#the only other time I cried like this was during rising storm..

[cattstep]

This broke me

[snoopyana]

one night.

the sequel.

“can i be with you just one night? i can wear you out inside.”

in which you meet eunseok at a basketball game, after your boyfriend, wonbin, left you alone during a heated argument— and eunseok swoops in to temporarily take his spot.

song eunseok. smut. darkish? eunseok drops his whole “i care for you” facade and blames you for the whole situation in the end.

everyone knew what was going on behind the bleachers. it wasn’t necessarily a private place to argue. definitely not to argue about you eyeing his teammates a bit too long for wonbins liking. you had no ill intention behind your gaze, but he thought otherwise. his voice gradually rising in volume when you denied having any interest in any of the other guys. it was almost as if he wanted to say you had a thing for his members.

“oh my god, what’s your problem??” you cut the man off mid-sentence. the bickering had gone on for so long that his members would peek their heads in to make sure anything was alright. “my problem? my problem is how you were basically glazing them with your eyes.” that was far from the truth, and he knew it. wonbin only said that once he finally saw the other men listening in.

“are you SERIOUS right now? you ASKED me to come and watch you guys practice and that’s what i’m doing. do you expect me to only look you? god forbid i’m not an airhead all the time and actually act interested in what’s happening around me??” wonbin stared at you dumbfounded. his eyes blown, fist clenched. “i’m done.” walking past his teammates, he snatched up his duffel bag before storming out the gym.

rubbing your temple, you finally let go of your emotions. eyes stinging as the argument looped in your mind. “oh my fucking god.” slipped past your lips as you made your way from underneath the bleachers. quickly being were surrounded by the rest of his team and bombarded with “are you okay?” which only tipped you over the edge. going from a small stream running down your cheeks to full crocodile tears.

their words quickly turning into hesitant hugs as you broke down in the middle of the court. eunseok lead you over back to the bleachers, this time to sit down and most importantly — calm down. the others stood in a semicircle around you two. you face falling into the palms of your hands as you continued your small emotional crisis. silence followed as eunseok rubbed your back, the others standing there simply for emotional relief. looking at their phones, sungchan was the first to speak up.

“hey, we gotta get going. but if you ever need anything, i’m pretty sure we’d all be willing to help. right? just call or text.” his sentence was followed by a bunch of “mhms” and head nods. stepping over to your side, sungchan ruffled your hair before walking to pick up his stuff. signaling for the rest to follow. “you coming eunseok?” anton turned back to you two, realizing eunseok was still seated. “no, she still needs a way to get home, wonbin had driven them here and clearly he left already.”

nodding his head, anton waved goodbye to his friend, giving you another glance before letting the door close behind him. the buzz from the overhead lights and your sniffles echoed through the open area. he continued to draw circles on your back until light cries and sniffles turned into light breathing. searching his pockets, eunseok pulled out his phone. ‘8:46PM’ stared back at him. it had been close to an hour since wonbin stormed out, and 20 minutes since the boys left.

as he looked at his screen, he could feel your body shift. finally lifting your head up from your hands — glancing over, eunseok put his phone down to move small pieces of hair that stuck to your face. wiping your cheeks with the back of his hand as well. “you alright now? i can take you home or we can just sit a little longer.” moving his hand from your back to your shoulder. “i don’t wanna,” you spoke in between sniff ,” see him right now.” it had completely slipped his mind, you two lived together. “oh yeah, sorry. i can just drive you around if you want.”

giving him a quick nod, eunseok helped you to your feet — slipping his hand around your waist as he led you out the building and into the parking lot. opening the passenger door for you, he made sure you were situated before going to his respective seat. starting the vehicle, the first part of the drive was filled with silence and eunseok making random turns as you stared out the window.

“so,” he finally decided to break the silence after nearly 10 minutes, “what happened back there?” coming to a stop, the red from the light illuminated your face. “he was being fucking stupid. saying i was ‘checking you guys out’ when i was just watching.” huffing, you let your head fall back onto the seat. “like does he not trust me around other dudes or something? but if i started to act like that when he’s around women i’d be in the wrong!” crossing your arms under your chest as you thought about the whole situation. tears threatening to roll down your face for the second time tonight. “hey its okay, calm down.” reaching over, he rubbed your leg — thinking nothing of it for the time being.

“god. i swear he just wants me to cheat or something.” looking ahead, you took notice to eunseoks’ now still hand. eyes darting over to him, his eyes were glued to the road. “what’s stopping you?” the question caught you by surprise. “because i..”

you wanna say love him. don’t you?

eunseok pulled into a vacant lot. “because you what? you love him?” he was now facing you, waiting for a response. eunseoks hand lingering on your thigh. you sat in silence.

spit it out. you don’t. at least not right now.

“no. i.. i don’t.” humming in response, eunseok leaned over the center console. lips ghosting yours. he stayed like that in silence, his eyes glued to your lips. you were quick to close the distance. lips colliding with his.

when was the last time you felt this way? this desperate. how would wonbin feel if he saw you right now?

eunseoks hands found their way your neck, pushing you closer into him. his lips curling into a smile when you whined. pulling away, a quiet snicker slipped from his lips as you caught your breath. eyes blown and lips already puffy. “get in the back.” opening the car door, eunseok walked to the back while you quickly crawled through the center. once he was seated, he tapped his lap — which you eagerly sat down in. thighs on the sides of his while his arms stretched over your waist.

it’s not too late to stop you know.

pushing the thoughts to the back of your mind, his lips found their way back to yours. feeling a little more relaxed, arms wrapping around his neck. a few minutes passed before the sound of your phone buzzing snapped you out of your trance. reaching for your purse, eunseok started to grind his hips into yours.

it’s him, isn’t it?

guilt started to kick in, this is cheating. “he’s asking where i am..” looking at eunseok, your eyes quickly started to gloss over. “tell him you went to a friends house. he doesn’t need to know you’re with me.” there was hesitation in your eyes, but you did as he said. throwing your phone to the side, his lips found yours again. a slight tremble in your touch while your hands snaked through his hair, and he noticed. his hand slipped under your shirt, massaging the skin — while his other cupped your cheeks.

it felt so intimate. would wonbin do this? did wonbin do this?

that feeling would quickly fade as eunseoks’ once gentle hands roughly pulled at your jeans. helping him, you tugged at the material, pushing it down until they laid on the car seat. pushing you to sit on his knees, the man pulled his sweats down just enough for his dick to spring up. “come on, we gotta make it quick.”

he seemed so much pushier now, what happened?

shuffling up to his lap once more, eunseok spits in his palm. giving his cock a few pumps before tapping onto your thighs — causing your body to automatically hover over his. lining himself up, the male pushed you down onto his hard-on. the stretch being even more intense from the lack of prep.

seems like he doesn’t care anymore.

he was now buried deep inside your cunt, giving you the bare minimum of time to adjust before snapping his hips into yours. eunseoks head resting in the nook of your neck — biting at the skin. “hey, no.. no marks.” but did he listen? of course not. biting harder as his pace increased. he didn’t even bother to talk to you. wasn’t this supposed to be distressing you? why aren’t you enjoying it as much now?

he was quick to finish, pulling out and jerking his way to his own climax. but you hadn’t reached yours. opening your mouth to speak, your words were cut off before they could even come out. “he’s outside, hurry up and get out so you can go home.” pushing your body onto the seat next to him, eunseok was quick to stuff himself back into his pants. opening the car door, wonbin stood just outside. eunseok slipped out, standing next to the other male. a small smile plastered on his lips — your lip gloss coating his face.

“this is your fault by the way. should have gone home.”

note- hii. i wanted to try and venture out of my comfort zone a little with my writing style AND themes. nothing too intense for now. i kinda liked writing this though. i will say it’s not one of my best works but hey, we live and we learn. if you guys enjoyed, please do tell me. i’d love to hear some feedback. also, can we tell i’m a little head-over-heels for car sex? like woah.

note 2- ALSO, took me less than 10 days to write another fic? are we proud of me guys? i feel like thats an accomplishment, im getting more confident in my craft.

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 16: Touch

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes is a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: Nyra becomes flustered as Azriel rewrites the meaning of touch for her. After returning from the Battle of Adriata, Azriel recognises his home. 

THE ROMANCE FINALLY FINALLY BEGINS!!!

@feerique always and eternally grateful to you!!✨✨

Word count: 6k (Enjoy!!)

Warnings: feeling tainted after unwanted touch, Az being hot, some very nice touching between Azriel and Nyra (not smutty but very giggleworthy if you know what I mean)

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

Nyra woke up in complete darkness. Her upper body had just begun to rise when something pulled her back to her reclining state. Whatever it was, it was placed over her waist. 

She patted whatever that was and identified it as an arm. She made contact with something smooth and it suddenly glowed blue. Her fingers were covering the source of that blue light and she removed them from it and found a scarred hand. Azriel? 

Nyra turned her head to the other side and found a silhouette but the blue light was not enough to illuminate his face properly but it was him. The information that she was with Azriel gave Nyra a sense of relief. She closed her eyes and felt more comfortable with each passing second.

She focused on remembering what had happened. The library, a conversation about Nesta, and running. Two males. Powder. Feeling powerless. 

Nyra had never felt the need to let go of all control before. Not even during her first dinner here when her rage took over.  

And then that male, he’d threatened to violate her. 

She’d frozen. 

And there was a voice from another type of darkness which wasn’t what she was now surrounded by. From thereon, it was a blur. Her power bursting forth, the male letting her go, the smell of something burning, blurry vision, and a sudden sense of safety and comfort. 

And the memory of that male holding her wrist and whispering all of that still made her feel helpless even when she was here. She closed her eyes and even the dark behind her eyelids did not help. Nyra rose again, removing Azriel’s arm from her, and looked around. Something sounded like the faint whistling of the wind. 

Nyra bit her lips, rested her elbows on her thighs, held her head, and tried to find some courage behind the curtain of her hair. She knew she’d failed when the first tear escaped her. And all of it poured and Nyra forced herself to be quiet. 

Tears were fine but she had to be quiet. She’d always cried quietly. 

Nobody had to know. 

Nobody could know. 

Because she was Nyra. 

The emotionally stable and dependable one. 

The older sister. 

The emotional anchor. 

And it didn’t matter if anchors had to drown to give that support. 

Did it? 

Nyra felt strong arms lift her and settle her down somewhere. She felt her hair be tucked away behind her ears. Hands cupped her cheeks and thumbs wiped her tears. And when she met Azriel’s gaze, patience and understanding in them, she’d realised how much she’d been tainted. 

Her wrist seemed to burn where it had been grabbed. Her waist and her back where the male’s other hand had touched her. Something filthier and dirtier than mud or blood or even carcass had tainted her skin—the essence of an unwanted touch. 

And she felt like it would never leave. No matter how many times she bathed, or scrubbed that part of her skin, it would be ingrained into her blood and bones and maybe even her soul. 

Nyra cried silently for a while before she began wailing and he only hugged her tighter. When her cries slowly ended, she pulled herself away and looked at him. Two blue siphons illuminated the space between them as though they were floating. Azriel cupped her cheeks and wiped her tears with his thumbs. He rested his forehead on hers and whispered back. “It’s me.” 

A sob escaped her. 

“I’m here.” His words seemed to invite more sobs. “I’m here.” And Azriel whispered it over and over as Nyra nodded, tears still falling. 

Once her eyes and cheeks hurt and her supply of tears had drained out, she sat quietly. Azriel was still close and she knew he was watching. Waiting. “I-”

“Shh.” He pressed an index finger over her lips. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“You talk only when you want to. Only when you’re ready.” He looked at her kindly. “Understand?” 

She felt like a child and she nodded wordlessly, sniffling through her runny nose. Azriel produced a handkerchief from the dark and made her blow her nose in it. 

“You don’t owe anybody anything. And if anybody presses you, I’ll deal with them.” He took her face in his hands. “All right?” 

All right? How did she already feel like she was being saved? Like everything would be all right? 

“I can’t forget it.” It was a whisper but Azriel heard it like the first decree of the Mother herself. He knew exactly what she was referring to. “And I can’t stop feeling that. . . the way he. . .” 

The icy raging beast within him roared at the mere thought of another male touching his mate. The rational part of him was ready to draw blood. And the part of him that dedicated itself to Nyra overpowered all of it with one objective—to care for her. 

Azriel lifted his hand, palm open for her to give her own. Nyra gave him her hand after a moment of contemplation and then tilted her head in that confused manner which he’d always found adorable. He lifted their hands, wrists now at eye level. The cuts by the marks of nails had healed back into her perfect skin. His thumb caressed the inside of her wrist. 

Nyra swallowed. She was acutely aware of his touch, the way his hand held that wrist and the thumb that was caressing her vein. 

“May I touch you?” Under the blue light, Azriel was dangerously beautiful. His gaze was heated in a way that would threaten her consciousness any moment now. 

“You’re already touching me.” Nyra was nervous. She’d seen females fawn over him in Velaris when they’d walked together. She’d even seen males take a second and longer look. That was how attractive he was. 

“Not in the way I intend to.” 

Nyra felt her body rouse at his words. She swallowed her spit and asked. “And how do you intend to touch me?” 

“I intend to make you remember me.” 

Oh, she was probably going to faint. Or maybe she already had and she was dreaming and she would soon faint in her dream. Or she might scream. Because rationality no longer existed. 

She’d just had a bad experience with a male. Shouldn’t she be cursing all males? Be hyper-aware if any of them existed in her vicinity? Refuse physical contact?

But here was Azriel, enticing her with his breathing, his voice, his eyes, and his very existence. He’d always had the ability to draw her attention from the rest of the world. And what he’d said just now, and how he was looking at her—she felt her body react. Stupidly perfect male.

Did Azriel even know what a flaw was because it certainly didn’t seem like it. He’d probably never even heard of words like ‘imperfect’ or ‘flawed’. Why would he when he was anything but? 

Her breasts were heavier than ever. Anticipation churned in her belly, descending and dragging her into madness. Nyra’s thighs clenched. Oh gods, she was getting aroused but she shouldn’t. What if this was just a friendly touch? A friendly touch to only inspect her wrist and maybe give her a hug? Or a hand squeeze? 

And why were his eyes looking at her like a predator? Like he’d devour her if given the chance. 

“May I?” Nyra’s heart nearly shot up to her throat as Azriel asked for consent. Was he asking for a chance to devour her? Gods, she needed to stop reading all those erotic thrillers in the name of horror and stop deluding herself. 

“What exactly-”

“I’m going to kiss your wrist, Nyra.” Azriel heard her breathing grow heavier. This was not the right way. He’d resolved to behave and he couldn’t care for it. Not when she needed to be convinced that she was not tainted. And he needed to be the one to tell her. 

And after an agonising few moments that felt far longer than they actually were, Nyra breathed. “Yes.” 

Azriel lifted her wrist and kissed it. He pressed featherlight kisses on the nerves, the back of her wrist, and ascended to the palm of her hand. 

“Remember me.” His voice was gentle yet unyielding. Azriel was beginning to suck and lick and bite every now and then.

“You see your wrist, you’re going to remember how my touch feels right now.” It was a command. One with no exceptions. 

Nyra blanked out the moment his lips touched her skin. Her body had been ignited, her soul now starving for him. Sense, rationality, mind—she’d lost them all. 

“Do you want me anywhere else?” Azriel’s words made her feel like her head would release steam with how warm she was feeling. Her eyes were wide and she was bashful enough to look away. 

“Nyra?”

“Yes.” 

“Shall we stop here or do you want me anywhere else?” She shut her eyes tightly and the memory of that male grabbing her waist and pulling her against himself came back. She opened her eyes quickly as though she was escaping a nightmare. Her breathing became heavier.

“He grabbed my waist.” Nyra whispered, her gaze still averted. Azriel’s arm circled her waist and grabbed her side. 

“Anything else?” 

“. . . pulled me closer.” Azriel gently tugged at her waist, helping her change her sitting position so that she was now on her knees with her legs on either side of his own. 

“Sit down, love.” Azriel encouraged. “Make yourself comfortable.” Nyra obeyed.

She was hesitant and it was heartbreaking for him to see the aftermath of the library incident. 

Touch should’ve been consensual for her. It should’ve been pleasurable—an opportunity to explore her sexual interests. It shouldn’t have been polluted by unworthy lowlifes. 

“What are we doing?” Nyra was anxious about how this would change everything between them but she was also excited. 

“Only what you’re comfortable with. You tell me and we’ll stop immediately, no questions asked.” And even as Azriel said that, he wanted a chance. Not to simply touch her or help her but to love her too. 

He knew he wasn’t perfect but greed was a flaw and even the flawed wanted to love as much as they wanted to be loved. Because he wanted every bit of the person Nyra was and he wanted her to want him back. He needed her to want him back.

So when Nyra sat herself on his lap, adjusted her legs, and looked up at him, Azriel’s grip on the flesh of her hips tightened. 

He knew this was dangerous and the only reason why he was still doing it was because of his shadows. They were loyal to her and they swore they’d restrain him if he couldn’t, that they’d kill him if he went too far.

The light from his siphons had dimmed and that was good. The sight of her straddling him would have been anything but helpful right now. 

For now, they remained like this. Him holding that wrist with one hand and the other hand wrapped around her waist tightly. 

“Do you need anything else?” Azriel tentatively asked, hoping that she’d say no. 

“No.” She mumbled into his shoulder. It was dangerous to ask anymore. To act on anything else. 

Azriel had no idea how his shadows were hiding his aroused cock while Nyra was directly sitting on it. Probably the same way they enveloped his wings whenever he didn’t need them hovering on his back during missions. 

He caressed her spine firmly and he thought he was doing fine until Nyra moved her face. Their cheeks were now lightly brushing against each other, eyes half closed in desire or fatigue. He could see her lashes, thick and wet from her tears and if there were more light, maybe he could see the redness too. Wet lips were parted and her breath was directly fanning his cheek now. 

“Nyra?” And as if woken from a haze, she quickly met his gaze. She looked like someone caught doing something, wide eyed, and a little fearful. 

“Do you need anything? Water? Food?” Me? He wished he could offer himself. 

Nyra calmed down and looked at their conjoined hands illuminated by a siphon. She squeezed his hand. “Thank you.” 

And he did not know how to respond to her gratitude with anything except honesty. “Always.”

“Do you need the toilet?” Azriel began. “Your cycle is. . .” He trailed away, embarrassed to continue and wary about saying anything that might accidentally offend her.

“Now that you’ve reminded me. . . yes. I need to go.” Upon her words, the shadows unravelled from above, revealing Nyra’s room in the House of Wind. The ceiling came into sight first, and then the crimson walls. Furniture, windows and the balcony and finally, the floors. 

And among their surroundings, Nyra and Azriel saw each other. They were on the bed with Nyra straddling his lap and Azriel’s hands on her hip and wrist. 

“I should. .” Nyra rose and with ease and grace, removed herself from the bed. Azriel wordlessly watched as she head towards her bathing chambers and then stopped. 

“Are you. . .” She paused. “Do you have to. . .” She looked at her hand on the handle of the door. “Will you go and talk to Rhys now? About what. . .” Nyra’s breath hitched as Azriel moved and sat at the edge of the bed. He stood up, sauntered towards her, touched her cheek. 

“Where do you want me?” Nyra wholeheartedly believed that was the perfect time to faint. 

Her head was beginning to spin with the double meaning she’d spotted. And now, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

“Nyra.” He held her cheek firmly.

“Huh?” She was still in a daze. 

“Rhys just contacted me. He wants to meet us all but if you do not want to, we can stay here.”

“Why would you stay here if I don’t want to go?”

“You really think I’m going to stay away after what happened?” Nyra watched his gaze become powerful. It was intense and the air around them was probably vibrating. “I’m going to watch over you. At least for the next few hours.” The back of his fingers gently grazed her cheek. “I need to watch over you.” He brought their foreheads together. 

“This does not entail following me into the bathroom, does it?” Nyra asked with a teasing grin. Azriel blinked and then threw his head back for a laugh. 

Nyra thanked whatever power that governed the world for the success of her attempt at dissipating the romantic or intense or sexual or whatever mood with humour. She would’ve pulled him in for a kiss and much more if he kept looking at her like that. 

“No.” He finally spoke. 

“Okay. Give me five minutes. And then you can freshen up and we can meet everyone.”

“Are you sure?” 

Nyra looked him in the eye. Hesitation, anguish, rage—all the emotions that were hers were reflected in him. And the fact that he understood her feelings and felt what she felt encouraged her. “Yes.”

****

Nesta marched over to her and gathered her in an embrace. Elain was next. Feyre kidnapped Nyra to hold her hand and to stand next to her. 

Rhysand looked at her and placed a hand on her head. His eyes were shut and anguish remained on his face for everyone to see. He opened his eyes and kissed her forehead, all while the twins held each other. Nyra did not understand why there were so many emotions on his face. So much pain and guilt that she’d wondered what her brother-in-law was actually thinking about. 

Once everyone was in the room, the High Lord commenced the meeting. “The priestesses will keep silent about what happened today. And the people of this city won’t learn why Amren is now preparing to hunt. We can’t afford to let the other High Lords know. It would unnerve them—and destabilise the image we’ve worked so hard to create.”

“The attack on Velaris already showed we’re vulnerable.” Mor countered.

“That was a surprise attack, which we handled quickly. Az made sure the information came out portraying us as victors—able to defeat any challenge Hybern throws our way.” 

Nyra wondered when Azriel had the time to do all of that when he was with her for so long. She looked at the shadows near his neck and shoulders and assumed they were working on his behalf. The shadows on her own shoulders were simply playing with her hair and rooting her to reality in a way she needed. 

“We did that today.” Feyre spoke from Nyra’s right. 

“It’s different. The first time, we had the element of surprise to excuse us. This second time. . . it makes us look unprepared. Vulnerable. We can't risk that getting out before the meeting in ten days. So for all appearances, we will remain unruffled as we prepare for war.” 

War was a reality. And Nyra felt fine. Why did she? Had the Cauldron shown so much that war was not more impactful than a quarrel with a neighbour. Her head was beginning to ache. 

“A war where we have no allies beyond Keir, either in Prythian or beyond it.” Mor dimmed, sagging against the cushion.

“The queen might come.” Elain sounded like she was lost in a dream. 

“What queen?” Nesta asked. 

“The queen who was cursed.”

“Cursed by the Cauldron. When it threw its tantrum after you and Nyra.” Feyre looked at Nesta as she spoke and squeezed Nyra’s hand. 

“No. Not that one. The other.” Elain clarified.

“Vassa?” Nyra asked. 

“The queen with the feathers of flame.”

“Show me.” Nyra raised her hand. Elain walked over and took her hand. Nyra saw the image of a woman wailing and screaming and then it was replaced by a firebird, bright and magnificent. 

“Oh, that’s Vassa.”

“How do you recognise a woman you’ve never met before?” Mor asked.

“I wrote a lot of letters. I know enough about the human lands.” Nyra replied coolly.

Nesta paled at the mention of those letters. Nyra had started writing like anything. Letters related to their father’s business. Correspondences with acquaintances. Exchanging information. And some other shady business she had no idea how Nyra got involved in. Most of the servants in their manor had been saved from being trapped in dark things like kidnapping, slavery, and even prostitution. Nesta knew the power of words but the way Nyra wielded them was dangerous. 

“Letters?” Mor asked.

“Oh, she corresponded with a lot of people. Knows a lot of stuff.” Nesta looked Nyra in the eye. “It was a dangerous endeavour.”

“It’s been over a decade since the last time I was in danger because of humans.” Nyra held her gaze unflinchingly. 

Nesta broke the stare, sighing. She rested her elbow on the armrest and supported her cheek with her palm. “As you please, señorita.” 

Nyra chuckled. She looked at Nesta with fond amusement before turning to Azriel. “Vassa. Full name, Vasalisa Marila Beauharnais. Twenty six years old. Queen of Scythia. Golden brown skin. Red hair with gold strands here and there. Same height as Mor. Right now, she is malnourished as I saw from what Elain showed me. Has a birthmark of an irregularly circular shape on her abdomen. Three moles on her face—one near the right eye, one beneath her left ear, one above her left brow right before it arches.”

Silence followed.

“How the hell do you know so much about her?” Feyre asked, astounded.

“I know more.” Nyra raised a brow. “Her armies, they’re horse riders so the cavalry is very impressive. Not much infantry but brutally efficient. Decently skilled artillery. Totalling to twenty seven thousand eight hundred and twenty six personnel. Her political advisors include her father, two of said father’s illegitimate children formally titled as the Viscount of Estea and the Baron of. . why are you looking at me like that?” 

Feyre continued to gape, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. “I mean. . .” Feyre was fumbling right now. “I knew you were knowledgeable but about people?”

“I like to be thorough.” She turned to see how Mor and Cassian were also surprised. She looked at Azriel who was smirking. “Isn’t that normal?”

“And when did you think of learning all this?” Cassian asked with genuine curiosity.

“When Elain wanted to buy a horse.” 

“And?” 

“Scythia is known for their horses. They have good breeds of those there.”

“So you decided to learn everything about them before purchasing a horse?” Rhysand mused.

“Yes.” And to Nyra, it was the most obvious thing on the planet. 

And Azriel was so fucking proud of her that he couldn’t help his smirk. There was someone else in the world who appreciated knowing everything, analysing everything. Someone who loved collecting information as much as he did. And Azriel felt like he was going to float, thinking that the Cauldron did pair him up with the person so fucking perfect for him. 

“All right. I’ve got it.” Azriel finally spoke. Nyra nodded at him. 

“And you.” Nyra turned to Elain. “You are definitely seeing something.”

“The Cauldron made you a seer.” Azriel added.

Elain blinked, looking between Nyra and Azriel. She then looked at Mor who confirmed the truth of it with her power. 

“And the curse you mentioned? About Vassa being a firebird? 

“They sold her to some darkness. . . to some sorcerer-lord.” Elain shook her head with shut eyes. “I can never see him. What he is. There is an onyx box that he possesses, more vital than anything. . . save for them. The girls. He keeps other girls—others so like her but she. .  . By day, she is one form, by night, human again.” 

“A bird of burning feathers.” Feyre muttered.

“Firebird by day, woman by night. So she’s held captive by this sorcerer-lord?”

“I don’t know.” Elain’s teary eyes found Nyra. “I hear her screaming. With rage. Utter rage. . .” Elain shuddered as if a cold breeze had kissed her. 

Once Elain had revealed all that she knew about Vassa, Nyra frowned. She was even more anxious as Lucien offered to go find Vassa. The meeting was beginning to end as Rhys began rolling out orders to the Inner Circle. Azriel came by and touched her cheek before winnowing away. 

The next day, Hybern made its grand move in the form of an attack on Adriata.

****

She’d been reading a book on channelling pure energy when Rhys had contacted her mind to mind. Nyra?

Rhys? 

Mind if I borrow some of your power? 

All right. Nyra contemplated something for a second and then asked again. Right now? 

Yes.

Do you know how?

Do you feel our bargain? There was a tug on her right hand. Nyra looked at the tattoo that had appeared back when Rhysand made his promise to her regarding his possible courting and marriage with Feyre. 

Yes. 

From there, you can share. Don’t share too much. I’ll be careful from my side too. And don’t worry. You’ve got this. 

Nyra felt that tattoo of a crescent moon decorated with flora. 

She was now in her island with a bridge in front of her and on the other side, the night sky lay in its vast glory. As she crossed it, Nyra admired the purplish hues in the dark illuminated by countless stars. 

Nyra spotted Rhys standing at the middle of the bridge. He extended a hand and she took it. She sent a wave of her power, slowly releasing it. And another. And another.

“That’s more than enough. Thank you.” Rhys immediately retreated his hand. “I’ll explain when we return.” And his figure vanished from the bridge, indicating that he’d closed the connection from his side. 

Nyra remained on that bridge watching the night sky and wondering why she wanted to cry. She crouched on that bridge and wondered what the grief was. Why the sudden burst of sorrow? 

“He was my brother.” A voice spoke. A little ball of light was floating next to her. It materialised into a young girl whom she had seen in her mind a few times. In the archives when she was sorting them, in the Cauldron when her soul had nearly been ripped away from her body. 

And who are you?

I’m you. And the girl vanished into a silver, glittery mist. 

Nyra looked at the night. She stood up, turned around and walked away. She had reached her own realm, the island when she spotted a thread on her left hand, tied to her ring finger. The thread extended and was slightly scattered but it led to the forest she had once visited. The one with the lake. 

Shadows moved around the forest as an active element, a threat to anyone who dared near the forest. And despite that, when Nyra walked closer, a few shadows swarmed near her and fussed over her like Azriel’s shadows did. 

“Welcome.” They whispered. “Welcome, mistress.”

Nyra raised her hand as the shadows approached her, a habit owing to how much Azriel’s shadows played with her hands and how much she adored them. But then she let her hand drop to her side. 

“I have to go.” She whispered. “Nesta is waiting for me. And we’re waiting for everyone.”

She closed her eyes, remembering the feeling that had taken her away from her island before. She let it wash over her.

Nyra woke up, standing exactly where she’d been. The book remained in her hand with the same page open. Her other hand was suspended in the air and Nyra felt the roar of her thunder echo somewhere far away. Her eyes burned and she let herself travel. 

Turquoise waters with sand so white it could be called snow under the moonlight. But there were too many people, too many screams, too many magical signatures. 

Nyra watched her lightning fracture the sky. She spotted Rhysand standing all alone in between a crowd of enemy soldiers. They’d been misted to blood immediately and with a roar, Rhys channelled her power and slammed the lightning, destroying all the ships with Hybern’s flag. 

She was back in Velaris once again, standing and the open book in her hand. 

Rhys? She went to the island and stood on her side of the bridge. 

Nyra? The High Lord sounded worried. I’m sorry. Did it hurt you? 

It did not. But I saw you wield it. 

Your power is very stubborn. I couldn’t wield it for the first few minutes but then I could, right after I misted the soldiers around me. 

I know. I saw you. From the sky, I think. And Nyra was back to Velaris again. Still communicating with Rhys but she was beginning to feel her body and her surroundings again. She closed the book after inserting a bookmark and went to the balcony.

Is it over? Nyra asked tentatively. She wanted to walk even more and the balconies in the House of Wind were restrictive. A wave of silver glitter followed her hand as she waved it. Steps formed from the balcony into the sky. 

Yes. Rhysand paused. Nyra waited for more. We’re fine. He chuckled through their link. I can feel your worry all the way here. 

I should push you off a balcony. Nyra realised she sounded a bit ironic since she was taking a risk by walking on the sky while relying on a power that was still new to her. The girl who lived in her mind seemed to be unconsciously guiding her use of magic. And so, Nyra began walking mid-air. 

The shadows swooped around her waist, as though ready to catch her if she fell.

Feyre darling may have plans to push me into the Sidra.

Even better. 

Are you still there? Rhysand asked, sounding like he wanted to continue the conversation. 

Yes. Did you know I can walk mid-air?

Sounds rather convenient. 

It is. I’m taking a walk right now. 

You’re planning to fall from a few thousand feet up in the air? Rhys sounded very anxious despite the attempt at a joke.

You could be optimistic. 

I could’ve been if you were trying this with some precaution. Like having one of us with you who can fly. 

Oh look, I haven’t fallen down yet. Nyra was astutely amused.

And if you do, you’ll be greeted by the cold Sidra. Rhys retorted.

If anybody’s falling in there, it’s you. Undoubtedly. And there’s no. . . Nyra stopped speaking to Rhys for a moment. Rhys felt a wave of relief and happiness out of nowhere. 

Nyra?

It’s raining. 

And you’re still in the sky?

Yes. It’s wonderful. And she sounded genuinely happy. Rhysand could feel that through the link.

Rhysand felt her joy but his own feelings were that of worry. Aren’t you cold?

I’ve never been out in the rain. I’ll risk catching a cold for now. 

“Rhys!” Cassian called. The Inner Circle had gathered after the attack and after Feyre had talked to Tarquin, Cassian was coordinating for the Night Court armies to remain posted for a short time till Summer managed to build up their armies and defences.

“Hm?” The High Lord had been looking up at the sky in Summer Court where there was no sign of rain. 

“We need your attention.” 

“Darling, a soundproof barrier, please.” Rhys turned to Feyre. She waved a hand and the air around them changed. 

“I could care really less about what happened here.” Rhysand began. “I did hear what you said, Cass. About three thousand Illyrians with three siphons being posted here for backup for the next twenty days.” 

“And what gathered your attention more than that?” 

“It’s raining in Velaris. And she’s walking in the sky.” Rhys answered with a blooming smile. “She’s starting to be happy.” He looked at Feyre and Azriel in turn. 

Stars sparkled in his eyes and he shut them tightly. “I keep searching for Maia within her.” He felt Feyre touch his arm.

“What has Maia got to do with this?” Mor finally spoke. And it was then that the three Illyrians and Feyre remembered that the bargain between the brothers required all three of them to consent before the Bone Carver’s prophecy was to ever be revealed. 

“What do you say?” Rhysand looked at Cassian and Azriel. 

“We should’ve told you earlier.” Cassian began.

“Told me what?” Mor looked between them. Azriel looked at Cassian and nodded. 

“The Bone Carver prophesied about Maia being reborn.”

“When was this? And why am I getting to know about this now? And why is this relevant now?” Mor’s impatience and confusion were palpable.

“Back when I became a new High Lord. So far, nothing had happened.”

“And what suddenly happened?”

“Maia was my mate.” Azriel quietly spoke. Mor turned to him, shocked out of her mind. “I felt the mating bond as she died.” 

“But Nyra-”

“Is my mate. The bond snapped for me as soon as she was out of the Cauldron.” Azriel watched Mor carefully, knowing how unpredictable explosive she could be.

Mor pressed her fingers to her forehead, eyes tightly closed. “And why didn’t you bother telling me?”

Silence followed. 

“Does Amren know?”

More silence.

“Oh, you fuckwits.”

Rhysand frowned. This was not the reaction he’d been expecting from his cousin. He looked at Feyre who seemed just as clueless. He then turned to Cassian and Azriel who were waiting for Mor to reveal why she’d been reacting the way she did. 

“And what exactly is it. . .” Mor gathered herself. Or so she thought. “That she. . .” She began pacing as much as she could inside the barrier. “Oh, fuck it. I don’t even know what to think.” 

“Take your time.” Cassian gently advised Mor. 

“Sort yourself, Morrigan.” Rhysand began. “I will not have you anywhere near the sisters till you do.” 

“That’s no way to talk to her.” Feyre was as firm as she was calm.

“Her emotional breakdown is going to confuse Nyra and by extension, Nesta. Elain is already confused as it is.” Rhys contended.

“And even then, that tone and your choice of words was a bad call. That is no way to talk to your cousin. Your family.” Feyre reminded. 

“I’ll meet you in the Night Court, High Lord.” Mor spoke coldly despite the tears welling in her eyes. “Feyre.” She turned to the Cursebreaker with a bit more emotion and winnowed away. 

“My sisters are not children.” Feyre began. “In terms of emotional trauma, they’ve been through much more than I ever have. You’re worried for them, I understand that much. But that doesn’t mean you downplay others’ feelings.”

“It’s not a competition, Feyre.” Azriel quietly began. All eyes turned to him. “It’s not a competition of who went through how much. And your sisters are getting there. A bit closer to moving on from whatever the Cauldron did to them.”

Azriel walked over to Feyre. A brother laid his hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Nyra will get there. I feel her and she's feels free from worries and inhibitions.” 

“Let’s get this done and go home.” Cassian spoke with a smile so secret and heartfelt that Feyre had wondered if he wanted to return to Nesta as much as Azriel wanted to go to Nyra. 

When all was concluded in the Summer Court within the next nineteen hours, the Inner Circle winnowed directly to the skies above the House of Wind. Rain continued to pour over Velaris, bringing blessings from the skies above. 

Azriel immediately flapped his mighty wings and headed in a direction from where his shadows beckoned. From where the mating bond beckoned. It was lit with serenity and warmth. 

Nyra sat on a glittery platform clearly made from her power. With her eyes closed and face craned to the sun, she thoroughly seemed to be enjoying the rain. 

“You’re back?” She looked at him as he approached. Nyra reached her hand out to him and Azriel took it. Her power floated around him to help him land next to her. 

The shadowsinger stood in front of her, taking in her drenched form. Shadows were already circling her waist. The ones that had been with him floated over to her hands and hair. 

“Do you want to sit down?” Nyra patted the space next to her, the glittery essence visible for him to take his seat mid-air. 

Azriel sat down, still holding her hand. He wanted to hold her left hand, the scarred one. And just as he turned his face to look at the view in front of them, Nyra’s hand found his cheek and turned his face to make eye contact. 

Her gaze travelled to the scar on his cheek. She stood up, came to stand in front of him, and knelt to take and inspect his face in her hands. 

“Did you come straight here? To. . .”

Azriel took her left hand in his right and the other cupped her cheek. He gently tugged her face so that their foreheads would meet and closed his eyes. “I’m home.” 

Yes. 

He was home. He was back in the company of the female he was now absolutely certain he loved. 

He felt the chaos of his mind calm down, the darkness of his past becoming a breathable mist. 

And just when he thought that nothing could make this moment better, Nyra softly pressed her lips to his forehead. “Welcome home, Az.”

And he was hers—mind, body, and soul. 

Amidst the storm that ravaged his life, there was a centre where things were calm. A safe haven where Azriel would find peace—the eye of the storm that he’d recently discovered.

And Nyra was that haven. 

She was safety. 

She was his home. 

She was the eye of the storm. 

And life would never be the same now that he’d discovered all of it. 

****

TAGLIST:

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @impossibelle @esposadomd @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @judig92 @bunnyredgirl @sh4nn @a-frog-with-a-laptop @kattzillaa @ronnieglennn @wallacewillow0773638 @forgiveliv @justdreamstars @donttellthecats @cat-or-kitten @jojodojo02 @wandas-dream @evylynny @weasleyreidstyles @stqrgirlies-blog @why4anne @acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe @macimads @footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley @deeshag @footyandformula @nebarious @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @5onedirection5 @hanitastic @sevikas-whore @krowiathemythologynerd @myladysapphire @freyagallileaevans @azrielrot @rcarbo1 @i-am-infinite @latinxbipride @moni-cah @fantanbietsson @julsgrace @angel-graces-world-of-chaos

[dappersappho]

I was almost 16 (like my birthday was literally two weeks away) on Election Day in 2008. Not old enough vote yet, I could only hold my breath. After the disaster that was the Bush administration, all I wanted was to see if a Democrat, any of them, could sort things out.

I was terrified that I wouldn’t see that happen because, of all people, the Democrats chose a barely known senator from Illinois, who just so happened to be a black man. Even my own friend group was saying pretty heinous and disparaging things about him. When I called them out, they would say, “Look, he’s just not experienced enough.” Or they were calling him a socialist even though they definitely didn’t know what that meant.

Even then I knew they were a product of their upbringing. In other words, their southern white parents who could vote. My mother and grandmother, both black, were the only people I knew who were openly supporting Obama. Well, them and my English teacher, who was white and a single mother. Nothing gave me hope that it would be enough.

Since Election Day is held on a Tuesday, I would’ve had school the next day and needed some sleep. But it was almost 11pm and a decision still wasn’t made. I tried to turn off the TV and go to bed, but I couldn’t. I just had to know. I had to see it for myself. I turned the TV back on. Five minutes later, Barack Obama surpassed the number of electoral votes needed to win. I looked around my room then back at the TV. This was real. I just witnessed something huge.

Suddenly, I heard my mom screaming from her bedroom across the house; I guess she couldn’t sleep and kept her eyeballs on the TV as well. I ran to her and we hugged, jumped, screamed, and cried. I don’t think we’ve ever seen each other so emotional before. She pointed to the TV, which was showing Obama’s electoral votes continue to rise, and said, “Look at this! 16! You were 16 when you saw this!”

The next 8 years were met with ups and downs. But I never turned on the news or opened social media and dreaded what I was about to see. I was open to learning new things and keeping up with what was going on. It was easy to care about others because I felt at ease with myself and my country. Was I proud to be an American? Debatable. But I wasn’t really ashamed either.

Then 2016 happened. I voted third party because I naively believed that I could make a statement in doing so (I deleted my tumblr account at the time because I kept getting into fights with people who tried to convince me it was a bad idea). That and I thought Hillary Clinton would win anyway.

I felt sick to my stomach. Once again, I couldn’t sleep, but for a different reason this time. I was almost 24, a super senior in college. A friend of mine and my roommate’s spent the night with us. They got more sleep than I did. The next day, all three of us skipped class. We spent the morning together in our dorm with cookies and hot cider. The rest of the day, we tried to avoid any place on campus that had a TV since the news would be on.

The next day, I had an afternoon class. We spent almost the entire hour discussing just how much of an epic disaster a Trump administration will be for our country. I didn’t say anything. I would’ve started screaming incoherently in the face of anyone who minimized my concerns if I did. I could feel it in my chest. At the same time, I was feeling guilty. Why didn’t I just grit my teeth and vote for Hillary? Why?! Would it have made a difference if I did?

My mind has been in the dark since, made even worse during everything that happened in 2020. Sure Joe won - I even voted for the guy - but at what costs? I still didn’t feel relieved. I felt no hope. An oncoming Biden administration felt like the storm would continue, but hey, at least it isn’t flooding anymore.

Now, at almost 32 and bound to witness a historical election once more, I see a light again. We’re not out of the woods yet. Even if Kamala wins, we won’t be. But, just like I did 16 years ago, I feel hope. I’m once again able to believe that things will get better. I’m scared of being optimistic, but I can’t help it. I need this. I need to believe we’re closer to a leader who can and will do right by us, who will listen to us, and represent us in the best way. If it’s not Kamala, she sure as hell will be one giant step in the right direction.

[applestorms]

DN ask game: how about 18 and 23 (23 I will amend to 'one of your current favourite moments,' in case you are me and hate choosing favourites in any kind of absolute way haha)

CACKLES oh you know me so well =3=" original ask game

18. what do you think about Wammy’s House?

MY GOD. what do i NOT think about wammy's house. i feel like i've already talked a bit on wammy's house in Various Essays, but i suppose to coagulate some of those kinda random thoughts...

it Fucks those kids up. by nature of what wammy's house Is, i don't think it's possible for a single kid to get through it w/o getting at least a little fucked up. that goddamn orphanage is releasing a Storm of incredible messed up little geniuses on the world and the world will never recover. you can't create a fucking organization based around concepts like Live Up To The World's Greatest Detective or Never Ever Use Your Real Name (guess that's probably KIRA motivated, but still) without screwing over the sense of identity of an entire generation. nobody's doin it like them fr.

i really really really like the idea that people toss around about KIRA = god of the new world, therefore -> L = god of the old world, and i think wammy's house maps onto that idea super well as a kind of cult of the old god. something something greco-roman mystery cults, L as a void player homestuck classpect-wise, the Secrets and Idolization inherent to that entire entity. oh yeah it's all comin together rubs my hands eviley.

i saw someone say the LABB murders novel was bad the other day and almost cried because i personally Adore that book, for the additional naomi characterization + beyond moments yes, but also for the extra lore it establishes about wammy's and L more generally. having actual Generations within the house is so fucking fascinating by how you can break it down, especially when you try to fit L into it and maybe have a generation where he was interacting with the other kids during his kinda Rise to Power. i definitely think beyond and L interacted quite extensively at the very least (headcanon basis for that mostly, i just like the idea + it explains why he even got the idea to emulate him so closely), and the existence of A in and of itself is such a fascinating mystery, i love seeing how people mess with the idea of them in different ways.

also everyone go read heirs and spares for fantastic light-at-wammy's house content that almost reads like some of the best earliest parts of the promised neverland and also has some great L and light childhood worsties content. go go

also kira bless time speaks for writing that entire timeline where light and L go live at wammy's and traumatize mello w/ their horrible terrible flirting that is fucking saving me. i am so Desperate for more lawlight interacting with wammy's content i have no idea why that sets my brain off so bad but it Just Does. etc etc L negligent parent King for the win, i need to see near and L have the most horrible terrible psychological battles monologuing so loud it stinks up the entire damn room while mello and light are beating each other with bats in the background. please. lord.

also also roger's characterization in the seals are good series is unironically my accepted characterization for him now whoops. btw i don't think i have many Deep Thoughts on watari, he's kinda just a shitty old man philanthropist to me :/ though i do find him more interesting and Paternalistic with a good L genderbend.........

23. what was your favorite moment and why?

you said current favorite so honestly... ok i'll limit myself to two.

FAVORITE SCENE OF ALL TIME: LIGHT DYING. ez. specifically in the manga. there is legitimately no better scene in the entire series. this fucking panel haunts my dreams it's so goddamn Good

there is nothing i love more in this world than watching light yagami bloody and pathetic crawling on the floor and begging for his life only to die like every other criminal he killed. his fear is so Palpable it literally makes me sick. i've read this final sequence, like ch.105-107 but especially this last bit so many goddamn times istg it's burned into my eyelids LIGHT YAGAMIIIIIIII. also his laugh in the anime is fucking incredible in both dubs 10/10 no notes you killed it fellas

FAVORITE SCENE AT THIS MOMENT: been thinking a Lot about both naomi and matsuda lately and their various notable scenes, oddly. i think i need to reread his entire comedy of errors during yotsuba again alskjfskjd and also check out naomi's death again esp in conjunction with LABB murder stuff?? idk. they're both characters that i feel i haven't talked much about (also kiyomi, thought i've been getting Thoughts on her LMFAO thank you forever @kiyomitakada) so i wanna get my image of them cleared up more in my head. also all of the SPK too, halle especially. damn i guess that's a whole lot of moments actually :P WHATEVER.

anyways ty for the ask <33

[ilanorgratvol]

I know, there are plenty playlists for our gorgeous Wizard of Waterdeep, but I just had to let it out of my system.

What strikes me the most about this one is that like almost every song for me is associated with some stage during Gale's life (well, almost, I'm still filling the gaps). And I just can't stop and listening to it, imagining all these events in my head.

I hope someone will find this interesting.

Goddess of the Rain - the stage of ultimate devotion of Mystra. Young Gale, had just gotten the attention of the Goddess of Magic herself and is eager to prove himself worthy.

Take me to your church Teach me how to sing Show me how to pray

Break me as you will Let me be your priest Let me be your prey

Let me rise to stand Here beside your form As your right handHere within the storm

Paradise - we've gotten Stockholm syndrome, guys :) Gale is still devoted to his Goddess but started to realise all toxicity of their relationships. Is he able to go away? Well, not now.

"In the most nights, she keep returning in her weaves..."

Toxic, kinda' crazy, hot Keeps me underneath her thumb Robs me of my dignity tonight Always wants to take a piece And chew me up and spit me out Just enough to get me through the night Before I know it— I'm just doing what she says Yes, I'm doing this...

Wrong Side of Heaven - Gale has already gotten the Orb and was abandoned by Mystra. He feels frustrated and lost and locks himself in his tower.

I spoke to God today And she said that she's ashamed What have I become? What have I done? I spoke to the devil today And he swears he's not to blame And I understood 'Cause I feel the same

Goodbye Cruel World - Gale lost himself in self-pity.

Whoa, goodbye cruel world I'm off to join the circus Gonna be a brokenhearted clown Paint my face with a good-for-nothing smile 'Cause a mean, fickle woman Turned my whole world upside down

Can't Find a Way - Gale finally left his tower, hoping to make a brand new start. This is when he was captured by the Illithids and the events of the game had taken the place. He started to accept Mystra's decision and tried to disassociate from the past.

Now that youve gone again Ive found other friends You ask what you are You don't even care for me Im tired of belivin Now that youve gone away Nothings left to say You ask what you are You dont even care for me Im tired and leavin

A Place in Your World - gods, isn't it the most Golden Retriever song?)) Gale meets Tav, slowly falling in love, seeking their attention.

Would you like to see within my heart? Would you like to be there when I fall apart? The sun might scorch my eyes But no one ever cries a tear for me Is there nothing more that I can stand? I feel so displaced now I'm the lonely man But look into my eyes And maybe you can see what's in my heart

Repentance - Gale has gotten the message from Mystra and considering to follow her order. I imagine him sitting alone in his tent, illuminating only by candle on his table; his hands in his hair, his head lowered and eyes shut closed.... Oooogh, it's a tough one.

Staring at the finished page before me All the damage now so clear and evident Thinking 'bout the dreaded task in store for me A bitter fear at the thought of my amends

Hoping that the step will help restore me To face my past and ask for forgiveness Cleaning up my dirty side of this unswept street Could this be the beginning of the end?

The Cross - Tav persuades Gale not to follow Mystra's order and claim the Crown of Karsus. Gale meets Mystra to threaten her. "Not happening" Gale's line is in my mind forever.

I was young and so naive You were God and I believed You made me kneel You made me feel Like it was all my fault But now I know it wasn't mine at all

Lose Control - I mean, guys. You know what it is about ;)

Something's got a hold of me lately No, I don’t know myself anymore Feels like the walls are all closin' in And the devil's knockin’ at my door, woah Out of my mind, how many times did I tell you I'm no good at bein' alone? Yeah, it's taken a toll on me, tryin' my best to keep From tearin' the skin off my bones, don't you know

First Light - classic! Gale and Tav find comfort in their tower in Waterdeep and themselves. I don't think I need to explain anything here))

One bright mornin' changes all things Soft and easy as your breathin', you wake Your eyes open at first, a thousand miles away But turnin' shoot a silver bullet point-blank range And I can scarce believe what I'm believin' in Could this be how every day begins?

_________________

Want me to make playlists for other characters? Let me know in the comments.

[celestiall0tus]

Tales of Bloody Bug and Chat Noir - Chapter 24 - Troublemaker

Beginning || Previous || Next

            Chat Noir sat on the couch in the news studio. He watched Gallic Chick, Porcelet, and Carapace as they modeled with Jagged Stone for the cameras. He had taken a few, but Penny Rolling, Jagged’s assistant, and Bob Roth wanted him posing with Bloody Bug. However, Bloody Bug hadn’t made an appearance to any of these shoots or interviews. He did what he could to keep them at bay, but Penny and Bob were pushing him to get Bloody Bug in.

            Chat Noir sighed as he turned away and stared at the wall. Nearly two weeks had passed since Chloe’s party. Two weeks since Bloody Bug slipped into this funk. He didn’t like seeing her like this. He didn’t like her being distant, withdrawn, and quiet. He missed the loud punk always ready to rise to any challenge. He made attempts to pull her out of it, but nothing seemed to work. He had other ideas, but he also didn’t want to push.

            “Excuse me, Chat Noir? May I have a word?” Penny asked.

            “I guess. What’s up?”

            “Have you, by chance, heard from Bloody Bug?”

            “Nothing has changed. She’s still not in the mood to be in front of cameras.”

            “Oh. Well, could you try again? We really need to get these new promotional ads ready by the end of the week. We are grateful for you and the other heroes, but it just won’t be the same if we don’t have at least one ad of you and Bloody Bug.”

            Chat Noir sighed. He pulled out his staff and messaged Bloody Bug again. “There. I asked her again to meet us here for a single photo.”

            “I dunno. I think we should leave Bloody Bug alone,” Porcelet remarked.

            “I agree. She’s not going to show up, don’t make her,” Gallic Chick added.

            “Absolutely not. This whole thing is for her and the cat. And, let’s face it, she’s way more popular than all you,” Bob yelled.

            “She’s only popular because she does the things that gets attention like wrestling a dragon,” Gallic Chick countered.

            “I mean, that was pretty cool. And she did slow Jagged, I mean, Guitar Villain,” Carapace commented.

            “I’m not saying it wasn’t cool, but it’s that stuff that gets her attention.”

            “Maybe, but it doesn’t seem like she tries. She’s just… lost,” Carapace remarked.

            “Lost? What do you mean?” Gallic Chick asked.

            “How do I explain it? When I looked into her eyes during that dragon fight, there was a storm. She wasn’t even hiding it either. Whatever she’s going through, she’s letting it build and build. I bet when it surfaces, all hell will break loose.”

            Chat Noir pinned one ear back while the other remained straight. His eyes darted back and forth as he recalled all the times Alix had let everything out about how she felt and her opinions of others when she was angry. He slowly straightened his other ear as fear gnawed at him. Was she staying in her own head to let this anger build on purpose? Was she going to let it fester until it all came out at once?

            Chat Noir ran out of the studio, ignoring Penny’s cries. He left the News Station and ran through the city to Master Fu’s massage shop. He burst into Master Fu’s room, but only saw Master Fu drinking tea.

            “Chat Noir? Is something wrong?” Master Fu asked.

            “Has Bloody Bug been here at all?”

            “She was here about an hour ago, but she’s long gone.”

            “How was she? Is she ok?”

            “She was brooding, as has been her norm for the past couple of weeks.”

            “Norm? What do you mean?”

            “Oh, she swings by at least once a day, mopes, drinks tea, and then leaves.”

            “Does she ever say anything?”

            Master Fu shook his head.

            Chat Noir grimaced. He turned to leave when Master Fu held up a hand, stopping him.

            “Before you go, I have something to discuss with you.”

            “Am I in trouble?”

            “Far from. It is your turn to take the next step and once again stand on equal footing with Bloody Bug.”

            Chat Noir’s eyes widened. He sat at the table while Master Fu grabbed an elixir and sat it down. He grabbed it and downed the contents without a moment’s delay. He felt a rush of warmth as his body tingled. He shook himself off as Master Fu placed the miracle box before him.

            “Just as with Bloody Bug, you are allowed one other miraculous to use for unification. And, just like her, when you feel you trust someone with it, you may pass it along.”

            “Uh, I had a question about that. If we pass it along, would we be allowed to get a different miraculous to unify with?”

            “You may.”

            Chat Noir squirmed with delight. He looked over the jewels. His eyes landed on a black choker with a single red bead.

            “What’s that one?” Chat Noir asked.

            “That one belongs to the dragon of perfection. With it, you take on the form of utter obliteration, destroying and unraveling everything around you. It’s one you must use with caution, as with all of them.”

            Chat Noir flinched. “That seems… really dangerous.”

            “Such is your concept, Chat Noir. You are destruction. That fused with anything will be an undoing.”

            “Uh, are there any of these that won’t result in an apocalypse type situation if I were to unify it?”

            “Well, there’s the bee that allows you to cancel motion. The ox, that is with Bloody Bug, that can weaken targets. The fox that can project illusions of pain onto targets. The snake that cause the target to forever forget what their goal was, robbing them of a second chance. The monkey that allows you to destabilize anything. The horse that allows for you to generate a black hole like portal that, should anything enter it, will be lost forever.”

            “Uh, could I maybe make a quick call to Bug?”

            Master Fu nodded.

            Chat Noir de-transformed and stepped out of the room. He took a deep breath and dialed Alix. It rang a few times before she answered.

            “What?”

            “Hey, do you think you could come over to-?”

            “I’m not heading over to the News Station.”

            “No, not there. I’m at Master’s shop. I just took the elixir and can get a second kwami like you, but… I need help choosing. Will you help me?”

            A long pause. “Yeah. I’ll be there soon.”

            Adrien smiled and hung up the phone. He transformed back into Chat Noir and rejoined Master Fu. They sat in silence until Bloody Bug arrived and sat with them.

            “Alright, what are the choices we’re thinking?” Bloody Bug asked.

            Chat Noir repeated the opinions that Master Fu told him. Bloody Bug inhaled deeply, then exhaled.

            “That’s quite the, uh, tough decision. Well, what are you thinking, Cat?”

            “I was maybe hoping to get Stompp. The other powers are incredible, but terrifying. With Stompp, it’s not as destructive and can still be helpful to our cause. That is if you’re ok with giving it to me until we pass it along to Ivan,” Chat Noir explained. 

            “And you would be allowed a new second miraculous,” Master Fu added.

            “Well, what say you, Stompp?” Bloody Bug asked.

            “Sure. It’s been a while since I’ve hung out with Plagg. Besides, I’ll still get to see you, so it’s not good-bye forever,” Stompp said.

            “And if we need to, we can swap around our second miraculous should the situation call for it,” Chat Noir added.

            Bloody Bug nodded. “Alright, but I get to pick this new one then.”

            “I think that’s fair. Master?”

            Master Fu nodded.

            Bloody Bug took off Stompp’s nose ring, handed it to Chat Noir, and looked at the box. She looked over the jewels before she grabbed a pair of goat horn hair clips. She put them on as they transformed into a pair of normal black hair clips and an orb shot out that morphed into a goat kwami.

            “Greetings! Ziggy at your service.”

            “Pleasure, Ziggy. I’m Bloody Bug.”

            “Oh! Are we doing unification? I love unifications!”

            “That we are, and you’re with me.”

            Ziggy cheered and flew around Bloody Bug before settling on her shoulder.

            “Alright, if that’s all, I’m going to-,’ Bloody Bug started.

            “Hold up, Bug. I… I wanted to talk to you for a moment. If that’s ok?” Chat Noir called out.

            “What’s up?”

            “You’re not purposely bottling everything just to let it all out like you have on others, are you?”

            “No. I just… it’s stupid.”

            “I’m listening.”

            Bloody Bug sighed. “I don’t want to talk because talking helps me run.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “I’ve done nothing but talk to people. Dad, therapists, you, Wang Fu, but nothing is helping me. There’s still this… root pain I’m avoiding. And when I talk, I feel further away from it. And I know it’s the cause of everything. I won’t be better until I confront it. I won’t lie. I do feel miserable. I feel ready to explode at every turn, but I’m close to it. I’m closer than I’ve ever been. I just need a little more time. And whatever comes of it, I’ll accept the consequences of my actions.”

            “Then I’m here. I don’t like it, and seeing you like this scares me, but I’m here to support you,” Chat Noir declared.

            “I can second that. Not everyone processes their trauma the same. Not all methods work the same on everyone. If you believe that this will help you confront it, we’ll be here to help you. Even if it fails, we’ll help you figure out a way to get to this root cause,” Master Fu added.

            Bloody Bug blinked as a smile slowly spread on her lips and a tear fell from her eye. “Thank you. Both of you. I… I was worried you might leave me if… yeah.”

            Chat Noir and Master Fu exchanged glances.

            “Oh! Before I forget, I do have one tiny favor to ask you, Bug,” Chat Noir said.

            “What’s that?”

            “I know you don’t want to, but could you maybe make a single appearance at a photoshoot to have a picture or two taken with Jagged for the promotional ads?”

            Master Fu furrowed his brow. “I don’t approve of you all doing this.”

            “I know, but it wasn’t my idea. It was Gallic Chick’s to avoid another Akuma since the concert and tour for us being canceled was the cause of it. That and I don’t think we would have gotten through to Bob Roth through any other means than money.”

            Master Fu groaned. “Very well, but I still don’t approve.”

            “Understood. So, Bug, would you?”

            Bloody Bug sighed. “I really don’t want to.”

            “I know. I just ask for a picture or two for the ads. No interviews, no anything except the couple of photos.”

            “Alright, fine. Let’s go.”

            Bloody Bug and Chat Noir left and headed to the News Station. They made their way to the studio room to find it had fallen into chaos. They watched with raised brows as everything was thrown around by an invisible force. Porcelet and Gallic Chick attempted to find the source while Carapace protected the civilians.

            “Did you know about this?” Bloody Bug asked.

            “Not a clue.”

            “Lovely. Alright, let’s bring this madness to an end. Hey! What the hell is going on here?” Bloody Bug demanded.

            “Bloody Bug, save us! We’re being attacked by a phantom!” Jagged Stone whined.

            “Of course. Gallic Chick, have you used your powers yet?”

            “Not yet, but I’m about to!” Gallic Chick roared.

            “Use them like you did against Darkblade.”

            “Wait, seriously? You’d be ok with that? I thought-.”

            “End this.”

            Gallic Chick nodded. She used Sublimation to obtain the power of obedience. “Villain, obey my command! Reveal yourself!”

            Troublemaker appeared behind Bloody Bug and Chat Noir. Gallic Chick opened her mouth to utter another command when Bloody Bug turned and decked Troublemaker in the jaw. Troublemaker yelped as she flew back into a wall.

            “Get the fuck away from you, punk ass clown reject,” Bloody Bug hissed.

            “Villain, break your Akuma now,” Gallic Chick commanded.

            Troublemaker took her pen and snapped it in half. The Akuma flew from it and Bloody Bug caught it, purifying it. Troublemaker fell to her knees as she reverted to Penny.

            “What’s going on? What happened?” Penny asked.

            “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just get this over with,” Bloody Bug remarked.

            Penny’s eyes darted around before she grinned. “Let’s go everyone! Places. Let’s get the centerpiece of the ad campaign. Let’s move!”

            Carapace dropped his shield as the photographers took their places. Jagged Stone ran to his as Bloody Bug and Chat Noir joined him. Porcelet cheered Bloody Bug on from the sidelines as she posed with Jagged Stone and Chat Noir. Bloody Bug let out a sigh when the photos were taken. She headed out when Penny stepped in her way.

            “Uh, Bloody Bug? Could we possibly get a few more photos with you?”

            “No.”

            “Please. Uh, just one with you and your team, then one with you and Chat Noir. Please.”

            Bloody Bug curled her lips back and sighed. “Fine. Make it quick.”

            Bloody Bug stood with Chat Noir and Porcelet. They waited for Carapace and Gallic Chick when they rejoined them after feeding their kwamis. They took a couple photos before they were shooed to the side for Bloody Bug and Chat Noir. The photographers argued over what to do when Chat Noir stood opposite Bloody Bug and held out his fist.

            “What are you doing?” Bloody Bug asked.

            “A fist bump. I think it would look cool. Don’t you?”

            Bloody Bug snorted and rolled her eyes, but indulged Chat Noir. She struck a pose and fist bumped. The photographers gasped and took photos of them. Chat Noir smiled, took Bloody Bug’s hand, and pulled her down to the ground. He pressed his back against hers and smiled. She smiled softly as she pressed back against him and relaxed. She held out her hand and he took it as his tail wrapped around her.

            “Thank you, Cat.”

            “Anything for you, Bug. We’re in this together.”

            “Until the bitter end and beyond. You’re stuck with me now.”

            Chat Noir chuckled. “There’s no one else I’d rather be stuck with than you, Bug.”

            “You may come to regret that.”

            “I could never. I found something amazing in you and I’ll never let it go. I love you, Bloody Bug. I’m here to stay, no matter what you say or do. I’m here.”

            Bloody Bug’s eyes widened, then her face softened. “I love you too, Cat, and I’ll make sure you never forget this moment. You know, in case you ever do leave me forever.”

            Chat Noir flashed a cheeky smile. “Then you have my purr-mission to hate me for the rest of your days, just like another feline we know.”

            Bloody Bug rolled her eyes and nudged Chat Noir. “Alright, Cat, I think I’ve had my fill of feeling good again. I’m gonna leave before I lose my focus.”

            “Ok. Don’t forget, I’m never far if you need me.”

            Bloody Bug smiled and headed out.

            Chat Noir smiled until he looked around and saw everyone staring at him. “What? Did something happen?”

            “That was beautiful. Your friendship is beautiful,” Porcelet cried.

            “Oh, come on, that wasn’t friendship, Porcelet. That was love, dude,” Carapace countered.

            “Well, duh, they’re in love as friends, Gallic Chick butted in.

            Chat Noir tilted his head as the team devolved into a heated discussion. He glanced over at the adults, who were locked in their own debates. He grimaced and slipped out of the studio. He didn’t want to stay and entertain the notion he and Bloody Bug were a couple. She was his best friend, his sister, and nothing would change that.

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[bereft-of-frogs]

current high republic ranking upon completing phase I!!!:

The Fallen Star

The Rising Storm

Out of the Shadows

Into the Dark

Light of the Jedi

Midnight Horizon

Fallen Star remains on top. I'm just such a certified tragedy bitch. I actually cried at work listening to the audiobook/reading it while on lunch a couple times (ok it was also shark week I once cried over a sock during shark week). I also really enjoyed the foray into more space horror bits, Gray did the parts where they go searching for the spooky anomaly really well. And Bell of course was perfect <3 I love Bell. Sad bb. Also why Rising Storm is a close second, he's so great in that too, plus Indeera (and Elzar Mann being a stupid slut*) (*affectionate)

Honestly I think 3 + 4 are kind of a tie I really enjoyed both of them! Into the Dark just slipped a bit because 1) Cohmac annoyed me this time and 2) I LOVE Vernestra. So much. But really both had the right blend of emotion and adventure and peril for me, but being YA I think they had to hold back on fully exploring the consequences and its follow-through of the more traumatic events, so I didn't quite get the same 'omg this is everything' catharsis feeling that the top two adult books provided.

The jump between #5 and #6 is a PRECIPITOUS decline. I honestly feel like I should put a few blank spots between them, spot #5 is much closer to #4 than it is to #6. Because the difference between #5 Light of the Jedi 'I appreciate the difficult task Soule had to introduce the context and a huge cast of characters, I just don't think he entirely succeeded, the opening incident action description drags a bit and some of the emotional beats only hit in hindsight, once you've had some time with other writers fleshing out characters, like Jora Malli's death, but overall it was enjoyable and got me interested in the series' and #6 Midnight Horizon 'I hated about 85% of this, I think it was supposed to be funny but the humor missed for me so completely that at one point the secondhand embarrassment made me physically nauseous and it almost made me stop reading (again)' is so stark it feels like they shouldn't be next to each other.

Onward to phase II! I already started the Paths of Deceit audiobook on my walk home, there's a cult, I'm into it.

[kyeop-tato]

A Knock on My Heart — 김선우

summary : one of your bestfriend, yeri, just got dumped by her boyfriend so in order to cheer her up, you and your friends decides to go on girls trip together during your school term break, promising to forget any boys that come between you and your friends. however, certain someone (or might i say a few) came into your life and the promise yall vow to not break, might actually crumble any moment. would you go back home solo or would sunwoo managed to steal your heart?

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

CHAPTER 9 : Dear my girls...

After a long and dreadful night of holding back your sobs, you did everything to make sure Yeri stayed sound asleep. You cried quietly into the pillow, letting your tears fall in silence, until eventually, the night slipped away.

By the time the sun began to rise, you were already packed and ready. Your trip technically ended tomorrow, but you couldn’t stand being there a moment longer—not when you felt so certain that someone’s disdain hung over you like a storm cloud. One last glance at Yeri, who was still deep in sleep, made your chest tighten. She didn’t stir as you tiptoed around the room, trying to be as quiet as a shadow.

You eased the door open just a crack, peeking out to make sure the others weren’t awake. Thankfully, the living room was still empty, and the morning silence wrapped around you like a gentle whisper. You felt a small wave of relief. Your luggage glided noiselessly behind you, and for a brief second, you were thankful you had spent extra on wheels that didn’t squeak. You left a note on the kitchen counter, the words simple but final, before stepping out of the apartment suite.

As the elevator descended, the weight of exhaustion slowly began to catch up with you. Each yawn was harder to stifle than the last. You plugged in your AirPods, letting the familiar beats of your favorite band play softly in your ears to keep you from nodding off. By the time you reached the lobby, the early morning air felt cool against your skin. You walked outside, waiting for your ride to the airport, unaware that a pair of eyes had noticed you from afar.

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

Sunwoo was in the middle of a meeting with his lecturer, who was doing what he always did—endlessly nagging and rambling. Sunwoo could barely focus; his mind was foggy, still heavy from the breakfast he had and he was dangerously close to falling into a food coma. As he pretended to listen, something caught his attention. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar figure.

He knew it was you even before he turned to fully look. His brow furrowed in confusion. "What is she doing out here at this hour? And alone? Where’s everyone else?" The questions tumbled through his mind, his curiosity piqued.

Then he saw your luggage. His chest tightened. There was no way you were just going for a walk. You were leaving.

“YAH, KIM SUNWOO! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING?” His lecturer’s voice rose, startling the nearby hotel staff, but Sunwoo had already made up his mind. His heart pounded with urgency, and before he knew it, he was running after you.

By the time he reached the lobby doors, it was too late. You were already gone. His eyes scanned the street, searching for any sign of you, but you had disappeared into the morning light. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, his heart racing.

“Excuse me, sir, can I help you?” a hotel security guard asked, eyeing Sunwoo’s breathless state with concern.

Sunwoo shook his head, the feeling of defeat settling over him. He turned back towards the lobby, his shoulders slumped, only to be greeted by Juyeon and Younghoon, both looking at him with a mixture of confusion and exasperation.

“Where did you disappear to?” Juyeon asked, crossing his arms. “Mr. Jung chewed us out because you weren’t there.”

Younghoon, more observant, tilted his head. “You okay? You look like something’s bothering you.”

Sunwoo swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper as he answered, “I lost her.”

Juyeon’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, ‘lost her’?”

“I didn’t even get to tell her how I feel…” Sunwoo’s voice cracked, the weight of his unsaid words pressing down on him.

Younghoon, always steady, placed a hand on his shoulder, offering silent support. Juyeon, on the other hand, slung an arm around Sunwoo in an attempt to cheer him up. “Come on, it’s not the end of the world! You’ll see her again, right? I mean... eventually... I think…” Juyeon trailed off, realizing his attempt at optimism wasn’t exactly helping.

But the weight of the moment had already settled on Sunwoo, unshakable.

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

One by one, the girls began to stir, until Yeri’s sudden shriek echoed from her bedroom. Natty and Doyeon, startled by the outburst, bolted down the hallway, worry etched on their faces.

“What happened?” Doyeon asked, eyes wide as she reached the doorway.

“She’s gone,” Yeri said, her voice small, holding up a piece of paper that trembled slightly in her hand.

“Gone?” Natty echoed in disbelief.

Yeri handed over the note you had left behind. Natty and Doyeon exchanged a glance before carefully unfolding the letter, reading the words aloud.

"Dear my favorite girls,

I’m so sorry that by the time you read this, I’ll probably already be in the air on my way back to Seoul. I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye, but I think it’s for the best. I don’t want Natty to feel uncomfortable around me or ruin the rest of our trip with any awkwardness. That thought hurts me too much. I just need some space, some time to myself. Please don’t be too upset with me."

When they finished reading, the room fell into an uneasy silence. Natty collapsed onto Yeri’s bed, frustration written all over her face as she smacked the pillow, venting her anger.

“See what you’ve done!” Doyeon snapped, her voice cutting through the quiet.

“What do you mean "what I’ve done"?” Natty shot back, her voice cracking. “Do you think I wanted her to leave? I was going to apologize—”

“Took you long enough, and now she’s gone.” Doyeon crossed her arms, her tone biting.

“Okay, seriously, enough!” Yeri interjected, stepping between them, her hands raised as if to push the tension back. “Let’s not start fighting again, not now.”

Silence hung heavy in the air for a beat before Yeri broke it with a sigh. “So, what do we do? Go home or stay for another day?”

“What’s the point?” Natty muttered, running a hand through her hair. “My plan is already ruined thanks to myself.”

“What plan?” Doyeon leaned against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow.

With a resigned sigh, Natty unfolded the events of last night, sharing what had happened between her and Sunwoo. As she spoke, the other girls’ eyes widened, gasps and squeals of surprise escaping their lips.

“Wait a second,” Doyeon said, her voice tinged with disbelief. “And how are you suddenly okay with all of this? Weren’t you just head over heels for Sunwoo?”

Natty gave a small, rueful smile. “Yeah, I was… but you know how much of a romantic I am. And come on, you can’t ignore the coincidence—meeting her twice? It’s like fate or something. After thinking it through, I realized she might be better for him than I am.”

Yeri’s eyes lit up with realization. “So, your plan was to help Sunwoo get closer to her?”

Natty nodded, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Yeah… but it doesn’t matter now. She left before I could even get started”

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♡ prev | masterlist | next ♡

a/n : let me know if anyone wanna be tagged in upcoming chapters :)

[her-devils-advocate]

Touch the darkness within me.

♥. Genre: angst / hurt and comfort

♥. pairings: Nate Sewell / Female Detective (Named)

♥. content warnings: Mentions of a suicide attempt and depression, implied past abuse

♥. notes: I have been wanting to explore Valerie's background, especially with her opening up to Nate. It's been a while since I wrote angst to this degree, so I'm a bit rusty!

♥. Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48536515

♥. Word count: 4,489

Her concealed wails are a mournful sirensong, twisting itself around every other sound until he is caught in its sorrowful grasp. The haunting tones guide him towards where he finds Valerie in the dead of night, sitting alone outside the warehouse.

She's staring out at the forest surrounding them, jade eyes sparkling in the moonlight shining down on her. The silver beams highlight the red rims of her eyes as more tears paint her cheeks. Her sniffles are muffled by a shaking hand as she bites down on the soft sleeve of her jumper, whimpering as more tears well up in her eyes, replacing the ones that had just fallen. 

Yet no matter how much she tries to silence her pain, he would always be able to hear it as if those cries came from his mouth instead. Some nights he wishes that they did, just so she could get some relief from the shadows that continue to haunt her.

He goes to embrace her, pulling her so close that their hearts beat as one. Her’s a frantic pounding contrasting the gentle fluttering of his own. He weaves his fingers through her onyx hair as he tries to help soothe the raging storm within her. He doesn't ask, knowing she will tell him when ready. Knowing that at this moment, she is too fragile to open her mouth and have anything but cries tumble out. 

The uncommon sight before him is a stark contrast to the woman she was during the gentle light of day. The strong yet warm Detective Michaelis, always smiling and laughing when not focused on a tough case.

“Shh, it’s alright,” He does his best to calm the waves threatening to drag her asunder, he is her beacon of light, piercing through the fog clouding her heart. “I’ve got you, it's ok.”

With those simple words, all the emotions and thoughts she had once locked away now come rushing free. The walls that had been erected throughout her childhood -walls solely to keep that pain hidden behind- had slowly begun to decay, allowing the avalanche that she is now buried under, struggling desperately for air.

As his touch slowly unravels her, she looks deep within her frightened heart. Was it worth it? To slowly learn to trust again, to love again when it resulted in forcing herself to face the problems that made her scared to do so in the first place? 

As she feels Nate pressed up close to her, draping his incredibly soft leather jacket across her frozen shoulders, mumbling sweet nothings to help soothe her aching heart, she finds her answer: Yes. 

He is her rock, always holding her when she falls, patiently waiting alongside her until she is able to stand. He never forces her to rise before she is ready but is always there to help raise her back up once she is. 

Yet she feels like she is nothing more than a rock tied to him. Dragging him down every night she awakens with screams, disrupting him from his own reverie within the blanket of nightfall. 

The thick guilt that swirls within her each time she bruises his gentle heart whenever she reveals just how bandaged her own is when it comes to her relationship with Rebecca, a complex relationship filled with love built upon years of solitude. 

A girl just wanting her mother's love, happy with any amount to have received as she ignores the rising bitterness of her past. A relationship that taught her to trust only herself, for everyone else would leave her scarred and alone. A complex relationship full of love that shines so brightly, casting shadows that hide the bottled-up grudges.

The first relationship to leave her damaged, yet not the last. 

Valerie never could learn to shield herself from people fully. When given enough time, enough hints of companionship, she would break apart and reveal that shielded heart, like a dulled geode hiding beauty within its shadows. 

But with Unit Bravo, with Nate, the cracks in her composure felt good, felt safe. But the lingering fear of them leaving plagued her during the nights when the slivers of the silver moonlight were her only companion. During the nights when her demons broke loose to play with her mind. Nights that were thankfully less common now, yet not banished entirely.

The fear of what they would say if they knew of her past, knew how she once desperately wished to leave it all behind, how addicting the taste of that abyss felt. How she occasionally continues to hear its dark beckoning, trying its best to lull her back towards that ledge, the path of no return...for a human like her, at least. 

It’s been years since the sickly sweet voice had last tormented her, yet its ghost continues to haunt her.

It all started with her mother, yet continued with Bobby. With each new bruise added to the collection, the lost university student studying law yet ignoring the irony of the situation. How those scars on her heart would split open and fester on a bad day, worsened by Murphy, only able to be soothed by Nate's gentle hands as he unknowingly chases it away.

She knows that she should tell him and that she needs to tell him. Something this important shouldn't be kept from him, not now that things are official and serious between them. Yet the fears claw at her throat with their slender fingers, wrapping around her tongue to hold it still in submission. Could he still love her knowing that once the sunlight dies, she is no more than a broken bird, unable to fly and caged within the shackles of her own heart? 

Yes. 

She hears the gentle echo of his voice in her mind, “You are no broken bird, ya rouhi. You are so strong, I wish you could see yourself the way we see you.” 

But her fear at that moment is stronger.

Valerie slowly tilts her head to gaze at the wide expanse above them. The silence of the starless sky screams out at her, half in mockery, half in accusation. The unknown caresses her with its icy hands as she presses her face deeper into his warm chest, the scent of sandalwood surrounding her as she feels his warm hands press into her instead as she continues to sob. His hands hold her firmly in place as she seeks refuge within his sanctuary.

“Love, what is the matter? Please speak to me, you don’t need to keep it all bottled up within you anymore.” His deep voice cuts through the buzzing of her mind, bringing her out from its murky depths and back to reality.

Nate's eyebrows furrow as he looks down at the small woman, somehow appearing even smaller with the way she curls around herself within his hold. He wishes he could fix whatever had gone wrong to cause her such distress, but a part of him knows that such wrongs take time to heal, if they ever do. He could guess, using the small fragments he has glimpsed throughout their time together.

The way her eyes light up around Rebecca, only to dull once she leaves. A fake smile firmly placed upon her professional mask, a mask that eerily resembles the older woman herself until her real one slowly melts through hours later.

The way Tina fiercely defends her when she cannot herself, how she hates Rebecca so that Val can love her. 

The way she carefully hides the urge to freeze whenever someone moves too quickly, too unpredictably around her. Or the urge that occurs when the mention of needles is carelessly thrown around her, the subtle squint paired with the balling of her fists silently showing her discomfort, signs easily missed by anyone not able to hear the increasing heart rate that follows. Signs that Mason had picked up on first, the rest of them following shortly after. How could they not study all the details which make her the person they grew to care for, to love as a family?

The way she always refuses the aid of sleeping pills, no matter how dark her nightmares grow, causing her eyes to grow darker. Her smile weary and dull the next day as exhaustion threatens to drag her down.

But despite all that he has seen, Nate would rather not think assumptions about her, no matter how accurate. He is content to hold her together until she is ready to pull herself apart, to let her show him why he holds her together in the first place.

He simply loves her too much to know those parts of her until she is ready to reveal them first. 

The same way she sees how he flinches at the roaring thunder, too sharply for it to simply be his surprise at the crash echoing above them. Yet she never pries when he brushes it off with a smile, too forced to be genuine. 

The way she swallows back the occasional barbed retort when pushed by her mother, knowing each one would hit him as well. Knowing that she still has something he had lost long ago and not taking that for granted before him.

The way she is far more adept with technology, yet never takes it upon herself to dredge up the lost answers of his past herself. 

They both know that she could, yet she loves him too much. She is content to wait for him to reveal those shards of himself first.

He hadn’t realised how long they had sat there together, blanketed by the silence despite the screaming of their thoughts. He is brought back from deep within his mind when he feels her shift, her watery jade eyes peeking up at him. The vulnerability within causes his throat to tighten, the trust causes his heart to follow. 

The love and concern written all over his face is obvious, the two battling over what displays on his handsome features the most. It would make Val giggle if her heart hadn't sunk deep within her, causing her to cling to him as her anchor, preventing her from drifting off into that dark unknown once more. But as she gazes deep into the dark brown of his eyes, she feels at home.

Her fears melt away as he caresses her cheeks, silently wiping away the marks of her anguish as she allows herself to get lost in his eyes. 

His warm, brown eyes do not once leave her own, the newly revealed stars reflecting within them, twinkling through the gentle expression as he looks at her as if she is his world. She sees herself within his eyes, a mess in comparison to him, the rivers down her cheeks have become tinted with the black of her mascara, now slightly smudged from her tears being brushed away. 

Yet he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Hey love,” His hushed voice takes her away from her pain, if only for a moment, as she composes herself before him. “Are you ready to talk?”

For the first time in a while, Valerie feels her heart overflow with a love she never knew existed outside of fairy tales, knowing that she was safe and that he would listen to her story without running. That he would stand tall beside her, even on the days when all she could do is crumble.

With a watery smile, she pulls away from his warm comfort into the cold of night. Almost as if the shadows could shield her from the conversation she dreads. The dark embrace of nightfall had comforted her for so long, yet even with those shadows wrapping themselves around her shaking form, she had never quite felt as exposed as she does before him.

Confusion and concern flicker across his face as he looks up at her, not wanting to be the one to break the serene quiet that had fallen now her tears had lessened. Not wanting to startle her as she slowly pulls the loose threads of herself tight once more.

“Yes…I think I am.” Her voice is a shaky whisper as she stands before him, it takes all his strength to not reach out and hold her once more, knowing that being held together would do more damage, that it could cause her to flee further into that night like a skittish deer. He knows that she needs to make the small cracks first before she can let that wall fully crumble to the ground. How can he know so much, yet so little, about the woman who owns his heart?

So he simply stands, he stands before her and waits. Nate has all the time in the world, he is willing to give it all to her.

“I’m not exactly sure where to start,” Val runs her hands through her hair as she paces, the action doing very little to bring her comfort as she tries to pull at the stitches holding her heart and mind together, “or how to start actually… This might take a while. It might take a few days.”

Nate smiles down at her, a smile full of warmth and support that never fails to set her heart ablaze, no matter how frozen the day had caused it to grow.

“Take all the time you need, ya rouhi. If you need a suggestion, why not start with the main cause of your distress? We can have the discussion whenever you need, however often you need.”

Her fidgeting is brought to a halt as his words surround her. Relief washes over her small frame in waves as it sinks in, the olive branch he’s offered, a way out of needing to bare her whole heart to him in that fractured moment. A moment where she can’t even piece the story together, let alone weave it together for another to be able to follow. 

It almost brings her to tears once more, almost. She holds it back as best as she can, having cried enough for the both of them tonight.

She comes to stand before him, looking up at his tall figure, highlighted by that sickeningly familiar glow of moonlight. A sight that helps settle the frantic pounding of her heart, the shaking of her hands. She fiddles with the end of her braid as she nods, a nervous tick of hers that he has grown used to.

“Ok, I can do that, I can start with what happened today and maybe go from there.” Valerie takes a deep breath, not able to meet his eye for longer than a brief glance, her eyes dart around the scenery circling them as if not looking at him could hide her from his own gaze. As if it could protect her from his reactions.

“Do you ever feel numb to everything around you? Like you are watching a movie of yourself in real-time and yet the you in the movie isn’t accurate, no matter how hard you try to act like yourself it's just not…you? It’s like the more I try to act normal, the more distant I feel from myself in these moments. It feels like my emotions are hidden behind the dull fuzz of radio static, I know they are there but I can never seem to reach them. Not until that dam breaks, one way or another, and they all come rushing through to overwhelm me and make me wish that I could go back to feeling that numbness.

Then there's the sadness that follows, it’s an odd kind of sadness that I don’t even know how to describe. The type that tears you to shreds from within, pulling you towards actions you would never do normally, things you regret when pulling yourself together the next day. I’m fine though…Or will be fine, it's just that the familiar feeling has been creeping up on me again recently. I guess it came to a boiling point earlier today.”

She looks down at the ground between them, her eyes shut tight as she bites her tongue, already regretting the words that it had released into the cold sky. The admission that not even Rebecca knew, for it would eat her alive from the guilt. An admission that no one had heard since she uttered it to Tina years prior. The first and last time those words had been given life, until now.

Those dark, consuming feelings terrify her now that she has something to lose, someone important that could be scared away by the brief whisper of the words, the brief glimmer of what she kept hidden. Not that he would be scared away from her or let something like that push him away from her side, yet the thoughts refuse to leave her alone, eating away at her from the inside. 

Nate had taken her world of grey and taught her how to paint life back into it, never one to do it for her, purely giving her the tools to do so without even knowing. The thought of falling back into that grey unnerved her, the unwelcome fears come crawling out from the woodwork at the smallest whisper of her past.

Nate doesn’t leave her stewing within her muddled thoughts for long as he takes Valerie’s smaller hands within his larger ones, gently stroking the soft, pale flesh with his thumb before giving her hands a light squeeze. The action is soft and reassuring, letting her know that he’s still there, still hers.

His eyebrows furrow in concern as his own tears gather in his eyes. Yet he refuses to let them fall, not wanting to cause her more distress or to add more unneeded guilt onto her list. His heart aches at her confession, panic begins to swell in his chest at the implications laced between each word. The fear of losing her sets off alarm bells within his mind, the fear of what could have been makes them a cacophony.

He brings their joined hands to his lips, pressing feather-light kisses to her fingertips before letting one of her hands go in order to place a slender finger under her chin. He gently tilts her chin upwards, sighing inwardly as he spots her eyes tightly shut still. 

He bends down to press a tender kiss to her forehead, letting his lips linger as his voice caresses her. “Thank you for telling me, Val. I can’t say that I am familiar with what you’ve described, but I will do whatever it takes to help you through it, no matter what it takes or when it strikes.”

His heart swells with pride as he sees the strength that she had hidden away within her shielded heart. A certain type of strength he knew she would deny if spoken aloud but one he could always see within her, it shines brighter than the sun before him the moment she reveals her heart to him. The strength she holds lets her open up in ways unfamiliar to her, to push through the panic contracting her silence.

He beams down at her as she slowly opens her eyes to gaze up at him, the action causing the sides of his eyes to crinkle as he moves to slowly cover her face in kisses. Trailing down her nose, across each cheek before coming down to capture her lips in a sweet kiss.

“How did you usually handle such feelings? I can’t imagine that it has been easy for you.” He doesn’t miss the slight wince his question provokes, nor the way she bites her lip in hesitation, the urge to abort the conversation and run growing strong within her. So he simply tucks her head into the crook of his neck, cradling her close and letting the warmth of his body thaw the shivering overtaking her.

“The last time I acted on them, I ended up in a hospital,” She almost gasps with how easily the bitter confession fell from her lips, despite the fear that once kept it chained up within her.

She shrinks deeper into his hold when she hears his own sharp intake of breath, too quick for him to hide. Yet his gentle hands continue to hold her in place. He continues to hold her together as his fingers idly thread themselves through the braids in her hair, doing his best to comfort her without interrupting her constantly weaving train of thought. 

“I’m alright now, that happened six years ago and I’ve made a lot of improvements since then. To the point where I really am alright now, more than alright, in fact! Tina was the one to help me through all that, she was in the hospital with me every day for as long as they let her stay.”

“I’m glad that you had her with you during those moments, it must have been scary for you.” He sways her gently within his arms, a silent dance under the moon's soft glow. His heart tries its best to not break with her confession, knowing that she is safe now. That the evidence of her safety is currently sniffling within his embrace, painting his shirt with old tears brought back to life, not that he minds.

He makes a mental note to buy Tina some fancy chocolates as a late thank you, adding flowers for Val onto the list.

“What about Rebecca?” She freezes in his arms, the question shooting a new shard of ice into her chest. That shard of ice digs deep, letting old and almost forgotten emotions bleed out. “Was she-”

“There?” Val’s shaky voice cuts through his own less-than-stable one. The word rushes out of her as if it would get trapped should she speak any slower. She trips on her words, not trusting herself to continue once she has stopped, not giving herself the chance to escape after pausing for a breath.

Each confession feels like lead on her tongue, filling her with unnecessary shame as she shines a light on the dark corners of her past. She knows that she shouldn’t feel ashamed, yet the sensation swims within her chest regardless, trying to drag her under as she peels away the fractured pieces of her mask of perfection. 

“No, she didn’t know. I had changed my emergency contact for the hospital to Tina a few years before that. If Mum knew…she certainly never visited, so there's a good chance she doesn’t know at all. She can’t know, Nate. I’m sorry to throw all this onto you like that.”

He lets out the breath that he had been holding, the warmth of it brushing over her cold cheeks as he does. “You don’t need to apologise for any of this, Valerie. I am glad that you trust me enough to share parts of your past. You can always tell me anything, I hope you know that. As for Rebecca, she won’t learn about it from me, not if you wish for her to not know.”

He holds her shoulders, manoeuvring her so that he can gaze into her eyes. He gives her a watery smile of his own as he does, relieved that she had already exhausted all her tears for the evening as she peers up at him.

“I wish that I could do more for you,” he sighs, the sound is deep and old as an emotion Valerie can’t place swirls within his eyes.

“But you have done so much for me, Nate. More than I thought I deserved for a long time. You are like…one big ray of light on the days when I feel sad. Your smile never fails to send my heart and mind into overdrive, feeling more happiness than I know how to handle.” She brings a delicate hand up to caress his jaw, her thumb slowly stroking his cheekbone, giggling gently as she does. “You are the wordsmith out of the two of us, so I’m sorry if that doesn’t make much sense or sounds too cheesy.”

At that, the tense atmosphere that had been bubbling around them seemed to melt away as he slowly unties what remains of Val’s braid, her constant fidgeting paired with his own had made it far messier than she preferred.

“I didn’t want to make you sad or worried- seems like that is one of my talents recently,” she gives a weak chuckle at the light glare he throws her way. “I was having a bad day, which hasn’t happened in a while now that I think about it. I don’t think anything caused it either, it snuck up on me out of nowhere and I guess I just panicked. I had been meaning to tell you everything and I think that just stressed me out to the point of overthinking it and panicking even more than I previously was. I was scared to lose you, especially over something that had happened years ago.”

A chill wind cuts through the gap between them as the remains of the night fade away to greet the rising sun. The few remaining inky spectres -no longer content on dredging up the past- retreat from the light as Val watches the sunrise shine through his eyes. 

Despite the harsh wind building up around them, she no longer feels the cold nipping at her skin as she sinks deep into his leather jacket, still gently hanging from her shoulders. Her cheeks grow even warmer as he moves to zip it up, amusement shining in his eyes as she almost vanishes beneath the old leather. 

“If you feel like you are having another bad day, please come to me. Even if you don’t wish to discuss it, you don’t need to handle it alone, Val. You could never scare me away.” As if to punctuate his point, he quickly kisses the tip of her cold nose before pressing his forehead to hers. 

Under the golden light of dawn, Nate hesitates before taking a deep breath, almost begging the words to conjure themselves so that he didn’t need to. “I know what it's like to fear someone else's reaction to the past, what they might say, what they might be too afraid to say. You mean so much to me Val, to all of us. You don’t need to worry about scaring any of us away, we are a team, that goes beyond the agency.”

The smile she graces him with makes everything worth it as she laces her fingers with his own, clinging to him tightly as she turns to watch the sunrise and the way it causes the warehouse facade to glow in gentle hues of orange.

As he looks down at her, he notices Valerie standing a little taller, no longer being weighed down by those fears that had clung to her with all their might.

[coldslaws-gear-station]

I mean, y'know what the legends say what happens to untruthful and greedy kingdoms in Unova... Luckily he left before the fire though am I right guys?

Also yeah, I can imagine UD Alder and Drayden's relationship with each other is incredibly strained. Alder neglected his duties and completely ignored Drayden's concerns, it came to a point that after a kid won his badge he'd tell them not to go to the league, it's just not worth it.

But after he became the new champion you better bet your ass the elites got whipped into shape real quick. There was an incident where one of them tried to take the Pokemon off a trainer who lost, but the look he gave them made them drop the stolen mons. Iris also inherited the gym, she's having a whale of a time, Drayden walked into his old gym only to see it yassified. Yes he was proud but good lord did his blood pressure rise to new heights that day.

A thing I didn't really mention is the fact that N genuinely struggles after being freed during bw2. Imagine UD Ghetsis' distraught finding N drinking coffee at 3 AM, he hates coffee, why would she be drinking it? Turns out they hadn't slept in days, paranoid that if he falls asleep she'll wake up still strapped to that steel table. Paranoid that everything around them is still a dream and they're still out there harvesting all he's worth, she doesn't want to sleep nor wake up. It was a rough point in time for them...

... On a brighter note though, the Triad have names now! The steel type one is Hephaestus (He/They), the fighting type one is Ares (He/They), and the fairy type one is Hebe (She/They). Their aces all have one thing in common however, they're all steel type to match with the fact that they originally had simply Bisharps. Hephaestus' still has a Bisharp, Ares' has a Lucario, and Hebe has a Mawile.

Also N has braces, she deserves them. It's funny because everything he wears is particularly monochrome or dull, but the moment they open her mouth you're blasted with the sight of rainbow braces. Actually his coming out story was actually kind of awkward, it went along the lines of;

"Dad." "Yes, my dear?" "I wanna be referred to by she/her and they/them pronouns too." "If that's what you wish for, then alright." "... You're not upset?" "Should I be?" "Well... No, but I just didn't think you'd-" "Natural, dear, I've been out for over thirty years. If I judged you over who you are then I'd be a hypocrite."

UD Ghetsis actually wears a white eye patch over his injured eye, he no longer has that eye and uses a glass eye to fill the space. However when the kids were small they drew a crude eye on one of his white patches with permanent marker to make him feel better. He cried, he wears it like a fucking trophy of honour, yes my kids made this for me so yes I'm going to wear it.

- 💌

honestly love that for drayden. minus the misery . imagine how much it'd suck if iris wanted to become champ like she goes on to do in canon bw2 but drayden is actively trying to stop her because he does Not want to see his granddaughter lose her pkm. if that happened i think he'd storm the league himself and start throwing hands.

also

PLEAAASR JUST LET N KNOW PEACE IM CRYING... glad to see an n hates coffee truther (not like it's a particularly major hc but it's fun to see someone else shares the hc) BUT AUGH. the derealization must go crazy

also i like the names!! and their pokemon :) mawile underrated

BRACES N!! that's so cute i should draw that. connie on rh could use braces lowkey cuz she's got a bit of a tooth gap. or maybe she'll just grow out of it. i gave it to her cuz i thought it was cute, i used to have a bigass tooth gap as a kid (big enough that used to be able to drink through straws between my teeth like a freak) but grew out of it

common peepaw W. also glad he lets his kids use dad instead of father. i wanted to make my ghetsis let his kids use dad but i feel like even as Decent (not good) as he is he's too image focused to really allow something as simple as dad or daddy. you're gonna use father sorry idc how hard that is for a 7 y/o who is barely learning english to say (actually why n calls concordia "connie" in some in person scenes even though ghetsis would probably prefer he use her full name. concordia is just too hard for the little baby to say)

also hello gaycis. is he bi

THE SILLY EYE i love that. it's like kids giving their dad a shitty paper tie for father's day. i love it

[n30n-allavita]

To read ahead: https://www.wattpad.com/story/374748075?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details&wp_uname=Neontolife]

WILTING || 2 || Making an appearance

START RECAP (Skip if you need- I didn't add anything to it)

I usually loved showers but with the orphanages heater there was never a guarantee that your shower would love you back. Many of the kids held candy bets to see how long the last kids shower would stay warm. I typically enjoyed staying out of those, my candy being far too precious to simply bargain away. But watching the bets happen was pretty fun. The reigning winner nicknamed "Cavity" due to how much candy she had won against the other kids. She once even got one of the kitchen ladies to join in. That was by far the most entertaining match. But now it was my turn to face the timer that was the heater. What would my luck me today. The nozzle creaked as I turned it on. Swiftly I dropped my attire and jumped in, not willing to waste any of the hot water. Almost losing myself to the comforting warmth before the reminder of last time crossed my mind. The scream I let out from the cold water had me under scrutiny for almost a month! So with a brief slap to my cheeks- my face ones- my mind was snapped into the zone.

Let the race begin.

END RECAP (Continue story here.)

                    ------- Ebbot City, North Side at an old rusty plant shop. 38023, US -------

                                                                   Time: 01:17 XX/XX/203X

                                        Presumably the Present....code source.....Unknown

                                                                             Weather: Stormy

                                                                          Speaker: 01-16000--

This was taking too long. I didn't like that this was taking so d*mn long. I couldn't seem to find him and by now I was wading through knee deep water. The rain was causing this place to flood, made sense it looked like that was their deal. They held the people they wanted to in a concrete cell below the sidewalk. There were openings to the street with metal bars like a storm drain that led into the cells that wrapped the buildings outer edges. Unfortunately most of the cells had people in them. Now you'd think they would yell or something right?  Well, if you saw their faces you would keep your trap shut too.  It made this worse.....the building was big and there was only one hall. Thankfully during the storms intended to drown the inmates the guards mainly stay on the upper level. Meaning I didn't have anything else to worry about other than the rising water. Sh** Sh** Sh**!!!!

"KID! WHERE THE HELL ARE YA! I'M TRYNA GET YOU OUT D****IT I NEED YOUR RESPONSE" I shouted, knowing the chances of a response were near to none. But not zero- Although I regret making that known as the cells broke out in yells and cries. The lady in the cell beside me slamming into the bars screeching out to me. I slammed my hands against my head to make the echoes quieter in my skull. No use. I looked at her only to feel the color drain from my face.

These people have no eyes.....tongues......noses......their faces tattered......all that was left were their ears and banshee cries.....

We have to get him out of here!

||Present Day||

That was probably the worst shower I've ever had.  1 second into locking in on my strategy for efficiency and speed did disaster choose to strike. By that I really mean my shower head. The orphanage didn't have the greatest systems, they were older than the United States Flag I'd argue. So it was only a matter of when they'd break and I was proven right. The shower truly did not love me back. In fact it hated me. 

"The water had stopped as an ominous groan echoed from it. Drawing my attention to the head as I had thought that maybe it was just doing it's usual picky position shtick so I was going to adjust it to get the water back. But as you can clearly tell I didn't get that chance. The pressure built up and BAM! The head shot off and hit me in the head causing me to fall. That sucked and all but the shower had to freaking rub it in by spraying me with freezing cold water! I COULD'VE DROWNED- OW!! HEY WHAT-" I snapped.

"Hush. I didn't hit you that hard so don't be so dramatic. Now be quiet, not only are you being too loud but you're distracting the others." Ms. Moody scolded. I didn't respond as I only grumbled. It wasn't worth it to respond, if I did I would surely get a headache from her nagging. "Now run along all of you! I expect everyone of you to be ready for the visitation."

"yeah yeah" Henry groaned.

"I don't need your whining today Henry." She huffed in annoyance to the boy. I could only watch and giggle to Henry's Reddening face. Beet red. Clearly I wasn't the only one as the other kids giggled. But they shut up fast as Moody's rage was directed on them. The sounds of their scurrying feet could be heard clearly with the distant chatter. I'd probably have a new nickname if I wasn't picked. So- with that in mind...I was guaranteed a new nickname. But these thoughts were feeling redundant and only worsened my headache. I had to be presentable too after all and that shower wasn't going to do it so more effort for me. Whoopee...

Stumbling to my feet I staggered out of the nurses office and on my way to my room. One hand on the wall for support and an ice pack in my other. Gently to my bump the size of another head. I think I'll name it Robin. Rhymes with Noggin to which its unfortunately attached to. 

The joke was short lived as my attention was drawn to the end of the hall. My steps halted momentarily but resumed along a new course. Creeping quietly to see what was happening. I found myself fleshed against the wall and listening in.

"does that make sense everyone?" The voice was Ms. Moody, I could tell from a million miles away. Peaking in just slightly I finally got a look at what she was wearing. She had big hair, filled with hairspray no doubt. Straight from the 80's with it's bump it style and curls falling to her shoulders. It's rich color one reminiscent of dark chocolate. But that wasn't what was special about her attire. It was more her fashion sense. I wouldn't deem it red carpet worthy but I certainly wouldn't say it was bad. She wore a tan mesh dress that was the shape of one you'd wear to a romcom picnic. It had black lace roses all over it. She wore a vibrant red blazer unbuttoned on top of it. Her tights were a light black making her skin of her legs just a deeper shade. Now one might imagine this as a nice outfit, which It was! But the runs in her tights, the coffee stains in parts of the dress, and the bleach blob on the end of her left sleeve was it's obvious downfall.  Otherwise the outfit truly complimented her light olive skin and warm cheeks. She looked to be directing a large group of adults around the cafeteria. Having them sit all around at many of the clean tables. It seems this would be a brunch date with potential parents. Sweet! You wouldn't find me complaining about that! 

Pumping my fist in the air with a quiet yes I was certain today was looking up. Until I made eye contact with Ms. Moody. She looked appalled briefly before starting her way over. Yikes! That's my que to leave! Swiftly I skidded away from the door her footsteps fading behind me as I nary avoided being caught. I only hope she wouldn't recognize me later on, but Robin was likely a dead giveaway. Oh well I had to focus on getting ready!

Bursting into my room I avoided butt face Jeremy my roommate as I got to work. I'd need a whole new look if I hoped to be picked.

"Hey Two-Face Fruity, finally getting ready?" Jeremy taunted. But soon found he wouldn't get a response, so he just rambled on hoping to bug me. Of course it went in one ear and out the other. I have more important things to worry about. Let me lay it out for you:

Goal 1: Become unrecognizable to boost your appeal points while also boosting your sneak points. You can't afford to face Ms. Moody's wrath if she recognizes you as her one way ticket to a less than ideal rep.

Step one: Wash rag to the face. This will ensure that my face and exposed skin looks pristine. 

Step two: Per-foom. Better known as Perfume. This will ensure my beautifully crafted stink would be covered as to not draw negative attention to myself.

Step three: clean attire. The nicer the better. I already have one in mind for that!

Step four: Pray that you remember your manners.....that one is most likely to fail.

If these are all carried out successfully I'd be a shoe-in for any parents wanting a boy! Though I forgot one thing....the most important thing...the one that would change everything....

The world hates me.

Now what you are about to read is the most unfortunate of events. That is not being dramatic! At. All.  So reader discretion is advised. 

Step One- Wash rag. Except when grabbing the basket from the cleaning room it just happened to slip from my hands and fall. Now it would've been fine if there didn't just happen to fall into the dirty mop bucket from yesterdays food fight. Great.... 

Moving onto step two- Perfume. This should be simple yes? Wrong. It was in the girls bathrooms. Going from each one I was quick to find they were all conveniently occupied. So you can imagine how poorly that went. 

By step three I wasn't so confident any of this would work. But thankfully my clothes were in perfect condition! I just needed to nail step 4! Everything would be fine if I could just survive that!

"CHILDREN PLEASE COME DOWN!" 

Go time. 

Ms Witshkik or better known as Moody hit the Brunch gong. She thought it was exotic and effective. Only one of those were correct and I knew all of the other kids agreed on which that was. With one final glance at myself in the mirror I headed down with Jeremy still talking into my ear as if I was listening. We lined up as usual as one of Moody's assistants -who I never really learned her name- rattled off each name to confirm each of us as present. Which almost everyone was if it weren't for Samantha taking too dang long in the bathroom again. 

"What took you so long Samantha dear?" Moody asked gently. She always favored the girls more. Saying they were "more behaved" which I think is a load of Balonie (I know that's not how it's spelt) because the girls were plotting, conniving, sassy, rude, RATS! Not sweet little angels like everyone seems to believe. That's why after we watched tiny misfits the guys and I decided we would join the "He-man woman hating club." Just like in the show.

"I just had to look perfect Ms Moody!" She recited, knowing exactly what the lady wanted to hear. Kiss up. 

"Of course dear! Now get in line please." She smiled and watched as Sam went into her place. Before anything else Moody gave each of us a look we could easily read as 'don't F*** this up'. A threat we knew not to break at all costs. "Now let us go in. Please sit in your assigned seats or as close to it as you can. If there is no spot please fill in any remaining quickly and quietly. Go on in"

With that we all filed in. I was at the back of the line and considering how filled the room looked without us; I was positive that a handful of us would have to pull seats for the ends of the tables. What was fun to see was everyone's faces lighting up at seeing all the many options. As much as I hated it here I still loved the others like they were my flesh and blood. My family! I suppose I had gotten too lost in my mind because before I knew it....I was the only one left standing without a spot.

Drats....

-E-

|| 2063 words ||

[sasorikigai]

❛ i love taking care of you. and i always will. you know that? ❜ Wanda sighed softly as she leaned in to press her lips against Hanzo's cheek. (Any verse!)

&. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬. || @hexsreality || accepting

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Hanzo Hasashi cannot move; he can only see a sleep paralysis demon watching him. As worlds shift and memories become distorted, he becomes lost to the echoes of time. The hidden, undying grief manifesting and materializing, beating in time with his heart during every waking moment and clinging to the wispy ends of his dreams. His grief learns to be smart and cunning; learning to hide in the gaps between breaths, learning to whisper in his ears as the merciless gelid winter storm brews and blows. It does not linger long, but just enough to make him evermore still and silent. The demon's touch, so unbearably cold against his skin, ignites something deep within. On the warmth-absent tatami mat, he takes his place a spark. For the unlucky and unprepared, it may grab ahold of this moment of vulnerability and weakness and pull him under when he least expects it.

For Hanzo, though, it fades once again, and he continues forth with only faint memories surfacing in the recesses of his mind, lest the widening and exacerbating scars that grief leaves in his mind run deeper than any physical and psychological wound ever could. It also tries to convince him that he too, are forever lost, as his past life is lost. While in his life, he had healed just enough to briefly let go of his grief, letting it flow past him in the tumbling river of his thoughts without fighting it. This deep-settled melancholia may never fade, but it doesn't have to. Grandmaster Hasashi learned to live with it and he is still learning. But in this instance, grief festers and grows; taking over every bloody thought, every breath, every second of his waking moment. It pulls him under like an undercurrent, drowns him in fear and pain. He cannot resurface alone, and without someone to pull him up or a rock to grab ahold of, he may be lost forever. It has happened before, and will surely happen again, albeit seldom.

He finds his embrace longing beyond his comprehension and his countless trials and tribulations in Netherrealm, as it finds a home in his heart and soul, finding an inseparable connection. Time stands still and the night drags on and on. And in his subconscious, time is a hallway, filled with doors and mirrors. He sees Harumi Hasashi leaning on the sixth frame, and he runs to her, but grief is hiding in the cracks in the form of Satoshi's ruptured, frozen corpse. It grips his foot, and starts dragging him against the cold hard ground. But he is still resilient and persistent, for he climbs his way back to shore - and is the one to answer the cries and wails of his heart and soul, as the flaring surge of embers become the guiding light gleaming gently.

For hope becomes a whisper in the silence, the imperceptible smile on his exhausted face, as his fathomless umber eyes become the unwavering belief, the possibility of shining through cracks of despair. It is his courage to persevere, the resilience to rise, as Hanzo Hasashi yearns to become that last blazing leaf on the tree in autumn. "The guilt of not being able to save them still picks at my bones like a vulture, but I will not let it take me away from what matters most now," as the stronghold of his form rises to meet her warm lips like the lighthouse nestled in the impervious darkness, the hearthfire of his embers glow ablaze. How he wishes he could honor the unjustly slaughtered with every bloody bit that is left of him still.

How his impassioned eyes, scintillating like the brilliant stars hidden in the celestial skies as once-crumbled walls of reality become solid once again. And his arm rises, nestled against the nape of her neck as an upward caress cups her jaw in tender fashion. "As long as we have each other's hand in hand as we stand amidst even in the heartless storm, sharing burdens, united we withstand, the love's beacon will burn bright, guiding us through the unstable times of war." ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

[daboyau]

Forced to Watch prompt with your rise hunger games AU?

-pcw

Oh no I hope you don’t mind that this got long…..

He’d played the game.

He’d lost. 

Leo stands upon the stage, head high and proud, that triumphant grin never wavering. If he hadn’t felt the way that Leo shook when they’d grabbed him and tried to hold him back while they squabbled over who was going to be the one to climb the steps to the stage this year, he never would have known how terrified his brother is. Donnie sits where he’d landed when Leo had thrown him to ground, staring numbly towards the stage. Leo stares back. Meets his eyes. Does that little wrinkle of his nose that’s always meant i’m sorry. 

Donnie doesn’t tell him that he forgives him. He sits in the private room in the Justice Hall during their final goodbye and instead runs Leo through the various ways that tributes have won in the past. There’s been so many victors, and 23 times as many deaths. Leo knows them, too. They’d studied the footage together, after all, but he just nods along and lets Donnie ramble until he’s out of breath, and then Leo holds his hand and lets him hide his face in his shoulder and sob for their remaining time together. 

The Peacekeepers have to drag him out, hands in his hair, fingers bruising his arms, while Leo watches silently. Donnie understands why he won’t speak out. Even with two past Victors in their family, any sign of rebellion from Leo now will mean punishment for the rest of them. 

Raph removes him from the Peacekeepers’ grip when Donnie fights and hisses and bites to get back to Leo, and they won’t let go on their own. His mass alone is enough to make them back down, but it’s his calm demeanor and that quiet air of authority he always carried over himself like a funeral shroud that keeps them from retaliating.  He keeps a firm hand on Donnie’s shoulder, and he cradles Mikey close with his other arm. His expression is firm. Determined. 

“I’m going with him. Don’t worry, guys. Raph ain’t gonna let him get hurt.”

Mikey buries his face in their big brother’s side to muffle his cries. Donnie stares at the wall and wishes he could feel something besides the burning anger and the frozen terror. It would be nice to remember what hope feels like. 

Leo looks stunning during the Chariot Ride. They can all admit it, crowded around the holoscreen, watching with rapt attention for their first glimpse of Leo in days. The stylist had done good this year. Leo’s long black hair is braided to resemble a net, and beads catch the light and sparkle like fish trapped inside the strands. The blue sheen of his costume looks like the sea before a storm, and the gauzy white train that flows behind the chariot is like the foam tipped caps of the tall, dangerous waves their District is known for. The Capitol Citizens cheer when he waves, his smile bright, charm practically leaking from his pores. Leo was always meant for the spotlight. It makes Donnie feel sick.

“Do you think this will be enough to get him sponsors?” April asks, chewing at her nails nervously. Mikey leans his head on her shoulder, watching the holoscreen with wide eyes. Donnie keeps his distance. He wishes their father was here, but he hasn’t left his room since The Reaping. 

“He’ll be fine,” Donnie intones, eyes not leaving the screen. He doesn’t want to miss a single moment. His twin’s absence feels like a hole in his chest, and seeing him in the Capitol just rips that wound further. He watches because he deserves that pain. 

The next three days they only get glimpses of any of the tributes. Paparazzi shots of the tributes going back and forth from the apartments to the training grounds, and replays of the Reaping and the Chariot Ride. It’s not enough. It will never be enough. 

By the time the tribute interviews come around, papa still hasn’t emerged from his room. Mikey has bags beneath his eyes. Donnie hears him crying at night. He wants to invite him into his room so neither of them have to face the silence of their usually shared rooms alone, but it feels wrong. He’s tried so hard to keep himself distant so that something like this wouldn’t hurt. He was supposed to be the one to go, not Leo. 

Mikey must hate him for failing.

Leo dazzles, of course. He’s all smiles and easy jokes, making the host laugh, charming the audience, endearing himself to all but the tributes who watch from the shadows and dream of the fastest ways to kill him. To them, Leo is a threat.

The Game begins. Leo stands upon his platform, eyes narrowed, expression harder than Donnie’s ever seen. Mikey is curled up in Donnie’s lap, shaking all over, his breaths coming hard and fast. April stands behind them both, her arms wrapped around Donnie’s shoulders and hands clutching Mikey’s between them. Her breaths gust along his neck, raising goosebumps. Leo tenses, his eyes darting between the Cornucopia and the arena around him. Trying to decide what to do. 

“Run,” Donnie breathes, leaning forward, wrapping Mikey tighter. He knows Leo can’t hear him, but the words tumble out regardless. “You can find a weapon later. Don’t risk the bloodbath.”

4

Leo’s muscles go taut. His eyes dart between the other tributes, assessing, planning, picking them apart in a way only he can. 

3

Donnie knows the moment he’s made his decision. He recognizes the calm determination that sweeps over his twin, wiping the fear from his face, leaving only resolve behind. April’s quiet no, no, no echoes like a heartbeat in his ear. 

2

“Please,” Mikey whimpers. One last, futile attempt. Donnie wishes Raph was here. He doesn’t know what to do with the quivering mass of terrified little brother in his arms, besides hold him tighter and pray he won’t break him. 

1

Leo risks the bloodbath. 

He doesn’t die, not like they had all feared he might. There is blood on his hands when the dust clears. He holds twin swords in his hands, and he wields them with a confidence and grace that no other tribute can hope to match. It’s a good start. Impressive. Showy. It gets the attention of sponsors and of the gamemakers. 

It gets the attention of the other tributes. 

They come for him over and over again over the next few days, converging on him from different parts of the Labyrinth this year’s arena resembles. A group of tributes have teamed up, forming an alliance for one purpose only. 

They’re hunting him like a pack of rabid dogs, their focus on taking out the biggest threat in between picking off the weaker stragglers. It’s coordinated, as much as such an attack plan crafted by children can be. Leo is strong, though. He doesn’t go down without a fight. Even on the run, with no sleep and no time to eat, he never lets them see him break.

Donnie hasn’t slept in days. He can’t bear to look away from the holoscreen, even when Leo isn’t on it. The thought of missing even one second, of not being there to see his twin, even if the sight is ugly. He hopes Leo knows he is watching; this is as close to being there for him that Donnie can be. He wishes that he’d been there for him when he was still safe at home, too. 

He doesn’t stop even when one of the volunteers from Two gets in a lucky shot. He limps along, sword still clutched in his one remaining hand, the stump of the other one wrapped hastily in the windbreaker he’s been sent into the arena with. He leaves a trail of blood behind him. Donnie’s arm throbs. His fingernails are biting into his palm hard enough to draw blood. 

They find him quickly. He’s slowing down. His face is twisted in pain and in terror and in fury. Donnie feels like he’s going to be sick. Mikey takes his hand. Uncurls his fingers. Squishes himself into Donnie’s side as he silently cries. His voice is gone by now, throat torn to shreds after days of sobbing and screaming and cursing the Capitol. 

A slash at the back of Leo’s knee grounds him. His brother still fights on, but his movements are lagging. Blood loss and shock have made him slow. Someone gets another lucky swipe in. They lose their head for it, but the gash across Leo’s face is something that will never heal. 

Donnie doesn’t look away. 

The canon fires. 

It should have been him. 

.

(When he shudders awake, gasping and choking on his own garbled sobs and bloodied tongue, it takes him a moment to remember where he is. The silk sheets of the massive bed twist around him, clinging to his sweaty skin, holding tight like chains binding him to the Capitol. Reminding him of his fate inside the arena.

Donnie buries his face in his hands and sobs until the first light of dawn filters through the window. He’s never been happier.)

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ASOS: Daenerys I (Chapter 8)

The author is having a little too much fun.

No squall could frighten Dany, though. Daenerys Stormborn, she was called, for she had come howling into the world on distant Dragonstone as the greatest storm in the memory of Westeros howled outside, a storm so fierce that it ripped gargoyles from the castle walls and smashed her father's fleet to kindling.

Shoot, I need help! I don't know whether to laugh harder at the squall and howling, or the storm and smashed fleet.

And the gargoyles! Oh my god, the gargoyles.

+.+.+

She loved the sea. She liked the sharp salty smell of the air, and the vastness of horizons bounded only by a vault of azure sky above. It made her feel small, but free as well. She liked the dolphins that sometimes swam along beside Balerion, slicing through the waves like silvery spears, and the flying fish they glimpsed now and again. She even liked the sailors, with all their songs and stories. Once on a voyage to Braavos, as she'd watched the crew wrestle down a great green sail in a rising gale, she had even thought how fine it would be to be a sailor.

+.+.+

But when she told her brother, Viserys had twisted her hair until she cried. "You are blood of the dragon," he had screamed at her. "A dragon, not some smelly fish."

Why don't we compare how many fish and dragons are left at the end of the series, Viserys.

+.+.+

Captain Groleo was an old Pentoshi like his master, Illyrio Mopatis, and he had been nervous as a maiden about carrying three dragons on his ship. Half a hundred buckets of seawater still hung from the gunwales, in case of fires. At first Groleo had wanted the dragons caged and Dany had consented to put his fears at ease, but their misery was so palpable that she soon changed her mind and insisted they be freed.

I'm going to need a whole separate post for Dark Daenerys Highlights & Laughs, aren't I?

+.+.+

Dragons always preferred to attack from above, Dany had learned. Should either get between the other and the sun, he would fold his wings and dive screaming, and they would tumble from the sky locked together in a tangled scaly ball, jaws snapping and tails lashing. The first time they [Viserion & Rhaegal] had done it, she feared that they meant to kill each other, but it was only sport.

The first time...

+.+.+

He was always hungry, her Drogon.

I bet.

+.+.+

For six days and six nights they had been becalmed, and now a seventh day had come, and still no breath of air to fill their sails.

And on the seventh day, there was still no life for the Daughter of Death.

+.+.+

But the great cog Balerion was a song of a different key; a ponderous broad-beamed sow of a ship with immense holds and huge sails, but helpless in a calm.

Ask me how many times I put my phone down to laugh while reading this chapter.

+.+.+

"I cannot see Drogon," said Ser Jorah Mormont as he joined her on the forecastle. "Is he lost again?"

"We are the ones who are lost, ser.

What am I even here for? The jokes are writing themselves.

+.+.+

"In the Seven Kingdoms, there are tales of dragons who grew so huge that they could pluck giant krakens from the seas."

Dany laughed. "That would be a wondrous sight to see."

Wouldn't it?

+.+.+

They are my children, she told herself, and if the maegi spoke truly, they are the only children I am ever like to have.

x

"It is only a tale, Khaleesi," said her exile knight. "They talk of wise old dragons living a thousand years as well."

"Well, how long does a dragon live?"

[...]

The squire Whitebeard, standing by the figurehead with one lean hand curled about his tall hardwood staff, turned toward them and said, "Balerion the Black Dread was two hundred years old when he died during the reign of Jaehaerys the Conciliator. He was so large he could swallow an aurochs whole. A dragon never stops growing, Your Grace, so long as he has food and freedom."

I love that this girl, who believes she's the last of her line, never once contemplates what happens to the world and those dragons once she's gone.

+.+.+

"If walls could keep us small, peasants would all be tiny and kings as large as giants," said Ser Jorah. "I've seen huge men born in hovels, and dwarfs who dwelt in castles."

"Men are men," Whitebeard replied. "Dragons are dragons."

Ser Jorah snorted his disdain. "How profound." The exile knight had no love for the old man, he'd made that plain from the first. "What do you know of dragons, anyway?"

The girls are 🌺 fighting. 🌺

It's a competition for who she will send to their grave first.

+.+.+

"Did you ever meet my royal father?" King Aerys II had died before his daughter was born.

"I had that great honor, Your Grace."

"Did you find him good and gentle?"

Whitebeard did his best to hide his feelings, but they were there, plain on his face. "His Grace was . . . often pleasant."

Seriously, who's the bigger bootlicker, Davos or Barristan?

+.+.+

"He could be very harsh to those he thought his enemies."

"A wise man never makes an enemy of a king," said Dany.

Can you picture Bran ever saying something like this?

+.+.+

"It was said that no man ever knew Prince Rhaegar, truly. I had the privilege of seeing him in tourney, though, and often heard him play his harp with its silver strings."

Ser Jorah snorted. "Along with a thousand others at some harvest feast. Next you'll claim you squired for him."

"I make no such claim, ser. Myles Mooton was Prince Rhaegar's squire, and Richard Lonmouth after him. When they won their spurs, he knighted them himself, and they remained his close companions. Young Lord Connington was dear to the prince as well, but his oldest friend was Arthur Dayne."

Let's ask ourselves the obvious: why are two squires getting this much attention alongside Lord Connington and Arthur Dayne?

From what I can tell, one is still alive.

+.+.+

Whitebeard bowed his head. "It is not my place to question the words of Prince Viserys."

"King," Dany corrected. "He was a king, though he never reigned. Viserys, the Third of His Name.

A king who never reigned. Third of his name.

What a tragedy.

+.+.+

"As a young boy, the Prince of Dragonstone was bookish to a fault. He was reading so early that men said Queen Rhaella must have swallowed some books and a candle whilst he was in her womb. Rhaegar took no interest in the play of other children. The maesters were awed by his wits, but his father's knights would jest sourly that Baelor the Blessed had been born again. Until one day Prince Rhaegar found something in his scrolls that changed him. No one knows what it might have been, only that the boy suddenly appeared early one morning in the yard as the knights were donning their steel. He walked up to Ser Willem Darry, the master-at-arms, and said, 'I will require sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior.'"

"And he was!" said Dany, delighted.

Right. Got his chest caved in his first and only battle.

Rhaegar had no interest in playing with other children. Big surprise there.

Fucking loser seriously read a book and decided he was The Chosen One.

+.+.+

Back in Qarth, the warlock Pyat Pree had sent a Sorrowful Man after her to avenge the Undying she'd burned in their House of Dust.

Is there anything in the text to suggest it was Pyat Pree and not Xaro Xhoan Daxos? It's Daenerys, so naturally I assume she's wrong.

"Suppose a Sorrowful Man came to my palace one night and killed you as you slept," said Xaro. - Daenerys III, ACOK

+.+.+

She hoped that Xaro Xhoan Daxos was not an enemy, but the Quartheen merchant had coveted her dragons. And there was Quaithe of the Shadow, that strange woman in the red lacquer mask with all her cryptic counsel. Was she an enemy too, or only a dangerous friend? Dany could not say.

Xaro Xhoan Daxos is your enemy, so I think I know what Quaithe is.

+.+.+

Ser Jorah saved me from the poisoner, and Arstan Whitebeard from the manticore. Perhaps Strong Belwas will save me from the next.

✨ foreshadowing ✨

+.+.+

Thankfully, I have Ser Jorah and my bloodriders. And my dragons, never forget. In time, the dragons would be her most formidable guardians, just as they had been for Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters three hundred years ago. Just now, though, they brought her more danger than protection.

Just now, eh? You poor stupid little thing.

+.+.+

She tried to imagine what it would feel like, when she first caught sight of the land she was born to rule.

You're the third-born daughter.

+.+.+

It will be as fair a shore as I have ever seen, I know it. How could it be otherwise?

Grim places needed lightening, not solemnity, and Dragonstone was grim beyond a doubt, a lonely citadel in the wet waste surrounded by storm and salt, with the smoking shadow of the mountain at its back. - Prologue, ACOK

+.+.+

"I was not sleeping, ser. Come and watch." She took a chunk of salt pork out of the bowl in her lap and held it up for her dragons to see. All three of them eyed it hungrily.

Thank god there's lots of salted pork on the ship to keep the dragons fed!

There were pigs as well: the biggest, blackest boars that any of the ironborn had ever seen and plenty of squealing piglets in the brush, bold creatures that had no fear of man. They were learning, though. The larders of the Iron Fleet were filling up with smoked hams, salted pork, and bacon. - The Iron Suitor, ADWD

+.+.+

Drogon moved quicker than a striking cobra. Flame roared from his mouth, orange and scarlet and black, searing the meat before it began to fall. As his sharp black teeth snapped shut around it, Rhaegal's head darted close, as if to steal the prize from his brother's jaws

+.+.+

"So I see. Dracarys?"

All three dragons turned their heads at the sound of that word, and Viserion let loose with a blast of pale gold flame that made Ser Jorah take a hasty step backward.

Love that they respond to anyone saying this. That might be a problem.

+.+.+

Never forget, Robert offered a lordship to the man who slays you."

[...]

"The Usurper is dead," she said.

"But his son rules in his place."

Are we still talking about Joffrey?

+.+.+

His jaw set stubbornly. "Your path is dangerous, I will not deny that. But if you blindly trust in every liar and schemer who crosses it, you will end as your brothers did."

[...]

"Illyrio Mopatis wants you back in Pentos, under his roof. Very well, go to him . . . but in your own time, and not alone. Let us see how loyal and obedient these new subjects of yours truly are. Command Groleo to change course for Slaver's Bay."

[...]

Dany was not certain she liked the sound of that at all. Everything she'd ever heard of the flesh marts in the great slave cities of Yunkai, Meereen, and Astapor was dire and frightening. "What is there for me in Slaver's Bay?"

"An army," said Ser Jorah. "If Strong Belwas is so much to your liking you can buy hundreds more like him out of the fighting pits of Meereen . . . but it is Astapor I'd set my sails for. In Astapor you can buy Unsullied."

"The slaves in the spiked bronze hats?"

[...]

There is wisdom in this, yes, Dany thought

Perfect.

Jorah, the liar and schemer, sending her on the wrong path. Daenerys, ignoring her own instincts, blindly trusting him.

She quickly warms to the idea of buying a slave army, not realizing Aegon and the Golden Company are waiting in Pentos. Whoops.

Later in the series it will be Tyrion who convinces Aegon to turn towards Westeros.

+.+.+

Do you know the tale of the Three Thousand of Qohor?"

[...]

"But when dawn broke and Temmo and his bloodriders led their khalasar out of camp, they found three thousand Unsullied drawn up before the gates with the Black Goat standard flying over their heads. So small a force could easily have been flanked, but you know Dothraki. These were men on foot, and men on foot are fit only to be ridden down.

"The Dothraki charged. The Unsullied locked their shields, lowered their spears, and stood firm. Against twenty thousand screamers with bells in their hair, they stood firm.

"Eighteen times the Dothraki charged, and broke themselves on those shields and spears like waves on a rocky shore. Thrice Temmo sent his archers wheeling past and arrows fell like rain upon the Three Thousand, but the Unsullied merely lifted their shields above their heads until the squall had passed. In the end only six hundred of them remained . . . but more than twelve thousand Dothraki lay dead upon that field, including Khal Temmo, his bloodriders, his kos, and all his sons.

I believe the author would like me to recall something from the previous chapter.

The free folk. If his brothers were to catch them in such disarray, many of them would pay for that freedom with their life's blood. They had numbers, but the Night's Watch had discipline, and in battle discipline beats numbers nine times of every ten, his father had once told him. - Jon I, ASOS

+.+.+

The next storm could sink or scatter us, a kraken could pull us under . . .

+.+.+

"Hand me my medallion belt," she commanded Jorah as she pulled the sandsilk up over her hips. "And my vest—" she started to say, turning.

Ser Jorah slid his arms around her.

"Oh," was all Dany had time to say as he pulled her close and pressed his lips down on hers. He smelled of sweat and salt and leather, and the iron studs on his jerkin dug into her naked breasts as he crushed her hard against him. One hand held her by the shoulder while the other slid down her spine to the small of her back, and her mouth opened for his tongue, though she never told it to. His beard is scratchy, she thought, but his mouth is sweet. The Dothraki wore no beards, only long mustaches, and only Khal Drogo had ever kissed her before. He should not be doing this. I am his queen, not his woman.

It was a long kiss, though how long Dany could not have said. When it ended, Ser Jorah let go of her, and she took a quick step backward. "You . . . you should not have . . ."

"I should not have waited so long," he finished for her. "I should have kissed you in Qarth, in Vaes Tolorru. I should have kissed you in the red waste, every night and every day. You were made to be kissed, often and well." His eyes were on her breasts.

Dany covered them with her hands, before her nipples could betray her. "I . . . that was not fitting. I am your queen."

Pardon?

Gag at all of this.

+.+.+

Rhaenys and Visenya were Aegon's wives as well as his sisters. You have no brothers, but you can take husbands.

I know where she can find two brothers!

Final thoughts:

And here I thought Storm x Storm hints would drop off with no Theon chapters.

-> return to menu <-

[electric--blanket]

a place where the heart rests

so, because @thekaiserroll drew fanart of my fanfiction i decided to return the favour by writing a long Wintersberg one-shot based off of her short comic! i hope you enjoy touch-starved Heisenberg.

warnings for death (not for main characters) and some angst.

read on ao3

--

Mama… I want mama. It hurts.

Where’s mama?

Karl Heisenberg always suffered from nightmares. Even before he was taken in by Mother Miranda — as a child, Heisenberg often experienced night terrors that had him screaming in his bed. There were distant memories in the back of his mind, where he’d wake from a terrible dream that had him screaming for his mother — and she’d always come to his side. In that terribly large, cold estate that Heisenberg once called home, it always felt so lonely. But, his mother always eased his fears; with her silk nightgown and the distinct smell of expensive soap. Her soft fingers would comb through Heisenberg’s locks of ashen brown hair, hushing him in a soft tone of voice — a voice he could no longer remember.

During the experiments, it was the only thing Heisenberg begged for when he felt the cadou infesting his body. It felt like a worm wriggling around in the wet soil during a storm, curling and writhing through his organs. He screamed for his mother, wishing she would save him from the pain and take him home again. A seventeen-year-old boy screaming for his mother to come and save him looked utterly pathetic from Mother Miranda’s perspective, and the feeling of fear only intensified when she stroked Heisenberg’s hair whilst he screamed. A soft whisper that uttered, “I’m your mother now, child.” It made Heisenberg nearly vomit.

That was the last time someone had ever touched him so tenderly. He’d not felt a loving touch since then and ducked away from Miranda’s so-called ‘motherly’ touches.

At first, Heisenberg coped with the intense trauma of his bodily changes by taking it in stride and calling his newfound power of magnetism a ‘gift’. He knew deep down it was the opposite: it stopped him from ageing, rendered him infertile and stripped away his dignity by becoming a slave to Miranda. It took a long time for Heisenberg to fully process what had happened to him. His father had left him in the clutches of a madwoman, and his life only got worse from there.

In a fit of rage — perhaps at the age of twenty-nine — he revisited his parent's estate to confront the man he could no longer call ‘father’. He had aged since Heisenberg last saw him, but those steel eyes he’d inherited were still as hard as ever. His mother lingered in a doorway just down the hall, but she didn’t dare come to greet her son as he snapped with a short, interrupted breath. Heisenberg had grabbed his father by the neck and pinned him to the nearest wall, knocking down a beautiful oil painting his mother adored. His fingers didn’t seem to stop, squeezing on the skin and bone until he felt a sickening crack vibrate beneath his fingers.

Heisenberg hadn’t meant it, not really. It was as if a demon had taken control of his body and sought revenge that barely mattered anymore. He didn’t realise what he’d done until he heard the sound of his mother screaming; distraught and fearful of her own son that she’d once coddled so long ago.

That was the last time Heisenberg saw his mother and father. The estate was quickly abandoned not long after, and from what he knew, his mother took her belongings and moved to Austria with some distant relatives. That large house teased Heisenberg every fucking day, with how it towered near the factory grounds and reminded him of what he’d done. Arson wasn’t exactly on his bucket list, but Heisenberg couldn’t resist taking a match to the place and watching it burn. Whatever childhood remained in that house was left in a pile of ashes, and he never looked upon it ever again. All of the silly dreams and hopes he’d had for his life were gone.

That was until Ethan Winters showed up. Nearly a hundred years later, Heisenberg felt something he’d sought after for so long — hope.

**

“Karl? Karl—!”

Mama. I want mama. Everything hurts.

Heisenberg forced his eyes open. It felt like his life was replaying in front of him whilst he was passed out; like watching an old film reel repeating itself and becoming more distorted each time. Up until that very night, Heisenberg’s life had been a series of traumatic events and unforgivable actions.

That night, he’d turned it all around just by laying his eyes on Ethan Winters. A man so incredible, resilient and insane… He’d do anything to get his little girl back. It was the man Heisenberg had oh-so wanted his father to be, and he admired that about Ethan. He’d never been so good at expressing his emotions honestly, or even laying out his ideas in a proper fashion to others… Oh, but Ethan was special. He’d shown Heisenberg patience that he’d not been offered before and decided to join him at his side to kill Miranda. Together.

“Karl… Fuck— Don’t die on me, asshole.”

Ethan… Ethan…

Above the metal remnants of what his mutated body had used as a shell, he could hear Ethan pushing the scrap aside to try and find Heisenberg buried beneath it. He could also hear the distinct cries of a distressed baby, something that brought him back to Earth. Heisenberg reached up through the metal until his bare, calloused fingers brushed up against Ethan’s soft knuckles. There was a moment of silence when their skin touched, but Ethan didn’t waste any time in grabbing Heisenberg’s hand and pulling him out.

The moment the pressure around his body ceased, Heisenberg felt the telltale feeling of sickening warmth seeping from many wounds across his body. The cadou inside him didn’t react too well to it, trying to cope with the trauma done by squirming and pulsating inside of him. Heisenberg drank in the expression of Ethan’s relieved face for just a moment, only until it warped into one of worry and horror. Heisenberg was weak, and his knees buckled beneath the weight of his torso before he fell back onto the ground.

The baby cupped carefully in one of Ethan’s arms began to cry again as Ethan jostled her accidentally in an attempt to help Heisenberg. A baby crying wasn’t really helping Heisenberg’s already distressed state, but it made him realise just how fucked he was. There was no way they would get away in time together, and Heisenberg was too injured to walk. The cadou might have helped to some degree, but it didn’t ease the burning pain in his body, and the loss of blood that was making him dizzy.

Ethan’s horrified expression was pinned on an appendage from the Megamycete, which rose up from the cave systems like a flower bud in spring, ready to bloom. The small, red flashing light alerted him to the fact that Chris Redfield had succeeded in planting the bomb. They had to leave.

“Go.”

A silence hung in the air for just a moment, and Heisenberg didn’t realise what he’d just said. For the first time in his miserable existence, he was being selfless and urging Ethan to leave him behind. It was the last thing Heisenberg wanted.

Don’t leave me here. I’m fucking scared. I don’t want to die yet.

“Fuck you,” Ethan’s voice trembled with venom, “I’m not leaving you here now. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

Heisenberg let out a bitter chuckle, tasting the blood seeping from his gums as he grinned, “I don’t think we have any time to be arguing about this, buttercup.”

“No. I— Mia’s dead, Karl. I need you.”

That’s right. Heisenberg briefly recalled Miranda’s kidnapping of the not-so-innocent woman and the experimentation that followed. Unfortunately, her body gave in due to her state after giving birth and she died on Miranda’s operating table. Ethan’s wife was dead, and Rose was now left without a mother’s loving touch.

“I said go. Rose needs her papa intact, not blown to pieces.” Heisenberg insisted, slumping back against the pile of scrap metal.

“Damn it—” Ethan looked hesitant to leave Heisenberg. It was a truly sweet sentiment: to see someone care about him after all this time. After all of the terrible things he’d done, and the love he’d been deprived of… Someone cared about him. Maybe that was enough. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to die like this.

“Fuck.” Ethan stammered again, licking his dry lips and swallowing, “Karl… I… Thank you.”

“... Yeah. I know, Ethan.”

That was all he needed. A trembling, watery smile shot his way before Ethan held Rose close with both arms and turned to run.

He’s going to be a great father.

Heisenberg looked up at the plant-like form the Megamycete had taken, looming down upon the ceremony courtyard with writhing mold creeping closer to Heisenberg. It was then that he decided that giving in like this wasn’t who he was: he was a fighter to his last breath.

In a last attempt to preserve his life, Heisenberg parted the pile of scrap metal and shuffled beneath it all. He rolled his wrist, the cocoon of metal surrounding him and tightening. The metal creaked, drowning out the sounds of the mold writhing around the metal to try and get inside. Heisenberg closed his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth. I won’t die. Not yet.

The explosion that followed shortly after was deafening, causing the entire ground to shake beneath him and the metal to shudder against his body. It felt painful, rippling off his injured skin like that… But, fortunately for Heisenberg, the explosion wasn’t nuclear — the blast was enough to do the job and wipe out the mold and the Megamycete.

A silence followed the explosion, brick and ash collapsing against Heisenberg’s metal cocoon. Each noise made him flinch, and his fingers twitched instinctively as some final line of defence. He didn’t know how long it was before he felt brave enough to let his guard down and release his telekinetic grip on the metal. The scraps suddenly slumped, collapsing around him as Heisenberg pushed the metal off of his body and emerged like a phoenix rising from the ashes of its former self.

The smoke and dust still remained, causing Heisenberg to cough heavily as he took a sharp inhale of the air. He squinted through the dust and remains of what was left of his home town and realised how much he’d lost. It hit him all at once; his childhood, his parents and his fucked up little family. Even though he hated Miranda and his makeshift siblings deeply, they were all he truly had left to call ‘family’. It was over in the blink of an eye, and Heisenberg suddenly felt like a child all over again. Like a child waking from a nightmare, scared and alone.

Heisenberg’s fingers twitched into tight fists, clamping his mouth shut as tears threatened to spill down his face. Even after all this, he tried to will himself not to cry, to never let down the walls he had so carefully built. But, at that moment there was nothing left to keep the foundations upright. Heisenberg’s fists loosened, and he brought his hands up to cover his face instinctively. A knot seemingly untied itself in his chest and throat, and a guttural sob left him. Maybe — just maybe — it was okay.

**

Navigating the woods was even worse during a snowstorm at night. It was bad enough that Heisenberg’s body was weak from his healing injuries, but it felt haggard from his intense emotional breakdown. In a strange sense, he felt relief from it but at the same time, it felt awfully inconvenient. Heisenberg was sure he looked like a terrible mess; his clothes were torn and his hair was damp with clumps of ash hanging from his silver locks. Not to mention the blood staining his clothes, and his valuable dog tags that hung low on his chest.

In his many idle chats with Ethan before they fought Miranda, he could recall the other man mentioning he didn’t live too far from the village. It was a fair distance away, but not too far that it would be impossible to reach if your car broke down on the road between them. Still, it wasn’t a pleasant or short walk.

By the time Heisenberg even managed to reach a place that looked like a livable home, he was close to collapsing in the snow… But, he held out. The lights were turned off inside, but a motion sensor light on the property turned on once Heisenberg got close enough. The bulb blinded him briefly, and he held a hand up to shield his eyes as he walked up the porch to the door. Heisenberg sluggishly lifted his hand, knocking on the door as hard as he could and leaning against the frame. It took a few moments before he could see a light turn on inside from the windows, and the sound of someone walking down a wooden staircase slowly.

The person on the other side of the door stopped before they reached for the doorknob, and they spoke out.

“Who is it?”

Ethan Winters. That voice Heisenberg had missed so dearly; in all of its glory and full of caution. It almost made him laugh.

“Let me in, Ethan. I’m freezing.”

“Karl?”

“As smart as ever, Ethan. Can you hurry up?”

Ethan was quick to unlock the door and remove the security chain, twisting the doorknob and pulling it open. There, Ethan was standing in a pristine white shirt and some boxers that hung low on his hips… Along with a pair of comical slippers that seemed to resemble a cartoon dog. Heisenberg’s lips twitched into a tired grin.

“Oh my, too much skin, Ethan. Back in my day—”

“Shut up and get in here!”

Ethan grabbed Heisenberg’s arm, tugging him inside to shield him from the snowstorm outside. He slammed the door shut and quickly locked it back up, and the two men finally stood face-to-face. There was a silence that hung in the air, with so many unanswered questions on the tip of Ethan’s tongue, but none came. Without any further hesitation, Ethan threw his arms around Heisenberg’s neck and tugged him close for an embrace.

It was the first time Ethan had touched him in such a way. So full of affection and genuinity, it made Heisenberg’s fingers tremble with uncertainty. He didn’t know what to do with his hands: so overcome with the touches that smothered him. His brows creased into an expression of relief, and Heisenberg’s steel eyes fluttered shut as he succumbed to the hug. He wrapped his arms around Ethan’s waist, squeezing him carefully and burying his face into Ethan’s shoulder. The smell of talcum powder and formula milk permeated his shirt, giving Heisenberg the comfort he craved. He never wanted Ethan to stop touching him, and he was content to stay like this for as long as he could — to make up for all the time he’d lost aching after affection.

“I thought…” Ethan mumbled slowly, “I thought you were dead.”

“Mm.” Heisenberg hummed lowly in response, curling his fingers into Ethan’s shirt. “So did I. Turns out I’m hard to kill.”

Ethan snorted softly.

**

As it turned out, Heisenberg wasn’t too bad with kids.

It was a tough adjustment for the two men at first; Ethan had to keep Heisenberg a well-guarded secret as he was moved to a new location with Rose (courtesy of the BSAA). Heisenberg followed their steps at a safe distance, but he was never too far from them. Understandably, Ethan was moved into a smaller home: a humble bungalow in a quiet German village. Once the BSAA had left Ethan in peace with Rose, it didn’t take long before Heisenberg settled into the bungalow with them.

Ethan had insisted that if Heisenberg was going to stay there with him and Rose, then he’d need to learn to help take care of the baby. At first, he was extremely hesitant to do something akin to a parental figure… But, Rose was a surprisingly sweet baby. She didn’t fuss too much and rarely threw a tantrum over the little things. Rose was the right amount of responsibility for Heisenberg, and that made him a patient parent.

He’d been taught how to properly hold her (after many lectures), how to prepare her formula and change her. Rose was understandably unhappy with Heisenberg’s presence at first, perhaps longing for her mother that was no longer around… But, after a few months, she took to Heisenberg very well.

Because of Karl’s lack of mortality and infertility, he never thought he’d take the figure of a father like this… But, it wasn’t exactly an unwelcome opportunity. He’d even upgraded from sleeping on the couch to Ethan’s bed.

The first night Ethan invited him to bed, Heisenberg could tell from the flustered look on Ethan’s face that it took a lot of courage to ask him to bed. A sexual joke lingered on the tip of Heisenberg’s tongue, but he bit it back in favour of keeping the proposal on the table. Instead, Heisenberg had nodded with a cheeky grin and followed Ethan to bed.

There had been some nights where the loss of Mia hit Ethan harder than he’d liked it to — even after Mia’s work with The Connections was revealed, he had still loved her to a degree. Those nights were the hardest. All Heisenberg could do was hold Ethan in his arms and comfort him with nothing more than his presence.

This invitation into Ethan’s bed was far more intimate than a comforting hug. At first, they stayed a polite distance apart on either side of the bed, with Ethan turned on his side whilst Heisenberg stared up at the dark ceiling. In the darkness, his eyes created shapes that danced across the ceiling and warped before him. Much like the mold that infested him, it was as if it continued to taunt him with its presence. After a moment, Heisenberg finally turned onto his side and glanced at the lump that was Ethan with his back to him. That urge to touch returned to the forefront of Heisenberg’s mind. It was that deep ache in his chest, like a lump of flour stuck in a smooth dough that needed to be coaxed inward.

He reached out but stopped himself before he could touch, trying to plan the best way to move forward with what he wanted. Heisenberg pursed his lips, shuffling his body closer to Ethan’s back until he finally slid his arm over Ethan’s waist. He could feel Ethan’s body freeze and tense up a little, which made Heisenberg’s heart feel like stopping altogether. Had he gone too far?

But after a moment, Ethan relaxed, pressing his chest back into Karl slowly. It was all the permission he needed to slot himself fully against Ethan and quietly seek out his hand. Once Heisenberg found it, he carefully laced their fingers together as he held Ethan like that, tugging him close with his elbow.

No words were spoken in the darkness, but a silent understanding of what they both wanted. Heisenberg finally felt complete like this, closing his eyes and exhaling tiredly. His body suddenly felt tired, releasing all the tension it had been holding trying to psyche himself up to do it.

A feeling of affection swelled in Heisenberg’s chest as he held Ethan, finally giving in to the darkness and drifting away with their bond now stronger than ever.

**

“Are you fucking insane, Ethan?!”

Chris Redfield. A thorn in Heisenberg’s side, but not as bad as Miranda. His voice filling their home put Heisenberg on edge, but it didn’t really matter too much to him. It was around ten in the morning, and the couple had just had breakfast. The television was on, playing some cartoons in the background as Rose was sitting on the soft carpet of the living area with her toys, and Heisenberg sat close to her.

When Chris made an unexpected visit, and he spotted Heisenberg in the living room, the yelling began. Ethan had kept Chris just outside of the room so that Rose didn’t see her father getting angry, and Heisenberg made sure to keep her attention on her toys. Heisenberg was wearing a pair of tartan boxers, along with a button-up pyjama shirt with a white tank top beneath it. It wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of bedtime fashion, but it made him comfortable enough at night.

When the yelling only got worse and Rose seemed irritated by the noise, Heisenberg carefully brought Rose into his lap and crossed his legs.

“Hmm,” He hummed in feigned thoughtfulness, “Does ol’ Karl need to perform for little Rose again?” Heisenberg sighed dramatically, “Oh, the things I do for you.”

He turned his body subtly to the kitchen area, holding his hand out and focusing on one of the drawers. It slid open, a few tablespoons floating out from a cutlery tray. Heisenberg pulled his hand back, the spoons floating across to the living area and bringing them to a stop in front of him and Rose. With a simple, slow roll of his wrist, the spoons began to twirl and move in a circular motion above Rose.

Her eyes widened with fascination, the corners of her mouth opening into a gleeful smile. Absently, she reached up with her soft, pink hands and tried to reach for the spoons half-heartedly as they continued their motions. A soft laugh bubbled from her, causing Karl to smile softly.

“He’s a dangerous bioweapon, Ethan. He could hurt Rose!”

Heisenberg managed to hone in on those words; a sharp pain digging into his chest when he realised the implications Chris was trying to make. That Heisenberg was a monster. A bioweapon without feeling. A creature that would kill a child.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ethan pointing wordlessly at the soft scene of Heisenberg with Rose in his lap, entertaining her with spoons. That was all he needed to say, really — without even saying it. Even Chris was at a loss for words, and he quietly relented. Ethan was surely in for an afternoon of lectures.

It made Heisenberg smile a little more, turning his head subtly towards Ethan and catching his gaze. It was his quiet way of saying thank you. It went beyond thanking Ethan for trusting him with Rose but thanking Ethan for listening to Heisenberg, taking him into his home and loving him. Even though they’d never spoken those three little words out loud, maybe they didn’t need to. Their actions, affections and closeness spoke those words loud enough.

Truly, after all this time, Heisenberg didn’t think he was capable of ever being loved or trusted. Now that he’d left that horrible life behind, he was now a father, a friend and possibly a lover. The trauma would always remain, yes, like the cadou and the mutations. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be happy like this, in this simple little life he’d started to build with Ethan.

Maybe it would be okay.