?” You plopped on the ground in spite of Moe’s protests, hands resting on your lap. The autumn wind is comforting against your skin and the rolling clouds are fluffy. An unsuspecting day to learn someone from school died. “I don’t believe in good or bad people. People just do good or bad things. But I get it,” you shrugged lackadaisically. “Nayuta does a lot of bad things. It isn’t like I’m a saint either, we’ve done plenty of bad. If that makes us bad people to you, that’s fine. But I get what it’s like to lose people too.

“My parents were good ones. But some asshole hit them with their car when I was seven and I was stuck on my own until I was thirteen,” what would have happened to you next if you had left things to the authorities around you? You’re unsure. At seven years old, running away seemed like the best option at the time. No princes would be coming to save you so you became your own prince. “Devils. Cops. Figuring out what to eat. The other people out on the streets could be the worst too. I got into a lot of fights back then.” All to lie in a building the government had yet to demolish. “I thought the world ended. Or at least my place in it had. If I never met Nayuta, I’m not sure how much longer I could have kept going like that.”

Spotting movement to your left, you looked to Moe and your eyes caught one another.

Red as her eyes were, they were wide at your confession with her mouth slightly ajar. “It’s corny but when she’s here, I feel like I can do anything.” Survive on the streets for months or even fight devil hunters that were planning to kill you before you could blink. “So she gets to do awful things. Nayuta can do the most awful things in the world. She’s perfect.” She’d been perfect the moment you met her. “So I can’t say much about being sad about Tomoko, because I didn’t know her like that. But I know how it feels to lose someone and I know what it’s like to be terrified it’ll happen again. So for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Sorry,” Moe murmured. "Thank you."

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, you’re the one upset.”

...

“Aren’t you supposed to make me go back to class?”

“I’ll just tell Teach I got lost or something,” you yawned. “It’s none of his business.”

“You’re actually a good person, aren’t you?” Moe sniffled, resting her forehead against her knees. “You just pretend to be mean.”

“Good people don’t exist,” you sang, watching the clouds roll by. “Now mean, that I can be.”

“Now you’re being stubborn,” Moe muttered under her breath, sniffing again. “You’re good. It’s just being with Nagano Nayuta makes you act like a jerk.”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to like her,” you close your eyes with a light smile. “The less people realizing all her positive sides, the more Nayuta there is for me.”

“I don’t know how you stomach being around her,” you shrugged. “She’s like poison. The two of you together doesn’t feel right. She doesn’t feel right.

You open one eye, “what do you mean?”

“It’s just a feeling I get,” Moe explained vaguely, twisting her hands together anxiously.

.

“Nayuta, don’t use your powers at school for a while.”

“Why not?”

“I found the C-” “Yamada thinks there’s something off about you and everyone else is still on edge about that last devil attack. So it’ll be better to lay low until everything calms down.”

“Who’s that?”

“My class’ president. You know her, you think she’s ugly.”

“... Do you like her?”

“She’s alright, I guess. She’s just a classmate.”

“What about me?”

“You’re everything.”

Nayuta leapt onto your back in her satisfaction, legs wrapped tightly around your waist. “I’ll leave the humans at school alone then.”

“Don’t use them no matter what, alright? We can just get extra snacks on the way home from school or something.”

“I won’t.”

ー

“You cut your hair, it looks good!”

“Thanks,” Moe plays with a lock of curly hair, boyishly short. It suits her rather nicely. You look freer. “It’s surprising seeing you here. What are you…?” She glances quickly at the hazmat-style onesie you’ve dressed yourself in, plastic visor raised above your head.

“Got a janitorial job and I’m taking no chances,” you lean against the cold bench lazily. “I never mocked a janitor before but I damn sure am never going to now. Those guys are the unsung heroes of our society.”

“Janitori-” Moe snorts in her shock, looking like you’ve grown two heads. “I always figured you’d become a philosophy teacher considering how you were back in middle school”

“Nayuta’s signed up for classes but I’m taking a couple years off to save,” what you plan on majoring in when the time comes is unknown even to you. Perhaps Moe is onto something with philosophy. “We can’t mooch off our benefactors forever.” What’s going to happen to Power if anything happens to Himeno and Ichika, you find yourself pondering once again. A third passport shouldn’t be that hard to forge. Kishibe got me and Nayuta into the country without any problem, didn’t he?

“Oh, where is she going?”

“She’s at Tohoku too,” you nod at the Tohoku University tote bag resting on Moe's hip. “She’s doing everything virtually. Business Management major.”

There’s little surprise on Moe’s part when she hears that, “Business Management sounds like something that suits her.”

“She is pretty bossy, I can give you that,” you huff with an airy sigh. Management is something Nayuta will definitely thrive in. “She’s a damn good student though. What about you? What have you been up to? Majoring in law?”

“Philosophy, actually!” She laughs at how your eyebrows raise. “Surprising?”

“A little,” you nod and Moe rolls her eyes in playful exasperation. “But with all the arguments we had, philosophy or law honestly made the most sense. So I wasn’t that far off.”

“Those weren’t arguments, those were debates,” Moe corrects you needlessly, arms behind her back. It’s almost like all the tension left her when she cut her hair.

“You’ve mellowed out, Prez,” you whistle, impressed.

A younger Moe would have asked what you meant with a furrowed brow. The Moe of the present day accepts your words with a hearty laugh. “I was a bit high strung back then,” she lets out a nostalgic sigh. “Maybe more than a bit,” she admits sheepishly. “But middle school really feels so long ago. I guess I changed without noticing.”

“Sorry about middle school,” your lips curl into a grimace. “The stuff with Nayuta I mean.”

Moe’s eyebrows knit together with an empathetic curl of her lips, “it’s okay, I get it now. You were under a lot of stress back then.”

“How’s Rika doing?” You vaguely remember that girl who Nayuta would pawn snacks off of. “She going to Tohoku too?”

“Oh,” Moe shuffles nervously.

“What, did she drop out or something?”

“No, um, she never went to university,” Moe fiddles with a bracelet on her left wrist.

You raise an eyebrow at the odd behavior, “is she… dead?”

“No!” Moe answers quickly and you cock your head to the side, shrugging your shoulders. Okay then what is she then? “It’s just that she… became a devil hunter after we graduated.”

“Okay,” Good luck then, Rika. If you’re in Tokyo maybe Kishibe’ll be the one in charge of your training. As much as you hate the man, everything he’s taught you has kept you alive so far. You see green staring at you. “What?”

“I’m just surprised that you took that so well,” Moe breathes in disbelief. “Considering everything with Nayuta, I was afraid to bring devil hunters up in front of you.”

Your blood runs cold. “What do you mean ‘considering everything with Nayuta’?”

“Did-” Moe blinks once before she covers her mouth in horror. “Did you not know? I’m- I’m so sorry-”

“I found the C-”

.

“How did you know Nayuta wasn’t human? When did you figure it out?”

“When… that time back in middle school. She didn’t look human to me and when you went to her I just thought… in that moment Nayuta being a devil is why you were always so protective of her,” Moe’s head looks around the alley you’ve brought her too cautiously. It’s deep, deep within the darkest crevices of Sendai. “Where are we? Why are we here?”

You look at Moe and then the dumpster beside you, “I have to tell you the truth about something.” Your thumb brushes against your middle and index fingers for a moment. “I’m not really a janitor. I’ve been killing devils for the past seven months now. It’s underground work though.” You tell Moe this news as one might tell their friend they decided to plant tulips in their garden, reaching for where you slid your axe underneath the grimy trash heap.

“Devils?”

“Yeah.”

Moe looks at your rusty blade, caked in the blood from those you’ve killed thus far. “... But Nayuta,” she is unable to bring herself to say the rest.

You laugh, leaning against the wall for half a second before deciding you can’t stand the feel of it against your back. Nor do you wish to feel the eyes of Moe upon you. “Yeah, it’s sick isn’t it? She’s a devil but I’ve been out here for the past seven months killing ‘em. But Nayuta,” black hair and red rings fill your memories. “she means everything to me; I was alone for years until I met her. I have never cared that she was a devil. She was perfect, she’s still perfect. If anything ever happened to her, it would feel like the entire world was ending. I used to be a cashier, you know, but try making enough money to sneak a devil out of the country at your local 7-11,” you laugh humorously. “And I know you’ve never liked Nayuta but for me, Nayuta is everything. So please… please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t, [First]!” A foot steps towards you, voice full of emotion. “I didn’t like Nayuta before but I get it now! There are good devils out there and I’m going to prove it. That’s why I’m studying philosophy! If humans and devils can understand each other, we wouldn’t have to kill each other anymore!”

“She means everything to me,” your fingers dig into your palms as you repeat yourself weakly. She’s the best thing you knew you needed in a world that had nearly beaten you down for good. The one you would find repeatedly no matter the time and distance that separated you. “What am I doing? Killing devils for money like this when I know…” your shoulders sag. “But I can’t do anything else for her. I can’t earn money fast enough otherwise and I don’t have time to wait. I’m sure… this makes me a bad person, doesn’t it?”

“You are not a bad person,” Moe’s hand is warm on your back even through the layers you wear to keep yourself from being bloodied. “It’s not you that’s wrong, it’s the world itself. If enough people just realized that, things would be better.” A world where humanity and devils lived together in harmony? It seems like an impossible dream; perhaps it is one not within reach. Not within the lifetime you currently possess. And that’s okay, I’ll make my own happiness even with that fact. “You’re just trying to do what you can for the one you love in a shitty situation. Nayuta would understand that. So… so don’t beat yourself up about this. I never told anyone about Nayuta and I’m never going to.”

There was nothing familiar about her black hair, nor the mole under her left eye. You were sure you couldn’t say you’d ever met anyone with golden eyes with red rings in them either. There was no reason to feel like your senses had been set ablaze and the universe shifted.

You didn’t know this girl.

This girl was a stranger.

You knew this and yet you still fell to your knees as warm tears flooded your eyes without your permission.

You breathe.

“By the way,” you yawned, as it dawned on you that you never once asked for your new companion’s name. “what’s your name?” 

When there was no immediate response, you thought the girl fell asleep. “Nayuta,” you finally heard the feathery light reply. Nayuta pressed herself closely to your chest, listening to your heartbeat.

“I’m [First],” you squeezed.

Nayuta squeezed back.

You breathe.

“I didn’t, [First], please believe me! Don’t leave me!”

You slide down your visor.

“We can get married for real when we grow up,” you vowed once more as you clumsily led each other in your dance.

Nayuta’s smile was saccharin, “promise?”

“Promise.”

And you breathe.

“Hey, Nayuta, pick a country. One that doesn’t have a devil hunting association in it.”

“Seychelles,” Nayuta didn’t miss a beat, grinning the devilish grin you loved all the while. “We still need to have our honeymoon.”

The back of your fist strikes Moe’s throat before she has time to react.

“Don’t worry at all, Prez,” you kick the woman to the ground, grip on your axe tightening as you sit atop her. “I know you won’t tell anyone.” You wonder what those forest green eyes see when they look up at you, eyes wide as she gasps for air. You hold her jaw in place, gloved fingers digging into her skin.

“Stop-” her words come quiet, hoarse. “I won’t tell! I really won’t tell!”

She won’t say anything. No. She might. She hasn’t snitched in all these years. She could change her mind. Cut off her tongue. Her fingers too. And the toes. All of it needs to go.

“I could cut off your tongue,” you feel her breath hitch from she freezes under your touch. You feel the beat of a pulse, pounding like a drum. “but you could still use your fingers. I could cut your fingers and you could use your toes. I could cut off everything and you’d still probably find a way to get out a message with the stumps too.” Tears swell in Moe’s eyes and you barely feel her fists beating into your shoulder. I’m glad I hit her in the throat, you finally take note of her barely audible, ragged whispers. “You can say you won’t talk until you’re blue in the face but there is nothing that can stop you from ever changing your mind. I’m sorry. I really did like you.”

See? I became a bad person to you just now, didn’t I?

The weight of your axe is heavy as it follows the push of gravity guiding your hand into soft flesh below. There’s a quick breath, a gurgle, that slips from Moe’s lips and you raise your axe again.

Red droplets strike your visor and you raise your axe again.

Muscle and sinew decorate the dirty earth around you and you raise your axe again.

Again and again even when what you strike is hard rock instead of flesh until you raise your axe a final time, and you hear metal clink that isn’t your own.

Your neck cracks from the force you whip your neck and the devil flinches when your eyes meet, not daring to press its raised hand to the ground. When you look closely, you see a twisted green soda can wobbling underneath it. Your shoulders steadily heave from your fatigue, neither of you moving a centimeter. You can’t hold back a tired laugh from the absurdity, resting a hand on a knee as you push yourself up. “Sorry,” you titter, neither of you blinking as you step to the side. “You’re hungry, aren’t you,” you gesture to the body, still warm. “It’s okay. Eat it.”

The devil’s mouth trembles, eyes flittering between you and the still lumps on the ground. It takes a step back.

You blink, letting your hand hang loosely against your leg. “What are you waiting for? I said eat it.”

As if coming back to life, the devil on all fours takes one step forward - then another - until it rushes past you to begin its feast. You raise your visor when the devil turns its head, jowls soaked in blood, eyes narrow. It eats stiffly, eying you and the axe in your hand. You smile reassuringly, eyes soft.

The Rat Devil should be about ¥600,000 right?

ー

Nayuta squeals when you lift her feet off the ground as you laugh maniacally, arms safely tucked underneath her back and legs.

An evening walk on the beach is just what you need after a trying day at work. The moon is full and the evening Shonai air is sweet unlike the stink of the city, heavy with exhaust and blood. Thanks for not being a bitch this time, Nishida. The Rat Devil cost as much as you estimated it would, if not a bit higher.

The life you lead isn’t perfect but it has its moments.

“We’re going to fall!” Nayuta shrieks but her grin is wide and shining under the moonlight. She’s almost like a siren, you think, as the waves accompany her voice. The sand squishes underneath your toes, kicking up the waves as you spin and spin. One day when you carry her like this, she’ll be in a beautiful dress and veil just like you talked about when you were kids. 

“Relax,” you tilt your head back, tasting the ocean spray on your lips. “I’m never gonna drop you!”

ー

“[First],” Himeno calls in a sing-song voice as you walk out the door. “Wait for me, kiddo! I need you to give me a ride!”

Your hand grips the car handle as you tilt your head back with a loud groan, “Himeno, I’m going to work.” The sun hasn’t risen yet nor have the morning birds begun singing their songs. Eight months you have been able to successfully stave off this conversation.

Eight months.

You hope to make it nine.

“Wow,” Himeno jeers, undeterred and you know your stomach will be heavy with dread if you’re unable to shake her off your tail. Eight months you’ve been able to successfully avoid this conversation with Himeno and you don’t plan to break your record. “Someone gets a job and the moment she starts moving up in the world she forgets about all the people she met along the way.”

“Yep,” you click your tongue. “I'm one of those people. So it looks like you’ll have to wait until someone else decides to be your chauffeur. I’ll call Sebastian to retrieve you later.”

“So they’re paying enough at 7-11’s for you to afford Sebastian’s rates?” Himeno whistles, impressed and awed as she rests a large stack of ¥10,000 on top of the car. “Can you recommend me a position? If I’d known that, I’d have left Himeji’s ages ago.”

Blue stares into [color].

Wordlessly, you sit in the car and Himeno follows suit, quiet as you pull out of the driveway and far from the coziness of home. She waits nearly ten minutes to the hour before she opens her lips, a smile in her voice that is frigid. “You have the look of a killer now,” your eyes flit to your reflection in the rearview mirror. “I wonder how many things you had to kill to get eyes like that.”

“What’s the issue with killing,” you mutter, eyes on the empty road. How she found the money is of little consequence. She has it and that’s all that matters. “Why did you make me learn how to kill them if you didn’t want me to do it?”

“Those skills were for protecting yourself,” you scoff at her answer. What’s self-defense to her will never accommodate your ambitions. “Not going out of your way to get yourself killed. As long as you’re living under my roof-”

“Oh don’t worry, we won’t be living there for much longer,” you cut off your benefactor.

“We?”

“We!” The car comes to an abrupt halt as your glares turn on one another. “You and Ichika aren’t going to be here protecting us forever! You think Power actually has the ability to live on her own in a world of humans? You’re not going to live forever!”

“And you think you are?!” Himeno laughs at the ludicrous presumption.

“I’m going to figure things out by then!”

Three adult passports.

(I’ll need the forgeries too.)

Visa.

Housing.

Food.

Permanent Residency.

(Can’t believe I forgot about ticket costs. Where do I go for illegally flying devils out of the country, huh? And the pets. What do I do to bring-)

“[First]-”

“And I don’t need your help to do that! And I don’t need to be under your roof either, I’ll move out! I have enough!”

“ー stop!”

“I’M NOT ー!” Himeno balks as you scream, slamming your hand against the driver’s window. The glass cracks but it does not shatter. “ ー isn’t coming back and the one you’re stuck with now is me! And I know you hate that and you have to be reminded that your best friend died every time you look at me but I am not her! I’m never going to be her!” Those memories would never be yours. Makima was never going to be yours. Makima is Makima, Nayuta is Nayuta. The difference is night and day. “I’m not like her! I hate her! I hate,” your voice cracks and you rest your head on the steering wheel, squeezing the handle tightly. “I hate it. I hate that you only want to see her. You never want to see me.”

“When Kishibe brought you both to me, I wanted to take you in immediately. And I have to be honest, a good portion of it was because of who you used to be. But I know you, [First],” a hand rests on your back, warm, but you’re too tired to brush it away. “You’re brave and kind and you look out for the people you care about even if it means you have to take the brunt force of everything. Nayuta has no idea about this and it’s because you want to keep her safe.”

“I don’t want her to come to the city and be discovered again,” “I’ve found the Control Devil.” The five words you fear hearing the most. “A life where Nayuta can be free. That’s all I want.”

“I see you, [First]. I see you and I see Nayuta and I’m very proud of who you’ve become and the people you’ll grow into for as long as I get to see it. I just haven’t been doing a good job showing that and for that, I’m so sorry,” her voice is cloyingly thick and in spite of yourself, your eyes feel hot. “Even if I could go back and stop ー from dying, I wouldn’t. I would never give up having you in my life, not even for her. You, Power, Nayuta. All three of you are precious to me, younger sisters I’ve always wanted.”

“You already had a younger sister, idiot,” you wipe your nose against your sleeve, disregarding your disgust for the trail of snot it leaves on the fabric. “Does Ichika mean nothing to you?”

“More younger sisters,” Himeno laughs wetly. “The four of you give me a life that’s worth living. I love it when Power plays her anime at the loudest volume possible. I can even look back on Nayuta and Power’s fights with a smile, isn’t that funny? At the time those situations weren’t funny but that’s how sisters are, I guess. And you always thought you could be slick hiding that you could be as much of a brat as the rest of us. Well, except for maybe Ichika. You should have seen her when she was four.”

You laugh despite yourself, “Ichika was probably the most well-behaved four year old on the planet. You probably made your parents want to send you back to the hospital.”

Himeno chortles, “only half the time.”

A pleasant silence falls over the vehicle.

“I think it’s time to call Grandpa Kishibe and finally move from this place. The house is getting too small,” Himeno leans back in her seat and stares at the leather ceiling. “The geezer should foot the bill for everything, he never even sent me child support.”

“Nayuta wants to go to Seychelles,” you follow Himeno's example, resting against your seat. It's dawn now, you note the fingers of the sun peeking behind the clouds and painting the sky hues of rose, indigo and vermillion.

You love the dawn.

“I know a place even better than that,” it’s supposed to be a wink but with the eyepatch, who can tell. “Remember that Angel Devil I told you about? The place he lives is pretty damn snazzy and warm all-year round. A place where even devils can live freely.”

ー

You barely had time to dry your hands on your skirt when Rika burst through the bathroom door, chest heaving. “[First], come quick,” the girl’s eyes were wide with fear. “Moe and Nayuta got into a fight!”

You bolted through the door, shoving Rika to the side.

Class 3-C was a mess by the time you arrived and calling what likely happened was a disservice to what you were welcomed to. Desks were skewed to the side as if a tornado had blown through it, food strewn across the floor. No one noticed your presence, not when Moe sat on the floor holding her jaw, battered and nose dripping with blood and Nayuta’s short form towered over her with silent menace.

“Nayuta, stop,” you stand between the devil and the human foolish enough to invoke her wrath.

“Why?” Gold eyes glowed harshly.

“You’ll kill her.”

“Why do you care if she dies? You said she didn’t mean anything to you. So I don’t understand,” Nayuta appeared to stand perfectly still but you could hear the tremor in her voice. From rage or from wanting to cry, you didn’t know. “Why are you protecting this girl? I’m all you need. Aren’t I?” Taking a half-step forward, Nayuta gripped your arms as if they were her lifeline. “Aren’t I?”

One year ago, not long after you turned thirteen, a blazing star sought refuge in your chest.

The birth of the universe.

Within that birth, you willingly took a devil’s hand and ran across the playground of the divine welcoming all damnation.

You’d do it for as long as she wanted you.

“From now and forever, we are going to stay together. We’ll eat a lot together, sleep together and live a happy life together,” you hold Nayuta to your chest, closer than what is possible between devils and man. “More than anyone in the world, you’re the only person I need. And I’ll never want anyone else either,” you whispered, brushing your fingers against her silky hair. “I told you before, didn’t I? We’re not like them. You and me are gonna live forever.”

“You want to be with me?”

“I want to be with you.”

“You’ll stay with only me?”

“I’m always gonna stay with only you.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Let’s go home, okay?” When you felt the weak nod of your beloved, you wrapped Nayuta’s legs around your waist. Your initial steps were shaky, pacing backwards for a few seconds before you caught your balance. 

“I love you, [First],” Nayuta’s arms trembled around your shoulders and you hear the telltale signs of hiccuping.

“I love you too,” you held her closer if it was possible.

Warm droplets fall against your neck.

ー

Nayuta looks beautiful in her white dress, veil trailing delicately along the white sand.

translation notes.

織姫 「orihime」 - weaver princess

“If I became the monster to everyone but us and made sure we got home again, who would care if we’re unjust?”

[abitohoney]

On the Edge

AO3 link

Sevika x female reader

Rating: Explicit, MDNI, NSFW

Tags: Sevika/Reader, AMAB Sevika, Trans Sevika, Trans Female Character, Established Relationship, Light Bondage, Teasing, Orgasm Delay, Edging, P-In-V Sex, Hand Jobs, Top Reader, Bottom Sevika, Aftercare, Fluff, Soft Sevika

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: “You wanna come inside me, don’t you?” you purr.

Sevika’s eyes, barely open, peer past her heaving chest and down at you.

“Gotta be careful then and wait until I sit on you again,” you taunt with a coy smile. “Wouldn’t want you to ruin it for yourself after all this teasing.”

OR

It’s your birthday, and Sevika has agreed to let you switch your typical roles. But just how much teasing and edging can Sevika really take?

AN: This is a (belated) birthday gift for a special friend, inspired by a discussion we had a while back, so many of the ideas are also credited to her. 💖

It’s high noon when you find yourself shedding your clothing, getting ready to really enjoy your most prized birthday gift of the day. Not that anyone could really tell the time from where your room lay deep in the lanes of the Undercity. Not even the tiniest beam of light makes its way into your small bedroom window. Doesn’t matter anyway. Your gift requires a little privacy.

Your ‘gift’ sits in the middle of your bedroom- a modest wooden chair just beneath the dim light that hangs from the ceiling, illuminating the person sitting in said chair. Their dark brown skin glistens with a fine sheen of sweat beneath the yellow glow.

Sevika, your long-time girlfriend, sits completely nude from head to toe. Her muscular thighs are spread wide, much like her typical choice of lounging. Only this time, she is forced into that position. Thick, dark red rope binds her ankles to each front chair leg, tied just tight enough to prevent movement, but not so tight as to hurt- too much. That same rope wraps several times around each wrist, keeping them restrained against the wooden armrests. But your favorite part, at least visually, is the rope you’d tied across her chest- a criss-cross pattern that wraps above and below each lovely breast, then around the back of the chair. Perhaps a bit of overkill. She likely can’t- and won’t - be moving, but this is about more than just the restraining. It’s about presentation. It’s about mood. Both of which you’re happy to admit are done perfectly. She looks stunning sitting there, covered in a thick rope the same color as her trusty cape, those beautiful silky black strands of hair framing her face after having removed her hair tie, her entire body sweaty and disheveled. As for the mood- a palpable level of aroused, frustrated, and downright desperate.

You’d spent the past half hour pleasing, teasing, and edging your girlfriend- an agreed-upon gift to you (and perhaps not so secretly her) for your special day. Normally you'd be the one subjected to all the teasing and edging, but with just a little begging, sweet puppy-dog eyes, and a promise to ultimately let her have her release, she agreed.

Now, you decide to turn it up a notch. With all your clothes discarded, you saunter over to Sevika, swaying your hips with each step. Her intense gray eyes drift up from your hips, over the soft curves of your naked breasts, past the sly little upward pull of your lips, and finally land on your eyes.

With a hand on each of her shoulders to steady yourself, you carefully straddle her, staying high enough so as to not make contact with her still fully hardened cock. Taking it into your hand, you line the tip up with your entrance and lock eyes with her. “If you thought my hands and mouth were torture, just wait and see what I can do to you with this,” you purr.

Sevika’s brows furrow and she opens her mouth, ready to fire something snarky no doubt. Whatever it was she had to say dies the second you start to descend.

That delightful stretch threatens to break your composure, but it’s more than a threat to her. Despite her effort to remain cool and stoic, her weakened state leaves her vulnerable to the stimulation. And your wet, warm cunt is by far her favorite form of stimulation. You watch, with satisfaction beyond just the physical drag of her cock, as her face contorts in pleasure. Her furrowed brows soften out, no longer that steep v-shape she so commonly wore. Her eyelids grow heavier and her bare chest presses against yours as she takes in a slow, deep breath while you slide further down her length.

You bite your lip in an attempt to remain in control of your own body. This is just as pleasurable for you as it is for her, but you just can’t show it. That’s not what this is about. It’s about you pleasing her- which, ultimately, is your pleasure.

And then, you bottom out. Your naked thighs fully connect with the tops of hers, and good god is it a blissful feeling. So full. So warm. And it’s apparently more than good for her.

“Fuck, baby girl,” she sighs, releasing the breath she’d been holding. “You feel so good.” Her voice is raspy, even more than usual. You’d clearly gotten her worked up. Maybe a bit too much. You’ll have to be careful if you don't want her cumming too soon.

"Mmm, so do you," you moan while the two of you adjust to the new sensations.

When her eyes start to open, you slowly rise off her, making sure you clench, applying that extra pressure you know drives her to the brink of insanity.

"Fuck," she curses again.

You moan, an exaggerated albeit honest response to the pleasure, and slowly drop down on her again.

You set a slow pace to start, gradually building up speed each time you feel her buck her hips beneath you, until you’re riding her in earnest.

Her eyes drop to your chest, mesmerized by the bouncing of your breasts with each rise and fall of your body over hers.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Ride my cock,” she groans.

You can tell she’s getting close. Her eyes start to lose focus and her smirk falters. But you’re not letting her have it. Not yet. So just as gradually as you built up that speed, you slow down, savoring the way her face contorts. The way she strains through her attempt to chase that release, only to be bound almost entirely still by the red rope you so lovingly wrapped around her- your gift.

And when your speed decreases enough for her to realize it was intentional, you’re met with narrowed eyes and lips curled into a snarl. It all loses its bite though, as the desperation bleeds through. She’s damn near gasping, her breaths hard and ragged. That lovely sheen of sweat that coated her body earlier now collects into little droplets. One slides down along her cheek, following the trail of scars and further illuminating their already present blue glow. Another rolls clear down her neck, along her collarbone, then finally disappears between her heaving breasts.

She looks absolutely stunning. Just perfect.

Your lips easily curl into a smile. Not one of mockery or taunting. Just pure, honest, adoration. Unfortunately, it seems she takes it as the former.

“How long -”

A huff.

“-do you -”

Another huff.

“-plan on -”

The rest of her question dies the moment you speed back, her words dissolving into a low gasp.

You rock your hips with each descent, making that delicious drag that much more pleasurable for both of you.

“Fuck,” she groans.

“Mmm, you feel so good,” you moan.

You quickly work her up to that sweet precipice once again, moaning along with her huffs and groans as skin slaps against skin. And then…

You stop.

The moment you swing one leg off her you can see the panic hit her. Those lovely gray eyes go wide, almost deliriously desperate. And you can see the question lingering behind them as you move to stand between her legs.

Where the hell are you going?

Her eyes follow yours as you slowly drop to kneel between her spread thighs. You run both hands soothingly up and down her muscular thighs, your gaze focused on her throbbing erection. A mixture of precum and your own wetness covers it from base to tip. While one hand remains on her thigh, you move the other to tease fingertips along the length, delighting in how her hips jerk, though not nearly far enough given the restraints.

Unable to get that firm touch she craves, she huffs out a frustrated breath.

Another faint touch, fingers barely dragging along the slick, taut skin. You moan, licking your lips and intently watching her cock twitch.

“Baby, c’mon,” she urges.

What was supposed to sound more commanding, loses nearly all of its edge the moment those words dissolve into something akin to a whine.

Your gaze darts up to her face to find her brows knitted together in dire need, eyes glued to where your fingers now wrap around her cock. Strands of her dark hair cling to the sides of her sweat-covered face. For a moment you almost feel sorry for her, and consider just giving in. But you know she can go longer. And you both know the torture will be so very worth it in the end. When she finally gets that release it will be euphoric.

So you continue to goad her, moaning wantonly as you slowly stroke her.

“You wanna come inside me, don’t you?” you purr.

Sevika’s eyes, barely open, peer past her heaving chest and down at you.

“Gotta be careful then and wait until I sit on you again,” you taunt with a coy smile. “Wouldn’t want you to ruin it for yourself after all this teasing.”

She knows you’re right. It will feel so fucking perfect if she gets to cum inside you. So she fights to stave off that blissful end she’s been chasing for far too long. Her toes curl, brows pinching together in concentration.

It’s a losing battle though, as you continue to pump your hand along her length and moan so obscenely.

You are, in all honesty, starting to question if she can truly make it. Maybe you finally found her breaking point. But she could just speak one word and you’d immediately cease the teasing. She knows the safeword. Yet, she doesn’t speak it.

“Want to cum inside you, baby,” she huffs through gritted teeth.

The wood on the arms of her chair starts to crack and splinter, her death grip threatening to break right through them.

And that’s when you realize she's reached her limit.

So you release her from your hand and swiftly move to straddle her again. Your eyes meet hers and the relief and hope that paints her face makes your heart ache.

She’ll get what she deserves. She’ll get her release. And it will be wonderful for both of you.

You line her up, hovering there for just a moment and taking in the beautiful mess beneath you. Her gaze drops back to her cock, where the head teases through your wet folds. She watches, waits, wills to see what she’s been needing for so fucking long.

And then you sink down.

Ever.

So.

Slowly.

The groan she releases is long, deep, and strained. 

“Oh Sev,” you keen.

One drag along her length.

“I want you to cum inside me.”

Two drags.

“Please cum inside me.”

Three.

“I need to feel it so bad.”

Four.

“Please!”

You drop down one final time and then-

Pure ecstasy.

All that pent-up need and frustration escapes Sevika in a full-body response. Her eyes flutter shut before rolling behind her lids, her head thrown back. The chair creaks and cracks as she pulls hard against every restraint, her hips raising, pushing herself just the slightest bit deeper as she fills you with her release. A long, guttural, and strained groan releases from deep in her chest, varying in volume before finally tapering off into yet another pathetic sound you liken to a whine.

You stay seated on her lap, but grind against her, riding her through that delirious high. Even if you didn’t get your own release, you’re certain, in that moment, you couldn’t have asked for a better gift. She looks utterly transcendent. Lost in her pleasure as it rolls through her. Her body jerks several more times before she finally collapses against the chair, her head lolling to the side.

While you give her time to come down from her high, you make quick work of removing the rope binding her wrists and chest to the chair. The legs will have to wait for later. You don’t want to make any unnecessary movements and cause any overstimulation.

With your arms wrapped loosely over her shoulders, you bury your face against her shoulder and pepper it with tender kisses. Her chest rises and falls against yours, still slick with sweat, but the feeling of her rapid heartbeat is indescribably wonderful, and you know she can feel yours too. Her breathing gradually slows to a more steady pace.

You feel her shift, but before you can lift your head to check on her, you feel her lazily throw her arms around you, holding you close while she continues to recover. You nuzzle further into her and whisper, “That was amazing, Sev. Thank you.”

All she can manage is a quiet hum, but you know she heard you by her hand weakly rubbing circles along your back.

When you feel she’s steady enough, you sit upright and search her face for any signs of unhappiness.

Her lids lay heavy over her eyes- eyes that appear glossed over in post-coital bliss. Her lips are slightly parted, but no sign of strain. She’s simply relaxed, relieved, and in heaven.

So you slowly lift off her, both of you groaning at the stimulation and loss of contact.

“I’m going to get you cleaned up, okay?” you say softly.

She can barely lift her head to nod, but you get the message and bend down to press a chaste kiss to her forehead.

You move quickly, not wanting to leave her alone like that for too long. After grabbing two wet cloths, a glass of water, and a jar of healing balm from the bathroom you make your way back into the bedroom. She’s still in the same position, looking as if she could pass out at any moment.

Janna, what you’d give to capture this moment for eternity. She looks so content and relaxed. Like all her troubles left her body along with her release.

You bring the glass to her mouth and slowly pour, your fingers gently pressed to the underside of her chin as you help her drink. Her glazed-over eyes meet yours, and though she’s unable to speak, her expression alone speaks volumes. She is pleased. She is content. And she adores you.

You sit between her legs and quickly unbind them. Watching her face for any signs of discomfort, you bring the wet cloth to her now softened cock, so very gently wiping it and her thighs clean. She takes it well, only flinching slightly when you touch the tip of her cock.

Then, with the second washcloth, you wipe the rest of her body down, clearing away as much of the sweat as possible before moving to the healing balm.

You gently work the balm into the red, raw skin of her ankles. Again with her wrists. And finally across her chest.

All the while she simply sits there in a daze. Her eyes lazily follow your movements, though you’re not sure she entirely processes them.

After carefully climbing back onto her lap, you take her face in your hands and stroke her cheeks.

She wraps her arms loosely around your waist, her flesh and metal fingers lazily tracing random patterns along the base of your spine. The corner of her mouth curls into a weak smile, one that you naturally mimic.

Hair still clings to her face, and as lovely as you think she looks like that, you know it’s likely to bother her. So you gently comb your fingers through the silky strands, pushing them back away from her face and tucking as much as you can behind her ears.

“How are you feeling?” you ask softly.

“Mmm,” she hums, “Feeling good. Really good.”

Janna, her voice is still so husky.

“Was that too much?”

She slowly shakes her head. “Not at all, baby girl. Was perfect.”

Your smile grows. “Do you need anything else?”

“Just you.”

You’re full-on beaming.

“Want to come lie in bed with me for a while?” you ask hopefully.

“Mhm.”

“Okay. Wait one sec,” you say as you climb off her and rush to the dresser. With a fresh pair of boxer briefs in hand you make your way back to kneel in front of her again.

She peers down at you while you hold her boxers out for her to step into, and you swear her cheeks flush at the gesture.

“You know it’s okay to let the people who care about you help you,” you point out with a smile.

She says nothing, just looks away, but still allows you to help her.

Once you’ve got her boxers up past her knees she slowly rises to her feet, and for a moment you think she’s going to topple right over with the way she wobbles.

Perhaps that had been a little too much for her.

She manages to steady herself and allows you to take her hand in your own to guide her to your bed. She lazily crawls onto the mattress before collapsing and rolling onto her back.

You try, but fail, to hide the little smile that brings to your face. She doesn’t appear to mind your amusement over her fucked out state, evident by how she still wears her own crooked little smile and holds her arm out for you. Happy to accept her silent invitation, you crawl onto the bed and snuggle up against her side, resting your head on her shoulder.

She wraps her arm around you, pulling you closer while she presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Fuck, baby,” she sighs, “That was really something else.”

Tilting your head back, you press a kiss to her jaw.

“Guess it was an early birthday gift for you too,” you say with a little laugh.

She strokes your side with her fingertips, humming in agreement.

“Baby, we don’t gotta wait until anyone’s birthday to do that again. You just say the word.”

You full-on giggle at that. Her uncharacteristically drunken ramblings are certainly not a part of this gift you were expecting.

She chuckles lightly at your contagious, sweet laughter, her body shaking against yours.

“Best. Birthday. Gift. Ever.” Though you speak the words with a laugh, you truly do mean it nonetheless.

“For the best girl ever,” she adds with a gentle squeeze of your hip.

Janna, she’s so fucking sweet and cute when she’s fucked out.

“My muscles hurt,” she drawls, “You got me worked up.”

You beam with pride.

“Thought a few times you were really gonna leave me hanging, but you did so good,” she continues.

You tilt your head back again to peer up at her as she speaks. She’s staring up at the ceiling, brows furrowed slightly as if in deep thought.

So damn cute.

“That little teasing you did- making me wait for you to sit on my lap again- never knew you had that in you. Was worth the wait too. Getting to feel you wrap around me like that, and finally fill you up.” She turns to gaze down at you, her smirk more akin to her typical cocky one. “As soon as I recover, I wanna fuck you again. Make you feel as good as you made me feel.”

She gets that look in her eye- the one where her pupils dilate a bit more- and heat immediately spreads throughout your body.

“And then I’m gonna take real good care of you, the way you did me. Sound good?”

“Very,” you reply with a smile.

“But first, I just wanna lie here with you for a while.”

“Gladly.”

You snuggle up to her more, nuzzling into her neck and breathing in the calming scent of her. It’s a mix of sweat, smoke, and spices- uniquely her, and so very perfect.

She presses another kiss to the top of your head. “Happy birthday, baby girl.”

[tadpolesonalgae]

Chapter 7

A/N: Please defer to warning section in Chapter 1

-Chapter 6- -Chapter 8-

At first, Cassian was surprised when he found himself in a bedroom rather than a dungeon. Almost relieved. But he was well aware of Azriel’s nastier streak, and knew to keep his guard up.

But now his shadows have him tied to a chair, all because he was too preoccupied by how he could still taste you and hadn’t been paying the Spymaster a sensible amount of attention.

“I don’t see why you’re being so pissy about it. She’s fine. And more importantly, she liked it,” Cass insists, subtly pulling against the shadows binding him. Better to try and thaw him while Rhys isn’t there to encourage him. The male isn’t much better when it comes to you.

Azriel glares at him from across the room, making the darkness tighten around Cassian’s chest. “You acted recklessly,” he says, voice deceptively soft, warning enough it has the hairs at the back of the Warlord’s neck raising. But he won’t back down.

“I made progress. You’re just jealous that it was me who did it. That I was the first to get between her legs.” Cassian makes a show of getting nice and comfy in the seat, spreading the stance of his legs ever so slightly. “You’ve never learned how to curb that envy of yours. And look where it’s gotten you.”

Azriel gives him a look of warning—he shouldn’t be pushing the Shadowsinger right now, but he can’t resist the challenge. “It’s thanks to you, you know,” he drawls softly, matching the quiet lilt of the Spymaster’s voice, edged with possessive fury. His brother goes still, attention piercing in on the General. “When she admitted she liked the idea of someone dragging her down an alley? All it took was a little force on my part, and she was practically pleading for more.”

He throws the Shadowsinger a smug grin, one he knows he should keep to himself if he doesn’t want to make it worse, but he’s too caught up in the memory of having you release on his tongue that he doesn’t care. “She’s so sweet on the outside, and tastes even better, but you should have heard her. The things she was murmuring to herself, imagining she was begging me to stop?” He laughs, meeting Azriel’s icy gaze. “Maybe I’ll get Rhys to share the memory with you.”

It’s the last straw for the male, and Cassian stiffens, finally regaining an ounce of self-preservation when he steps forward into his shadows, vanishing.

Only to reappear at his back. Directly between his two, large wings.

“You want relief, Cass? Want it enough that you lost your cool and acted without thinking?” Azriel snarls softly, shadows skating up the muscles of his back, keeping the General still. “I can give you relief.”

Cassian jerks in the seat when he feels the Shadowsinger’s fingers dance along the sensitive membrane of his inner wing, hissing at the contact. His hands clench into fists as his side, gritting his teeth against the sensitivity. He can practically envision the vicious joy in Azriel’s eyes, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

“Like that?” The Shadowsinger murmurs, dragging the pads of his fingers along the dip beneath the peak of his wing, making Cassian inhale sharply. “Wish it was her? Wish she was the one touching you like this?” His hand wraps around the General’s throat, tipping his head back against the padded chair so he can watch his reactions clearly, hazel on hazel.

“Want to imagine that for me, Cass? Imagine she’s the one who’s got you tied up, all nice and ready for her?” His eyes flick to the Warlord’s lap, the clear outline of his arousal prominent. He hasn’t had a chance for relief since having his head between your thighs, and Azriel is fully capitalising off that little fact. Using it to his full advantage—exploiting it in every way he can.

“She’d probably like to see you like this, so torn up.” Silky shadows brush against the General’s wings, and he snarls at the taunting touch. “Such a greedy little vixen, isn’t she? Tell me, did she reach for you once you were done, or was she content to bask in her own pleasure and leave you starving?” Azriel asks pointedly, weaponising the information against the Warlord.

But Cassian grits his teeth, refusing to fall for it. And it’s then Azriel realises he’s being kept in the dark. There’s something the General doesn’t want him to know—something important, if he’s making such a valiant effort.

He halts all attention to the male’s wings, watching as he slumps a little in his chair, panting softly, colour high on his cheek bones.

Azriel settles his free hand over Cassian’s broad shoulder, leaning over him as he deftly drags it down the male’s chest, just shy of his cock. “You can tell me now, and avoid causing any more grief, Cassian.” He tightens his hold on the General’s throat, a quiet warning. A polite courtesy he’s extending, paying respect to their centuries of friendship. “Or I can make this difficult for you. You’re telling me one way or the other. Choose your path carefully, soldier.”

“I’m gone for not even the lesser part of an hour, and this is what I come back to?”

Both the males eye their High Lord warily, though for different reasons. The easy grin Rhys was wearing slips from his face as he takes in the scene, “what is it?”

Azriel straightens, and Cassian doesn’t know whether to be relieved or despairing the touch has left him. “He’s holding out on us. Have a look.” The General tenses, gritting his teeth as violet eyes land on his own. “Is that true?”

Maybe it would be better for him to cut his losses. They’ve all been after you for a while now—he shouldn’t try to monopolise you like this. You’re going to be theirs. Belong to all of them.

“She told me to take her,” he admits. “Tomorrow night. Even if she screams, and protests. She told me I should drag her away,” he breathes, “and do what I like.”

He doesn’t miss the look Rhys and Az share over the top of him. Because now they have a date for when to put their plan into action. And it’s much sooner that they could have even wished for.

[nabataprophet]

so like..........what is sophia

intsys hates consistency and also me, personally

sophia is MY fave specialist little half-dragon dark mage and I get to talk about what kind of dragon i think she is

(contains spoilers for fe6, fe7, and engage (implied))

Case 1: Dragon Tribes in Elibe

In Elibe, we have explicit confirmation that there are Fire Dragons, Ice Dragons, Divine Dragons, and Mage Dragons.....sort of.

“ok sophia uses magic she’s probably a mage dragon then case closed” (EXTREMELY LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER)

Mage dragons in Elibe are not a separate species, but rather a corrupted Divine Dragon. The terminology is a little muddy, because while the kanji is the same as Archanean Mage Dragons, Idunn is specifically referred to as a Demon Dragon in Heroes. Binding Blade still lacks an official English localization, so Heroes is the only official English s-

Just kidding this has been sitting in my drafts for so long that Engage happened. Surprise!

Engage has Roy remark in his DLC bond supports with Zelestia that Mage Dragons do exist in Elibe, though it’s unclear once again if it’s as separate species or not.

Roy: You’re a Mage Dragon, right? Those exist in my world, though I’m not aware of any like you.

[ロイ] ああ、ごめん。セレスティアは魔竜の一族なんだよね。 君のような魔竜もいるんだなって思ってたんだ。

I’ve included the Japanese text as well for funsies, but he’s saying more or less the same thing. Either way, he’s clearly talking about Idunn here, and thus more or less soft de-confirming Sophia as a Mage Dragon.

“why”

Otherwise he could’ve been like wrow.....i also know a mage dragon who uses magic like you.........but actually that would’ve made a banger conversation with veyle instead because she actually has access to dark magic. damn. 😩

But I digress.

Case 2: Arcadia

Things get a little dicey here because of the nature of FE7 existing as a prequel that was released after the fact and the two games don’t always agree (god help me).

Jahn: “That is correct. However, the Divine Dragons did not agree with us. They said that that would be defying the laws of nature. As we were discussing how we could persuade the Divine Dragons to help us, they suddenly disappeared.”

-FE6 Ch 24

...

Elder:

“Master Roy… We knew that the girl you sent here was captured by the Dragons. Still, we did not try and rescue her. We feared that our kind would be in danger if we showed ourselves in front of the other Dragons again. But now, I wonder whether my judgment was correct.”

-FE6 Epilogue (True End)

These quotes seem to imply that Arcadia was where the Divine Dragons escaped to, so it stands to reason that the citizens of Arcadia are primarily Divine Dragons, descended from Divine Dragons, or fully human (Hawkeye and Igrene, for example). This especially makes sense when we consider Arcadia is particularly sensitive about not letting Fae’s existence leak to the outside world. The other dragons think the Divine Dragons are gone entirely and Jahn, the last of the full dragons in Elibe (not counting the dragons through the Dragon’s Gate etc etc etc), has no idea Arcadia exists.

So it stands to reason that Arcadia is where the Divine Dragons disappeared to, yes?

HOWEVER.

In this cg of (past, hi Nergal and Athos) Arcadia from FE7, we see two manaketes in their dragon forms.

Ok. So. One of those dragons in the back is a Fire Dragon (you can tell by the distinctive flame plume wings) and the other is...probably an Ice Dragon? It’s hard to tell for certain because the area where the (lack of) wings would be is hidden, but it has those fins on its head.

“limit why is this relevant” 

Because it confirms Divine Dragons are not the only ones making up the gene pool of Arcadia! This could’ve been easy!!!!!!! intsys i hate your ass!!!!!

Case 3: Color Coded For Your Convenience

Sometimes Intsys is really nice and color codes dragons by type. Sometimes they just tell you to fucking guess. Depemds.

Jahn is a Fire Dragon. He’s red! Ninian and Nils are Ice Dragons. They’re light blue!

Divine dragons in Elibe are....um....anywhere from bright pink and silver. Sophia is...purple, which I guess puts her somewhere in the middle of that range.

It’s not very conclusive evidence, though, is it?

Back to the drawing board.

Case 4: Hybridization

Engage fully confirms that dragons can hybridize between tribes however if I think too hard about this I want to explode.

Case 4: The Cipher Flashbang

girl huh. can you just. drop that information in cipher. is that allowed?????

You can’t even make the excuse that the skill is referencing Fae or even Idunn because it’s specifically in reference to Sophia cards! HUH??????? ?!?!?!?!?!??!?!??! GIRL WHTA

Verdict

Even putting aside the dubious canon status of information from Cipher, it’s highly likely she’s probably at least part Divine Dragon thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[zillyeh]

To Asphalt

cw: murder, thats just really the whole thing that happens here

The air in the church of the Reverent was heavy, hard to breath. And it hadn’t even been set ablaze yet. Azveja’s shaking hands struggled to tend the wound on Kerath’s shoulder. Reverent, revered Kerath Baclef, who was nothing but another set of arms that held her too close to the Messiahs, and too far away from freedom.

No, lack of freedom was never his fault. He was many things, but not blameworthy. Her fate was only ever the fault of Alternia. The law. The Gods. 

Azveja pressed her lips together. The slit across his shoulder was deep. Painful. The metal of her hands couldn’t conduct her powers if she wanted them to. To help. To heal. To ease that pain. They could barely hold the fucking needle.

He placed a cool hand over her free, shaking fingers.

“Azveja, chère," he said softly. “Might I have your permission to calm you so you do not rip my shoulder further?" 

“You don’t trust me,” she said, her voice too shaky to hide how close her tears were.

“Could you forgive yourself if you made it worse?” he asked, soft still. A harsh question coming from anyone but the Reverent. Of course not. He knew that. He knew her like no one ever bothered to.

No one still alive, anyway.

The moment the word “fine” hissed out of her mouth, she felt calm. Clear of mind. But not calm enough to forget her urgency. The tremors of her miserable cybernetic hands were at least bearable when not compounded by nerves.

“We can’t make it out of here,” she said simply, binding his wound with swift stitches. She dressed his wound just as quickly, buttoning his robe back up.

“Azveja, your pessimism is truly the least charming thing about you, have I ever told you that?” 

“I am realistic. We have fifteen minutes.”

Kerath sighed, not moving to stand. He preferred her here at eye level, though she wouldn’t allow him to see hers through her mask. He took her hands, releasing some of the hold he had on her emotions, but not all. Hers were always so much stronger than he could handle, even on her bad nights.

“Amillo, Bruice, and Domnik will return for us, Azveja. If we have to take the tunnels out, we will. We have time. I cannot leave until I know everyone else is out of here.”

“That’s stupid,” Azveja said, standing. He was still almost to her chin sitting down. What a silly, silly angle people looked like from underneath, he thought. “You should have gone first. With the young.”

“Funny, I was about to say the same about you.”

Azveja pressed her lips together, turning away from him.

“I cannot fight with them. My primary purpose is to tend the wounded,” she said. “That’s you.” Kerath smiled, standing to his full height. It was one of the rare moments that this small action didn’t make Azveja flinch. Kerath, however, winced at the motion his shoulder made.

“I understand,” he said, taking in the room of his church, seemingly for the last time. Red illuminated the walls of the small building, bright enough that the rainbows of stained glass were nothing to it. The empire carapaced drones above, the blazing sun just beginning to dip under the ocean waves. Red. It was all so red. Azveja sighed and pulled the mask from her head, looking up to him.

She was like a stranger to him, for how little he saw of her face. One thing he could never forget, and never truly bring himself to fully describe were her eyes. That color she couldn’t stand to see, those teardrop pupils. He once thought it poetic in a way, given her melancholic disposition.

Right now she just looked sad.

“Kerath, I-”

Her ears twitched, and in that split second she barrelled into him with all the weight her body had, throwing him to the ground with enough force to split his shoulder again. In that same instant, the church roof fell directly where they had been standing. The whirring of drones was distant above, nearly impossible to hear over the beating of the dragon wings directly outside that newly gaping hole. 

The long, serpentine thing snarled, smoke at its nostrils, more debris in its claws as it found purchase to land. More roof shattered until the two could see its rider, masked and severe but unmistakably from the church. The old church. Le Corps.

The shape of her horns told Azveja it was her old ex lover. The pounding on the barricaded church door told her this was not a coincidence.

Kerath’s groaning told her neither of them would make it out of here alive.

“Vennen!” Azveja coughed, attempting to pull up a man nearly two feet her superior. 

“Don’t you dare address me, salope!” the rider shouted. The Firebringer’s lusus snarled underneath her. The door snapped all the way off the hinges. Kerath and Azveja scrambled back to the podium as a quartet of familiar faces from their old church poured in. The final purple stopped Azveja in her tracks. With Kerath’s arms around her, she felt fear shoot through him like lightning.

“Père Jortis,” Azveja breathed, shaking now that Kerath’s calm was gone. He silently stalked through the broken pews, scowl on his painted face, cane in hand. 

“A travesty I find only two and not the six who left me,” he said in their home tongue, the disappointment in his voice enough to make Azveja feel nauseous. Kerath straightened himself, wincing as he attempted to put himself between the much smaller troll and the array of enormous purplebloods. Jortis scoffed. All three other clowns and the jade above looked to him for instruction. He ignored all of them in his approach, stopping just at the rubble Vennen had made.

“Where are the rest?”

Azveja gripped Kerath’s robes, bullying herself out from behind him.

“Fuck you!” she spat, eyes wide and wild. Jortis regarded her with a disgust more intense than could possibly be put to words. It made her shrink, even with Kerath’s hand on her shoulder.

“My my, lost your obedience and your arms then, duckling? Fine. I don’t have time for this. Seize them both and kill anyone you can find before our twenty is up. Heiress Halosa has granted us that right.” He rolled his head around his shoulders, casting his gaze to Kerath. “I want Baclef’s head. Do with her what you will.” 

The speed with which his clowns moved was astonishing. Nauseating. Kerath, in what new adrenaline he’d been able to muster, he shoved Azveja toward the side door, the one to the basement. It was a sweet thought, but the laughsassins of La Corps du Serpent Mourant were better than that. Faster.

One caught Azveja before she fell, throwing her unguarded face into the back wall of the church.

“Kerath!” she shouted through the blood in her mouth, dizzy but more resilient than one of her stature should be. The other two had caught him by the arms, the taller of the two forcing him to his knees. Jortis drummed his fingers against his cane, ascending the rubble and the stairs to meet him. 

Azveja jabbed her metal elbows wherever they would find purchase, her struggle nearly useless against the clown who held her face. The purple reared back her head again, but this time Azveja twisted her head just right to rip the hood off of her horns, losing her cloak as she escaped her grip. In the split second between realizing that worked and having to decide where she would go, that clown caught her around the middle. She crushed the wind out of her, blood still spilling down her face. She had a perfect view of the horror about to take place in front of her. 

Kerath did not fight back. He couldn’t. He was weak for his caste. Nothing against three well trained purplebloods- especially not the patriarch of Le Corps.

Azveja may have been strong for her caste once, before her arms fell to disrepair. Powerful. A touch that could calm or cause pain as she felt like, just from skin contact-

Her upper arms were free. Real. In contact with that purple’s cold clammy arms. Azveja struggled, digging her fingers into her skin, loosing whatever pain she felt through her shoulders, through the nerves of her captor’s hands. The clown shouted, distracting her companions, but only loosened her grip. Azveja’s teeth in her arm did the rest. 

She dropped to the floor, her desperate struggle to reach Kerath brought her close, but her body was not made for fighting, not like this. Not gushing blood from her head the way she was.

“Kerath!” she shouted again, hoarse and miserably dragging herself along the stone. The sickle Jortis had around his throat was close to drawing blood. Tears ran freely down his face, but he was otherwise silent. Kerath made a brief eye contact with Azveja, but only to offer her one final reassuring smile. The monster. The idiot. The only person who never gave up on her, who’s reverence for life extended even to the lowest, unworthy caste. 

The Reverent, Kerath Baclef.

The corpse.

Jortis pulled Kerath’s horn and his sickle in opposite directions. Funny how such a clean cut causes so much blood. Funny if you are perhaps a subjugulator, to which that type of horrific violence is entertaining. Not so much if you are a miserable, abused healer watching your best friend be beheaded. Your best friend who you’ve been a miserable wretch to your entire life, who most certainly did not deserve your pessimism or your agony, but received it anyway because he chose to stay close. Because he cared. Cared enough to smile at you before his execution, when all you could do was cry.

To spare you- no you are not the Slitbinder in her final breaths. A cruel, cruel thing to put on you, that would be. 

Jortis called his clowns to him, wingbeats from above growing loud and impatient. Azveja could hardly hear them. She could hardly hear what he shouted upward as he and his trio fled, Kerath’s head in hand. She was left unable to move, his body the only thing in her sight, that body she had tried so hard to fix mere moments ago. So they could leave. Be safe.

In those last few moments there was more shouting from above: her name, her caste, the misery she had put Vennen through. Another thunderous growl from her lusus before everything went hot. Bright. Suffocating.

Red.

[guy-that-writes]

Prologue to my unnamed story.

-There was no warning. No call to arms. No indication that the war had begun.

The Fae were the first to fall, their mighty walls and superior magic delayed him not. Most suspect it was a show of dominance to attack the Fae lands first. Their walls, wards, traps, and beasts were only the first line of defense. Storytellers speak of mountainous walls and towers large enough to cast shadows over mountains themselves. Surrounded by a forest that never ends, teeming with all manner of demons and monsters. Within the walls were the Faerie armies. Their numbers were great and their sense of Devotion to the Fae kingdom was greater still.

Not one soldier stirred as he swept in on his wings of nothing, a billow of robes and shadow that made no sound.

The first rays of dawn were just beginning to peek over the high walls just outside the kingdom’s domain as Asher strode towards the ivory gate that marked the entrance to the high Faerie king’s magnificent gardens. There, among the brilliant hues and aromas of the flowers sat King Finnrick and his beautiful daughter and heir, Princess Anaura. The pair enjoyed a bountiful breakfast in the fresh morning air. Asher made it a point to be seen as he walked along the ornate path leading to the clearing where the monarch ate. The two spoke casually to each other before the mysterious man before them catches their attention and the king was on his feet in an instant. “Guards!” he bellowed, his voice held power and carried on the silent air for what seemed an eternity. No guards answered the king’s call. “Who are you?” Finnrick spoke in a low and dangerous tone now. “Why have you come here?” Asher stood motionless except to reach up with one hand to remove the hood of his black robe that smelled of fire. He fixed his gaze on the Fae ruler before him with eyes of brilliant gold that seemed to pick him apart for every piece of information he was worth. His hair was cut short and his skin was light but riddled with small silver scars and runes painted lightly onto his flesh. He wasn’t tall or impressively built, but his golden gaze made him seem imposing. “Human..?” Finnrick said, less certain than he was moments ago. “You are out of time.” Asher spoke finally “I’ve come to do what must be done” At this the king went pale. He gestured to the princess without looking at her. “Go inside Anaura.” He ordered softly and the princess obeyed wordlessly. “Release your bindings” Asher said when she was gone. “Do it without resistance and I’ll spare you.” His voice was truthful, his eyes sincere. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” A great sword materializes in the king’s grasp. “If you do this, the Fae will perish.” His muscles bulged as he gathered his strength. “I can’t let you” The sun was fully visible above the horizon now, bathing the earth in it’s radiant warmth. “I know.” Asher responded simply. Without another word, High King Finnrick of the Fae dominance lunged forward with a mighty roar. His powerful wards and enchanted sword were no match for the human stranger. With a single whispered word the king stopped all motion and stood, poised to cleave Asher in two with an overhead strike. Seven more whispered words and Asher broke the magic bindings the king had hidden within his own body. These bindings acted as a lock that kept the greatest Fae treasure safe from any attempt to steal or destroy it, magical or otherwise. “If you do this, we are doomed.” Finnrick pleaded helplessly as he stood motionless. Asher looked at him with a solemn expression. “You are doomed regardless.”

He then thrust his right hand into the air, warm light filtering through the trees making the shadows of leaves dance on his fingertips. The sleeve of his robe fell down his upraised arm to reveal a complex collection of strange, bloody symbols carved into his flesh. With a final deep breath to steel his resolve, Asher wrapped his fingers around his glimmering prize….and stole the sun.

[cfcreative]

I have a pet theory about this.*

I think Myrkul had his eye on Kethric even before Kethric turned to Shar.

(Long ramble after the break)

IIRC Balthazar was an advisor in Moonrise before (or soon after) Isobel’s death. He did enough experimentation with Soul Cages to make the unique one that held Dame Aylin in the Shadowfell as Nightsong.

I believe that, at Myrkul’s behest, Balthazar murdered Isobel and used a (fairly normal) Soul Cage to hold her so she could not be resurrected.

This drove Kethric mad with grief—how dare Selûne shun him and his daughter, loyal Selûnites? How dare Selûne send her own daughter, Aylin, to steal his child away from him before this? How dare Aylin, Isobel’s supposed beloved, not be there to protect his daughter in her greatest hour of need?

And lo, when Balthazar proposes that they take Dame Aylin and make her a source of power not only for his own Immortality, but to create an army of Dark Justiciars for Selûne’s greatest rival and foe, her sister Shar, Kethric agrees. If his sorrow will not be lifted he will use the Lady of Sorrows’ power to blot out everything else as part of his vengeance.

Then he dies. The Shadow Curse is unleashed. The temple of Shar and the Dark Justiciars all destroyed (…nearly).

Slowly, ever so slowly, Kethric is pulled back together by the Soul Cage binding the Nightsong.

When he wakes he is once again bereft and furious; Shar’s powers did not suffice to enact his vengeance. At hand, of course, is Balthazar, to whisper that Myrukl’s power is what brought Kethric back. Myrkul’s power is what Kethric craves.

Myrkul’s power could bring Isobel back.

I don’t think Kethric is fully convinced by this. Why would the Lord of Bones succeed where Selûne and Shar—arguably more powerful than the Necromancer—failed?

All Balthazar has to do is implore Kethric to try… and to release the soul of Isobel Thorm, who he murdered near a century ago so that resurrection is possible.

Once Isobel opens her eyes, Kethric becomes Myrkul’s most devoted Chosen.

Who killed Isobel Thorm?

Among all the questions plaguing me, this one is the most persistent. I hoped Isobel would give any information about how she died or what the fuck happened, but we get none. And unless I did something wrong, Dame Aylin doesn't shed any light either. I remember there was some cut content in the EA (but it's not relevant anymore), so we only know that Isobel was killed suddenly in her parent's home, and the family dog died defending her.

So, my best guess is:

Isobel was killed by a Sharran. Being a daughter of the paladin of Selune made her a target already. But a lover of Selune's daughter? Oh, her death would be a blow to the morale.

Ketheric, fearing that something like this would happen, probably begged Dame Aylin to appeal to her mother and bring Isobel back, prayed to Selune herself (if his daughter was chosen by her ambassador, it has to mean something? If Selune cares not for his another tragedy, maybe she cares about her own daughter's grief?).

The only response he got from Selune and Dame Aylin is that nothing can be done, and they should rally against the enemy to avenge Isobel, which made him incredibly enraged and bitter - he gave so much, Isobel gave so much to Selune, only for them both to be cast aside, treated like pawns in the endless squabble between gods?! So he renounced his servitude to Selune and went to Shar out of sheer spite (and secret hope that if he served her well, she would give back what she took or at least help him stop feeling). He captured Dame Aylin as an offering to Shar and a "fuck you, I'm taking your daughter then" to Selune (probably feeling disgusted how Moonmaiden hadn't done absolutely anything to help her own child; fuck maybe he even waited for her to start bargaining - Isobel in exchange for Dame Aylin's freedom).

As the paladin of Shar, Thorm led her forces against Harpers and the druids, and the Shadow Curse was unleashed after he fell.

Centuries later, Myrkul plucks him from the afterlife (I wonder whether Ketheric was on his way to the Wall of Faithless because he cursed Shar with his dying breath too, or if Myrkul simply 'borrowed' him from her domain because he and Shar are supposed to be buddies. If it's the latter, it also explains why Isobel just saw dark instead of being taken to Selune's domain - maybe Shar claimed her soul after her death somehow, which made retrieving Isobel a no-issue?).

...somehow, my thoughts ended up going into the "Faerun gods kinda suck" territory yet again. Why does it keep happening?

[ajwinter-is-a-nerd]

Le Chat Et Le Serpent - Chapter 19

Please note that the entirety of this story is a ****TRIGGER WARNING***** - mentions of child abuse, graphic violence, alcohol use, mental health, suicide, suicidal ideation, self-harm - basically a constant blow of pain towards the characters - as well as some "steamier" moments.

Chapter Summary:

This chapter has some bad decisions that our characters have made, past and present.

Chapter 19: Bad Decisions

Breaking a Pact

Colette fought the sensation that the room was caving in around her. Every cell in her body was shrieking to leave. 

“Mme. Graham De Vanily?” The man spoke from the back of the dingy shop. 

“Oui?” Colette stood to meet his gaze. His loupe was still attached to his glasses frame as he called her over. 

“I may be able to do what you need, but I am a bit worried.” The man informed her as he held the thicker band up to his loupe, as if he needed a second look to ensure that his words were accurate. 

“How so?” Colette looked towards the rings, as if the issue would be blatantly obvious. 

“These rings hold true to the tale, therefore I must ask, why are you wanting to release the hold on one?” He continued to spin the thicker band within his finger tips. 

“My… my sister passed. And, I… I don’t want to do this alone. I want my husband to wear the band.” She defended her actions. 

“Do you understand the power within these rings?” His inquisitive eye was magnified by his loupe. 

“I understand that they are dark magic, but they have been keeping our family safe for generations.” 

“Quite true, but the rings have always stayed with the twins. You must know, that as the carrier of the love ring, you will bear the twins to whom will carry the rings?” 

“Yes, but they are supposed to keep our children safe! How can they be safe if the other holder is gone?”

“This modification comes with a price. May I ask, have you heard of the complications that arise when someone outside of the destined holders wear them?” He asked out of pure interest, he knew that they were warned of devastation, and the changes would not mend that, only stave the consequences. 

“My mother said that my uncle was incredibly envious. He despised the fact that he couldn’t inherit the power of the rings. One night, he slipped the ringer off my grandmother’s hand. The moment the ring laced his finger, he lost his mind. For the rest of his days he remained shackled to a bed, his skin writhing in constant pain… So, I’m sure you can understand why I would want to help keep my husband safe.”

“I cannot take away the dangers of the ring, they will always be connected to Graham De Vanily blood. I hope this spell will take away the physical pain… but since we cannot simply remove the power, I can only work to transform it. I can not guarantee what form it will take. However, I can add a sedative spell - it will help to ease the physical pain.”

“Yes, please, whatever it takes.” 

“When we do this, you must ensure you never lose sight of these rings, any holder will be able to wear them.” He warned.

“Them? This will affect both of the rings? I thought it would only apply to Cosette’s ring.” 

“Mme., with all due respect, I don’t think you fully comprehend the depth of dark magic you wear upon your hand.” 

Denying Help

Luka pulled out his phone to call an ambulance, but Plagg quickly grabbed the cellphone from his hand. 

“Plagg! He needs help!” Luka held out his hand for Plagg to pass him the phone back. 

“I can’t let you. He said he won’t go.” Plagg slightly inked as he hugged Luka’s phone. Unfortunately, Adrien had become far too experienced with the rules binding Plagg. The Kwami of destruction had used the loophole of “not asking” for years, so Adrien took extra steps to ensure it was clear what Plagg could say or do in the event of a bleed. 

“No, I’m getting help.” Luka jumped to his feet to find aid. 

“No! He gets these bleeds from stress! He just needs to go home.” Plagg despised that Adrien wouldn’t get help, but he would honour his wishes. Plus, he didn’t think there was much a regular doctor could do. 

“Normal people don’t bleed when they’re stressed, Plagg!” Luka yelped in horror. 

“Look, it’s already stopping… just… just bring him home. Please, Luka.” Plagg floated by Adrien’s face, still gripping Luka’s cell. 

Luka pressed his thumb under Adrien’s nose to verify that the bleeding had stopped. “I don’t like this.” 

“You’re telling me.” Plagg handed back the device.

“Plagg, is this?” Sass motioned to Adrien in horror, asking a question that only they knew the content to. Is this dark magic? 

“I think so.” Plagg gloomily nodded. 

“Luka,” Sass grabbed his attention, “you should transform so we can get him home as quickly as possible.” 

Why the fuck won’t they tell me what’s going on? Fuck. Just get Adrien home, deal with the rest after. 

Viperion cringed as Adrien’s blood contrasted against his green suit. Easily picking up the boy, he began to soar from roof to roof. 

-

Luka paced the room, struggling with his helplessness. Adrien was still unconscious on his bed, the blood now scaling as it dried. 

“How long has this been happening Plagg?” Luka demanded. 

“I can’t tell you that.” Plagg was frustrated at the constant recounting of questions. 

“What can you tell me, Plagg?” Luka shouted. 

Plagg floated to a far corner of Adrien’s room. “All I can tell you is that it’s related to distress.” 

Fuming, Luka stomped over to where Plagg seemed to cower. “What kind of - holy…” his words trailed as he understood why Plagg had chosen that corner. 

Luka dropped to his knees as he trembled at the pile of discarded t-shirts. Appalled, he grabbed the first yellow shirt off the top. Stained with blood. 

The second piece he saw was coral. A smear of diagonal blood smeared from the collar to the bottom hem.

The third he pulled was white. He suddenly understood why Adrien rarely wore that colour anymore. A lake of brown covered almost the entire shirt. 

Panicking, Luka continued to throw shirts behind him. Stained, stained, stained. “I - I don’t understand.” Luka muttered through tears as he paused at the lilac cashmere sweater. Adrien hadn’t worn that piece since he fell asleep at his desk. Through his mind's eye, Luka pictured Adrien cradled in his arms; when Luka set him down his shirt was clean. 

Luka held the soft fabric to his chest. Is it me? I’ve seen all these shirts. What does Plagg mean, stress? 

“It’s not you, Snake Boy.” Plagg stated, reading Luka’s expression. 

“I don’t understand.” Luka repeated, sobbing into the sweater. 

“You said it yourself, he has some demons.” Plagg defeatedly exhaled. 

“What fucking demon is THIS?” Luka shook the shirt in his direction. 

An inaudible sentence tore Luka’s focus. Following the sound, he met Adrien’s green eyes that glowed in the dark room. His face and hair was still coated in a dark shade of blood. 

His heart in his throat, all Luka could muster was a croaked, “Hey.” 

Adrien silently blinked in return, as if he couldn’t decide if the moment was real or not. 

“Are… are you okay?” Luka shifted his kneel to point towards Adrien, cashmere shirt still in hand. 

Adrien continued to stay silence, his blinking increasingly unnerving Luka. Adrien sluggishly brought his hand in front of him; a brink of understanding flashed through him as he saw the dried blood along his fingers. 

Luka crawled to the edge of Adrien’s bed. He wrapped his hand around Adrien’s cold fingers. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m here.” 

Adrien’s glowing eyes continued to follow Luka’s movements. His head pushed into his pillow, obviously still confused. 

Luka took the stained shirt in his hand and tried to rub off some of the blood, but most of it was too dry to simply wipe. 

“It’s okay,” Adrien finally whispered, pushing the sweater away. 

“This - this is not okay.” Luka tightened his grip on Adrien’s hand. 

Adrien meekly smiled, his eyelids weighing heavy as he started succumbing to his fatigue. 

“Don’t, don’t fall asleep yet.” Luka whispered, running his hand along Adrien’s face. 

Another weak smile pulled at Adrien’s lips. 

“You need a doctor. This isn’t normal.” Luka’s lip quivered as he spoke. 

Adrien wrapped his scaly hand around Luka’s and shook his head. 

“Let me help.” His whisper cracked. 

Instead of responding, Adrien pulled Luka onto the bed. 

“Adr - I -,” Luka started to protest, but knew he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to be anywhere else besides where the muted boy was taking him. 

Adrien wrapped Luka into his arms. The flood gates broke within Luka as Adrien enveloped him. Adrien soothingly ran his hand down Luka’s back as it quaked. 

Staying Out of Duty

“Adrien!” Emelie shook the dozing boy. 

“Mmm?” Adrien instinctually responded, but his consciousness was still deep within the dream realm. 

“Wake-up!” She shoved him harder, breaking him from his dreams. 

“Wha-?” Though Adrien could barely see his mother under the moonlight, he could still make out the worry that spread across her face. 

“Will you come with me?” She pushed an empty backpack towards him. 

“Where are we going?” He rubbed his face as he began collecting clothes in his bag. 

“I want to leave your father.” She leaned against his bed, straining to fight a fainting spell. 

He froze, holding a shirt just above the opened zipper of the bag. “Where would we go?” 

“Maybe your aunt’s. You haven’t been able to spend time with Felix in so long.” 

“What will happen to Father?” Adrien couldn’t imagine the pain that Gabriel would feel when he woke up and they were both gone. His father had been pulling away for years, but he always felt his gaze. He may be distant and icy, but Adrien knew, without fail, he was there. Gabriel would show his affection in different ways, such as decorating his office with Adrien’s achievements. 

“Maybe… Maybe he’ll get some help. Sweetie, there’s things here that you don’t fully understand.” 

Going to London was not a small journey. If they truly were to flee, his father would be alone. His mother would at least have Amelie, but Gabriel would have no one. “Why can’t he get help while we’re here?” 

“It’s not that simple… Do you… Do you not want to leave?” 

The last time he had spoken to his father, they were discussing modelling and working together on a design concept. He knew better than anyone that his father had demons; but they would only grow without support. Abandoning Gabriel would destroy him. “Mom, he’ll be all alone.” 

“Don’t worry about that, he’ll have Nathalie!” Emelie worked to reassure Adrien. 

“Oh, yeah… We’d need to leave Nathalie too…” The weight of the proposed journey began to crush him. 

“I swear, we can come back to visit.” Emelie began to plead. 

But he may never be the same. What if he doesn’t forgive me? He may not be the father of the year, but never seeing him again? Adrien reminiscenced on his warm memory of him and his father sitting in the kitchen, hot chocolates in hand. Gabriel was the only one who knew how to talk Adrien through his nightmares. Gabriel may not always have the time, but Emelie didn’t have the energy. 

“Mom, you go, please. If you truly think that’s what’s best, I want you to be happy. I will stay with Father.” Adrien decided that Emelie did not need him as much as Gabriel did. 

“No, I - I can’t go without you!” Emelie began to cry. She pinched her finger, outlining the tan line from her wedding ring. Maybe - maybe I should put the ring back on. No - you wanted this to be his choice. He needs to decide for himself. But this is for his safety, that was the entire concept behind the rings. No. It’s been abused too much. It’s his decision. “Please, please Adrien, we can help your father better from London than we can here.”

Adrien kneeled before his mother. “I can’t leave him. You should go, and I’ll take care of him.” 

“He’s a grown man, Adrien!” Emelie began sobbing. She just wanted him to trust her. But Adrien had always had too big of a heart; he came by that naturally. 

“I know Mom, but he’s too proud. He’ll never do it on his own. I’ll take care of him, I promise.” He pulled himself into his mother’s embrace. 

“When did you grow up so fast?” Emelie rubbed her teary cheek against Adrien’s short blonde hair. 

“Can I blame it on puberty?” Adrien hoped that he could at least bring a smile to his mother’s face. 

Rehabilitating Alone

The trap door creaked as Alya pushed it open. “Marinette? You didn’t forget did you?” Alya expected Marinette to be obsessing over outfits, or having a breakdown over gifts - definitely not the silence she had entered. 

“She’s… she’s not feeling very well…” Tikki hushly responded. 

“What’s going on, Tikki?” At least the last time Marinette succumbed to her depression, she would answer her phone. 

Before Tikki could provide an evasive answer, Marinette pulled herself up. “Alya?” Her voice was gravely from the last two days of vomiting. 

“You look like shit.” Alya’s mouth rested agape at Marinette’s complexion. Her face was white, her lips frosted with peeling skin, and she’d lost an unhealthy amount of weight. 

“Yeah, I’m… I hope the worst is over.” Marinette pushed against her temple. 

“What happened to you? I can call Nino, we’ll skip the memorial and take you to the hospital!” Alya shifted to action mode. 

“It’s okay, Alya. I already have my outfit picked out.” Her bony finger directed to a black dress on a hanger. 

Alya picked up the dress, a true Marinette design. “Girl, you can barely stand.” 

Marinette shook off her friend's concern as she ran the silk of her dress through her fingers. “For Adrien.” She mumbled. 

Nodding, Alya supported her decision, “for Adrien.”

Author's Notes:

OMG so - I love that Luka did all this to take care of Adrien, is panicking about him - but Adrien is the one who does the calming down. "It's okay, don't mind the fact that I am bleeding on a regular basis, I've got you"

-

I also really enjoyed the creation of the scene where Adrien is waking up. Because his eyes are so damn bright they still almost have cat like aspects where they reflect whatever light is there, even if it's just a crack. Making for an eerie scene.

Also - it will likely be stated later - but - Cosette/Colette are the generation before Amelie and Emelie.

As you can tell, there is still a lot to learn about the rings! There has been a lot of hints within this mini segment, but we shall see more as the tale continues to unfold.

-

The Kwamis recognize that these symptoms aren't normal, but the dark world is just a whole other bag.

-

It was mentioned in the very early chapters that Adrien was offered to leave, so that is the scene that was being referred to. Also - the abuse against him didn't get severe (still happened, but not as horrific) until Emelie passed.

Disclaimer * The characters and original plot were written and created by Thomas Astruc. This writing is merely an interpretation in a sad gay type of way.

[reposhillo]

Because once again I find writing little snippets and scenarios of my Davy Jones and Lucemond au is much easier than trying to plan a whole cohesive ass fic so here we have a few tidbits I wanted to indulge myself in. Title of the snippets will probably be the title for the actual chapters if I ever get around to writing the whole thing...

So yeah, part one out of I don’t know how many snippets I’ll post, but just to keep this idea alive long enough for me to actually write it. 

Au: Lord of the Abyssal Tides

Reunion

Lucerys finds himself frozen as Blackwell and Corvis drag Aemond further along the deck, each of his arms lodged between a pincer and a tentacle respectively as they haul their ‘catch’ towards Lucerys himself. He finds his breath stolen away as an amethyst colored eye snaps towards his face, and Lucerys cannot pinpoint the exact emotion hidden within the singular gaze. Madness...perhaps hatred still for finding Lucerys alive. Perhaps he had heard the rumors and sailed Vhagar to hunt down The Dutchman and finish off Lucerys for good. Perhaps-

“Ahhh...and what’s this we have dragged on board me ship lads?” A voice drawls from behind Lucerys, and soon he finds the familiar sensation of waterlogged and chilled fingertips card through the back of his curls, followed by the suction pads of the tentacle that made up of the owner’s pointer finger sling through his hair and curl over his neck. Lucerys shouldn’t find the touch as grounding and comforting as he did, but nonetheless his rigid posture softened just a bit. He chanced a glance upwards, but Davy seemed much more interested in the drenched silver haired prince his crew had drug onboard.

“I believe Captain Jones-” Aemond surprisingly pipes up, spitting out the title like it was a foul tasting word to grace his lips, and Lucerys can feel Davy’s signature twitches as he’s addressed. “That you are in possession of something that belong to me. And I intend to have it back.”

“Oh~ Do you now, lad? Are you perhaps this ‘one-eyed’ maddened beast I’ve heard so many whispers from the dead and dying about? The one who sent this pup to me in the first place?” Davy quips, tugging at Luke’s curls sharply before releasing his hair and stomping his crab leg to make an audible thump among the warped wooden boards below him as he stalked towards Aemond.

Reunion (Part Two)

Lucerys can feel Aemond’s stare like a physical touch upon his pale body, and he has to fight the urge to hide himself away from Aemond seeing what has become of him. He knows his uncle’s eye is glued to the the few gills that are split along the sides of his neck, along with the starfish that has stubbornly embedded itself on his chest, right where his heart still beat. All in all, not too dramatic or gut wrenching changes that most of the other crew members have endured, but still different.

Changed.

“Please...” He croaks, unable to meet Aemond’s gaze. “Don’t stare. I...I know I’ve become a monst-”

“No.”  Aemond’s voice sharply cuts through Luke’s plea, and it’s his tone that finally gives Luke the bravery to tilt his head to look at his uncle. “You are not. I know what monsters are Lucerys, and I would not count you among them.”

Lullaby of the Sea

“You...” Luke swallows the thick spit that has gathered in his mouth, fully sitting himself upright to watch as one of Davy’s tentacles wraps itself along the locket still playing that immersing tune. “You loved her, then?”

Luke feels his blood run cold as Davy’s gaze snaps to him, whatever fondness and warmth their conversation may have mustered up vanishing in an instant, crushing itself among the waves of Davy’s unforgiving gaze. “Love-” He hisses “Is a wretched bond. All it serves is to bind men to madness and a lifetime of regrets. I do not love her.” Davy snaps the locket close, cutting the tune off and then the Captain slams it down onto the keys of the organ.

“I-I’m sorry!” Is the only thing Luke can stammer out, flinching at the harsh sound as he shrinks down onto the damp cot that was dragged into the corner of Davy’s cabin for him. He doesn’t know what else he can do, or say to spare himself from Davy’s ire. He can hear the Captain drag himself out of the bench he was say, his crab leg making thuds against the floor as he stomped along. Luke closes his eyes, not wanting to see that chilling gaze up close as his punishment was delivered...

Only to be left to his own as Davy trudged past him, swinging his door wildly open and then slamming it with such force that sound rumbled throughout the ship. 

Luke wills his heart to stop hammering away painfully in his chest, releasing out shaky exhales as he realizes he’s not being dragged out for another set of lashes. The fear and relief intertwine in a mixture that has Luke slumping down along the cot, curling himself up as tightly and small as he could to try and sap some warmth into his flesh.

He was fine.

He would be okay.

He could get through this.

Luke’s eyes fluttered rapidly, exhaustion easily causing him to succumb to slumber. Right before his world turned dark as the inky bottoms of the abyss, Luke though he heard Arrax’s trill carry through the ship.

-

Luke barely manages to stir awake due to two very different things. One of which, a heavy and thick long coat had been laid over his person, the article of clothing easily engulfing him and also damp (as was everything on this ship, be it damp, soaked, drenched or water logged.) However, it had managed to help seep some warmth into his body.

Second thing Luke’s groggy mind managed to pick up on, was that the locket was once more playing that lullaby.

[embrassemoi]

Thrilled by the Still of Your Hand | S.B

She was on fire: the heat of her skin threatening to consume her whole. A thin sheen of sweat clung to her pliant body, surrendered to Sirius’ touch as she cried out for any sort of release. Any relief.

MASTERLIST || NAVIGATION || AO3

PAIRINGS: Sirius Black x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

CONTENT: P in V, bondage, pet names, dom!Sirius, no plot, unprotected, edging, denial, tears, choking, slapping, rough, praise, use of ‘Sir’ for Sirius, a bit of aftercare, toys

DISCLAIMER: Do not use this story as an educational reference and always practice safe sex!

Sirius Black thinks his brain is fucking broken. He’s sure of it.

The rational part knew he shouldn’t be enjoying the sight as much as he did, but she looked just so pretty. Just for him.

But she likes it too. So maybe they’re both a little fucked in the head.

The ropes, sturdy, spilled across her body. They overlapped each other, crisscrossed into a simple harness, arms bound behind her. The black ropes travelled down to her stomach and thighs, although she was still able to move her legs, albeit with difficulty, freely.

With one last meticulous knot, securing everything in place, Sirius stepped back, marvelling at his work. He ran a hand through his hair, observing his girl spread out across the bed. The ropes squeezed her breast together, making them bunch. Her eyes, wide and doe-like, were peering up at him shyly, making his cock ache.

He’s driving himself mental with anticipation.

“You look divine,” he says, chuckling as he watches her give an experimental tug at the binds, squirming to try and relieve the burning between her thighs.

His fingers run along the black ropes, shoving a couple of fingers in between where it meets flesh, giving a few tugs.

It bites into her skin deliciously, and she can’t help but give out a small mewl.

“Does this feel good?” He asks, checking for air circulation, rounding to see if her hands were fine.

“Perfect, sir,” she agrees quickly. She can’t help but try and bring him closer, struggling only to be reminded she’s at his mercy, ropes bounding her tight. Sirius only chuckles at this; bringing a large, heavy hand to stroke up and down her thigh until his thumb rested on the slit of her lips.

Their eyes finally meet again, and she watches as Sirius purses his lips together minutely, studying her. He leans in, voice soft, “Why don’t you remind me what your colours are?”

He’s giving her time for herself, to prepare, or to back out.

“Red, yellow, green.”

There was that Sirius Black smile.

Leaning in closer, his forehead rested against hers gently, eyes fluttering shut. He already felt electric.

“Care to tell me what they mean?”

“Red means stop, yellow means to slow down, green means go.”

He gives an appreciative hum. The vibration and breathy voice make it impossible not to be intoxicated by him. “That’s my good girl. Don’t hesitate to use them. What colour are you now?”

“Green.”

Sirius pressed a searing kiss to her lips. He’s fully clothed, her attire almost shredded in their haste and it gives him an edge. He’s beyond giddy, biting his lip, drinking in the power she gave him. It thumped through his veins before a dominant persona was woven on.

He grabs a nearby pillow, dropping it on the ground as his fingers snap, pointing to the ground: a clear indication that tonight he has little patience. “Down.”

On the edge of their bed, Sirius sat while she was slotted between his leg, knees on the soft pillow. With ease, he zipped his trousers down, reaching for his hard cock and gave a few quick tugs, hitting her face with his length.

Her mouth opens and with a small lick to the slit of the head, he hissed, prompting him to tilt her head to look him straight in the eyes. “Don’t tease me.”

She slides her mouth back on, bobbing away and she feels herself attempting to clench around nothing. But Sirius has other ideas as his hand, firm, pressed her head down on his cock, forcing her nose to touch his pubic bone. She gags. The pace he sets is fast, every once in a while he untangles a hand from her hair and leads her off before shoving her back on. A slew of low groans emit around her, as the image of his head thrown back is blurred with moisture, causing tears to flow down her cheeks.

“That’s it puppy,” Sirius mocked. He persisted, thrusting up as the head of his cock brushed against the roof of her mouth repeatedly. Her sputtering gags make something in Sirius nearly snap. Delighted; thrilled. “Shhh, you’re doing so well.”

He watches the way her neck bulged with his length; her mascara smeared down her cheeks, spit dibbling her chin. With a couple forceful thrusts, his hips snap upwards, firmly holding the back of her head as it triggers her to reflex. Nonetheless, he keeps her in place until pulling out with a loud groan, preventing himself from coming.

They take a moment to catch their breaths and she’s positive she’s dripping at this point. Her jaw aches, mouth hurts and he considers it before taking the sleeve of his shirt, cleaning up the spit around her lips.

“Fuckin’ filthy,” he mumbles, tracing her lips. He bends down, helping her off the floor; guiding her to sit on his thigh, still on the edge of the bed. With his hands on either side of her waist, leg straining; in an agonizingly slow rolling motion, he grinds her pussy down on him. His mouth trails over her collarbone and neck, licking a long stripe down her throat.

He breaks away, observing her messy makeup and it takes every bit of him to slow down. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Thank you for...?”

Her face burns with embarrassment. Her voice drops to a whisper and his tone made her want to look away, but she couldn't. “Thank you for letting me suck your cock.”

“Sorry, puppy,” his lips were against her ear, the lightest edge of his teeth grazing. “Couldn’t hear you. Repeat that?”

But it’s a lot. His hands were everywhere. It was hard to concentrate on anything he was saying. He smelt so good, the utter confidence he exuded was overpowering, he felt even better, and even then, slipping into a fuzzy mindset, she felt safe with him. Secured. She always does.

The ropes made her skin tender, aching. His grip tightens, continuing to rock her back and forth.

“What, now you can’t speak?” This time his voice is harsh, gritted through teeth. He pulls away, a whine coming from her as he delivers a small smack onto her face. Eyes narrowing as he played up the character. “Answer me!”

“Thank you for letting me suck your cock!”

Happy, Sirius clicks his tongue, his hand wiggles down, pinching her nipples. A shock of surprise elicited a sharp cry as he turned, laying her down on the bed.

He looms over her, fingers, long and slender, filled with rings spreading her legs wide while he sucks down on the jugular of her neck before a trail of kisses descend down to her breast, mouth closing over one of her nipples, gently tweaking the other as she relaxes into the bed.

Soft moans leave her lips, a throbbing ache going straight to her clit and Sirius has to close his eyes, desperately trying to control his breathing; too entranced by her moans.

“Please,” she pleaded, earning a sharp tug to the ropes. They dig into her skin.

“Please what?” He mocks, lips pouting, jutting out.

“Please touch me, sir.”

“I am doll,” he croons, sucking harsher, “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

A frustrated huff leaves her, head thrashing around. She doesn’t want to give him that satisfaction but caves too quickly.

“Touch my pussy, I need you so bad.” But Sirius refuses to move, instead, he tugs on the rope again, just to hear her gasp and feel her jerk.

“Pathetic little thing,” he snips at her. However, he slithers down, his long fingers, slender, filled with rings trace her slit. And Sirius smiles weakly, feeling just how wet she was and he feels the dull ache of his cock, wanting to fuck her. And he wants to give in. He still purposely avoids touching her clit, can feel her body try to wiggle around and the whines make his cock throb.

His fingers barely slip in. But he makes a pleasing noise, a menacing glint in his eyes, he circles her clit with a slick fingertip. Teasing.

She moans, he grins, moving to slip his fingers in and out of her. His face lowers, but she giggles a bit. Sirius peers up, not knowing whether or not to be offended or laugh along.

“What’s so funny?”

“Your b-beard is tickling m-me!”

His persona slips a bit, his heart swelling at the noise but he hides his face before she could see, occupying himself with his tongue lapping swiftly. He moans. Her laughing comes to a halt while he adds another finger and she shudders when he pushes them in deeper.

He’s obsessed with her. She was so beautiful, and all his.

And she revels in him.

But as she approaches her impending orgasm, Sirius can sense it, feels her walls squeeze his fingers and becomes wetter. Regrettably, he retracts. A broken half-choke, half-sob leaves her, chest heaving.

Once he knows she’s edged herself down, his hand slips between again.

He moves fast, focusing on her swollen bud as the pleasure hits her instantly. Every touch sent shockwaves of sensation through her, feeling the pure need to finish this time.

Sirius grinds against the mattress a bit, a hunger consuming him as he watches his girl jerk and squirm, noticing the trembling of her legs and blissed-out expression. He’s left searching for friction.

“Fuck,” she moans, lifting her hips off the bed as best as she could in the restraints. Her muscles flexed, feeling the frustrated tears as she realizes he’s about to move away again. When he does, this time he ghosted delicate touches over her clit, just enough to make her react.

She was on fire: the heat of her skin threatening to consume her whole. A thin sheen of sweat clung to her pliant body, surrendered to Sirius’ touch as she cried out for any sort of release. Any relief.

And he stops and sits up. From the corner of his eye, he sees the white vibrator, on their bedside, cleaned and brought out if they wanted to use it. He leans over, grabbing it with a dark smile returning to his face as she babbled beneath him.

“Sirius! Please don’t s —”

This results in a slap across her face before he rubs his hand to soothe out the pain. “Not my name.”

“Sir,” she corrects herself, “May I cum? Please? Please, please —”

But she’s cut off when a soft, trilling buzz flows through the room. Sirius’ hand stills on her thigh, spreading them further apart.

Her heart is thrilled by the still of his hand.

“I can give you more,” he breathes, “Just be good for me.”

At once, he positions the device directly on her sensitive bud; a shock shooting through her. She cried out, the switch from his mouth to the toy was grand and it caused him to click it up another dial.

Sirius is exhilarated; a cruel smirk spreading wide on his lips.

She tries to writhe around the restraints. Tries. The ropes bound her, and Sirius pressed her body down, rendering her helpless.

She hiccups, cheeks burning in humiliation as salty tears begin to escape again in anticipation that he’s going to move.

But he doesn’t.

“I — I can’t,” her chest thundered, body aflame. A panic builds because she wouldn’t be able to hold it off. And they both know it. “I’m so close.”

Sirius doesn’t move, only nodding as a sign of permission.

A rush spreads across her body. Her moans surround them both. She’s more than pleased to hear groaning ringing in her ear from Sirius, knowing he’s getting off on this too as she loses herself to the sensation.

“You should see how pretty you look right now.”

But when the orgasm is over, the vibrator still going, pressed even firmer against her oversensitive bud. The helpless position and Sirius' unrelenting, his nearly cruel presence has her panicking.

“Sir!” She shouts as the sensation slowly mixes with pain. “It’s too much.”

“Hush, puppy,” Sirius dismissed, voice bordering on indifference. “I thought you said you wanted to come? You’re fine.”

She lets out a sound between a whimper and a choked sob. At this, Sirius fucking laughs at her.

“It — ah! It hurts!”

At this, his voice turns somewhat gentle, reminding her of her safe word. She refuses to use them. With that, he clicks up the speed dial two notches up

This time, the pleasure subsides quicker than last time. It’s tenfolds sharper, intense and Sirius can’t help but appreciate how fucking beautiful he thought she was.

Her thrashing did little in attempts to get away from the continuous sensation.

“Sir!” She chants as the torture pursues. Her babbling came out as nothing decipherable.

This time, Sirius does give her a moment to breathe, grabbing the glass of water left on the stand, giving her a moment to relax, to replenish. But he flicks the toy back on, pressing her thighs together and settles the vibrator in between, holding it there for him.

“Now, I’m going to get undressed and if this slips —” He turns the dial-up again, this time to the highest setting which has her nearly screaming. “— Then you’re going to have to come another two — or maybe three times.”

It’s nearly impossible to stay still, not when every fibre of her is shaking from the previous orgasms.

An anguished cry spills out. Three was too much.

By now, Sirius is impatient, dying to feel her walls around him as he sheds his clothing. And he’s more than happy when he settles between her, seeing the vibrator still being held by trembling legs.

He leans over, rewarding this with a kiss and removing the toy. He opens her legs, falling limp to the bed. He takes his length into his hand, hissing at the touch after being unattended to for so long. He drags the tip of his cock through her folds, slapping her clit a few times with it. It’s practically drenched already.

“Colour —”

“G-green! Just fuck me!”

Sirius doesn’t need to be told twice as he slips in. Her twitching body, walls closing in on him, clenching tightly has him breathless. At this rate, he wasn’t going to last.

“Stop moving,” he says through gritted teeth, attempting to calm down. His jaw was clenched, hungry eyes roaming over her. But it’s fruitless as she continues to rock herself onto him, completely fucked out now. “Fuck,” he tugs on the rope that caused her to yelp, “Do you ever listen?”

Sirius is getting impatient, wanting his own release as he ditched his effort to ground himself, only to set a rapid, punishing pace.

“Y-you feel — ah! So — good!” Her voice jumped pitches from his pace.

She feels heavenly.

With the forgotten vibrator, Sirius clicks it back on as his hand wraps around her throat, pressing the sides of her neck. He regularly releases the pressure, bringing the vibrator to where they meet, angling it just above her clit.

Fuck, he can feel the vibrations second-hand, the sensation making his heart thump harder. She can feel his cock twitch inside, body quivering, jerking, unable to touch him how she really wants. And it makes her mewl pathetically.

He pounds into her, losing himself in her pulsing around him, combined with the vibrations that send him into a frenzy.

When Sirius finally reaches his orgasm, he knows for sure that this was the best sex he’s ever had in his life. He pulls out with a groan, his cum shooting over messily on her stomach as he watches her come with silent moaning, shuddering. His eyes are torn between closing shut, riding out his high or watching her head loll back onto the pillow behind. Even with the ropes, he has to hold her down. He milks it out, pace slowing and he immediately clicks off the toy, resting his head in the crook of her shoulder to continue to trust in. When he feels her body begin to shake, his hands tug at the ropes, pulling them loose.

Her leg twitches, unable to stay still as Sirius takes just a second to himself until moving to gently remove the ropes.

He gently rolls her to her side, making sure to untie the rope securing her hands. He quickly rubs softly over her wrist to lessen the burn, turning her again, letting her back hit the bed.

“Doll, you’re precious. You did so well. So good. I love you,” he murmurs, smoothing out any hair from her face. He can see the faint tear tracks on her cheeks and the only response he gets is a small, weak nod.

He leaves a few kisses to her temple, soothing her with sugary words that make her float high, still slipping in and out of that floaty, clouded headspace.

“What’s your colour, my love?” She mouths out green and Sirius takes that as a good sign. “Is it okay if I can touch you?” Another nod. He sits up, bringing her to his lap, holding her tight against his chest. Her head was tucked into his neck, a warmth spread across her body as he grabbed that glass of water, making her drink all of it.

“You’re amazing. I’m so proud of you,” he continues to whisper, knowing the deep vibrations from his vocal cords assist to reassure her. “You’re so, so, so good for me sweetheart. I love you.”

“That…” Her voice was quiet. “Was… amazing.”

Sirius chuckles, she joined along, both basking in a warm, hazy feeling.

“Was there anything you didn’t like?” He quickly askes, keeping his voice no louder than a murmur to prevent her from growing too overwhelmed. “Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head, facing him. “I’m okay.” His hand moved to cup her cheek for a fleeting moment before she pressed a series of kisses to his skin. As much as this was aftercare for her, he needed it too.

Sirius, feeling a giddy, almost schoolboyish excitement jumped through him, leaned down, attacking her skin with dozens of pecks across her face, making her giggle, filling her heart with nothing but the feeling of love. She's floating in that deep calm, more profound than any sleep. Almost with a swirling graze, butterflies fluttered, tendons wrapping around them in the pits of their stomach.

She wonders if she could drunk on the lips of a god.

“Doll, do you want to get cleaned up? Put some of that cream where those ropes were?”

“Shower?”

Sirius barks out a laugh, his ego swelling up a bit. “A shower? Can you even walk?”

She softly slaps his chest, eyes-rolling. “Shut up.”

And she feels safe with him. Secured. She always does. Both of their hearts were thrilled by each other.

© gotkindabored 2021. Do not repost or modify

[sith-shenanigans]

Oh! I have a fun additional fact here! Did you (specific you or generic you) know that Horak-Mul was actually part of his era’s equivalent to the Council? It’s certainly another reason why it’s helpful that he’s the one who stays if you release (but don’t redeem) the ghosts. Full disclosure: even my secondary-canon LS inquisitor didn’t redeem the ghosts. Both because it’s not a great decision and because she’s not… actually light. She’s still a darksider, she’s just a really weird one.

But I think the decision to keep/release the ghosts is really one of the places where the game is most successful at making the less-moral option make more sense to do… despite them not making it an alignment decision at all, for some reason. Because you’re right, it’s much more rational to keep the power—the only reason not to, if you didn’t bargain with the first three ghosts (so they can’t just leave anyway), is if you decide that you’d rather risk it than continue to keep a bunch of dead people in spiritual shock collars for their power and knowledge.

(The inquisitor story has some very compelling themes about “now that you’re free, how willing are you to enslave others in turn?”, almost none of which fully get followed through with, which is why my fic version of it is dripping with them, damn it.)

So when Ahene makes the decision, she thinks very strongly about keeping the ghosts. It’s the logical option. It’s the only thing that makes sense to do. She might be fairly powerful on her own, but she traded full access to it for precision and endurance and a talent for esoteric perception-based Force tricks. She certainly doesn’t have the sheer raw strength that would be required to match her new “peers” when she has so little experience. But it’s also a decision, very specifically, to violate one of the few ideals she has left—not just out of immediate necessity, but for good.

(It’s worth noting that the act of Forcewalking has psychological effects on the person who does it, in my fics. Binding much more so than bargaining, but learning the ritual means taking a hollow place in your soul—one carved out by grief, one where you already keep your metaphorical dead—and teaching it to want.)

There’s no reason to let the ghosts go. If there’s no reason to let them go… is there a reason to stop at four? Certainly not a moral one. The Mother Machine’s ritual doesn’t seem to acclimate you to a specific number. There is every option to just keep going.

She lets them leave because she doesn’t think that path leads to any end she’d want.

She is very glad that Horak-Mul stays, because she really does need him.

(And none of this is to argue with your logic—because it really is completely accurate—but to present what I think the main compelling reason to make the illogical decision is.)

(…Nobody is ever redeeming those ghosts.)

The ending to the Sith Inquisitor storyline where the Inquisitor keeps the spirits bound to themselves is objectively the best ending if they're going to continue being Dark Lord of the Sith.

It just makes sense in every conceivable way.

You're now Darth [Nox, Imperius, Occulus], Dark Lord of the Sith, and Most Honourable Councillor Sphere of Ancient Knowledge of the Council of Dark Lords. It's known that membership to the Dark Council can sometimes last months if not days. Regardless of your wants, you are now in a very dangerous position, because you've got any ambitious Sith Lord within your own sphere (who undoubtedly has had more experience than you) looking to bring you down: more if your policies are distinctly unpopular.

Meanwhile, as a Sith Lord, you've only had three years, minimum, worth of experience. We can fudge the numbers a bit for the sake of headcanon. I personally think time at the Sith Academy lasts up to three years, so my 'Quisitor would have six years worth of Sith-ly training under their belt.

I don't know about you, but having just bound several spirits of Sith Lords long since passed, granting me a possible form of immortality, on top of whatever enhancements the Mother Machine and the Forbidden Gormak Ritual entailed, sounds like a good idea to just... keep them.

Also, also, you now have several Sith Lords bound to you: you know, experienced Sith who could logically give you advice about how to act as a Dark Lord and Councillor of the Dark Council? Sure, they might not have any direct experience, and depending on your relationship with them, it might prove difficult to get the advice in the first place, but it's still invaluable knowledge to covet. Also, you might just be able to force the spirits to comply?