#there WAS a point where things were well beyond your power to stop

[the-maddened-hatter]

My personal headcanon regarding the mob chasing Allicent & Helana is that they just wanted to throw fish and stuff at the ruling queen Allicent.

Like to me, personally, there was someone who yelled "our bad!" when a fish meant for Allicent clipped Helana

[gffa]

Okay, so. The senator's speech. Here's why I'm okay with it: It fundamentally misunderstands the worldbuilding of Star Wars and the Force, in a way that's reasonable for a senator to misunderstand. To say the senator is right, you would have to say that the entire foundations of the Force are wrong, as well as it's pretty laughable to say that you shouldn't control your emotions. "Check yourself before you wreck yourself." is pretty good advice and that's literally just "control your emotions, before they control you". Because that's how the Force works, it's based on the emotions you pour into it--if you don't control your emotions, then you will run wild and out of control. To say that the Jedi seek to control their emotions, which is an impossible thing to do, fundamentally misunderstands that it's entirely possible. This is a speech coming from a member of the Senate, which has historically not always had the purest motivations, that Padme and Bail and Mon are written specifically as a contrast to the vast majority of senators who don't actually care beyond their own desires. We don't know anything about this senator specifically, but that's the weight that comes with having a character like this introduced--especially one who is trying to drag the Jedi into being more politically bogged down. Because that's the solution he's suggesting here, to weigh the Jedi down with outside oversight that doesn't actually understand who they are or what they do, who fundamentally misunderstand who they are (they're not a religion? come on, my guy, they are very clearly a religion, they have specific beliefs, practices, rites, and attitudes, to say they're not a religion is either dumb as shit or malicious bad faith lmao) and is very clearly not interested in the Jedi beyond them being a political enemy of his. He says, "But it's only a matter of time before one of you snaps." as if the Jedi haven't existed for literally 20,000 years at this point in galactic history and been aligned with the Republic since it's inception, something like 900 years ago at this point. His speech acts like a Jedi has never gone bad before or that the Jedi pretend they're above it--they very much don't. The Jedi are constantly making a point about how no one is above the dark side within them (TCW has a whole scene where the High Council say not even Yoda is beyond the dark side, and Yoda straight up agrees immediately), to say that one of them will snap and "who will be powerful enough to stop them?" is deliberately ignoring the worldbuilding. It ignores what the Jedi actually practice (it's a lifelong challenge not to give in to anger, so they're constantly on the path to turn away from it), it ignores that emotions very much are controllable, it ignores that the Jedi Order has been keeping a handle on their shit for thousands of years at this point, and it ignores that there's dark siders out there that were never trained by the Jedi, so if the Jedi aren't around to stop them, the Sith would have been wrecking the Republic's shit for the last 500 years. To be fair, they don't know that (but we the audience do, so we should know a bullshit argument when we hear one), but "who will be strong enough to stop him"? Idk, maybe the rest of the level 100 psychic space wizard monks? Pretty sure there's enough of them to stop someone who "snaps", if that happens. The senator's speech just flat out doesn't work with the established worldbuilding, in a way that really works for me, because that's kind of a huge established point throughout just about every piece of canon with the Jedi in it--people just do not understand them and hate the idea that anyone might actually be truly good because they can't imagine it for themselves. Because, as is a theme in Star Wars: "As much as people loved the Jedi, they also hated them, on some level. It is hard to look at people who have become their best selves. It reminds you that you have not."

The senator cannot fathom the idea that a group of people could become their best selves, he doesn't believe that it's possible, because he has not achieved it, and so seeing it in others unsettles him. And, yeah, that's a whole thing that happens with the Jedi in Star Wars, so this speech made a whole lot of sense to me, especially combined with, "So the answer is more bogging them down in political oversight that does not bother to or even want to understand them?" Like, yeah, I see where you're coming from, sir. And that's not even touching the idea of calling the Buddhist-inspired religion (which the Jedi explicitly are) a "cult", because anyone who unironically says that should not be trusted.

[the-modern-typewriter]

hey I'm so sorry if this is is an unwanted request, but I wanted to ask for a hero x villain story where the villain kidnaps? And tattoos the hero. I think it would be very fun and dramatic. A very permanent and painful reminder.

I really love your work, I've read pieces of your writing for years. Keep doing what you're doing <3

"Hold still, or it's going to be wobbly," the villain said. "Nobody wants a wobbly tattoo, do they? That's just lame."

The hero snarled at them, wordless, unable to do much more with the bit wedged in their mouth. It was, according to the villain, to stop the hero from biting through their own tongue. So, that was nice and reassuring.

They could struggle, but not enough to stop what was going to happen. The grip the villain's various lackeys had on them was too firm and unforgiving. Still - the presence of hands, instead of cold metal, tried to trick some part of their lizard brain into thinking they had a real chance of escape if they just tried hard enough.

They didn't. They knew they didn't. But they struggled all the same, eyes flashing, breath ragged. They'd been forced onto their back on something that looked a little like a dentist's chair, head pinned sideways to face the villain. They only had vague impressions of the rest of the room. Bright light.

The villain had pulled up a chair next to them with their kit.

"So," the villain said, in an affable sort of voice. "It's going to hurt a little, like we talked about. That's mainly because of the location." They began their work, carefully, and the hero squeezed their eyes shut. A whimper escaped them. It was not a little. "Ribs don't have a lot of fat, you see, and you're quite sensitive anyway. But you said that's where you'd get one, so, far be it from me to dictate."

The hero had said hypothetically they would get a tattoo on their ribs. Because it looked cool. They hadn't done any research and they certainly hadn't been serious about it. It had merely been idle conversation with someone they'd thought was their friend.

They'd also said that they would get a jellyfish, or maybe a small bird.

The hero tried to see what the hell the villain was doing, but they couldn't get a good look beyond the distressingly elegant curve of the villain's head.

"I figured you'd want to be conscious, though." The villain laughed, softly. "I wouldn't want to wake up and find out someone had just done something to me, you know? Makes it hard to process it. Freaky."

The hero swore at them. They liked to think the sentiment got through, even if it was just raw sound. Choked.

"You'll look so gorgeous when you're done, though," the villain said. "Don't worry. I'm a professional. I've done this loads of times before."

The hero knew that. That was the problem.

The villain's super-abilities were unusual enough that it had taken the hero far too long to realise that the villain had any, and that they were in fact a monstrosity rather than simply the sexy artist that the hero had met in a bar. Whatever the villain painted, wrote, inked or drew was woven through with their power. It could come alive. It could influence. It could harm or heal that specific area at the villain's whim.

It could, in short, do all manner of things that the hero did not want permanently etched into their skin.

Everyone close to the villain had a tattoo. It didn't bode well.

"Just breathe," the villain said. "You're doing so well. It will be easier on you if you relax."

The hero swore at them again. It didn't make them feel better.

The villain worked on them for what felt like hours. If it was a jellyfish, it was a truly massive jellyfish that curved all the way up their side. The hero still hadn't got a good look. At some point, they'd stopped writhing in the chair, exhausted.

They felt dazed when the villain finally lifted their head, meeting their eyes again. The villain brushed a tear away from the hero's cheek. It reminded the hero to jolt again, but the hands on them remained as relentless as ever.

Another small, involuntary sound left them.

Their skin felt hot. Sunburnt.

"All done," the villain said. They finally eased the bit out of the hero's mouth. "You should have some water. Are you going to drink it nicely?"

"What the hell did you do to me?" the hero demanded. Their voice was raspy.

"It's gorgeous. You'll love it. Water?"

"I don't want anything from you!"

"Good skin is important to good tattoos. But, hey." The villain shrugged. "I can't make you." They gestured for their lackeys to release the hero.

The hero surged up in an instant, fist already flying towards the villain's face. In an instant, their body froze, knuckles inches from the villain's face. It didn't matter how much they strained. They couldn't move.

The villain raised an eyebrow. "You'll want to make sure to keep it clean, to avoid any infection," the villain said. "And don't pick at it, okay? Stay out of the sun. No swimming."

"What did you do to me!?" It came out through gritted teeth.

The villain smirked at them. "I gave you a jellyfish. On the house. You're welcome."

The hero glared.

"That's what you wanted, right?" the villain asked.

"I didn't want this."

The villain shrugged. "I did, though. For the moment I saw you with your clothes off"

"You-" Words didn't feel enough to express the emotion that coursed through the hero at that. "I hate you."

"Yes, I get that quite a lot. I don't generally let it bother me. You do all look so pretty fuming, helpless, at my mercy."

The hero swallowed.

The villain waved a hand, and whatever strange paralysis had overtaken the hero, vanished. They staggered forward, nearly pitching into the villain's lap. The villain caught them to steady them, hands on their waist.

It should have been excruciating, to have the villain's hand on the tattoo, but instead there was a buzz of pleasure across the hero's skin that definitely wasn't normal. They wrenched back as quickly as possible, heart pounding.

Their fists curled, itching with the urge the punch again, but they didn't quite dare get close.

The villain beamed at them, eyes glittering with mirth, apparently knowing exactly what the hero was thinking.

"Now," they said. "Do you want a lift home? Or do you prefer to take a moment to recover here?"

"You're sick."

"I'm up and coming, darling. One day you'll thank me for it."

The hero peeled the bandage off the moment they were at home, alone, to try and get a good look at their new acquisition.

It was a jellyfish, just as the villain had said, inked in full colour and in exquisite detail and artistry. It seeped blue and purple into the hero's skin, with the smallest tinges of shimmering pink. The villain's initials were weaved into the jellyfish's umbrella, subtle to someone not looking for them. Small but there.

The hero didn't remember hitting the bathroom floor, only the dull feeling of their knees giving way beneath them as it all well and truly sunk in.

They could feel it against them. It was almost as if the tentacles were moving, gently, caressing their ribs. As if the villain's fingers were there, a ghost of a blazing touch.

They got a horrific amount of compliments about the damn thing.

[kiame-sama]

this is so stupid but im currently cracking up the idea of yandere lilia totally forgetting that his (somewhat new) object of obsession has not been informed of his actual age yet and trying to hit on them only to get like.

"Uh huh kiddo, what are you, fourteen?"

and just being stuck going 'no i swear to god im like 400 its a faerie thing please stop laughing i am a father of three-'

What Are you, Twelve? (Yan!Lilia x Reader)

(Changed from 14 to 12 because that is my usual go-to age to guess when kids (under 21) try to hit on me (over 25))

Warnings; Yandere, yandere relationship, yandere behavior, yandere temper, age confusion, Silver/Sebek/Malleus have to vouch for Lilia, old man trying to have game,

~~~~~~~~

"You know, (y/n)," you wanted to sigh when you heard him start up again, knowing the odd lad from Diasomnia was back at his usual antics, "I certainly wouldn't mind a moonlit tousle through the grass with you any night... Or any day, for that matter."

Part of you wanted to laugh and part of you wanted to scream in frustration. This had been ongoing since you met the oddly young vice-housewarden of Diasomnia, Lilia. He was a cherub-faced pallid creature with pointed ears that made him look like an elf, and he was obviously quite interested in you. Problem was, you weren't interested because you were almost certain he wasn't even old enough to attend Night Raven College, let alone be hitting on you in such a direct way.

You would give credit where it is due, Lilia often spoke as if he were an old man and he could occasionally speak as if he were wise beyond his years. Still, that didn't change the fact that you were almost certain he was a child who got in to NRC due to an older sibling. You viewed the black and pink haired boy the same way you viewed Ortho; as a child. Hence the problem you now faced as that same cherub-looking boy shamelessly made a pass at you for the fifth time that day.

It was easy to ignore when you were in class despite how the young boy tried everything in his power to get your attention. However, you were now in the cafeteria and just wanted a bit of peace and quiet. You had been spending time by the table Diasomnia students often occupied because others avoided it, but now you may have to rethink the strategy as Lilia would come bouncing over the moment he saw you.

"Lilia, I just want to eat lunch."

"I would love to eat too! Perhaps later I can have a taste of you?"

Enough was enough. You tried to not snap at others- especially housewardens and vice-housewardens- but this kid was not getting the hint and you were getting annoyed. It had to be something his older siblings put him up to, as even now you could see the Diasomnia students watching the interaction keenly. You hadn't had much time in classes with these magically-gifted students, but you knew enough about them to know which student was likely Lilia's caretaker.

So without a word to Lilia, you stood and marched right over to the table the typical Diasomnia students frequented. The one with white hair- who you knew to be NRC's own 'sleeping beauty' Silver- and stood directly in front of him with a hand on your hip.

"Call off your little brother."

"... Excuse me?"

You pointed to Lilia- who had happily joined your side- with an exasperated sigh.

"Your little brother, call him off or explain to him that children shouldn't flirt with others who are several years their senior."

This made an odd choking sound escape the green haired one sitting next to Silver. Though you didn't know that one's name, you knew enough to recognize he was the one most often yelling in any class he attended. Before he could respond, the slow rumbling lilt of the housewarden of Diasomnia hummed out.

"Lilia is not Silver's little brother."

"Okay," you gave an exasperated shrug, "then whichever of you is supposed to be keeping an eye on him, teach him some manners. Trying to sleep with someone older than him will not end well for either party."

"... Child of man, enlighten me, how old do you believe Lilia to be?"

"Too young to be chasing me."

It was then Lilia spoke up, his usual playful smile gone and replaced with a more contemplative frown.

"I'm old enough."

"Kid, what are you, twelve? I am way too old for you."

The lasting moment of silence almost made you wonder if your assessment of the boy's age was incorrect as those sitting at the table all shared a look. Lilia was no longer the bouncing excitable boy he typically behaved as, straightening up as if he were offended by your assessment.

"Twelve years-? Ah, it seems I've forgotten to inform you of my true identity. I am not human, (y/n). I am Fae. We age differently compared to humans-"

"Okay, so you're several decades old, but you are mentally tweleve. I'm still too old for you."

"... Silver is my son. I raised him, Sebek, and Malleus from infancy or near infancy."

"And I'm the Queen of Hearts. Lies are still lies, Lilia. No matter how well you spin them."

"No, I'm being serious. I am basically a father of three-"

"Lilia, I'm being serious as well. Stop chasing people older than you. It's not alright to ask someone older than you to sit on your face, okay? You shouldn't even be thinking about these things until way later in life."

You walked from the table, content that you had made your point clear as you went back to your own lunch. Lilia was beside himself with surprise and he couldn't help but look to his three sons for some kind of aid or assistance.

"I am not twelve."

"Father... I've told you, if you insist on acting younger than your age, humans are going to believe you are actually young."

"Then you talk to them, Silver. Or I may have to drag Crowley into this. My youthful appearance should not interfere in my attempts to gain their affections. That would explain why they look at me so oddly whenever I try to proposition them, though. Still, you don't want your dear father to end up a lonely old man do you?"

"Of course not, Father, you would be an excellent match for anyone-"

"Exactly my thoughts! So be a good son and wing-man for your father."

"... This is going to end poorly."

[evilminji]

You know one of the purposes of Lining?

Shock Absorption.

If the Zone is the Inter- and EXTRA-Dimensional Lining, connecting, containing, and generally powering all of Multiversal Creation? The Great Primordial Soup? The Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust, from which we came and too which we return?

If the Zone itself is basicly the place between Universe, where your soul goes to get washed down, cleaned up, recharged, and sent out to wherever the next random portal takes it? To BECOME whatever you happen to find? An infinte recycler and Multiversal management?

The great metaphorical Yggdrasil, grown far beyond few branches, into an incomprehensible forest of one?

Well!

That kinda changes things! And also nothing! Because it means that those who remain? Are basicly squatting in the DMV's attic. Have built bunkers, under the country's main power generator. They really SHOULD move along. Granted, there is no one to MAKE them... but like...

That's cause no one thought anyone would NEED too?

Lol. Don't they feel silly? Anyway, I'ma put MY house over-! *wander off to go squat in the rafters*

Yeah, the CONCEPTS are native. But those probably just generate naturally. It's all the Souls constantly flowing through. Lots of background Sentience and Memories and such being washed away into the air. But? Then these lil souls were like "yeah, but if THEY get to stay... me too! D:< " "no, you can-" "ME TOO" and then they stopped listening and did what they wanted.

Good thing we have literally infinte amounts of room.

T...there's so MANY, you guys.

But! Not the point here!

*smacks white board* Realities! The Die too sometimes! And get born! A beautiful process, really. You can find Reality Beads if you know When and Where to look, some times. They, OBVIOUSLY, don't last for very long. Since they are basicly just seed universe. The explosive growth takes them almost immediately out of our range of perception, as they Begin.

Foundations of all Life and such.

But good God are they MAGNIFICENT!

However, sometimes? The REVERSE happens. If you find the area of the Zone your in? Is getting... "wavey" is the best way people describe it. Distorted. Fun house mirror. As though your vision has weird wrinkles that are distorting and stretching your view of things? Get Out. FAST.

If it's only SLIGHT? Barely noticeable? You can grab your Lair. IF, and ONLY IF you are NEARBY! If not? Remember. Things can be replaced. YOU? Can not.

Cause that "wavey"-ness? Is the final stage of Realm Entropy. The universe that portion over the Zone is covering and connected too, is all hollowed out. And about to CAVE IN. You DO NOT want to be there when that happens!

Remember! You see "waves"? Fly for three days!

Get to the edge of the affected area then KEEP GOING for a full three days flight. Warn everyone in you path. We stay safe together, guy. Collapses are NO JOKE. People get... well. Let's just say it's NOT a nice way too go.

Knowing this of course? We should all be SAFE right? Respectful if Awed distance from Reality Seeds, run like he'll if "waves"? We Gucci?

.....Sooooorta.

*flips Whiteboard to other side, to reveal a cartoonishly drawn Supervillian labeled "Asshole"*

Behold! A Terrorist!

It's a charged word. Not used lightly. But THESE fuckers? Oh ho ho! THESE fuckers?! "Ooooh~! Look at MEEEEE! I'm gonna play with FORCES I DONT UNDERSTAAAAAAAND! Destabilize my whole funckin UNIVERSE! Kill countless TRILLIONS OF TRILLIONS! Cause life was bad to me personally and I'm mad about it! Wah wah wah!!" ASSHOLES!

These fuckers? Cause Collapses. Blow Outs. Weird Fucked Up Cancerous Real Growths. You ever seen the Cleaners? No? You don't WANT TOO. They are basically eldritch, deep sea, angler fish looking mother fuckers THE SIZE OF SOLAR SYSTEMS. They travel in SCHOOLS.

BIG ONES.

When Realities collapse, they "fall off" as it were. Detach. And have to get recycled. All the countless impurities of Life eaten way to a blank slate. So it too, can start again. Thus the Fish. But! They ALSO eat anything "problematic".

Like tumors. Cancers. Poisoned, Multiversal Threats. Those quote on quote "God Killers".

Yes. Yes this IS part of why you DONT want to be near a Collapsing Reality.

No I WON'T explain how I know.

I DONT WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.

*smack the board with pointer* pay attention.

Jason Todd. Not! An Asshole. Sexy thighs. Fancy lil hair strip. We all miss him. But! He's off living his "no really, I'm totally alive, guys" hot girl summer or whatever. We are going to respect that! But!!! How did that happen? When he was DEFINITELY Hella dead?

Superboy Prime-y Pants. Who IS an ASSHOLE.

Because THAT fucker? PUNCHED HIS REALITY SO HARD IT NEARLY SHATTERED. Oh, no, I'm sorry! He punched SOMEONE ELSE'S reality! Because he is a tantruming MAN CHILD! And NOW? Now, Your Majesty, that WHOLE ASS Reality is more hair line cracks then border walls! One good shove? It'll cave in. Killing every soul inside.

The Cleaners are ALREADY circling.

It needs to be patched. Immediately. But that's not something normal ghosts can DO. The Zone won't LISTEN to us. Nor allocate the energy for it. The Concepts of Healing? We can't even FIND them.

We need help.

Please help them, King Phantom. You're the only one who CAN.

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @ailithnight @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Dear author god,oh how you have fed us well,but yet. We crave more, and we desire more. It is time. Give us the confession. We will be counting on you and expecting greatness. May you give us the most bountiful feast to finally satiated. 👁👁 do let us down,our dear author god,we believe in your magnificence.

"YUÁN FÈN!!"

Your voice echoed in the Land of Those Memories, alongside the flash of the two weapons. The barrier prevented everyone to move in in the fight; even Bajie couldn't do anything but watch impotent the duel between the Destined One and the broken Shell of the Stone Monkey.

The truth was already too hard to digest, but tò accept that your beloved Yuán fèn was fighting to become fully the new Sub Wukong, which was beyond your liking.

The shield that prevented you from getting in, wasn't the Bián huá made to assist the Destined One?! Why some old ruler granted One to the Destined One if they couldn't assist him at the right time?!

"Child," the eldest spoke, "this is not something that you can take. Your duty is done; now you just had to watch."

"NO!"

Your voice was cracking; you kept pushing through that barrier, to the point that it even hurt. Your hands, fueled with your energy, clashed against it, generating a screech where the impact began.

"I'm done watching! I won't leave him! He needs him; he always does! I won't let a stupid old monkey kill him!"

Bajie suddenly reached you, trying to take your away, but it was like you were made of stone.

"Y/n stop! Your hands! Look at your hands!"

You didn't care of your hands; you didn't care that the fiction of the two powers was scratching your skin so hard that the pure flash was exposed. You didn't care that the same energy was burning your flesh, that your tips were coming off one by one, that the smell was unbearable, and that the dripping blood was making the water red. You didn't care about yourself; you cared about him. 

With that thought in mind, something happened. What you remember is that at some point some crack appeared, and a huge flash engulfed you.

You don't know many things. After that, just two pair of eyes watching you—one that remebered you the ember of a fire, the second one that was full of the worry as you.

When you woke up, the fight was already over. The smell of your burnt flesh, the blood that was still flinging from your wounds, your head that was burning like he'll—everything seems confused. Bajie was there, trying to wake you up from your state, telling you to go, to go away before the exit was too late.

In your pain, an image struck you: Yuán Fèn kneeling, the elders with something in his hands, the sun setting, making it look almost like a scene from a movie. The last ray of sun illuminated something that made your blodd freezer like ice.

That damn circlet.

"N...no!"

Despite the protest of Bajie and your own body, you stand up. Every step hurt, every movement was like hell, but you just couldn't stop.

"You... you don't have tò...bare his name...you don't owe him nothing!"

The elder, holding the circlet, looked at you with sympathy. Yuán Fèn didn't even move, stuck in a trance that something had cast on him.

You stumbled a few times, the waves that you made punk from the blood, yours, and of the precious fight. 

When your body gave up, you collapsed on his back, your trembling hands trying to embrace him and wake him up. 

You cried, tears and blood mizing together.

"You did this...you made this...you're my Yuán fèn...you're my friend...and I don't want to go back to a world where you're not in it...I..."

What is freedom if not the right to choose?

" ...I..." Your hands trembled, scratching that damn golden armor. 

What is freedom if not the chance to obtain what his heart desires the most?

"I...GODDAMIT! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU, YOU STUPID IDIOT! YUÁN FÈN I LOVE YOU!"

What is freedom to not stay with the one he loved?

His eyes glowed more than the sun that was disappearing in the horizon. His staff blasted away from every eye's view that damn circlet. The elder, in his calmness, seemed pleased.

He couldn't deel him anymore in your arma, but you were ingulfed in his own, strong and warm, capable of destroying and protecting you at the same time.

"I love you! I love you too!" His voice cracked, and tears started to erupt from his hips and eyes too. "I'm Sorry! I don't know how to bring you home! And... I don't think... I don't think I wanted too."

"It's allright!" Your smile was enough to warm his heart; your own tears shone with the sunlight. "Where are you supposed to go if you're not with me?"

"Say it again! I want to hear you again! Please!" He pleaded, holding you like your world was ready to claim again.

"I love you! I love you, I love you, I love you."

His lips stopped your mantra, and you didn't need to keep it up because your lips met his own speed, holding him so close.

Your tears, your blood, everything merged in that veil of memories. And so, under the eyes of friends, celestials, and the world itself, two souls had claimed each other.

@sun-jglim

@sleepingdramaqueen

@crimsonflameproxy @everlastingmoonlightsworld @biankanoir

@cromboloni

@miraclecherryblossomsblog

@masksandfeathers @certifiedsimpinggalore

@cinnamonroll-anon @justrandomlypassing @cute-angi @dressycobra7 @virtualexpertanchor

@szynkaaa

@sleepydang

@kishimiest @marcu-bug

@weaverworks

@kirax-the-lazy-girl

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: Happy weekend.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The car comes to a stop. It takes you a minute to notice as you reel yourself back to reality. You blink through the tinted window as Merv turns the music down; a song about glory days or something. 

“Here we are,” he announces and cranes to look back at you, “have fun, miss.” 

“Have fun...” you whisper to yourself in confusion, “what? Where do I go?” 

He laughs, not mockingly, and he points through the window, “well, you’ll want to go into that restaurant and give them Mr. Barnes’ name. They’ll sort you out, I’m sure.” 

“Oh,” your brows draw together. A restaurant. What? 

You undo your seatbelt hesitantly and peer out through the glass again. This is strange. You’ve only had a few interviews and most of them were in cramped backrooms or closets. You pull the handle and let yourself out, thanking Merv before you step up on the curb. 

You shut the car door and hook your bag over your shoulder. You stare up at the restaurant’s marquee. It’s a bistro of some sort. Upscale by your measure, thought you have little experience beyond chain joints and fast food. The white facade with its tall windows is intimidating as you approach the entrance. 

As you step inside, you’re all but assured that you don’t belong. A woman greets you with a pearly smile, her hair in a wispy bun, as she sports a flowery white dress. You look back and forth as she cradles a tablet in one arm. 

“Do you have a reservation?” She asks. 

You look down at yourself. That’s a generous assumption. You don’t know how she’s not telling you to leave. 

“Erm, I... I think I’m looking for someone,” you say, “Mr. Barnes?” 

“Barnes, yes, party for two,” she taps the screen, “he’s waiting. Won’t you follow me?” 

She spins on her heels and strolls away. She’s tall and gorgeous, just like the woman at the casino. You peer around and find no less finery and beauty among the staff and diners. The table are all white and polished and the walls are hung with abstract paintings of heaping fruit and bright cocktails. You’ve never seen brunch done so extravagantly. 

You nearly trip as you look ahead just before you reach the stairs. The hostess climbs ahead of you. You envy her modelesque figure. How is she stuck here? She’s breathtaking. She could be in magazines. 

More importantly, where are you going? 

Several flights and you emerge into the open air. You've never been on a rooftop. You’ve seen things like these in movies. There’s a bar center to the space and tables beneath umbrellas set all about. There is only one diner despite the sunshine. It is strangely desolate for such a warm scene. 

You’re led to the only occupied table. Mr. Barnes stands as you near. He wears a pair of teal slacks and a patterned shirt with an open collar. Casual but just as refined as before. It hardly seems like job interview. 

“Doll,” he greets you with a kiss on the cheek to your surprise. You don’t comment on it, it might just be his way. “You made it.” 

“I...” you check your watch, “it was before noon when I got to the casino.” 

“That’s on me,” he insists as he pulls out the chair for you, “I got restless. Changed my mind. Please.” 

He gestures to the seat and you accept stiffly, moving your bag into your lap as he tucks the chair in under you. He resumes his seat and looks up at the woman patiently standing to the side, “Melody,” he says, “she’ll have a vodka cran, give me my usual. Thanks.” 

“Yes, Mr. Barnes,” she replies eagerly. 

“Oh, and the lunch menu,” he returns. 

She clacks off in her heels as you squirm and clutch your purse. You peer around the rooftop and finally at Bucky. You give a sheepish smile. 

“This is a nice place.” 

“Sure is,” he sits back carelessly. There is no tension in him but your wound tight as a spring. 

“Never been anywhere like this...” your eyes drift over and you stare at the city skyline. 

“Made sure we weren’t near the edge, doll,” he assures, “I remember you’re not a fan.” He rests a hand on the table, rubbing his index and thumb. “And I wanted to have this time alone so my pal did me a favour and cleared the roof.” 

“Oh, wow.” 

“He owns this place,” he shrugs. “Never got into the restaurant business. It’s fickle.” 

You nod, not knowing what to say. He knows about these things. Obviously, a lot. You’ve never even worked a full-time week of work. 

“How’s your sister?” He asks, “I assume you got home safe.” 

“Yes, er, thank you, again, for doing all that,” you bite your lip and his blue eyes catch the gesture as his eyebrow tweaks. “I’m really sorry she did that.” 

“Doll, you’re real sweet apologising for her,” he inclines his head slightly, “but you gotta worry about yourself, don’t ya? That’s why you’re here.” 

The hostess, Melody, reappears and sets down two glasses. Yours is bright red with a lime on the rim and his is dark, no ice. She lays down a menu in front of each of you and straightens her posture. 

“I have to get back to the door but Hailee will be up to help you shortly. Our specials today are a goat cheese and beet salad or a brown sugar salmon with seasonal veggies.” 

“Thanks,” Bucky says as he taps the menu. 

Melody leaves you again and you bend your neck to read the menu. You look for a price beneath the dishes and find none. That can’t be good. 

“I’m not very hungry,” you sit up straight. 

“Doll, don’t worry about it. It’s on me,” he circles his hand around his glass, “why don’t you try your drink? Make sure it’s up to snuff.” He sits forward and lifts his own, “cheers.” 

Your hand slips up the condensating glass before you get a grasp on it. You raise it and clink it against his. You bring it to your lips slowly as he does the same, mirroring you as he watches you intently. You gulp and set down the glass as your cheeks strain. 

“You don’t like it?” He wonders. 

“No, I... well, I don’t drink much,” you take the cloth napkin and dab your lips. 

“Ah, if that’s too tart, you can have a look at the cocktails. Some of them are so sweet, you wouldn’t know the difference.” 

“I’m okay,” you assure him, “so...” you swallow and force out your breath, “about the job--” 

“Damn, doll, I’m so all over the place lately, I didn’t even tell you how good you look.” 

“I...” your eyes widen but you quickly wipe away your shock, “that’s nice. I mean, thank you.” Your voice shakes as you struggle to comprehend the compliment. What do you say? “You too.” 

He smirks, “yeah, you think so?” 

“What?” Your voice cracks. 

“You think I look good?” He combs his fingers through his long hair. Oh god. 

“Yes,” you answer cautiously, “I like your shirt.” 

“You’re adorable,” he snickers and shakes his head, leaning forward once more, bending his arms against the table. 

“Uh...” you peek down at the table and back to him. You can’t even blame the sun that you’re about to melt. The umbrella blocks out the bright beacon though a glare comes over the edge. “Bucky, sir, Mr. Barnes,” you shuffle through his titles, “the job. What would that be?” 

His brows rise and he brings a hand up to drag over his mouth and beard, his fingers brushing along the trim of his jaw. 

“The job,” he repeats as he narrows his eyes, “ah,” he lowers his head and presses a fingertip to the menu, “let’s order before we get into all that.” 

You look over the menu again then raise your chin, “I appreciate it, but it’s too much, Bucky. I wouldn’t want to... waste your money.” 

“It’s my money,” he looks at you, “so I’ll decide how I waste it.” 

“Oh,” your cheeks set alight, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he tilts his head again, “you’re just that type of girl. You don’t know what it is to be treated so allow me to show you.” 

You’re confused. This is the oddest encounter you’ve ever had. You almost feel like it’s a joke. You’re this poor helpless girl and he’s flaunting how rich and powerful he is. Is there even a job? 

“I’d feel worse if you didn’t eat, so doll, don’t step on my toes.” 

You chew your cheek and look down again. That’s it. You’ll have the cucumber sandwich. That’s not too much. It can’t be. 

The waitress arrives, a different woman but just as stunning. She introduces herself as Hailee. Bucky prompts you to order first before he gives his own. As she leaves, you rock slightly in your chair, stilling yourself before you can look weird. 

“So... I could clean or... I could learn something--” 

“Let me stop your there, doll,” he puts a large hand up, his palm rough and lined. “It’s my turn to apologise. I... haven’t been honest with you.” 

Your heart drops and you can’t help the glimmer in your vision. No. You’re going to have to go home and tell your mother you failed again. That you wasted her time and gas. You close your eyes and frown. 

“Doll, doll,” he says and you hear his chair scrape. You open your eyes as he pulls his chair around to sit closer to you, “hey, let me finish here.” 

You look him in the eye. Big mistake. You could drown in the blueness. He smirks and rubs your arm. 

“I’m not... it’s not a job I have to offer you,” he says deliberately, his other hand fluttering on your knee, “I would call it an arrangement. Mutually beneficial.” 

You stare at him. You’re entire being is on fire. You don’t understand what he’s saying, more so, you can barely think with him touching you. 

“But... I need a job,” you sniffle. 

He scoffs, not unkindly, “you’ll have money. I know you got a family, your sister, maybe your parents? Economy’s tough, I know it.” 

“Money? For what?” 

He squeezes your knee and sits up, draping his arm over the back of your chair as he leans even closer, “for your company. For yourself.” 

“What?” Your voice piques sharply. “I don’t...” 

“Look, let’s take it slow here, alright? Today is the taster. We spend some time together, see how we vibe, and go from there. Now I know you went to a whole lot of trouble to get so nice and pretty for me today,” he coaxes, “and I’m not gonna waste your time so you won’t go home empty handed. One thousand.” 

“Thousand?” You breathe. 

“Just for lunch,” he says, “I’d pay a lot more so I’m open to bartering.” 

“That’s... a lot...” you mutter. 

“Nothing’s too much for a girl like you,” his fingers dance along your shoulder. 

“I... I...” you heave each word. 

“Now don’t you freak out,” he’s on the edge of laughing, “doll, I mean it. Just lunch. You and me. Nothing...” he pulls away from you and puts his hands up, “untoward.” 

He stands and moves his chair back across from you. He sits and pushes his shoulders wide, “I mean it. Let’s get to know each other. I want to know all about you, doll.” 

“Me?” You gulp. 

“You,” he points over the table, “you must like music. You went to that concert, didn’t ya?” 

You nod and curl your shoulders. 

“What kinda music you like?” 

“Oh, I... old stuff, I guess. Destiny’s Child?” You give a sheepish cringe. 

“Old school,” he remarks, “I like it. Spice girls too?” 

“Yeah,” you clamp your lips together. 

“I’m not teasing ya. I can’t lie and say I never turned the radio up when I heard them,” he chuckles, “no judgment. That goes for you too, alright? When you find out how much I like ABBA, you can’t giggle.” 

Your cheeks dimple as you try not to smile. It’s hard to imagine him listening to Dancing Queen. You push your shoulders higher and look away. 

��Don’t laugh,” he chides. 

“I didn’t,” you turn back to him. 

“Yeah, you’re too nice, that’s why,” he purrs, “you gotta tell me your fave ABBA song.” 

You shrug and he squints cynically, “everyone has one. Come on. Fernando?” You shake your head at his guess. “Waterloo?” Again, no. “Mamma Mia?” Nope. “Take a Chance on Me?” No. “Alright, I surrender, tell me.” 

“Gimme, Gimme, Gimme,” you eke out. 

“Hm, not what I would guess but interesting,” he muses as his eyes wander from your face and back up, “but I at least knew you had taste.” 

He winks and you let out a giggle. Whether your nervous or something else, you can’t untangle all your emotions from one another. Yet you do feel a little better, a little lighter. It’s an unexpected situation but not as bad as you foresaw. 

[webslingingslasher]

spiderman saves cherry one time (but not even from smth serious) and suddenly she falls in love and tells peter ab her new obsession w him that she didn’t understand before and he’s literally cheering on the inside at how she’s closer to falling for him without realising

happy sunday!

--

'you know how you're always trying to get me to like spider-man?'

'yes.'

you hold the back of your hand to your forehead and dramatically swoon, your back lands on peter's bed. 'i've been swayed.' peter's got a strong feeling it's because you ran into spider-man today but he has to pretend he doesn't know that yet.

'did you have another dirty dream?' you gasp at the question, peter rushes out he was just joking. 'you're not funny, fyi.'

'you're cute when you have a crush.' you kick your feet on his bed, peter's being extra annoying. 'i don't have a crush! i was going to tell you i saw him today but nope, nevermind.'

peter knows how to work around your attitude. it's a special trick he's learned. 'you met spider-man? that's so cool, where were you?' you grin at him and start speed talking, peter loves being right.

'the bookstore! well, outside the bookstore. when i was leaving i was reading the back of a book and i walked right into him! i dropped my book and he caught me and when i looked up, bam, spider-man. he grabbed my book for me and asked if i was okay, like i didn't run into him!'

you replay the moment, you swoon again. 'ugh, petey, he was tall and so broad! it felt like i ran into a wall, but he was also like... i could've given him a hug and he wouldn't mind.' you lift your head up to look at peter, it's a similar feeling with him.

'i think he's kind of like you. cause you're mr. strong guy but you're the perfect amount of soft for cuddles. basically, i think i'm gonna marry spider-man.'

peter has to act like he's jealous, he doesn't mind. you like spider-man now and nothing else beyond that matters. if anything, this is a bonus for him.

'please tell me you didn't get his number, i can't compete with a superhero.'

'no!' you think about it for a second, you're not spider-man's number one fan but you see clips and articles online all the time. 'i don't think spider-man dates, i've never seen him out on one. but also, i don't think he can eat dinner with his mask on... wait, do you think he dates outside the mask and has to pretend he isn't spider-man?'

peter blinks two times, 'i don't know, i've never thought about it.' he's very flat with his reply. you huff, he's no fun. 'if you were spider-man, do you think i would know?'

'um, well, if you don't know i'm spider-man, then no, i don't think you would know.' you nod, he makes a good point. 'fair.' you keep thinking about it, you'd be thrown for such a loop if that happened to you.

'that's crazy. imagine dating someone for months or years and he tells you he's spider-man, i think i'd freak out. i wonder if anyone in his life knows who he is. wait, do you think there are people just walking around the city that know spider-man's true identity?'

peter didn't prepare himself for hypotheticals, he's wondering why he wanted you to like his alter ego so much. when you didn't care, you didn't ask questions.

'what do you think he looks like? i think he looks like you, he's probably cute. do you think he's our age? damn it, i should've asked him all of this when i had him in front of me.' you sigh again, searching for your phone you youtube his name and start watching compilations of fights caught on film.

'god, he could throw me around like nothing.'

peter grumbles out the corner of his mouth, 'i could throw you around like nothing.' you happily hum, the idea is enticing. 'could you wear the suit while you do it? wait, you better not, i wouldn't be able to stop myself from... things.'

you stare at the screen, you start to have flashes of imagery and you bite down on your bottom lip. 'oh god, i'm feeling a hyperfixation coming on.' spider-man is hot, his strength, his power, how fucking kind he is.

you sit up to look at peter, 'wanna makeout?' peter wants to know how he went from mentally begging you to like spider-man, to actually being jealous of how you fawn over him. 'i'm not a placeholder for your fantasies.'

'i never said you were. come kiss me... and maybe get between my thighs and make me feel good.' spider-man is attractive because of the mystery, peter's hot because, fuck, just look at him. peter's giving you a look that's testing, he's baiting you for more information. 'don't make me beg, it's not cute.'

'no, you just wanna kiss me because you're hot and bothered over spider-man.' it shouldn't bother him, but it does. 'i don't want spider-man's fingers in me, i want yours.'

'only because you can't have him.' you groan, he's dragging it out more than he needs. 'maybe i do, maybe he's not scared to touch me.' peter's quiet, you immediately fill in the silence. 'wait, that's me being bratty. i'm not trying to force you into sex.'

peter smiles, 'you can't force the willing, cherry.'

you pat the empty space between your legs, 'then will you come fill me up? please?' peter doesn't need to be asked a third time, you're instantly settled the second he's caging you under him and pressing his lips on yours.

peter's fingers drag up your thigh, you sigh into his mouth. 'mhm, spider-man.' peter's done, he pulls off you and you're whining and trying to keep him over you. 'no! i was kidding, i swear i was just kidding!'

'too late. you're cut off, think about your actions.'

'fine. but you know who would've found that funny?' peter raises his eyebrows, he knows what's about to come. 'say his name one more time and see what i do.'

'will you punish me and show me who i really belong to?'

and... oh, that has peter bricked up.

why didn't he think about that? he would have proved how much better he is, he could've kissed you breathless until you're babbling and only whimpering his name. and the way you're looking at him tells him this was more of a ruse than anything.

peter's never dated a brat, he's still learning your quirks. you blink pretty, you have a way of acting like an innocent virgin after saying something dirty, it's an unspoken card you always pull out when convenient.

peter grips the skin above your knees and pulls you into him, your hips slam into his. 'think you can be quiet this time?' you shake your head, peter grins at your messy hair. 'no?'

peter leans down, his lips brush yours. he whispers against your mouth, a hint of a kiss. 'didn't think so.'

and peter makes you say his name so many times, spider-man's is a distant memory. 

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War

Summary: A warlord!Rhys x Tamlin's sister!Reader AU where Hybern won the War centuries ago, ravishing Prythian and leaving the splintered Courts as nothing more than pockets of travelling war bands. Based loosely on the vibes from War by Laura Thalassa.

Content Warnings: (Each chapter will be tagged accordingly for violence, drinking, and Eventual smut) Canon typical violence, Rhys leans heavily into morally gray, kidnapping.

Author's Note: Trying something new with a first person POV, let me know what you think :)

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

“Don’t come back unless you’ve brought food.”

It’s been days since that order, the rumble of my stomach the only indicator of passing time. The changing forests, the dying grasslands, the marshes, it’s all been a disappointing blur. All my traps are empty and untouched, some frozen in place as winter approaches. My father used to tell me stories of the Courts, how they were ruled by High Lords with the power to keep perpetual seasons. That was before the War, before Hybern and his General Amarantha ruined everything with the Cauldron, all for some human slaves. Father had liked to talk about the “good ole days” every night around the fire; he could spin pretty tales for hours, but that’s all they are these days. Stories. And stories don’t keep your stomach full.

I trail the deer through a stinking muck of a bog, mud and slimy water seeping in through the holes in my boots. The sludge is bone chilling, my hands shaking around my bow; teeth chattering so loud I have to clamp my mouth shut to avoid making too much noise. I need this kill and I need it fast. 

The deer stops to eat a bit of moss and I take a few more careful steps forward to get a better vantage point, cautious of where the ground sinks deeper beneath the murky water. Slipping and twisting an ankle in this mud would be dangerous, but it’s not an injury that makes my steps cautious. There are plenty of kelpie around these parts, I feel their beady little eyes watching me under the cover of a quickly approaching fog. All I need is one misstep and those spindly, webbed hands will drag me under for a quick meal.

Better a kelpie than the Highway Men I’d managed to dodge getting this far out of my brother’s territory, I suppose, but I’d rather avoid both of them if possible.

Once I’m sure of my footing, I notch an arrow to my bow. This is not the ideal place to kill it, but the rumbling of my stomach might just be too damn loud to give me another chance if I wait for it to pass out of the bog. How many days has it been since my last meal? Four? Five?

I pull the arrow back, the weathered feathers brushing my hollow cheek. 

The deer’s head jerks up, ears turning to listen to something beyond the fog and I hold my breath. The ground beneath my boots begins to rumble and the deer bolts before I can take the shot, disappearing into the gloom. A loss to mourn later, because that rumbling can only mean one thing: Horses, and a lot of them, moving right in my direction. 

I slide my bow over my shoulder and run back the way I’d come, mud sucking at my every step, slowing my progress as I try to get back to the treeline at the edge of the bog. The wet land is covered in dead and living trees alike, some as old as time, still reaching towards the sun like the ruined hands of a corpse, some fighting its inevitable demise. It’s too cold these days for the living to still have leaves, so even if I wanted to stop and climb one, I’d have no place to hide. I might as well stand there and wave my arms and alert every horseman to my location.

Still, the branches are helpful for leverage, and I grab onto the low ones and haul myself along, hoping to find shelter higher up the basin’s edge, where the water has not claimed as much. There’s plenty of underbrush there to shield me. 

The first horse appears through the fog, dark as a shadow, it’s echoing whinny chilling in the previous silence. A hooded rider sits atop the giant animal, a giant sword sheathed between his massive shoulders. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” I hiss to no one as I crouch the best I can in the open air. 

There are many warbands in Prythian these days. Some are Hybern’s men. Some Amarantha’s. The rest are what remains of the Courts. Those of us with enough magic to prove useful have been known to swear fealty and garner protection from them, but that means you get the privilege of fighting and dying for those entitled pricks who think they are owed the land their ancestors once ruled. From this far, I can’t tell who’s colors they bear, but without the, usually oppressive presence, of my brother’s own men I’m not likely to have a safe encounter. Better to wait it out and let them pass.

The first rider doesn’t see me through the fog, a small blessing that I take full advantage of by inching forward. The treeline is so close. If I am lucky, if the Mother is still out there listening and looking out for me, I can hunker down and wait.

A second rider appears through the fog, faster than the first, racing along the bog’s edge until it makes it over the ledge of the basin and disappears. The cry of their horses sound like ghosts howling in the wind. A third and fourth rider follow. I can hear even more of them, the rumble of their caravan making the ground shake, but no more appear as the fog thickens. 

A shiver runs down my spine, but still, I press forward. I’ve dodged plenty of males like this in the past, I can do the same now. I just need to be smart. And lucky.

Neither of which I am, apparently. As soon as my boots touch more solid ground, another horse appears, this time, from within the safety of the treeline I’d been so desperate to get to. The rider atop this one is as large as the first, face completely obscured by a black hood with three stars perfectly poised over his forehead, the bottom two falling where his eyes should be. 

I freeze, mind reeling back to a time years ago, when those stars had come bursting through camp, only bloodshed and destruction behind them. My hands shake at my sides as I slide backwards into the muck, slipping, barely maintaining my balance as the midnight black horse rears, hooves pawing at the air. I’d heard that terrifying whiny before too, right before my father’s head rolled out of his tent. 

My stomach rolls, bile rising in the back of my throat. This can’t be happening to me! They promised to stay away.

The rider gets his horse under control, large, gloved hands yanking hard on the reins, deep voice barking orders in the language I know belongs to the mountain men in Illyria, but had never been permitted to learn myself.

My heart hammers in my chest as I get back on my feet, head whipping back and forth trying to find a way out.  

“What’s your business here?” The rider demands, voice deep, gruff, muffled by a scarf over the lower half of his face.

“My own,” I snarl, reaching for the hunting knife at my hip. This is no one’s claimed territory, save for maybe the kelpie I hear skimming the surface at my back, I have every right to hunt here as anyone. “Now let me pass and I’ll be on my way.”

The rider swings out of the saddle and the ground shakes as his boots touch the ground. A dark mist leaks from his shoulders, shadows swirling around the sword hilt peeking out from between his shoulders and… I’d been mistaken about his size, it wasn’t just his shoulders, it was a pair of wings. Wings that had been tucked tight while he was  riding but now stretch out behind him, the leathery membrane pitted and scarred from years of battle. If I’d had doubts about who this was before, I don't now. Though I’d only seen him in glimpses that night, Tamlin had talked enough about the rival warlord over the years for me to be able to put two and two together.

A lump forms in my throat. Rhysand is even taller up close, the top of my head barely coming up to his chin. “I have nothing of value.” I’m not wearing our colors, I’m not sure if they would have helped or hindered me here, but my best bet is to just play dumb.

From the incline of his head it looks like he’s eyeing my knife, but I can’t be certain. There is some kind of enchantment over his hood, obscuring his face from view. “What’s your name?” 

“No business of yours,” I retort, tightening my grip on the knife. 

“So hostile,” he purrs. “I mean no harm.”

“Says the male with the sword.”

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have.”

“I’m flattered,” I drawl. “How kind of you to deem me worth a modicum of decency as you block my exit.”

He takes a step forward and I take a step back, right to the edge of the water, where that damn creature hisses out a chuckle, knife poised and ready between us. He’s not wearing armor, a well placed blow could still kill him, I want him to think twice before moving any closer. Though, I suppose I must not look that imposing, considering our size difference and the sheer amount of muscle underneath that dark cloak. 

He sizes me up silently for a moment, hooded head intently fixed on the hand gripping the knife. Then, with speed enhanced even for High Fae, he’s reaching forward and grabbing my wrist as I stumble back and slam right into a tree.

It’s instinct: The punch I throw with my free hand, hitting him square in the throat, even as my heel comes down on the top of his foot. He grunts like it hurts, but doesn’t move, doesn’t let up on the grip he keeps on my wrist.

“Where’d you get this scar?” He drags a finger over the top of my hand, where I’ve got a scar shaped like an eight point star. 

“Get off me!” I shout as I try to wrench my hand free of his grip.

If his men hear, they don’t come running. There is no one here to save me--not that there has been anyone to save me in a long time anyway.

He’s wearing gloves, but with the hand not maintaining a vice on my wrist, he pushes the leather back enough to reveal a matching scar on the back of his own hand. 

All thought eddies from my mind. 

This can’t be real.

He takes the knife from my hand as if it was being held by a toddler, but much to my surprise, he slides it right back into its sheath at my hip. The move lets him lean in, large body hovering over mine. I still can’t see a glimpse of his face beneath the hood. 

“You’re my mate,” he says, voice a reverent whisper.

Mate. My heart hammers in my chest at the word, as if something beneath my skin is coming to life at the realization. The power that lies distant and untouched with me stirs, a large beast poking its head out of the den after a long hibernation. Having a mate is most women's dream--was my own, once upon a time, before the world went to hell--but not like this, not him. My world had gone to hell because of him. 

The Mother truly hates my guts.

“I’m not your anything,” I snarl as I get a hand on his broad chest and push. He’s nothing but solid muscle beneath my palm. When pushing gets me nowhere, I make a fist and hit him a good couple times. “Now let go of me, you brute!”

He chuckles, low and rich, as if this is all very amusing. “No. It’s not safe out here. You’re coming with me.”

I’d rather be eaten by the kelpie. “The hell I am!” But before I can find a way to fight him, as useless as my attempts have been thus far, he wraps a strong arm around my waist and all but tosses me into the saddle.

I reach for my hunting knife again, but a gloved hand hovers over my own, even as his other arm snakes around me to grab the reins. “Easy, mate,” he purrs in my ear. “You don’t need to be afraid of me.”

Despite myself, that voice, so close to my ear, his body warm and solid behind me, a shiver runs down my spine. “You’re fucking kidnapping me, you bastard!” I snarl, because there’s no way I’m just going along with this. “And I’m not your mate! I don’t even believe in mates.”

“You will,” he assures as he kicks his horse into moving back into the fog.

________________

Let me know if you'd like to be added to a taglist for future updates :)

[xjulixred45x]

Heyyyyyyyyyy! I was wondering if I could request a grounding scenario with Yan!Big Bro Gojo x Reader!Little Sister (probably 14-17 age range for Reader).

The situation:

They live together and he’s raising her seeing as there’s a bit of an age gap between them. She misbehaves and breaks a few of his rules because she’s in a teenage rebellion phase. He gets fed up with trying to be patient with her and gets to a breaking point where a grounding punishment turns into pure isolation and hell for Reader.

If this isn’t your regular type of request, I understand. Love ya so much, homie! Take care of yourself. 🖤🖤🖤🤘🤘🤘

First of all, thank you! I will take care as much as i can :3

And second: YEEEEESSS PLATONIC YANDERE!!! And Gojo again, this is gonna be SCARY!

Platonic Yandere Satoru Gojo x Teenage! Reader: Grounding

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: female

Warnings: PLATONIC YANDERE BEHAVIOR, ISOLATION, UNHEALTY MINDSET, MANIPULATION, GENERAL YANDERE BEHAVIOR, mental consequences of isolation, reader is a teen, i think is all.

a little context.

You and Satoru have a considerable age difference. and a considerable POWER difference. But it's the only thing you've known since you were kids.

You grew accustomed to his antics, his monstrous ego, but also his ridiculous rules.

I mean, you knew that it was normal to live overprotected because the Gojo clan, but especially Satoru, had many enemies, you could tolerate that. Not being okay, but you could accepted it.

But the older you got, the more ridiculous other things your brother made you do became annoy.

For example, never train, never try to improve on your own, his excuse? "You don't need it, I'm the strongest, why should you be strong?" In general being a full of himself asshole.

not being able to go out on your own without him, SPECIFICALLY HIM, which was becoming an uncomfortable thing, how much more did you want to have your own privacy and, well, you know, YOUR OWN LIFE APART FROM HIM. But I would come out with some manipulative shit.

"Why don't you want to be with your brother who loves you so much? Do you hate me?" things like that.

Not to mention he was super clingy. and no respect for personal space or your comfort, always treating you like a damn baby "who's my little baby sis? You're gonna stay with me forever Right? So i can watch over you"

Truth being told, you love your brother, but you HATE the way he always look down to you. You were FED UP of all of his ridiculous rules and stupid games.

So, when you were of the age to enter Jujustu Academy, you saw an opportunity, whether it was to prove to yourself or your brother your independence, it didn't matter, it was something you couldn't miss.

You began to reveal yourself, at first smaller things like talking back to Satoru when he said something too sweet for your taste or when he infantilized you.

Then do something more bolder like snap at him saying you were NOT a baby anymore, that you GROW UP and he NEEDED to see that you are not his "baby little sis" anymore. You give him an ultimátum.

To say that Satoru was surprised was an understatement, he even seemed a little hurt. but obviously I don't take it very seriously. as usual.

He thought you were simply trying to liven things up and he allowed it, he tried to be patient with you since you were in that special stage where teenage girls revealed themselves to their families.

Satoru thought that this was only temporary and even fun.

at first.

because then you started to gain confidence in doing things behind his back like training on your own, which, okay, he could TOLERATE it only because you stopped as soon as he came back and he had your full individual attention again, but he felt the change in your damn energy.

how you were getting stronger and more confident without him.

and he didn't like it at all.

But I didn't think that deserved a reprimand beyond a scolding or, at most, no sweets after dinner.

Satoru simply loved spoiling you.

He wanted to feel that he was still in control of the situation and OF YOU above all. that when he decided, you would stop all this about not wanting him around, that everything would return to normal.

he should have known better.

because then you started with a more risky step. going outside Gojo's property when he was away.

Again, it was the most difficult so far, not only because of your recent rebellion, everyone was watching you like hawks, but also because of your own fear of the consequences you could have from your brother.

He wouldn't do anything to you if he EVER found out, right? TRUE??

There was a way to find out...

and you did, you left the property and didn't return until two days later.

and it was fucking MAGICAL for you.

finally! being able to go out alone! being able to go where you wanted instead of where Satoru dragged you! being able to eat something other than sweets! IT WAS INCREDIBLE!

And to make matters worse, Satoru didn't return from his mission until about 3 days after you returned, the chances of him knowing were low. and I don't act any different.

You felt like you had gotten away with it.

without knowing it was like that because that's how Satoru wanted it.

I'm not going to lie, he was VERY angry when they informed him that you had run away, how fucking dare you? After everything he did and DOES for you? But since you returned shortly after, he calmed down. Maybe.

His patience was already wearing thin with you. and he felt like at this rate, anything, and I mean seriously, ANYTHING would send him into a spiral.

so you can imagine how he reacted when he saw that you had plans to enroll in Jujustu Tech....

His patience snapped like a stretched rope...

And he knew exactly what he NEEDED to do...

The last thing you remembered before being thrown into this place was how scared you were when you saw Satoru.

It wasn't because you knew why he was after you at that moment, but when you saw his eyes-look, you grew up looking into his eyes, they didn't generate the same type of concern in you as they did for the others. you were never able to see DANGER in them (even if you knew damn well you should have)--

You just...hadn't seen your brother as a danger to you. UNTIL THAT MOMENT.

See how angry he was and how he practically dragged you to wherever you were now, completely in the dark, with nothing to do or apparently not even a place to lie down.

You tried to hit the door that Satoru put you through but it was impossible, it was sealed.

Your own brother had sealed you. in a dark room. Just because you wanted to get rid of him.

You tried to break the surrounding walls, it was futile, again. break the floor? also. and there was no opening.

While you were doing this you were yelling at Satoru, what the hell was on his mind? I had to get you out of there. What was I going to do? Lock you up until you gave in? Has he become fucking crazy?!

It was his plan, yes. Making you "miss him" through isolation.

Maybe that would make you reconsider about the good Big brother you had asshole

and well, isolation never did anyone any good. including you.

You practically had no other distraction than your own mind, you tried to stay sane by doing things like math, or exercise, but they burned out your brain and your body very quickly.

Not to mention that every day due to the lack of exits or sunlight you were becoming physically weaker, which made you rely more on your imagination.

but that wasn't such a good idea.

Before you thought about how you were going to get rid of your brother, how you were going to become a sorceress of your own kind, make friends, learn.

but now everything went down the drain.

and for the person who claims to love you more than anyone else.

yes, you felt like you hated him, but at the same time you were SO desperate for any human interaction at this point. No one was allowed to interact with you to lighten the punishment.

The staff left you food, yes, but they didn't interact with you, which made everything more painful.

You felt like every day was worse. that you were more in your head, reliving the good times with your brother and other members of the clan so as not to fall into madness, but you felt increasingly weaker.

It was even difficult for you to eat at this pace. You would have seriously considered harming yourself if it hadn't been for Satoru changing the cutlery for a spoon-fork...

It's like he's teasing you, keeping an eye on you but not taking you out. as if to say "I'm waiting for you to give up"

and then one day...seeing your thin body, how you haven't bathed in what seems like weeks, and with the possibility of going back to normal and just...forget about this...you do it...you give up .

When Satoru FINALLY gets you out of the place and they go back to State, you're surprised to see the staff drastically cut, but at this point? It doesn't matter much anymore.

as long as Satoru doesn't leave you alone again. let it be so.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Thanks for the Request! I hope You enjoy it❤️

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Oh f#ck I am kinda relived , thank you so much(I was scared that I sended something stupid)😌

If so, It was the Part 3 of Searing Pain btw. (I just can't stop loving how well you captured characters's emotions there.)

Searing Pain: Part 3

Yandere Ace and Luffy x Reader

3.8k words

Part 1 / Part 2

Recovery from any injury was never easy, but for someone suffering your given injuries, it was grueling. 

Pain had been expected. Between the broken ribs, absent lung, and the patched up hole in your chest, it was a given that you were going to be in agony for a while. Regardless of that, you were doing your best to remain active. It’s only been a few days since you woke up, but you’ve been able to get up and walk around. With help. Luffy’s help, specifically. 

Ever since Chopper encouraged you to get up and be active to aid in your recovery and lessen the chance of blood clots, Luffy put it upon himself to be your personal helper. If you were being completely honest, you had been hesitant to accept his help initially. Not because you didn’t trust him, of course you did, but you questioned how capable he was of being gentle enough to not hurt you more.

All of your concerns had proven themselves to be incorrect. Luffy has been ridiculously careful with you. It’s like seeing a whole new side of him. You need to get up? Don’t worry, Luffy will help you stand. Need to sit back down? He’ll help with that, too. Need literally anything? He’ll get it for you. Usually without even leaving your side thanks to his devil fruit powers.

As flattering as it is that he cares about you enough to be helping you this much, it was odd to see him being this serious. While he was still showing his typical goofy attitude in some respects, there was always this air of vigilance that accompanied his every action. He would study your face every time you moved and would fling himself to your side if you so much as made a noise on the rare occasion that he had stepped away.

It’s not like there weren’t other people that could help you. The rest of your crewmates were all capable of and eager to assist you in any way you need, but Luffy wouldn’t give them the opportunity. He can help you walk and eat, and he keeps an eye on you while you sleep, so it’s fine. He’s got it covered! He even tried to help you go to the bathroom, and it had been an uphill battle to convince him that you could at least do that part on your own.

That effort had all been in vain. Just because you managed to get him to wait outside didn’t mean that he wouldn’t damn near break the door down when he saw fit. Which he did when you hissed in pain while trying to stand up after finishing your business. Your pants had still been down, much to your mortification, but at least he hadn’t commented on that part.

Outside of that embarrassing ordeal, you did appreciate his help. Walking on your own was still an impossibility, Chopper had made that clear by stressing how devastating a fall could be for you right now. Franky had thrown together a walker for you, but it wasn’t needed. Luffy had taken that role upon himself. A good thing, too, given that the walker vanished not long after it was built.

Luffy was shockingly patient with how slow your pace was. He’s standing next to you with one arm reaching around you and holding your hip to keep you balanced, while the other hand is holding your own and supporting the bulk of your weight. His steps matched yours and his eyes were boring into you, looking for any hint of discomfort on your face. Beyond the usual amount, at least.

“Hey! I can see Ace’s boat!” Usopp called out from the crow’s nest. “And it looks like there’s two people on board, one of them has to be the doctor!”

Both you and Luffy looked to where Usopp was pointing. Sure enough, there was a small boat on the horizon. It was much too far for you to be able to make it out personally, but you trusted Usopp’s eyesight to be accurate.

Luffy’s hands flexed, and he kept looking back and forth between you and Ace’s approaching figure. You gave his hand a squeeze, “You should go over and wait for him, I’m sure you’re excited to see Ace again.”

“You want to see him again, too. We can wait together.” Without giving you a chance to respond, he began gently guiding you to turn.

“You should go by yourself. I need to sit down again. Now, preferably.” Fatigue was hitting you hard. A side effect that you had not been as prepared for. After even just a little bit of activity you would find yourself feeling winded and needing to lie down. You’re pretty sure you’ve been taking more naps than Zoro lately.

At your stating of needing to rest, Luffy’s eyes shot wide with panic. He whipped his head around frantically before spotting an empty chair across the deck. Using the hand that wasn’t holding yours, he stretched his arm over to grab it. Wooden legs dragged over the floorboards as it was yanked this way. The second it was in place, Luffy wasted no time helping you to sit. It was a slow process, but he never once rushed you through it.

With you now seated, Luffy hesitated briefly before finally going to the side of the ship that Ace was approaching.

Cautiously, you slumped against the back of the chair. You hadn’t been walking for long but it felt like you’d just returned from a lengthy journey. Chopper assured you that this was a normal symptom for your condition. Without one of your lungs, you were getting half as much oxygen as your body was used to. Fatigue was to be expected until your body could adjust to the major change.

A nap sounded great right about now, but if Ace had brought that doctor with him then he would most likely want to speak with you and not wait a couple of hours for you to come to again. 

Your hand drifted up to your head and pulled the hat off of it. The brim of the straw hat scratched against your fingers as they ghosted over it. Luffy still hasn’t taken it back since he left it with you when you were still unconscious. Seeing him without his hat for so long was odd to say the least. Granted, it’s not like he was far from it at any given moment since he was attached at your hip, but it was a surprising gesture on his part regardless.

Even though you couldn’t see Ace’s boat from your seated position, you could definitely still hear it coming. Striker was not a particularly stealthy ship. The roar of the engine was growing louder and louder by the second, it wouldn’t be long before he was here. Him, and the doctor.

The doctor most likely being Marco the Phoenix. You don’t know him personally, but you’ve seen bounty posters and heard tell of his feats. From the sound of it, he was as much a fierce fighter as he was a skilled doctor. You could only hope that he was a miracle worker with the severity of your injury. Not that you wouldn’t be appreciative of any help he gave you. It’s just that… Your life as a pirate is strongly hinged on him being able to fix your lung situation. 

Just as the rumble of Striker’s engine was starting to become grating, it stopped. 

A few of your other crewmates rushed over to where the boat was being docked to greet the duo. Chopper was notably excited to be able to talk to another doctor, especially one held in such high regard.

While you were eager to find out what Marco could do for you, you were also nervous about the possibility that what he could do for you wouldn’t be enough. You willed yourself to look away and put Luffy’s hat back on your head.

The sound of two people clambering up the side of the ship followed by the chattering of your crew tempted you into glancing over. 

Ace stood out to you immediately. Everyone had assured you that he had gotten away from the battle unscathed, but being able to see with your own eyes that he was safe truly took the worries off your mind. You made eye contact with him, and he grinned broadly while slipping past the small crowd that had gathered.

“It’s good to see you awake.” Ace came to a stop right next to you. His smile faltered as his hands hovered over you, visibly unsure of where to place them. Deciding that your torso was too high risk, he settled for holding one of your hands in both of his. “Sorry I didn’t stick around to see you wake up, but I wanted to get Marco over here as soon as possible.” His eyes flickered down to the visible bandages underneath your shirt, “So… How are you feeling?”

Like the fragmented remains of a landmine.

“I’ve… been better, but it’s not so bad. Everyone has been taking great care of me. Especially Luffy.” This was probably a better response than the one in your mind. There was no use in making him feel sorry for you when it seemed he already was.

At the mention of his brother’s name, Ace’s smile returned, “I’m not surprised. He promised to stay by your side until you were better, and he’s serious about his promises.” He leaned forward and flicked the brim of Luffy’s hat, “I am a little surprised he’s still letting you wear this, though.”

“That makes two of us,” you readjusted the hat to keep it from falling off. You contemplated asking about the promise Ace just mentioned. This was the first you were hearing of it. That would definitely explain his dedication to you. Who had prompted that discussion. Did Ace make Luffy promise or did Luffy come up with the idea on his own?

“You must be (Y/N).”

The question you had was going to have to wait. You look over to the source of the voice and see Marco for the first time. His posture is relaxed as he looks down at you, likely expecting an answer.

“Yeah, that’s me. You must be Marco,” you returned his smile and held out your hand to shake his.

“That would be correct,” he gently clasps your hand and gives it a brief shake before flipping it over and pressing two fingers against the pulse point on your wrist. He mutters ‘a little high’ before shifting his attention back to you, “Would you like to have our appointment now or do you need to rest?”

You could absolutely use some sleep, or even just a longer opportunity to sit down, but you wanted to get this done as soon as possible. You can’t wait any longer to find out if he can find a way to repair your lung. Or lack thereof. 

“I’m okay, let’s do this now.” It dawned on you that he may be tired after being on Striker for who knows how long, “If you’re okay with that, that is. I don’t mind waiting if you want some rest after traveling all the way here.”

“I’m perfectly fine.” He nudges Ace out of the way and holds out his arms to you, “Here, let me help you up.”

Before you can accept his help, Luffy crashes into him, “I can do that!”

Marco, much to your surprise, barely budges from the human battering ram. He looks over his shoulder at Luffy with a raised brow, appearing more so amused than anything else, “I appreciate your offer, but I would like to use this as a chance to see how their recovery is coming along.”

“Then just watch me help them, you don’t need to do it.” Luffy, never one to be deterred easily, stands his ground.

Ace clamped a hand onto Luffy’s shoulder and pulled him back, “It’ll be for the best to let Marco do this. Don’t worry so much, they’re in good hands with him. How about you stay here with me and we can catch up?”

Luffy scowled, “(Y/N) isn’t better yet, I’m going with them.”

The disagreement was only escalating, so you cut in, “I’ll be okay, Luffy. Why don’t you relax for a bit?” You pull his hat from your head and hold it out to him, “Do you want this back?” Maybe he’s getting anxious about being away from his prized possession?

The offer seems to be borderline offensive to Luffy. He snatches the hat out of your hand only to firmly place it back on your head in a way that it completely covers your eyes. “No, you keep it.” 

By the time you push the brim of the hat up enough to be able to see again, Luffy and Ace are walking away, though the former looks to be dragging his feet. You cringe internally and hope that you didn’t genuinely upset him.

“Your captain is awfully protective of you,” Marco notes.

He can say that again. You nod, “He’s been like this since I got hurt.”

“Well, now that he isn’t here, let’s see what I can do about that injury of yours.” Marco’s hands find yours and he waits for you to make the first move to stand.

You’re eager to get this over with, so you only take a couple of seconds to brace yourself before beginning the arduous task of getting onto your feet. The instant you sit up, your chest suffers a stab of pain as muscles tug on the wound and you wince.

“Take your time.”

You nodded but kept pushing forward. Now that you were upright, you planted your feet on the ground as best as you could and slowly lifted your body off the chair. All the while your hands were gripping onto Marco’s like he was your lifeline, which he may very well be at this point. Every movement and twitch of your shoulders pulled on your chest wound and you had to bite back the urge to scream. Something you’ve learned to do very well over the course of the last few days.

Marco studied you intensely, taking in every little reaction you had. Once you were finally on your feet, he paused and allowed you to catch your breath. A task easier said than done. “I-I’m sorry, just give me a minute. Please.”

“There’s no rush, don’t force yourself on my behalf. You’re doing very well,” he assured you.

This really did not feel like “doing very well”, but who were you to argue with him? This would typically be the point where you lean forward and rest some of your weight onto Luffy, but you didn’t know Marco well enough to be able to assume that he would be okay with you doing that.

Your breathing was about as good as it was going to get, “Okay. I’m okay. Let’s go.”

Luckily for you, the infirmary wasn’t far from where you were previously seated. Once you were properly up on your feet, walking wasn’t too hard on you. It was just the act of getting there and your rapidly decreasing stamina that got in the way. 

Unluckily for you, you needed to be laid down once you got to the infirmary. It was even worse than sitting up since it required much more movement in your torso. Marco did everything he could to ease you back onto it, but you were still on the verge of tears by the time you were fully settled onto the bed. Luffy’s hat was placed on the bedside table for the time being.

Marco stepped away from the bed and rummaged around Chopper’s desk, pulling out some papers. He didn’t spend long reading over them before dropping it onto the desk and grabbing a stethoscope. He returned to the bed and sat down next to you.

The chestpiece was lightly pressed against where your remaining lung was and he asked you to breathe in and out a couple of times. You did just that. Every breath ached, but you’ve gotten used to it the last few days. The chestpiece was moved to the other side of your chest and you were asked to repeat the action again. You aren’t entirely sure what he’s expecting to hear over there, but again, what would you know?

It would seem he found whatever he was looking for and the stethoscope was discarded. His hands hovered over your ribcage, “I’m going to check your ribs, please let me know where it hurts at.”

You nodded and his hands began tracing over each rib. It didn’t take long for you to flinch and say, “Right there.” The process was repeated on every affected rib. All of them hurt and you said as much. Fortunately, Marco was extremely careful so it wasn’t anywhere near as painful as it could have been.

“I need to look at the wound now, so I have to unbutton your shirt. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s okay.” Whatever he was going to see from undoing your shirt was nothing compared to the Luffy-bathroom-incident. You would live.

Marco made quick work of the buttons, then came the bandages. Rather than sitting you up again to unravel them, he pulled out a pair of scissors and cut through them instead. An act of mercy in your humble opinion. 

You trained your eyes on the ceiling, not at all wanting to see the wound. “Am I going to need to roll over so you can see the exit wound on my back?” You really hope he doesn’t.

There’s a brief bout of silence as he examines the now exposed hole in your chest. A choking level of stress builds in your chest at the mere idea of how uncomfortable and painful rolling over will be.

“No, that won’t be necessary. Seeing this is enough for me to work with.” Marco leaned back, “So, do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

Your heart fell into your stomach at the knowledge of there being bad news. He hadn’t told you anything yet and you already wanted to scream and cry. “Give me the good news first,” you needed at least a little bit of time to mentally prepare yourself for the bad.

 “The good news is that I can heal your broken ribs and the wound today. It’ll take some time and we’ll have to break up the sessions so as to not shock your system, but I’m confident that we can have this healed up nicely by the end of the day.” He offered you a smile, but you could see that even he wasn’t happy about what he was going to say next.

“And the bad news?” You wanted to rip the bandaid off and have it be behind you.

“There is nothing I can do about your lung. My ability to heal others is much more limited than my ability to heal myself, recreating your absent lung is beyond my capabilities. I’m sorry.”

His words hung in the air heavily, and you were trying desperately to not start crying. The efforts were all in vain, and you quickly found that you couldn’t keep it in. Frustrated tears bullied their way out of your eyes and poured down your face as the gravity of your situation hit you hard.

This was it. This was the end of your time with the Straw Hat pirates. Your body was permanently changed in a horrible way that you would never recover from.

“I know that this wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but not everything is bad. With some breathing exercises and practice you’ll be able to lead a normal life.” Marco tried to comfort you, but his words were falling on deaf ears.

“Wh-What am I supposed to do now? I can’t be a pirate anymore if I can barely breathe right! I-I’m just going to be dead weight!” You gasped for breath as all of your bottled up fears burst out of you. Your chest burned and throbbed from the activity, begging for you to stop but you couldn’t.

“No one is saying that you can’t. Who knows, maybe you’ll make a miraculous recovery and surprise yourself,” Marco attempted to ease your worries.

“What are the odds of that?” You asked bitterly.

Marco didn’t answer immediately. It seemed like he didn’t have one. Instead, he placed his hands over your chest wound and wisps of blue fire spread across the area. The flames were warm, not hot. An uncomfortable sensation filled your chest and muscle fibers were forced to regrow faster than they should be able to. You chose to close your eyes and try to ignore it.

After a few minutes of this, the fire dispersed and Marco pulled away. You glance down and see that the hole is very much still there, though noticeably more shallow. Marco stood from the bed and searched for some new bandages to cover what was still exposed. 

“You know,” he started, “if you would be interested, perhaps I could make more progress with you if I had more time.”

“What do you mean?” Was he planning on staying here for a longer time?

He returned with a roll of bandages and motioned for you to get ready to sit up. You did so begrudgingly, but were surprised to find the experience not as painful as it previously was. It still hurt, but at a much more manageable level.

“I can’t stay here very long, but if you were to come back with us to the Moby Dick, I may be able to make more progress with your recovery. I can’t guarantee that I’ll ever find a perfect fix for your condition, but if you don’t think you’ll be able to stay with your crew as you are now, then what would be the harm in relocating for a while?” Marco efficiently begins wrapping the bandages around where the injury is.

The proposition leaves you speechless. Could you… Could you do that? Would it truly be okay for you to leave your crew behind for another one, even if it was just temporarily? What would Luffy think? He didn’t even want to let you have this appointment by yourself, how would he react to you actually leaving? 

Sensing your hesitation, Marco continues, “We won’t leave until tomorrow, you have time to mull over this decision.” The bandages are pulled tight and tied in a knot. “I know that Ace would be happy to have you there, I can send him in to talk to you if you would like.”

“No, that’s okay. I’m exhausted and would like to sleep for a while if that’s alright.” At this point, you don’t know if it’s your lack of stamina or stress that is wearing you out. What you do know is that you need some time alone to unpack all of this.

As well as to make a decision. 

[ominoose]

𝐅𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐞

Pairing: Jake Lockley x GN!Reader Summary: Boyfriend Jake drives you to work in the cab, insists you find a way to pay. Warnings: Smut WC: 1.3K

S/o to @reallyrallyauthor for the old lil chat we had about this and @silver-night-m for reminding me of it and reading over this <3

The day was already dragging on, and it was only 9am. 

Sleeping through the alarm before work was one thing you could potentially manage to bounce back from. Spilling coffee down your shirt after burning your meager breakfast of toast, not so much. 

Enter Jake, cab keys spinning around his index finger and barely suppressing a grin. He was the most attentive boyfriend one could dream of, seeming to possess some inner alarm that rang the moment you were even slightly miffed.

“Need a ride querido?”

Drops of rain obscured your view of the world beyond the taxi window, but you didn't need to see to know how dreary it was. Jake truly was a godsend, keeping you dry and snug within the warm taxi that seemed to permanently retain the new car smell alongside the faint fragrance of his cologne. 

The taxi crunched over stones and shuddered to a stop outside your workplace, the engine humming faintly.

“Thanks so much babe, I owe you one.” Some of the earlier tension had left you, the man seeming to have some innate ability to soothe you.

Although the morning had been a disaster, Jake had managed to salvage some of it for you. Instead of wanting to call the entire day quits, you now had the will to make it through until at least lunch without committing workplace assault.

“No hay problema, that’ll be £10.50.” His voice always took a more warmer, gravelly tone when he spoke his native tongue.

“Sure thing,” you giggled, hand on the door handle, seat-belt already unbuckled, “See you when I’m home babe.”

A sudden sharp click came from every side of the car. The doors had locked.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid you cannot leave if you don’t pay.” 

Normally his dry banter would force a smile onto your lips, no matter how much you wanted to grump, a power he used and abused. Today didn’t feel like a day you’d be in the mood to joke.

“Jake, I left my wallet at home! I’m already late, let me out.” “Well…” The rumbling drawl lacing his voice cut through your attempts to miraculously shake the door open and shot straight between your legs, “Maybe you can pay another way.”

 Hair slapped against your face as you whipped around to face him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. A relaxed smirk adorned his olive skin, naturally, and dark brown eyes raked over the entirety of you.

Before another breath could be drawn his lips were crashing onto yours, molding softly yet passionately. Goosebumps erupted across cold skin as leather gloves smoothed up the curve of your thigh, fingers digging into the soft inner flesh and stopping just short of where you very suddenly needed him.

And then he was gone.

“Jake-”

“Chica. You are the one paying me, eh? Tut, tut, trying to wiggle out of paying a poor working man.” The words were punctuated with a few pointed pats on his inner thigh, those same dark eyes now crinkling with mischief. 

You knew what he wanted. It was hard to pick apart the desire and annoyance. Maybe they were one and the same, but in the end there was only one way this was going to play out.

A final dubious glance was cast at the fogged up windows, the pedestrians barely visible beyond, before your hands were unbuckling his belt.

You were already late as is, and blowing Jake was better than blowing up at the annoying guy at the desk next to you.

Jake's hands were already threaded through your hair, gently rubbing your scalp with his thumb in endearing familiarity. A low, gravelly hum was drawn from deep within his chest the moment his hard cock was bobbing free from his trousers, the heady musk enticing you as a silver thread of precum leaked from the brown tip.

The taste of salt bloomed across your tongue and your thighs automatically clenched. Slowly your head took the entirety of him, sliding him against the flat pad of your tongue, almost pressing an open kiss against his pubic base.

Satisfaction was evident by the way he sighed. You could practically picture his head leaning against the headrest, eyes closed, not a trace of his usual tense demeanor. There was power in knowing you were the only person in the world that could bring him to total bliss and freedom.

When you pulled back and began bobbing your head at a leisurely pace, his breaths became huffs and his fingers tightened against the crown of your head. Jake wouldn’t dare gag you down without approval, ever the gentleman, and it was a small, intentional inaction that endeared him to your heart.

Wet squelching noises filled the cab as you sped up, passion and absolute adoration for the man before you pumping through your veins and filling you with the need to take care of the man that was always the caregiver. The need to show him the intensity in which your heart beat for him had your throat clenching around his length as you took him to the hilt again and again.

He must’ve felt it if the sudden sound of leather being strained and him keening into your mouth was anything to go by. Jake was nearing his limit already, a man who was usually so composed even during a blow job was now a panting mess. It was clear he was in a losing battle with himself, his hips bucked slightly off the seat before he forced himself down, fingers clenching then unclenching in your hair. 

Usually he’d mutter encouragement, telling you how good your mouth was, you were doing so good, his bebé. Now he could barely get a full word out, his mind too far gone to even translate to English.

“Si- Si mi amor… Eso es todo- Bien, muy bien... Por favor, nena, por favor..... Sí.”

Jake always came with a strained groan, choking out a breath then straining to take it back in. The salty yet pert cum hit against the back of your throat, triggering your gag reflex and for the first time Jake tugs at your hair to pull you back. 

Tears blur your vision entirely but the feeling of tissue dabbing at your mouth assures you that you don’t need sight or any other sense. Jake will take care of you, even after the most mind blowing blowjob of his life. A fresh tissue dabs gently at your eyes, revealing the rare, charming sight of Jake with tired, drooping eyes saturated with love. 

“Maldito mi vida, it was only a £10 fare.” The words were playful, but his voice was soft, quiet. Raw.

“Thought I’d tip the best cabbie in London.” That got a smile from him, his thumb stroking over your jaw. If you squinted you could’ve swore his eyes glossed over, but before the thought lodged itself he had already sat back, sliding his gloves on.

“Gracias, cariño, but you’re now an hour late. Better hurry if you want to afford any more rides.”

Panic flooded over the moment as you scrambled to gather your things, smooth yourself down and stumble out of the car, shouting love yous and thanks to him over your shoulder as you book it to puppy-eye your boss.

In your haste you don’t notice the way the taxi lingers, the driver smiling to himself and shaking his head before he pulls off of the pavement and loses himself in the traffic.

[raayllum]

Been also thinking about the line between "the text wasn't meant to be interpreted this way but it's a solid reading / line of critique (with caveats)" (#1) versus "the text wasn't meant to be interpreted this way and doing so actively worsens the story they're trying to tell" (#2).

Going to do some TDP specific examples.

But basically: When your in-depth reading takes away from the Surface Level reading rather than providing contribution, that's usually a good sign you're going into a story with 1) an expectation or reading that was never promised or 2) are weakening the story through a typically unfounded analysis.

A TDP specific example is the relationship between Viren and Harrow. Canonically, textually, they had a brotherly relationship, both in the dialogue that Viren conveys ("I think of you as my brother" / "You're my brother") and in their persistent parallel framing with Callum and Ezran.

However, that doesn't stop many fans (myself included) from reading a romantic and sexual attraction between Viren and Harrow, especially in their youth. Not only do they just have the vibes, parallels to other couples, and subtext, Viren very much places Harrow's importance in his life in a way that's usually reserved for lovers. Viren having been in love (or ongoing) just makes sense. That doesn't mean any of us are expecting TDP to ever make it Canon — like I said, it's canonically very much Not that — but it does add a layer to Viren always wanting to 1) matter to Harrow as much as he does, and 2) his frustration and severance with Harrow because he wasn't getting the acceptance and affection that he wanted.

This is what I would consider #1 avenue: it doesn't take away from their dynamic, and to me adds a layer, but it allows the text to stand as is. Viren wants Harrow's love and attention in the gradual and then sharp deterioration of their dynamic. All I'm changing is a little bit of the why per my personal reading.

Meanwhile, if I went the route of "Yeah I know canon shows Harrow appreciating, taking Viren into account, and smiling at / loving him, but I don't think Harrow cared at all and he was just a bad friend to Viren for years" then... Yeah I could read it that way — it's not as though Harrow or Viren were hardly perfect friends to each other, and Harrow's discard of Viren is harsh (even if it was a long time coming in a lot of ways) — but what does that leave me with? Frustration, maybe; a poor view of Harrow; immense sympathy towards Viren? At best, I'd maybe resent how Viren learns the lessons Harrow was trying to teach him by paying for it with his life; at worst, I'd think the narrative was being fundamentally unfair to Viren without recognizing that his previous modes of self sacrifice were always couched in ego, shirking the immediate consequences of being saved, or that he was routinely willing to sacrifice everyone around him first, including his own children.

This is where we get into area #2, and I see it happen all the time with TDP, whether it's from the series not portraying monarchies as a bad thing or the ever persistent "issue" of dark magic. Quite frankly, it's silly to walk into TDP post-S1 expecting dark magic to be anything beyond — given all the current textual evidence — "morally complicated" magic at best. Yes it can be used for good things, but that doesn't automatically make it good, and while we could spin logistical wheels for ages, the Point the story is Making with dark magic is about power, desperation, love, self-destruction, violation, and agency, and how all those things can overlap or counteract each other. Toting out "well I think dark magic is blanket statement Okay and Good actually" misses all of that, and actively makes your reading and experience with TDP worse. The surface level reading is important to take into account when examining a piece of media, otherwise it can lead to a very warped view and effect your ability to be well founded in your reading of the text.

That doesn't mean you can't desire a more morally neutral form of dark magic — plenty of fantasy series and stories have it, and some I adore (like "the legend of Zelda" — but it does mean accepting the story is never going to broadly speaking do that, and it's Okay that it won't. I'd be silly if I walked into LOZ expecting them to get into the ethics of its form of (non) dark magic of using monsters for spell parts because it's 1) a game mechanic and 2) it's not interested in the ethics of it, and no amount of me saying "well it should be" will change that, nor is it a Story Flaw that it doesn't.

This is all to say that I think asking "Why would the writers do this?" is one of the most useful, if basic, questions to ask when it comes to analysis and when figuring out whether your viewpoint is falling into avenue #1 of being grounded, or avenue #2 of veering towards warped territory.

For example, if I take Rayla not being by Callum's side when he's struggling over the pearl reveal in 6x06 as an indicator she doesn't care about him, I'm doing a deep dive that ignores all the very Surface Level emphasized scenes of Rayla caring about and supporting Callum a whole lot. I could make the claim she doesn't care based on that scene, but it wouldn't be well founded because it's ignoring miles of other much more prevalent, consistent scenes of her being there for him; it's not a well founded claim.

For something less obvious, let's look at 5x08. While Callum could've given Finnegrin the wrong spell on purpose, as some fans have thoughtfully proposed, as a sneaky wink for die hard fans... why would the authors do that? What does the story gain from that reading or intention? Well, it makes it seem like Callum was less desperate in his dealings with Finnegrin, which makes him doing dark magic afterwards come off worse. It also lessens the battle Callum has throughout that episode for feeling in control and recognizing that he can't always be. It's a reading that, in my opinion, not only strays away from the surface level reading, but is one removes elements from the text that the text would otherwise be stronger for having. In comparison, after all, if Callum gave his version of the right spell without thinking it through, he did so entirely out of desperation, which better affirms just how desperate and worn down he had to be to do dark magic, and is another instance in the episode of him feeling very much out of control (especially since we don't see the 3rd with dark magic on screen, so otherwise, we'd only have him punching Finnegrin as an example and nothing else).

Same thing with the old (now debunked) theory of Callum's bio dad being elven in nature. It's an interesting idea, exploring the implications and backstory and how'd grapple with it, but it'd weaken what canon is actively striving for, which is that Callum's magic use is special precisely because he's an ordinary human who's gained primal magic, and having elven ancestry would counteract that. It doesn't mean that the idea isn't a Good one or that it's not fun to explore in fanon, but there's a lot of reasons the story isn't (or decided not to) have it be canon, because it was stronger for the story they Wanted to tell for it not to be.

Sometimes, as fans this means acknowledging that what we want or prefer in a story is just blatantly not what's being set up, because the story is going to do things regardless of what we want or personally like. That doesn't mean those decisions are bad, and it also doesn't mean those elements or decisions or constructions are beyond critique, but it does mean to ask yourself some key questions:

Is there anything my reading is missing? (ie. if TDP shouldn't have monarchs and that's the critical focus, we lose the messages about leadership, family, and legacy that are engaged with through the vessel of hereditary monarchy)

Why might the story or scene go in certain directions? Are there story constraints (time, tone, etc) they have to abide by?

Am I expecting the story to ascribe to my worldview or preference, and am I open to things that don't do that? If yes, why? If no, why not?

Is my in-depth takeaway aligned with a surface level reading? Are both readings working together, or are they opposed? What other surface level readings might be plausible here for a casual viewer?

Even if this is not personally compelling and/or believable to me, does my personal takeaway match up with the characters' responses to it? Why or why not? (Think every Disney movie where they fall in love in 3 days. Realistic? No. Does it matter within the context of the story? Also no)

Again, this is not to say that 1) what the casual takeaway Is is an objective singular monolith (it isn't) or 2) if the casual takeaway and your interpretation is at odds that you're wrong. But through context clues, we can usually narrow it down as to what the story intends, and that if our interpretations do veer heavily to examine why and to manage expectations accordingly.

Anyways hopefully this all made sense Viren x Harrow forever

[kiame-sama]

Soulful Jewel- (Yandere!Sesshomaru x Reader) pt 3

Warnings: yandere relationship, yandere temper, yandere behavior, hurt, betrayal, confrontation, rage, aggressive behavior, yandere behavior, blood, fighting, arguing, not proofread (I probably should get a proofreader at some point)

~~~~~~~~

"So, do you have a big animal form, Lady (Y/n)?"

You glanced over at the little girl that sat on the back of Ah-Un as your group of mismatched ends traveled together. Rin had always been good company during your travels and always seemed to know when you got too lost in your mind and needed a way out. Ever since your mutual Lord both claimed and showed his interest and power over you, you had found yourself feeling more attached to the dog demon.

Despite the less than kind way he had approached you about the subject, you felt an inherent need to stay near him. It felt as if you were bound to him in more ways than one even as you traveled with him and his group. From returning you to life after your sacrifice, to teaching you how to be a demon in feudal Japan, Sesshomaru had done more to help you than hurt you overall.

Now you were pulled from your thoughts by the innocent enough inquiry of the little girl you sacrificed your old life for. It was a good question, did you have an animalistic form? She had spoken about Sesshomaru's dog form several times prior and it made you wonder if you would have a similar fox form. There was also a chance that your form could become less human as you aged and the animalistic features would show through your humanoid form then.

"I don't know, Rin. I think it could be possible."

"Well, why don't you try it now? I'm sure if you try, you could-"

It was then Sesshomaru actually spoke up, Rin quickly silencing herself to hear what he had to say.

"It is still too early in her growth as a demon to attempt such a thing. Should she try and actually succeed she will likely become feral with power and instinct. It is not something to attempt lightly and without good reason."

"Oh," Rin started, "okay, M'Lord!"

It was while Rin was turned to look ahead that you caught a scent on the wind that stopped you in your tracks. Something was painfully familiar about this scent and it made a mixture of emotions well up inside of you, bringing with it a rush of energy that seemed to hum within you. memories came unbidden to the front of your mind as they flashed and played in short clips.

Kagome smiling at you by the campfire.

Songo polishing her giant boomerang.

Shippo curled up against Kirara's side.

Miroku cooking up fish.

Inuyasha training fiercely.

Each memory sent emotions flooding your senses, but they were all overshadowed by pain and with that pain came anger. A burning and broiling rage filled you as you remembered all the injustices done against you by the group and that rage poisoned your mind. The faintest of burns came from where you keep your soul made jewel as you felt a change overcome you.

You heard a voice somewhere near you, but that seemed to be so distant from your mind that you couldn't even focus on what it was saying. All you felt was rage and all you could hear was the blood pounding in your ears. Nothing mattered beyond reaching the source of your pain and putting an end to it.

It wasn't long before you were racing through the forest, headed towards those familiar scents with nothing more than rage on your mind. There was little sound that met your ears other than the profound snapping of branches from your vicious flight forward. A clearing was coming closer as you raced forward, but the moment you burst into the opening another creature slid before you.

A white dog-demon with a purple crescent moon in the center of his forehead snarled at you in warning, his fangs bared and head low. Beyond the dog demon's figure stood a surprised group and their simple presence made a furious growl erupt from within. The dog demon looked over at whatever it was you were snarling at and some kind of understanding seemed to dawn upon him as he turned back to you.

"Enough, (y/n), the human woman isn't worth this rage."

"That bitch left me for dead! I have a right to confront her!"

"As your mate I am demanding you stand down. Back off, (y/n)."

"Never."

He actually seemed surprised at your snarled response and refusal to back down, his demonic aura lessening as his form began to shift back. The group behind the two of you actually reacted now to Sesshomaru who still stood with his back turned to them. Inuyasha was first to draw his blade and prepare for a fight with his elder brother.

"Stand down, half-breed. The vixen doesn't need you or your human pet angering her further."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

It was then you cut in, your voice raw and full of pain. Now the group could hear you as well and it was clear the sound of your voice unsettled them.

"It means you killed me! And when you were done you bastards just left me there! You all deserve the same treatment you gave me!"

"Why the hell do you sound like (y/n)? Answer me damn it!"

"Because I am (y/n)!"

It was then a blue flame surrounded you and you easily leaped past Sesshomaru, ready to dig your teeth into Inuyasha. But as you snapped your fangs, another weight pulled you back. Sesshomaru was back in his dog demon form and was preventing you from letting your rage take control. Even as you struggled to free yourself and felt all of your frustrations mounting, you couldn't escape the larger and more experienced dog demon.

Despite how he didn't seem to believe you at first, Inuyasha took a quick sniff and as the scent registered to his brain the blade fell from his hand. His response told the others that your words were true as they all now looked at your angrily struggling form, trying desperately to snap them with your fangs but unable to move beyond the limited range Sesshomaru gave you. Even as you struggled and cried out, you began to exhaust yourself.

"She's a demon..? But how? That doesn't even make any sense, she died-!"

"Inuyasha," Kagome now spoke, her eyes wide with sorrow and disbelief, "her chest. She- she has the full Shikon jewel!"

"Wait, but what about those shards you have? How does she have them?"

"I still have them right here! But how can she have..?"

You continued to struggle against Sesshomaru's hold, finding yourself unable to break away from the demon dog. Eventually your form began to melt back into what it had been prior. Were you had seen paws with the same white-prismatic color fur that your hair now was, they returned to hands. The muzzle you could see clearly in your peripheral sunk back into the form of your regular nose. Even the size that you had gained began to lessen until you were easily pinned by a paw from Sesshomaru's dog form. He too returned to his other form, continuing to keep you down and preventing you from reaching the group you once called your friends.

"Wait," Songo now spoke, her boomerang falling from her hands as she refused to try and fight you, "do you think she did the same as the first priestess who created the Shikon jewel? Could it be possible she created one too the day she died? It could make sense, but it doesn't explain why she is a demon now..."

"It doesn't matter, we can take it now."

Even as your will to fight receded, your rage still burned poisonously as you growled and snarled towards the group. Before they could react, Sesshomaru snapped at them, his tone more irritated and enraged than you had ever heard it before.

"Keep your filth-covered claws off, Inuyasha. She created that jewel with her sacrifice, it is not yours to freely take. I am keeping this vixen from slaughtering those she valued as a human, do not think for a second I will not allow her to act on her justly formed rage should you try to take what is not yours."

Inuyasha almost seemed like he was going to try and argue or fight with Sesshomaru, but a quick glance at you made him pause. He had been the cause of your untimely demise and his need to chase down Naraku was why he hadn't even noticed what happened. When Kagome told him later about the fact that you had been caught in the wind-scar, he truly felt he was to blame for your death.

Inuyasha had killed you. The others had left your body behind. Kagome had decided to leave you where your body lay in order to help the others. They had abandoned you and you were rightfully furious with them.

"Try to calm yourself, my mate. These humans and the half-breed are not worth being so upset over."

"They killed me and left me behind. I have the right to be as upset as I want to be!"

Kagome- upon hearing your words- burst into tears and hid her face, shame weighing upon her heavily. The others struggled to look at you, even as you fought against Sesshomaru's hold and continued to rant angrily at them. They all were to blame and everyone knew it.

A quiet part of you recognized that leaving you behind was the best move, as Sesshomaru was the only one you knew of who could reunite a departed soul and their body. That quiet piece also understood that you had entered the wind-scar voluntarily in order to save Rin from the same fate. Despite how that logic existed in your mind, you knew you still had a right to be angry.

Still, it was obvious Sesshomaru was not going to allow you to kill the ones that killed you. That fact alone cooled your boiling rage to a simmer and as you stopped fighting, his hold on you lessened. Eventually he was the one helping you up to your feet, keeping himself between you and the group you once called friend.

Your hand rest where your jewel sat, feeling it thrum in response to your light touch against the smooth surface. Even though your rage had calmed, you still held the burning hate inside of you. Perhaps it had been that hate and resentment paired with the roaming Kitsune soul that turned you to the demon you were now.

"If I ever see any of you again, I will not hesitate. Sesshomaru won't always be there to hold me back from my vengeance, so sleep with one eye open."

[quiteliterallyilliterate]

Could you write a yandere FD where reader finds his mask and accidentally frees him? I find the idea of him stalking reader after his freedom and reader being helpless to get help due to what he is.

Order up!

There really isn’t enough FD stuff (that isn’t smut) ((but also in general)) So here you go!

Edit: Part 2

tw: yandere, murder, slaughter of animals, blood/gore

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

The deity despised what he had come to. A being of such pure power, capable of ripping Termina away from Hyrule thread by thread, was now bound to not much more than a piece of wood. The feeble fears of incapable gods now made a mockery of who and what he was. His prison was bleached and painted with the same war patterns that defined his godliness with the eyes empty for its wearer. Two blank spots —weak spots— in the mask. For when they bound his form to such fragility, there was something of a loophole left behind. The hallowed eyes allowed the wearer to see, and believe they had some control over their actions as his consciousness began to muddle with their own. You see, within the mask there were no holes allowing them —the wearer— to breathe. Because while they wore the mask, likeness of his own face, they didn’t realise the rotting wood begin to mingle with their skin. None of them did. Too hungry for more of the power he could provide and blood he could spill they hardly realized what they were becoming. The paint was always the first to merge with the new wearer, the pigments staining the skin as a faint, ever fading —but never truly gone— reminder of what he was. The hair came next. Silvery white strands mixing with their own around their fringe, framing their face, much similar to his own now. Last was the eyes. Not many kept the mask long enough to ever really hand themselves fully over to him, but his conscience would continue to invade nonetheless. No one held the power to hold him captive in their minds, so a corpse they were rendered. Their eyes would lose their iris, and as the wearer weakened, their eyes would become vast pools of stark white. He heard in the travelers’ wisdom that eyes were the doorway to the soul. Perhaps that was why the eyes were the last part of a person he was bled into. His final act to them was conquering their souls. Where once, double helix sword in hand, he would have slain any thing —living or otherwise— where once he could’ve conquered anything, now he was left to the slow trickle of energy from collected souls.

He’s first made aware of you by your gentle touch. You fingers cup the edge of his face —what was of it now anyway— and attempt to make sense of who it was you were looking at. Perhaps is was they no longer worshipped him in Termina. Centuries could slip by him in this form and he’d not know better. Hand in hand with that, the paint on his mask could very well be greyed and chipped beyond recognition. Immortality was always more faulty than the mortals made it seem. While boredom could be sated with bloodshed and war, it was aging that couldn’t be so simply ignored. Despite the fact his consciousness was as it was from the second he was bound into what he was, it didn’t stop the wood from rotting nor the paint from chipping and fading. Much he was like the warrior constellations in the sky. While consistent across the birth and death of many civilizations, slowly he died with them. Not in the final splatter of blood like the matter of mortality, but it was death in all the way that matters. Perhaps Hylia proved that you can kill a god. Sure, she may have ‘killed’ demise, but cyclically, he was still her tormentor. With Fierce, his form was weak. Too weak to hold him further. Much like the mortals who believed they could shoulder the weight, this form would too crack and rot beneath the earth. His point still stood that in spite of every possible factor that your serenity shouldn’t have met with his ruthlessness, you’d defied fate nonetheless.

By your grace he loved to watch you. Mounted on the fireplace, he could see everything in your tiny cabin. He could watch you cook food for yourself, sing as you cleaned the dishes afterward, and especially the fact you often would fall asleep on the couch meant he could spend even longer admiring the curves of your face. You were incomparably precious to the world. He remembers the days of his youth in divinity, freshly given his purpose. He’d killed many in those days, like an executioner who’s axe discriminated against none. The worship he once had, the temples he’d once been graced with, the concubines left for him… Perhaps he wanted more than to watch you. Being so close to what he wanted, truly wanted, made him antsy. And you’d live through life like you’d not known better. You’d talk to people where he couldn’t monitor to keep you safe, you’d leave the protection he offered. He’d long for you while you sat just out of reach, tempting him to try something. And so he did. It seems years of rot made the wood fragile.

You were honestly quite disappointed the mask had broke. The wood was splintered across the floor, and with how old it was, it really wasn’t worth saving. Still, you collected the bits from across the floor and kept moving. The forest was still and quiet as you traveled, the wind would whistle in the trees and a murder of crows crowded around you. Unfortunately, you had no bread or shinies to spare aside from a small green rupee, which they normally would’ve cawed and kicked around. Instead, their beady eyes watched you, huddled high in the trees as you waded through the forest. You could feel their eyes on you the whole way past.

The dead animals on your doorstep are not only mildly concerning, given their split open ribs, but incredibly creepy the longer it goes on. Clearly whoever was doing this was stubbornly persistent given their notes in a not very decipherable language. At first they left you a crow, the day they watched you. It had a small ring in its leg you didn’t bother to touch. The next was a badger, followed by fox, then an elk. Now, it was entirely beyond you who’d collect that many animals carcasses —you’d doubted they were hunted, given the large lacerations across their torsos— but it wasn’t much flattering. It wasn’t until you’d caved and cooked one of the elks and they’d kept giving you more that you’d considered they were trying to feed you. Sweet as that was, no one person had a use for that much elk. No one person could hunt that much elk. No person would see it right to draw a sigil in blood on the back wall of someone’s house in elk blood. No one person would help you.

You were still beautiful as you slept. He was glad now you were his spouse, though it did take you a while to get used to his courting. It was for the best though, you were well fed and protected now, more than any mortal man could hope to provide you with. He did enjoy killing all your other suitors. That tradition was always entertaining.

[wordbunch]

how the fellowship reacts to you singing...

a/n: this was requested - how the fellowship members react to you singing for the first time. It will include the fellowship boys + Faramir, because I adore him and he needs more love. let me know how you liked it! 💗💗💗 (it will be longer than you think lol)

+ tagging my beloved @entishramblings

ARAGORN

at first he wasn’t sure whether his ears were deceiving him

but he stopped and listened carefully, eventually realizing it was you

then all his attention went into listening to you

he very much enjoyed it, but waited for you to finish your little performance before saying anything (didn’t want to interrupt you, nor make you feel awkward)

he wouldn’t be giving you elaborate compliments and praise, just something short and to the point, but you’d see in his face that he genuinely loved it

he likes to listen to you sing, but also sometimes loves to join you and sing together!!!

wants to learn all the songs you know

💫

LEGOLAS

with his excellent hearing, he picked up on you humming tunes quietly as you walked, many times

and he found even that very pleasant

but when he heard you fully singing for the first time he had heart eyes, basically

he thought you have the most angelic, soothing yet powerful voice

he would never ask you to sing anything for him and wouldn’t want to push you, but he would enjoy it so much when you do

he wants to know where you picked up all the songs that you know

his absolute favorite thing is when you quietly sing while braiding his hair!!!!!

💫

GIMLI

an absolute fanboy of yours, openly

as soon as he hears you singing, he wouldn’t only divert his attention only to that...

but he’d make sure to point it out to everyone else as well

I diagnose him with singing off-key, butttt he still wants to share some dwarf songs with you, and you appreciate it

would be the kind of person to be like “now [Y/N] will sing something for all of us” skhssdhgsh

you know it’s all with the best intentions even if you feel self-conscious about your singing

but this guy right here would hype you up so much that eventually you wouldn’t even care how your voice sounds to others

💫

BOROMIR

he compliments the heck out of you (for singing and everything else)

however he would try not to openly praise you for it to everyone everywhere bc he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable

keyword: he would try not to

he cannot sing so he appreciates your talent all the more

can’t help smilingggg whenever he hears you!

very grateful that you’re comfortable with sharing that part of yourself with him

if you ever actually sang in front of a crowd at some celebration or special occasion, this man would combust of pride

💫

FRODO

can’t help smiling as soon as he hears you, and he immediately recognizes that it’s your singing voice, even from further away

will sneakily approach you so as not to startle you

but he definitely wants to hear more

very curious about where you learned to sing and how you picked up all the songs

it’s a safe haven when you sing something to him, he will literally be in seventh heaven

loves to write and he would be beyond thrilled if you sang some poem that he wrote, but he wouldn’t actually ask you to

enjoys singing together with you

💫

SAM

is generally easily captivated by beautiful and magical things, your voice absolutely being one of them

will ask you countless times to sing again (but he will be quite shy about it every time)

gives you ideas on what you could sing about

he gives you cute little compliments but wishes he could express all that in a much more elaborate way

it brings him incredible joy to hear you singing from somewhere while he’s gardening

he swear it makes everything grow bigger and more luscious

God forbid anyone makes even a slightly negative comment about your singing, he is ready to throw hands

💫

MERRY

jaw drops to the floor when he hears your singing voice

this boy is captivated

smooth compliments that make you blush

why can I see him dancing/trying to dance to whatever you’re singing

potentially he’s not THE best singer out there but oh my does he love singing with you

especially spontaneously, out of nowhere

yes actually he would totally dance around when you sing, and he would dance around with you and spin you around until you’re so out of breath that you can’t sing anymore but instead just laugh heartily

💫

PIPPIN

generally worships the ground that you walk on, and that also implies all your talents and abilities

absolute heart eyes as soon as he hears you singing

(he already loves just listening to you talk, let alone anything else)

ADORES when you two sing together, but initially just a bit shy to suggest it, or to just spontaneously join you

will he come up with songs for you? absolutely

songs for you two to sing together? ABSOLUTELY

would never, in any way, push you to sing in front of everyone else, he actually enjoys it being like a lil thing between the two of you

💫

+ bonus FARAMIR

he heard your voice echoing in the Gondorian halls as you were carrying out some tasks

he was almost convinced it was a sound from heaven

but he followed the sound of it and found you! 

you were a tiny bit embarrassed but he complimented you immediately

he finds it very relaxing when you sing to him and it’s so intimate to him

he will occasionally write poems and cautiously ask you whether you can make up some melody for them and turn them into songs

not the best singer, but loves to join you sometimes

💫

+ bonus bonus character GANDALF

“[Y/N], stop with the unnecessary noise, I am trying to think”