#there is a light at the end of every tunnel

[tragic-ships-tournament]

And we'll sing it again.

Tragic Ships Tournament: FINAL ROUND

Propaganda under the cut!

Orphydice:

"y'all probably know the story of orpheus and eurydice. but they are SO tragedy. they are TEXTBOOK tragedy. they redefined the genre. on their literal wedding day as she's walking down the aisle eurydice gets bit by a snake and dies. orpheus loves her so much he goes down to the underworld to try and save her. hades allows him to take her back to the land of the living, as long as she walks behind him, and he cannot look back, otherwise her soul will be taken. he's mostly fine , but begins to doubt and at the very end of the tunnel, he looks back. they lock eyes for a moment before she disappears back into hell. orpheus is then so distraught that he wanders the earth singing mournful melodies and gets stoned to death by some nymphs who think his sad songs are bumming them out. DUUUUDE their story consumed my every waking thought as a child."

Madohomu:

"madoka magica aired 12 episodes in 2011, with a sequel movie titled “rebellion” released in 2014. it’s been over 10 years since then, and these two have become the face of yuri. if someone makes a meme about loving yuri and makes a collage of example ships, madohomu are 100% gonna be present. video essays, fanart, fics, music videos and all kinds of fan projects featuring them are still wildly popular on all social media platforms.

but let’s talk about them (without going into too many spoilers, so this will be about the thematics in their relationship). they are light and darkness. the ying and the yang. forever intertwined. one would not exist without the other, yet they cannot exist together. for madoka has too much love for every living thing and too little for herself. and homura has too much love for madoka it blinds her to everything and everyone else, and she struggles with deep self-hatred. madoka has forsaken her own existence for the world, and homura has forsaken the world she created for her. the show has a lot of religious imagery, and madoka is akin to a god; there’s a shot of homura, who grew up catholic, kneeling at the feet of a gigantic statue of madoka, praying, but her hands stain her clothes. because if madoka is god, then homura is lucifer - specifically, iblis, the muslim version of lucifer, who loved god so much he betrayed him, for he’d rather defy him than bow to his creation, humans. and homura would rather defy the sanctity of madoka’s wish, rather than obey its laws, for she will take madoka’s happiness in her hands, if she refuses to. in the movie, dolls representing homura’s inner machinations yell, “gott ist tot”, for homura’s god, madoka, dies in the movie, when homura remembers that madoka was human first, and godhood was something she reached to save everyone, against her best interest and happiness. their relationship is one of love, kindness, obsession, devotion, hope, faith, worship - they are the thesis and the antithesis, the beginning and the end, the alpha and omega, an unstoppable force and an immovable object. forever locked in a struggle, never fully embracing, for madoka will always sacrifice herself for the world, and homura will always doom the world and herself for madoka."

Tragic Ships Tournament: FINAL ROUND

Propaganda under the cut!

Orphydice:

"y'all probably know the story of orpheus and eurydice. but they are SO tragedy. they are TEXTBOOK tragedy. they redefined the genre. on their literal wedding day as she's walking down the aisle eurydice gets bit by a snake and dies. orpheus loves her so much he goes down to the underworld to try and save her. hades allows him to take her back to the land of the living, as long as she walks behind him, and he cannot look back, otherwise her soul will be taken. he's mostly fine , but begins to doubt and at the very end of the tunnel, he looks back. they lock eyes for a moment before she disappears back into hell. orpheus is then so distraught that he wanders the earth singing mournful melodies and gets stoned to death by some nymphs who think his sad songs are bumming them out. DUUUUDE their story consumed my every waking thought as a child."

Madohomu:

"madoka magica aired 12 episodes in 2011, with a sequel movie titled “rebellion” released in 2014. it’s been over 10 years since then, and these two have become the face of yuri. if someone makes a meme about loving yuri and makes a collage of example ships, madohomu are 100% gonna be present. video essays, fanart, fics, music videos and all kinds of fan projects featuring them are still wildly popular on all social media platforms.

but let’s talk about them (without going into too many spoilers, so this will be about the thematics in their relationship). they are light and darkness. the ying and the yang. forever intertwined. one would not exist without the other, yet they cannot exist together. for madoka has too much love for every living thing and too little for herself. and homura has too much love for madoka it blinds her to everything and everyone else, and she struggles with deep self-hatred. madoka has forsaken her own existence for the world, and homura has forsaken the world she created for her. the show has a lot of religious imagery, and madoka is akin to a god; there’s a shot of homura, who grew up catholic, kneeling at the feet of a gigantic statue of madoka, praying, but her hands stain her clothes. because if madoka is god, then homura is lucifer - specifically, iblis, the muslim version of lucifer, who loved god so much he betrayed him, for he’d rather defy him than bow to his creation, humans. and homura would rather defy the sanctity of madoka’s wish, rather than obey its laws, for she will take madoka’s happiness in her hands, if she refuses to. in the movie, dolls representing homura’s inner machinations yell, “gott ist tot”, for homura’s god, madoka, dies in the movie, when homura remembers that madoka was human first, and godhood was something she reached to save everyone, against her best interest and happiness. their relationship is one of love, kindness, obsession, devotion, hope, faith, worship - they are the thesis and the antithesis, the beginning and the end, the alpha and omega, an unstoppable force and an immovable object. forever locked in a struggle, never fully embracing, for madoka will always sacrifice herself for the world, and homura will always doom the world and herself for madoka."

[caitified]

Hello! I absolutely love your family series so much. I love Caitlin’s family but can you please do Paige next?

Can it be like Paige introduces their baby to Geno and CD after Paige’s game (she’s in Dallas already) and idk just cute interactions and fans are eating it up. I hope you give this a shot. Thank you!

INTRODUCTION

PAIGE BUECKERS X FAMILY READER

notes: finally…after literally 100 requests i’m properly starting my paige family series. enjoy! (p.s i think i changed this a bit from the req, sry)

requests are open for this.

packing for any trip with a baby was always a process. no matter how much you tried to pack light, you always ended up with more than you needed.

“paige, we’re not moving to connecticut.” you glanced at her over your shoulder as you zipped up one of eva’s bags. “why does she have like four different pairs of sneakers in here?”

paige, sitting on the floor with eva in her lap, looked up sheepishly. “because she’s gotta look fresh?”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile. “she’s not even walking yet.”

paige turned eva toward her, gently bouncing her. “tell mama you need options, baby.”

eva, six months old with bright blue eyes just like her mom’s, blew a spit bubble.

paige gasped dramatically. “see? she agrees.”

you laughed, shaking your head as you grabbed the last of your things. “fine. whatever. let’s just go before we miss the flight.”

—

the flight from dallas to connecticut wasn’t too bad.

eva, thankfully, was a pretty easy baby. after some snacks, a few rounds of peekaboo with paige, and a little bit of fighting sleep, she finally passed out in your arms.

paige, sitting next to you, smiled down at her before looking at you. “this is so weird,” she murmured.

you shifted slightly to look at her. “what is?”

her lips curled slightly. “going back to uconn. with you. with eva.”

your heart softened. “you’re excited, though, right?”

she nodded. “of course. but, like…” she exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “when i left, i never thought i’d be coming back like this, y’know? like, yeah, i knew i’d visit, but—” she looked down at eva again, voice dropping slightly. “now i have a family.”

you reached for her hand, squeezing gently. “it’s a full-circle moment.”

she nodded, exhaling. “yeah. it really is.”

—

the game itself was electric.

stepping into gampel pavilion again felt like stepping into a time capsule. the energy, the fans, the love—it was all still there.

but this time, instead of sitting courtside just as paige’s girlfriend, you had eva in your lap.

instead of fangirling over paige as the uconn superstar, you were watching her experience the game as a wnba player, an alumni, a legend in her own right.

and, of course, you were just trying to keep eva from throwing her pacifier onto the court.

“baby,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to her head as she wiggled. “no throwing things.”

she cooed back at you, completely ignoring your request.

the fans ate her up.

anytime she clapped her little hands? cheers.

every time she got excited when the crowd got loud? adorable gasps.

by halftime, there were already tweets circulating about how paige’s baby was a uconn legend in the making.

you glanced at paige, who was beaming, filming eva on her phone.

“she’s gonna steal your thunder,” you teased.

paige smirked. “i’d let her.”

—

after the game, it was time for introductions.

geno and cd were already waiting in the tunnel, and the moment paige stepped forward with eva, their faces lit up.

“there’s the real superstar,” geno said, grinning as he looked at eva.

cd, beside him, immediately reached for her. “oh, let me see her!”

eva blinked at them, big blue eyes full of curiosity, before reaching her arms out for cd.

paige gasped, placing a hand over her heart. “i can’t believe this. my own daughter is betraying me.”

you laughed, nudging her. “relax, babe. she just knows good people.”

cd beamed, adjusting eva in her arms. “she’s beautiful, paige.” she glanced at you, smiling warmly. “you two did good.”

geno crossed his arms, tilting his head. “i dunno… she kinda looks too much like paige. are we sure she’s not already stubborn?”

paige gasped. “coach!”

you smirked, shrugging. “i mean, she is kind of a diva.”

geno nodded knowingly. “oh, she definitely got that from her mom.”

eva babbled happily in cd’s arms, clearly enjoying the attention.

paige sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to her forehead. “i can’t believe i came back here to get roasted.”

geno clapped a hand on her shoulder. “it’s what we do, kid.”

she rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile.

you squeezed her hand, grinning.

back home. but better.

i’m in now. keep the paige family requests coming

[reignpage]

Not a rq but a question about modern au, if it's allowed? If not then just ignore!!

But what makes reader different from the other girls they've been with before? Like why is it her?

Gojo:

She gives back as good as she gets. This is a common theme in all the readers he’s paired with in my writings. That’s because I can’t imagine gojo with a passive, meek little uwu girl. Goth!reader in particular is someone who matches his childish soul but balances it with her maturity. She doesn’t ‘humble’ him or keep him grounded, not really. As we’ve seen before, she fires back too. It makes it really fun for him to push her buttons. He feels like he can be himself with her and she’ll just get it. In the same way, he just gets that she needs someone who’ll encourage her to have fun. everyone else is too focused on trying to impress him and suck up to him, but not her. 

Geto:

she’s kind. there’s a light in her that captivates him. he’s surrounded by a lot of darkness, both in the situation he’s in and also from within. even exposed to his darkness, she never falters. she’s so sure of herself, she’s so good, so true he feels lighter just by looking at her. to be around someone so bright and warm and welcoming makes him so happy. it’s like he’s been walking in a tunnel his entire life and he’s just now coming upon the end. or like when someone laughs and you can’t help but laugh too. she makes everything better. 

Choso:

she’s talented. she’s so fun, colourful and spontaneous, it forces him out of his shell. there really isn’t an explanation. she’s a muse. everything about her mesmerises him. her beauty, her scent, her skin, her smile, her laugh, her voice, her artistic soul etc etc he could watch her all day every day and never get bored. she sparks inspiration in him. makes him want to be ambitious, to go further and further, pushing the limits to discover himself. 

Toji: 

she’s got qualities he admires. she’s smart, she’s dedicated, observant, she’s got a way with words, and he feels like no one else has quite the depth that she does. he didn’t fall immediately for her. very much she fell first and he fell harder. he just found himself seeking her presence, it’s comforting and calming, and he feels like he’s got a clear head. he can have deep conversations with her, he can just sit in silence doing nothing with her, he can enjoy the mundane stuff and never miss the thrill of the court. she just feels like home. 

Nanami:

she’s like sunlight. she burns bright and he wants to look directly but he can’t and he knows he shouldn’t, and he’s always had a desire to sneak one look and suffer the consequences. she brings him out of his shell, makes him do things he never would do but deep down always wanted to. it’s hard to explain because objectively speaking, there might be better people out there for him, someone not so insecure someone who processes the world the way he does, but he doesn’t want anyone else. it’s very much like before her, he had no desires the way a man does. with her though, suddenly he’s become greedy, emboldened, selfish and prideful. she’s awakened him to his true potential.

Sukuna

there’s no else for him. there’s no one more interesting. she’s a drug and he needs her. she’s the only girl who’s ever interested him, who’s ever demanded his attention and his observation, mostly because she had the audacity to rig the election, but after that, she actually made him want something, kinda like Nanami but the other way around. prez made him feel more than base animal instincts. she made him care for someone else, made him want to protect her, to tear himself down and build himself back up so he can be whatever she needs him to be. though they enable each other’s immorality and depravity, he feels like she makes him a better man in many ways. no one else could ever give him what he needs. no one else is worthy. 

[jeanbie]

BLUE FALCON ★ masterlist.

pairing: jake x reader

warnings: sexual content, human!fem!reader, rough sex, infidelity | wc: 3k

note: i'm actually developing this plot of a mole in Bridgehead for a much bigger fic, so stay excited for that, as it's rapidly evolving behind the scenes. this is just a version i thought of, but the later fic won't include this scene. anyway, i missed my blue boyfriend jake!

⏤ There's a mole in Bridgehead City - a mole who has helped wipe out scores of Sky People transmissions, fleets and transport lines. And Jake likes rewarding the mole's loyalty with a good time.

Neither you nor Jake remember how any of this happened, how you ended up in this situation together.

Since the return of the Sky People, you had become so invaluable to the Na’vi Insurgency that the way you ended up here became insignificant — all that mattered was what you did for Pandora, and who you were betraying in order to help fight for that cause.

The new human settlement remained a comfortable distance away from where the resistance was stationed, and yet still all too close for Jake’s comfort. It was an uncomfortable fact that both war parties were in acknowledgement of, but Jake had to guess that it made the Sky People more afraid than the Na’vi. 

It wouldn’t matter how many buildings the Sky People erected, how many roads they paved; Pandora would always be the home of the Na’vi, and their instincts were so attuned to the forests and waters surrounding the ring of painfully ugly architecture that it was no wonder the humans felt the need to turn their city into a fortress, armed with gunships and garrisons. 

Bridgehead City strove to function in a straightforward fashion, and sometimes, Jake had to admit he was impressed by their resilience, their total ignorance of how this world worked and what was waiting for them in forest fringes. He was surprised that a fray of scientists were even brave enough to conduct manned missions to nearby forests to collect samples, studying while their colleagues destroyed the trees, killed the indigenous.

Having been part of a tight-knit scientist collective himself once, Jake knows not everyone there is a cold-hearted killer, and from what he's heard, not everyone there wants to stain their hands with Pandora’s blood.

But, the Na’vi and their allies aren’t the greatest thing threatening the city. It’s not just by chance that the resistance are hitting goldmines by striking RDA train lines and ships and disrupting resource transportation — Bridgehead City has a mole, and that mole is single-handedly making all the difference between winning and losing the war.

As Jake snaps his hips back upwards, sinking himself further up your cunt, he lifts his eyes to stare with extreme scrutiny at the looming eyesore of a city on the horizon. Every flicker of light, every shadow of movement, catches his eye, but he knows from weeks of no issue that where he’s currently bending you over a rock is out of sight from the patrolling guards atop the city walls. 

The underground tunnel is manned by several other trusted allies stationed in the city, people you have sworn to Jake he can trust. The Avatar Program did not cease in its studies and activity when Grace died on Pandora; it simply found itself under new ownership and continued its religious study of Pandora and its people, with a bunch of scientists who care more about peace than a paycheque. 

So far, nobody has given you over, nobody has breached the trust Jake has very nobly put in them — and the guards whose allegiance is aligned with the Na’vi resistance have turned down their weapons and are securing the narrow tunnel that connects the forest to the RDA labs. 

You’ll be fine out here, being fucked by the city’s greatest threat and enemy, and when you’re giving Jake such valuable information, then you can be certain that Jake won’t just kill you where you stand.

There was a time when you thought he might. Back before you even ended up being a hole for Jake to squeeze into, you had offered the olive branch of trust when you’d spotted Jake in the trees assessing the alleged mole who had contacted Norm. You could have called out to the nearby soldiers, could have lit the fuse for a skirmish, but you didn’t. Instead, you remained quiet, staring at him half-fearfully and half-curiously, until he was satisfied with what he saw and disappeared back into the forest like a ghost.

Now, you’re more lax. There is no argument against you being the resistance’s greatest weapon, their greatest strength and weakness, just the same as there’s no argument against you being ideal for their leader. Whenever you seek him out, he gets everything he wants: information, assurance, and a hole to fuck and fill.

“When?” Jake grunts, his eyes shifting back to the sight of your back arched up with pleasure. The rock is rather high, surprisingly flat but still unbelievably uncomfortable, and yet you sound as though you’re being bent over the most comfortable surface in the world.

You don’t hear him ask the question, but you whimper a noise of confusion when Jake pistons back in a bit too roughly, his chest grumbling with a low purr of disappointment. “When?”

What were you talking about? You fumble out a breathless moan and think — oh yes. The upcoming shipment of mined resources expecting to pass by a potential guerrilla attack line.

“Three days time,” you tell him, wincing when he pushes even deeper into you as a reward for your honesty, your walls clenched unbearably tight around him. He grunts again, pleased. “I heard them say something about midday, but I—fuck! Um, I…it could change.”

“You’re sure?” Jake asks. The resistance has spent weeks living around doubts and chances, but most of your reports have been on the nose when it comes to accuracy, and it’s a point that Jake has fallen reliant on. 

You hear his question and momentarily panic. The last time you were wrong, you paid for it heavily, and were amazed that you could still stand and walk shamefully back down the tunnel that spans for miles back towards the city. You can understand Jake’s seriousness when it comes to your information — his loyalty and determination can’t be faulted, his intensity inspiring, but the last thing you want is to steer him wrong and get people killed. 

It’s not just the lives of the Na’vi on the line. If the RDA were to catch wind of your betrayal, you could safely assume it wouldn’t be a simple dismissal back to Earth. You’d be lucky to be court-martialled — but you can only imagine they would have the most sinister and deserving punishment waiting for you, so horrific that you’d have wished you’d never opened your mouth.

You feel Jake’s hands curve around your waist as if securing you in place, pushing himself all the way inside of you until the wind is knocked from your lungs. At this point, you’ve had Jake inside of you too many times to count, but accommodating him never gets any more comfortable — not that he cares. 

Jake’s feelings for you stop and start with ally, and it just so happens you’re an ally he can use, an ally he can manipulate, an ally he can sink his cock into now that there’s barely any time for him and Neytiri to be alone around their work and their kids.

“I’m sure,” you reply, your voice strained to a point where Jake almost doesn’t know what you’ve just said to him. “They sent me away before I could get a closer look, but it’s a maglev carrying weapon shipments and steel from one of their mines—” Jake’s dick spears up against a soft wall of pudge that makes you groan loudly, and his hand readjusts on your waist, “Gotta be around seven carriages.”

Jake hums thoughtfully, wincing as your cunt clenches around him like a fist. He takes a deep breath and pushes you down gently, mindful of the fact that compared to him you could break with the slightest force. 

“Good,” he mutters, glancing back up at the horizon. Nothing has changed; no lights have ignited, no horns sounding, no eyes looking at him making a mess of one of their own. “Y’know anything about aircraft that day?”

You shake your head between your arms, gaze tucked low as a knot tightens in your stomach. It’s always so embarrassing how many times Jake can make you cum in one visit. By the time he’s pushed out his first orgasm, you’re reaching your third or fourth. 

“Nothin’?” Jake questions. “All you do all day is listen to them talk, and you don’t know anything about what ships they’re flying?”

“Um, maybe Samson ships, or Kestrels, same as always,” you hurry out, desperate to be useful, especially when his hands tighten around you almost threateningly. “Don’t know how many. Three. Four, I dunno—”

Jake grunts again and snaps his hips aggressively into you, your ass slapping against his lower stomach at such a speed that he’s amazed you’re still producing any noises. You always seem to take him expertly, always up for trying your best to keep Jake pleased — he has to admire the level of passion and determination you put into whatever you do. 

He squeezes your waist one more time before relaxing his hands, smoothing one up the length of your back and putting the other down near the curve of your ass. Jake can feel your thighs trembling against him, the hot warmth of your cunt closing tighter around his dick like a goddamn vice, and after one final longing look at Bridgehead, Jake sighs and pats your leg.

“Alright,” he relents, his voice slightly kinder and quieter. Mercifully, Jake moves slower, although staying deep in your stomach as if he intends to watch his dick slip up your throat and out your mouth, and another deep rumble erupts from his chest. “Alright.”

“Mmf, I—” A sudden squeal slips from your mouth when you feel Jake’s cock twitch inside of you, a burst of warmth pooling inside your tummy. Jake groans, stumbles forward almost, and brings his hands back to the bottom of your spine to steady himself as strings of his cum spill inside of you. 

Your chest falls flat against the rock, breasts squished like an airbag as Jake steadies his trembling lower half, his dick still buried inside of you until every last drop of cum is out of his system and coating your inner walls. He breathes heavily through his nose for a moment, his fingers shaking very slightly against your body until he quickly pulls himself out of you as if the thought of being up your snatch for a second longer fills him with disgust.

Once he’s out, you slump with an ungracious grunt against the smooth rock, feeling Jake’s cum drooling down your leg like a running tap; it’s warm and sticky, and very bothersome to clean up when he has very little desire to help you do so.

Jake finally drags his hand up from your lower spine and lets out a tired sigh. It is hard work being the leader of the Na’vi insurgence on top of being a father, a husband and the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya clan. 

In hindsight, Jake knows that he could very easily send Norm out here to collect whatever information you’ve gathered for the resistance, and he knows that there’s really no necessary need to bend you over any surface and fuck you stupid. But somehow it helps to get it out, to fuck out all of his anger and frustration and stress into something — someone — so willing to be of use to something greater.

Neytiri has told him more than once that the timing is not right, that their time together when they find it should be shared with their family now that any day could be their last. Jake knows that Neytiri will seek him out if she feels the need to fuck, but he also understands her lack of need for it. Neytiri just doesn’t have time anymore.

But your very sudden appearance has become most opportune for Jake when he’s feeling stressed out, and in return for his misguided decisions, he can take back kernels of information about the enemy to help them win the war.

“You could start bringing a towel every time you come here,” you say playfully, your voice still in a low octave, as if you’re afraid of someone hearing you out here. Jake has already patrolled this area several times before coming out to find you — the only things listening or looking are the birds in the trees or the bugs on the leaves. 

You pat at the drying streaks of cum between your legs with a mild cringe. “I hate going back in there covered in this. It’s humiliating enough just coming out here.”

Jake finds himself smiling at that, his hands already fastening the tewng back around his waist. “Be brave,” he tells you, gaze cast downwards to his hands as you turn to look back at him.

The true gravity of your circumstances never sinks in until you meet with Jake in passing, along with the surfacing feelings of fear, guilt and shame. You’ve never once aligned yourself with the bloodthirsty agenda of the RDA, not even when the fleet of exiled humans returned to Earth with horror stories to share. The Avatar Program still sought out peaceful relations with the Pandora Indigenous, and no matter what vile plan the RDA had in store, those following in the admirable footsteps of the humans remaining on Pandora knew where they stood and who they stood for. 

Your volatile position as Charles Stringer’s assistant gave you the opportunity to continue the legacy of the Avatar Program, and could not have come at a more perfect time. It had been sheer luck that you’d found a connection to some of the excommunicated scientists apart of the Na’vi insurgency, and divine right timing that led you to consort with its leader, and each day came with no guarantee for your safety. But the risk was important regardless of how you manoeuvred around it. 

What would be worse? Being caught out as a traitor to the human race by joining forces with the enemy, or being caught out as a traitorous whore letting the infamous Jake Sully fuck you like a toy as a so-called reward for your treachery?

Jake checks over his vest and straightens it out, his eyes finally flickering to find yours in the dull light of the forest. The trees don’t burst or pulse with bioluminescence anymore, no thanks to the artificial floods of light from the city and the painful smog of polluted air and toxins disturbing the will of nature, but Jake can just about see you from his height, peering up at him as you reach for a flimsy leaf to wipe the trickling substance from your legs.

“Are you safe?” Jake asks randomly, dropping to his haunches once he’s confirmed that his armour is on safely. You cringe at the stickiness of your fingers and reluctantly wipe your hands on your jacket, shimmying into your cargos not long afterwards.

“For now,” you tell him. “Nobody knows about anything.”

“You sure?” The last thing Jake wants is the RDA becoming ten times more ruthless after cracking down on the flaw in their regime. He needs you, more than he expected, because without you and your knowledge of every planned schedule the RDA put on their calendars, Jake wouldn’t know where to begin searching for openings.

You fasten the button on the front of your cargos and look back at him. Now that he’s down low, you’re almost eye-to-eye, which is a position that weirds you out, despite the fact that Jake had just been twelve inches deep in your pussy minutes ago. Looking at him so directly makes you feel small, makes you feel vulnerable.

“Positive,” you assure him. “Stringer thinks my one purpose in life is to carry his papers and bring him coffee. Everybody else thinks I’m harmless because I’m an assistant and I wear tight skirts to work, and everyone who I trust is doing their best to fall under the radar.” You sigh with your hands on your hips, bottom lip tugged under your teeth in thought, “It’s surprisingly easy to fool everyone.”

“Stay sharp,” Jake advises, his gaze unwavering as he stares you down. The weight of his gaze is so heavy that you feel forced to look back, finding that he is being as sincere as he can possibly be. “And keep up the good work.”

You bow your head in gratitude. Your last report on a swarm of Samson ships flying through the flux vortex near the base camp for the resistance had been of perfect accuracy — Jake could have given you the moon and stars for the value of that ambush alone.

A low hum of noise makes you flinch and turn back towards the city skyline, meanwhile, Jake chews a frown, grabs his large gun and stands up straight. A dark shadow looms over you, but you’re too busy staring back at Bridgehead, feeling your usual knot of dread tighten. 

“Get outta here, Blue Falcon,” jeers Jake, the sound of his gun clicking making you whip to face him with a long expression. He gestures towards the tunnel entrance with a nod of his head, waiting pointedly for you to finish your frightened observation of him and turn on your heel back to where you belong. 

When your back is turned, Jake is already heading out, stalking carefully and quickly through the ferns and fauna to where his direhorse is patiently waiting for him.

You find, with reluctance, that there are bigger things to worry about than the strong smell of cum over your legs and the sticky feeling between your folds, as you walk towards the heavy metal doors to the tunnel and jump up to glimpse through the barely transparent rectangle of glass looking into the long darkness. 

You’re lucky you’re alive, lucky to be useful. But now that Jake’s gone in the night and the threat of the upcoming maglev ambush weighs on your mind, all you can do is pray that your information was accurate.

[thegreenleavesofspringinsunlight]

I know it's not really the done thing to ask for prayers regarding divorce, but I'm going to do it anyway. In every way except legal he has departed indeed - physically, financially, spiritually. At this point, I'd really, really like to get it squared away legally, too.

The lawyer is supposed to call me Tuesday to discuss options going forward. As evidenced quite plainly by him failing to file within the required year, and many times before on a smaller scale by him failing to keep our phone appointments, he is not dependable.

The energy company refused to admit fault re: the electric bill. They've been up to chicanery for a year but I can't prove it.

The apartment management personnel never ironed out the $1700 water bill.

My mother has been exceptionally trying of late. I'm now 80% she's developing dementia in addition to the disability from the stroke.

She wants to go this week to get my permit renewed, which would be a net good but very stressful to do. Also I'm not 100% sure I'll pass the vision test and there's no one in the area who accepts my medicaid.

God is just about silent. I did ask for one thing the other night (that I could watch an episode of Psych) and He did provide it (I did watch an episode of Psych), but overall I've been feeling very trapped and lonely and miserable and hopeless, like things will never be better this side of Heaven. And I'm grieving a return to circumstances that I longed for twenty years to escape from and thought I had and are back now.

I won't say I feel abandoned by God, per se. I don't think that. I do feel... unimportant. Like I don't matter. Like my children don't matter. I hear the pastor repeat the promises and I see them on tumblr and it's like they just don't apply to me. They're not for me, not for my family. Sure He'll still use us (maybe) to serve His will but His will seems to be that we stagnate to death. I am in a long dark tunnel and I'm still trudging because people keep telling me there's light at the end but all I'm finding is more tunnel, long and dark and monotonous.

My life is impossible, dreary and hopeless. My God specializes in doing the impossible, bringing light to the darkness and hope to the hopeless. (But maybe He just doesn't specialize in me?)

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ludos Imperiales 8

Summary: Acknowledging the bond between them creates a challenge Reader wasn't prepared for.

Content Warnings: Jealous!Azriel, Slight NSFW; Mentions of Death and War.

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

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I wish we could stay like this forever: The first rays of sunlight peeking through the drawn curtains, the lightweight comforter warm from the large body at my back. The scent of jasmine and citrus lingers on one side of the sheets, night-chilled mist and cedar on the other. The tether in my chest warms with every steady heart beat against my spine. Sleep threatens to pull me back under, contentment a yawning precipice in which I dangle dangerously along the edge.

I want nothing more than to close my eyes as soon as they open. I wish time would still and there would be no demands, no threats over our heads, no Empire to ruin these precious few moments of peace. But the stomping and shouting of guards outside the door brings all thoughts of bliss and peace to a screeching halt. There very much are threats over our head and an Empire out there doing its damndest to ruin everything that is good in this world.

I force myself to sit up, to throw off the warm comforter and the arm still looped over my waist. Force my body to move, to not linger in the early morning light, to not roll over and trace the swirling patterns of my companion’s tattoos over the firm planes of his chest.

There will be other mornings.

Rhys is gone. Cassian still snores from his bed, half hidden in the shadows. Azriel sits up with a grunt beside me. The slight tremor of disappointment that runs down the tether that links us 

tells me he’s not thrilled about the arrangement either.

If I had more time, I’d be a little more mortified about the drool I feel crusted to my cheek, or the way my hair is sprouting out the side of my head like one of Anise’s vines. “Shit! It’s late!”

Azriel’s hazel gaze flicks to the door. “We wanted to give you as much time as possible to rest.”

My heart constricts painfully tight in my chest. Last night was an ordeal, yes, but I have no physical wounds, not like they do, and no one has offered them the same luxury. I want to kiss him. Want to crawl back into bed and into his lap, tangle my fingers in the thick locks of his hair and kiss him until we can both forget how awful the last couple of days have been. I want to lose myself in him, let him lose himself in me until there is no longer all this shit between us. I want to know what the bond might feel like if we had the time to explore it properly. Instead, I lean forward and give his scarred hand a squeeze.

“Thank you.” And before he can even respond, I’m sprinting for the secret door. 

Rhys already has it open. It looks like he’s been watching the door to make sure the guards don’t try to come in before I’m gone. There’s no time to share anything other than a conspiratorial nod before the darkness of the tunnel envelops me and the door locks shut behind me. 

I have to sneak past Cook as he gets the stove lit for the day, his back turned as I sprint from the cellar, the noise of the door opening only covered because he keeps banging logs against the old iron doors to make them fit. The Guards have made collecting the right size firewood difficult, as they’ve been stealing his carefully crafted supply to make fires to keep themselves warm during the night shift.

Thank the Mother and every god of luck we have that no one sees me run down the hall and back into my room.

There is still a little bit of the Raven’s blood on the wall. I find myself shuddering as I race past it to get to my closet. The Senate Meeting is in an hour, maybe less. What I would give to have wings!

I throw on the first dress I can find and dip into the bathroom to fix my hair. Shit I’m going to look awful! At least I can blame some of it on the ride over, but Father will never let me hear the end of it. Hell, if Brannagh and Amarathan don’t beat him to it.

I wrangle my hair into a braid that I wrap around the back of my head and pin in place with a gold clip that’s sharp enough to stab someone with, just in case. I shouldn’t be totally unarmed. Scrambling, I remember my Mother’s blade in my vanity drawer, and I lose precious seconds finding a way to hide it in the extra fabric tucked into the gold belt around my waist. 

Anise meets me at my bedroom door, looking solemn. “I looked into those other gladiators like you asked.”

I loop my arm through hers. “Walk with me, please.” Her stiffness tells me she’s still mad, but she obliges me.

“The Attor is always top of the list, you know this.” She says with a sigh. At least for now, she has decided to pretend to tolerate whatever nonsense she thinks I’m getting into. I will take this fragile peace while it lasts.

I shiver. “Hard pass. What are their other options?”

“Senator Thessian has three Elven archers who have never been beaten.”

Archers leave too many variables. Especially since last time they’d flooded the arena and the Elves had won by finding a perch on some driftwood and slowly picking the competitors off one at a time. They need someone who can match their physicality with a sword, regardless of the obstacles in the arena.

“Too many uncontrollable variables.”

She sighs again as we inch closer to the front doors, and the Guards that stand waiting. “Senator Kallias just acquired an orc from the Western Wastes. He is untested, but his staff says he paid a pretty coin for it.” 

Better. I like those odds a little more.

I kiss her cheek as we reach the front door. “You’re wonderful, Anise! I will find a way to thank you later.”

She frowns at me as her weathered hand squeezes my arm. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

In earshot now, a young Fae guard says, “She will have a squad after the events of last night.”

I fight back the urge to roll my eyes. A squad of males loyal to my Father. I’m just as likely to be dragged off the horse and murdered in the road by them than another Raven. A thought that does make me uneasy. I could, probably, hold them off on my own, but truth be told, now that I’ve been forced to stop and take a breath, I do still feel shaky. Training and muscle memory keeps me composed, but last night was a lot.

It will cost me precious time, but the idea forms easily, and I turn to Anise. “Good thing I have a few gladiators to protect me.”

Her frown deepens. “I am not comforted by that.”

I pull free of her and turn to the guard. I can’t bring Rhys with me; bringing the figurehead of a known rebellion into a Senate meeting would be grounds enough for Father to take my head here and now. I can’t bring Cassian either, he’ll need every precious second he can get for that leg to heal. “Bring Azriel to me.”

The guard hesitates, clearly taken back. 

I keep walking towards the stables. “Quickly, or it’ll be your head I throw on the chopping block for making me late.”

That does the trick.

I bite back a grin as I make it to the stables in record time and instruct Grayson, a wiry, half dryad stable boy, to prepare two horses. By the time the Guard brings Azriel, I’m settled in the saddle. 

“The Emperor will not like this,” the Guard begins.

“I did not ask for your opinion.” I state, using my best courtly voice. Mother always used to tell me I sounded just like my Father. It had always felt like an insult, but at least it has its uses.

Besides, the way Azriel grins as he swings into his own saddle is enough to ease the discomfort. I think it’s a flicker of pride I feel down the bond from him, but I’m not totally certain. Perhaps I’m imagining it, but I sit a little straighter in the saddle regardless. I want to make all of them proud. I want them to know I can do this, that I’m not some fragile little girl. I can handle what they’ve asked of me.

We head out before the Guard are totally ready, giving us a bit of space between us and them. There isn’t exactly room to talk at the pace we set, but I appreciate the breathing room all the same. At least, for now, it doesn’t look like they’ve been instructed to stab me in the back. 

The ride to the Capital is a blur all the way up until we’re in the city once more. The crowds are significantly less than yesterday, but there are still crushed roses and streamers in the streets. Worse, the crucifixes still stand, the Illyrian bodies still pinned. 

I nearly bite through my tongue with how hard I’m clenching my jaw. Some of those males were still alive yesterday. None are today. There is no obvious intent to remove them either, to offer a proper burial. People walk past like they don’t notice the carrion coming in to pick the bodies apart.

Azriel remains stiff and silent beside me. I try my best not to look at him, to not make it obvious that I am checking on him now that the Guard have finally caught up.

I do not breathe any easier once inside the Palace. The place feels like it should have heads on spikes posted at every entrance. All the glittering gold pillars and sparkling fountains feel out of place in a spot built upon the blood of so many innocent lives. I never liked it here, but more and more this place is starting to give me the same anxiety I’d have walking into a dragon’s lair.

The Guards follow close behind, as I once again hold the chain around Azriel’s throat. It feels heavier today, the metal hot from the sun. 

“You’re welcome to leave the brute with us, Highness,” one of them sneers. “We’d watch over him carefully.”

I’m still debating how much time it would take me to strangle the male with the chain as we reach the Audience Chamber. 

“Ignore him,” Azriel huffs in my ear. As soon as we’d gotten off the horses he’d taken his position behind me, close enough that my hip brushed his if I turned even a little. Maybe it’s a little too close for the story we’ve been selling, but it puts him between me and anyone trying to stab me in the back like a giant shield and he knows it. I don’t like that he doesn’t have armor to protect him, should something happen, but we simply haven’t had the time to find any. A situation I’ll need to handle before we leave the city.

The Chamber doors are still open, by some miracle, and bits of conversation float towards me as I enter. All of which suddenly halt as soon as the gathered group of elites realize who I’ve brought with me. 

I square my shoulders, even as the heat of Azriel’s withering glare skids across my shoulder. He’s very expressive today, and I have a sinking feeling that’s on me. Our proximity makes the bond relax, not so taut between my ribs any more, but it also heightens emotions. My protectiveness mounts the longer we’re together, I catch myself leaning towards violence anytime somebody looks at him wrong and from what the nymphs used to tell me, it’s usually worse for males.

Today will be interesting. 

We walk down the center of the room, towards the throne where my Father lounges, being fanned by two slaves with palm fronds. Amarantha already sits to his right, drinking from a goblet of wine, her mood sour. Both their eyes narrow in on me, then Azriel, as the crowd dramatically parts, like we have the plague.

I give a brief curtsy to my Father as I take the seat next to him. A seat that has long been empty and was more for show than use. Nothing my Mother ever said in these meetings came to pass. The rest of the senate seats are filled by males, Amarantha and Brannagh the only exceptions. 

“Be seated,” Father calls out, waving a hand in irritation. 

A servant comes with a tray of wine and fruits, and despite the rumbling of my stomach, I wave it away. I’d like to not test my luck today; I’m just as likely to be poisoned as I am stabbed and even Azriel can’t do anything if I ingest arsenic. 

The Emperor leans over in his seat, gray eyes sharp, jaw clenched tight. He’d never hit me in front of so many people, but that doesn’t mean I’m safe from his wrath either. 

I brace myself, hands folded gently in my lap, even as Azriel tenses from his perch behind my seat. 

“So good of you to show up,” he snarls.

“I had an interesting visitor last night,” I say and I hate the way my voice shakes. 

“So you brought a known rebel into my council meeting in retaliation?” He hisses. 

There’s a heavy layer of wine on his breath and it takes every bit of training to keep myself from trying to scoot further out of his reach. If he’s been up drinking, that’s a sign we’re moving in the right direction, he’s so off his game he’s unravelled, but that makes him dangerous. There is no telling what he could do next and my first impulse is to curl into a ball and make myself as small as possible.

“I questioned my safety in the hands of your guards on the empty roads over here,” I say, digging my nails into my palms to get the words out. 

“But not with this savage?” He gestures with his chin towards Azriel.

All I can see is red. If I had not used so much energy to kill the Raven last night, my powers might not be slumbering so deep beneath my skin now. For that I am grateful. I do not need one more thing to worry about today. 

“Their interests are in keeping this deal for their people, that’s hard to do if I’m dead,” I retort through my teeth.

“We’ll discuss this later,” he snarls.

My hands shake in my lap as Azriel’s shadow makes its way around my ear again, murmuring softly in a strange language as it rubs itself against my temple soothingly. It is an effort to breathe evenly and I do my best to turn my attention away from my Father and to study those in attendance today instead. 

Thessian, Kallias and Beron sit on my right. Eris stands behind his father’s seat, serving as a guard today, and the auburn haired male winks at me when my gaze passes to him. I hope that means he did that research I asked him for yesterday.

Azriel’s hand tightens on the back of my seat with just enough pressure I hear the metal groan. Thankfully, no one seems to notice but me. 

On the opposite side of the room sits Dagdan and Brannagh, their seats pushed together instead of giving them the five feet of distance all the other chairs have, just so no one is close enough to throw a punch if things get heated, as it often does. Next to them are senators Helion and Tamlin. Helion studies Azriel intently over the edge of his goblet of wine, but I can’t tell if it’s genuine interest or the same disdain everyone else has been throwing his way. 

Tamlin broods silently in a stack of parchment in his hand, quiet without Lucien to balance him out. 

Directly across from us are some of the few Senators who were not previously Lords of Prythian, as it was our biggest conquered province. They’re also the only ones on the Council who aren’t Fae. Giais is the only Elf. Ancient and ethereal, he’s been on the council since my Great Grandfather, though he doesn’t look a day older than me. Acacius had once held Amarantha’s title, but the Goblin had lost an arm in one of the last battles of the Giant War, and had been given a seat on the Council in his retirement. Maximus, who’s self-proclaimed title is Great Lord of the Dragon Shifters; he wears no shirt, but his entire top half is drenched in gold--gold rings with giant gems atop his long fingers, golden bracelets from wrist to elbow, a dozen gold chains in varying lengths and a belt, all catching the light and nearly blinding anyone who looks too closely at him. He’s the youngest male here, with the exception of Dagdan. The only seat empty is Senator Romulius’; the Nephilim away dealing with an uprising in his adjoining provinces. 

There are no Humans or Giants on the Council. No Nymphs or Dryads. It used to be more diverse, but as Father’s paranoia grew, so did his prejudices, and the Council became smaller and more segregated as time passed. 

“Who shall start today’s session?” Helion calls out as the chamber quiets and the doors close. 

It’s like being sealed in a tomb. I wish I’d said yes to the wine, I think I might risk being poisoned just to not have to sit with the swirling anxiousness in the pit of my stomach. 

Father gestures to Amarantha with a grunt that tells everybody we’ve found him in the middle of one of his moods. The quiet shifts to something more uneasy, shared glances passing between the senators. They all know this means they must tread carefully. 

“Tax season is upon us,” Amarantha says, her voice carrying through the antechamber. “Are there any concerns we need to discuss?”

Tamlin waves his stack of parchment in the air. “My province is still recovering from last year’s tax season. Our prisons are full of debtors. My advisors are organizing things as best they can, but rumors of…” he pauses, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as his eyes flick to my Father. “...unrest are spreading. I would like to request a heavier presence of the Praetorian, just to ensure things go smoothly, if they can be spared?”

“Why should your inability to lead your people be our problem?” Acacius snarls. “Every other province has managed to reign in its citizens but you.”

“I would hardly call the situation in Illyria reigned in,” Helion says over the edge of his goblet. 

Azriel tenses, wings rustling behind him. It takes everything in me not to turn and take his hand.

“Illyria is an outlier,” Amarantha snaps. “One that has been dealt with.”

Father’s head swivels to look at Azriel with the same air of an owl getting its sights on a mouse. A shiver runs down my spine as his eyes narrow in on my mate. 

“Was it dealt with, Shadowsinger?” 

The chamber quiets, every eye landing on Azriel. He keeps his composure near perfect, save for the hand still gripping the back of my chair with enough force to dent it. 

“Aren’t the crucifixions testament enough?” He growls through his teeth. 

Father grins wickedly. “Since my daughter is so certain she needed you here with her, why don’t you go ahead and tell this council exactly what happens to provinces that do not comply with our laws? Perhaps Tamlin needs a reminder about why he should keep his people in line?”

Tamlin frowns, hand tightening around the stack of parchment.

“What provinces?” Azriel snaps. “There is nothing left of Illyria but ash. It is a graveyard of women and children.” His voice breaks on the last word and down the bond comes the flash of a memory: A small body crumpled on scorched earth, a blood splattered doll clutched in its too small hand.

My stomach shoots into my throat.

Amarantha grins on the other side of my Father, pleased with my mate’s discomfort, pleased with her efforts of destruction in the name of the Empire.

“Sons must pay for the sins of the father.” Dagdan wins more than a few accolades for the sentiment. Beron goes as far to salute him with his wine glass.

“You must have known this would happen?” Brannagh counters. “Surely you knew the cost of your rebellion would be their heads? This is the price of rejecting the Empire and its protections.”

I glance around the room, looking for anyone to argue, anyone to challenge them. Helion shoots me a sympathetic look, but he says nothing. Eris shifts his weight behind his father, but he won’t look my way. They might be uncomfortable, but not enough to challenge them. Not enough to take a stand. We truly have no allies. 

“You have never been hungry,” Azriel says, his voice low. The white-knuckled grip on my chair tells me he’s trying his hardest to keep his voice down. The shadow curled around my ear moves with the agitation the rest of them have to feel, even in their hidden perch behind his wings. “You have never been without clothes. Without a roof. You have never gone without clean water, without people to tend to your every need. You have never known what it is to crawl for your basic necessities and then have them ripped from you purely because the people over you could. My people were dying. As are yours-”

“That’s enough,” Father says dismissively.

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep back the growl that threatens to slip past my teeth. How can he be so flippant about it? So careless? I have always known him to be cruel but I hadn’t realized how truly heartless he is. How heartless they all are as they laugh off the dismissal like Azriel is beneath them. As if his story is nothing more than a piece of fiction and he a worthless storyteller.

My hands ball into fists in my lap, power awakening in my chest, bubbling up like a wave, ready to wash over everything in this godsdamned room--

Azriel’s hand settles on my shoulder, squeezing gently in warning.

The Council goes back to arguing uselessly, forgetting immediately that Azriel is even here. It is for our benefit in the long run, I suppose, but I can’t get past it. How can they all be so blind?

Azriel’s hand slides down my shoulder slowly, rubbing a soothing line down my spine until he feels my breathing even out, until I unclench my fists in my lap and he’s sure I won’t explode. I tamper down on my power like I always do; always trapping it down beneath my skin so that no one notices it’s there. My shoulders slump. Why didn’t I say anything when I had the chance? Why do I always sit here uselessly?

Maybe I am no better than they are.

The topic shifts to clearing clogged trade routes. Thesian offers his daughter in a political marriage to Kallias’s son as if bartering items of clothing. The marriage is arranged in a matter of minutes, without either of their consent. It’ll be for the good of the Empire, that’s all they care about.

Helion turns the conversation to imports on wine for a while after that.

I feel myself slipping back into my hollow shell. My voice escapes me, buried with my powers until I feel nothing. Until the words fade in and out of my ears, eyes vacantly held on a spot on the wall. They talk around me like I’m not here, like it doesn’t matter that I’d ever left. Unaware that all of their problems are so petty and stupid when there are bodies of desperate men rotting in the street as we speak. 

I want to see this whole damned Empire burn.

My thoughts remain on this one point for so long I don’t notice time slipping away until Father announces the meeting over and waves us all out. 

My movements feel stiff as I finally stand. How long have I been clenching my shoulders? My teeth?

Azriel follows, chest against my back, as I move robotically towards the exit, and dart into a quiet adjoining hall. Father will be around shortly, it is not like him to let me escape without further incident, but I just need a moment to take a breath. 

“How do you do this?” I whisper as the door shuts behind us. “How do you not explode every time they fucking speak?”

Azriel puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around to face him. “Usually I imagine how it will feel to drive my blade through Hybern’s throat.”

This close to him I’m eyelevel with his collarbone. I have to look directly at the collar around his neck; the skin beneath pink from being rubbed raw over and over again by the iron. My hands reach for it instinctively, as if I have any power to take the pain away.

“But lately…” he shakes his head as one hand leaves my shoulders to catch my wrist as I fiddle uselessly with the collar. It’s not coming off without a key and I have nothing in my arsenal to make it easier to carry.

Useless once again.

“Lately I just worry that he’d take it out on you, if I stepped out of line, and I can’t risk that.”

The raised edges of his scars are a stark contrast to the soft, smooth skin of my wrists. I have no battle scars, no obvious signs of my Father’s abuse; my skin is unblemished and soft in a way that reminds me exactly why Cassian said I was a pampered princess. I’ve never had to do anything this hard. Never had to fight for what I wanted.

“It’s not like I don’t deserve it,” I blurt and he reels back a step like I’d hit him.

“Don’t talk like that,” he snarls.

“Cassian was right about me,” I return. “I’ve never had to work for anything in my life. I’ve never stood up for anything. I always shut up and shut down and look the other way. I should have done something before. I should have done something now!”

“You are doing something,” he says carefully, hazel eyes darting to the door, conscious of where we are and who might be lurking just outside.

“Not enough.”

He steps back into my space so he can cup my cheek. Damn me and my fragile resolve but I lean into that gentle touch like it’s my lifeline. He’s so warm and comforting and that broken, touch starved thing in me leans in like a moth to flame, so desperate for even a hint of affection. I hate myself for it. Hate that this is all it takes for me to take a breath. 

“We have to take it slow,” he bites out. “We have to move carefully. We are under so much scrutiny. I know that it is hard, but you did exactly what we need you to do today. You have played your part. The time for action will come later.”

“I feel useless,” I confess. 

“Hate to drag up bad memories, but you killed a guy last night,” he counters. “That’s far from useless.”

“That needed to be done.”

“So does this,” he assures. 

I sigh and lean my head down against his chest. His heartbeat is steady and even against my skin. Breath warm against the back of my neck. I wish I could melt into him, let him consume every bit of my being until there was nothing left of me.

Azriel wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me flush against his chest. My body short circuits, frozen for a moment as I try to comprehend what he’s doing. I don’t remember the last time somebody hugged me. Yes, last night he’d slept with an arm around me, but that is different somehow. I don’t immediately know what to do with this. Last night had a purpose, I’d needed the security to sleep. This was in comfort. And no one had comforted me like this in years. Not even Anise when my Mother had died. 

His embrace is all encompassing, strong arms tight around my middle. Something in me cracks open and tears pool in my eyes as I slowly work up the courage to wrap my arms around his middle, conscious of where his wings sit in the middle of his spine. 

The bond hums in approval, or maybe that’s his shadows, more of them than the one curled around my ear move to caress my arms and back.

A breath stutters out of me, trapped by the lump in my throat.

“We will beat him,” he promises into my hair, lips brushing the top of my head. “I can take a few punches on the way to that victory, Princess.”

I tighten my grip around his waist. “Not if I turn them to mist, you don’t.” The words are comically muted by his shirt, but they draw a chuckle from him all the same. The sound is rich, like melted chocolate and I’d do anything to hear it again.

“Vicious, little thing,” he tuts.

I work up the resolve to pull my head out of his chest so I can look up at him. “I’ll be whatever you need me to be.” Whatever it takes, no matter the cost, I will see this collar off him, all of them; I will see his people free. 

He practically has to duck to look me in the eyes at this angle, but that intense hazel gaze goes straight to my mouth. Heat flashes down the bond, a glimmer of desire so intense I’d think I might have imagined it were it not for the way his tongue darts out to run over his own full lips. It feels as if we share a breath, a heartbeat. I meant the words in a very literal sense, for the sake of this mission, but I think I might mean them in other ways too. 

He leans in and I feel his heartbeat stutter in his chest. Or maybe that’s mine. I cannot tell us apart anymore. What is him and what is me is suddenly very intertwined.

In contrast to the firm planes of his body, his lips are sinfully soft as they brush tentatively over my own. I lose all sense of time and reason as I lean up on my toes to close the distance between him, to finish the kiss.

And then the door to the hallway opens.

Time comes in a blazing rush and I suddenly remember where the hell we are as we jerk away from each other like we’d been thrown. 

Eris saunters in with his thumbs looped in the golden belt around his trim waist, grinning like a cat. There’s no way he didn’t see us.

“There you are,” he purrs. The shadows of this hidden servant’s hall suit him, bathe his sun kissed complexion in dark hues that make his amber eyes glow like coals. There’s a shade of gold dust in his unbound auburn hair. Everything about the Autumn heir seems to glow, even in the shadows of the world. “I had a feeling you’d be hiding in one of these secret places. You always did like them better.”

I don’t know how to explain myself. I just start smoothing my hands over my skirts, trying to find some semblance of control as my head spins. He can’t tell anyone what he saw! Azriel’s dead if does.

“Just needed to collect my thoughts,” I say, voice uneven.

Amber eyes flick to Azriel and roam over him slowly. I can’t tell if it’s admiration or that look Eris sometimes gets as he decides how much of a challenge a fight would be. Honestly, both those looks are pretty much the same. Eris has always toed the line between flirting and fighting.

“And his?” It’s teasing, not judgment, that much I can tell, but by the way Azriel’s wings open and shut behind him with a snap says he doesn’t share the understanding. 

“Eris,” I warn.

He shrugs as he comes to stand in the space Azriel had just held. I don’t miss the snarl that flashes across my mate’s features, or the way his hands clench and un-clench at his sides. He can’t do anything to Eris, not without risking his head. He knows it just as much as Eris does, which is why the male keeps stepping into my space, testing what he can get away with. 

“Relax,” Eris tuts. “Who am I going to tell?”

“You want me to make a list?” I retort. 

Eris shakes his head, long locks of hair kissing his high cheekbones. “Now now, what fun would that be?” 

Fun. Eris might be a bastard, but he is not cruel like his father. Beron would sell out his own mother for a chance at power, but Eris? Eris likes to play cat and mouse. He likes to collect secrets and trade with them. His influence in the court is strong not because he’s paid for it, but because he knows enough to get people to move in the ways he wants without having to lift a finger. Crafty and cunning as a fox; he’s dangerous, but he’s not an enemy, not yet.

“What do you want?” I sigh.

He grins, teeth perfect in his face. “I heard you’re looking for a husband?”

Azriel actually growls at that, stalking towards, shadows slipping out from behind his wings.

Eris rolls his eyes at him before turning back to me. “Have you decided on one yet?”

The obvious dismissal, or perhaps the blatant disregard to the danger he’s in, makes me pause. Why is he playing with fire like this? Is he really that confident Azriel won’t rip his head off his shoulders?

“I’m not on the decision committee,” I say, but I keep my eyes on my mate, a hand raised in his direction, silently begging him not to do something stupid. 

The gaze that was so focused on my mouth just seconds ago drops to my hand and he stills, teeth clenched so hard I can see a tick in his jaw. A shadow snaps angrily behind him, like they’re fighting the grip he has on them. 

“I should think your word would have some sway,” Eris muses.

He can’t be serious? “You want to marry me?” 

“Most females swoon under such an implication,” he starts.

“I thought you preferred males?” I counter.

He grins at that and I am not so blind that I don’t understand why people swoon when he gives them a few seconds of his undivided attention. “I don’t discriminate.”

We’re getting off subject.

Azriel may have allowed me to call him off the attack, but that doesn’t stop him from taking up his position at my back again. The rise and fall of his chest as he tries to steady his breathing is hot and heavy against me, I’m suddenly very well aware of his size compared to mine. The thin line of his restraint is fraying, worse than it was in the Council Chambers. 

“Fine, I will pose the suggestion to my Father.”

The bond flares with an anger so hot it seers my insides. I can practically taste Azriel’s rage as it floods down the tether between us. 

“Good, then this will be our little secret, won’t it?” Eris purrs, smug expression shot in Azriel’s direction. 

Gods they’d kill each other if I wasn’t physically standing between them.

“Yes,” I concede. How has this day gotten so far away from me?

He slides his thumbs back in his belt and strides towards the exit on the other side of the hall. “Oh,” he throws over his shoulder, “by the way, you’ll want to ask for Kallias’s Orc in the arena. It’d be the best match-up for your little pets.”

Azriel is shaking at my back, shadows unfurling from behind his wings like snakes, bathing the room in darkness as Eris opens the door. 

“I look forward to our future, Highness.”

Azriel explodes as the door shuts behind Eris, shadows lashing against the walls so hard the lights flicker. His wings snap open, apex talon striking the wall and leaving an angry slash in the paint. His chest rises and falls rapidly, breath rasping out of him like he can’t get air in fast enough. 

I spin to face him, taking his face in my hands. He has to get this under control or someone else is going to come running down the hallway. “Azriel-”

“No,” he chokes out, scarred hands gripping my wrists like a vice. “You can’t!”

Panic floods down the bond so fast it sweeps away all that rage like a tidal wave, ice filling my veins. I’m losing him and fast.

“You can’t!” He repeats and the ground shutters beneath his feet. 

I panic, worried about who else might be close enough in the hallway to hear, and do the only thing I can think of to get his focus back: I surge up on my toes for leverage and press my lips against his. It’s messy, and not at all how I wanted this to go, but it does the trick. His shadows still, their hissing cut off like they’re trying to wrap their ethereal heads around what just happened. The ground stops shaking. 

Azriel’s eyes widen, hands un-clenching. For a moment he freezes, just as I had when he’d hugged me a minute ago. And then he’s on me, hands tangling in my hair, pushing me back against the wall as his lips slide over mine. His tongue lashes behind my teeth, desperate and hungry. He kisses like a male starved, like he’s trying to get the very air from my lungs. He loops an arm beneath me and lifts, a shadow helping guide my legs around his waist as he kisses me again and again and again. 

Now we’re going in the wrong direction again. This is not the place for this!

Mother help me, I’m not sure I have the control to tell him that though. Especially not as he pulls away for the briefest of moments, eyes so dark they’re almost all pupil, nostrils flaring. 

“Mine,” he growls, dipping his head to press hot, open mouth kisses along my jaw and neck. 

Shit! I knew going into it that our growing proximity, and maybe the fact that we’d both acknowledged the bond last night was going to start causing some problems, but I didn’t think it would be this bad this fast. I didn’t think I’d have such a hard time trying to think rationally about it either. 

We have to stop. We have to get back out there before this situation gets worse than it already is. But my body doesn’t seem to know that. Hell, the bond doesn’t seem to know that. It purrs and glows between us, warm and bright in the contact of our bodies. 

My fingers tangle in the thick locks of his hair as he nips at the juncture of my neck and shoulder. If I’m lucky, the neckline of my gown might just cover any mark he’s leaving. Maybe.

“Azriel,” my body arches into every kiss. My skin is on fire. I need more. I need him everywhere. I don’t know if his name on my lips is an admonition or plea. 

His hips rock unconsciously against mine, searching for friction, and holy gods is he hard! My mouth falls open at the contact, even with the layers between us, he’s bigger than I imagined he would be. 

Azriel’s lips trace back up my neck. “My mate,” he murmurs into my skin. I’m losing him to the bond, to his instincts, the primal aspect the nymphs warned me about taking over. I want it to. I want to know what would happen if the immaculate control he’s held since I met him were to slip, but I can’t. Not here. The door feels like it’s suddenly made of paper, as if anyone could walk by and see us through it.

No one will be as forgiving as Eris.

The thought is sobering, like a bucket of ice water in my veins. We can’t do this here.

“Azriel,” I start and he groans into my neck, hips rocking into me once more as if I’d said something dirty and not simply his name. The sound makes heat shoot right down to my core and I clench my eyes tight to try and ground myself. One of us has to be in control here. I don’t know for the life of me how that ended up being me.

“We have to stop.”

His lips find mine again, desperate and needy and he moans into my mouth like this is the best thing he’s ever had. “Don’t,” he begs. “Don’t offer to marry him.”

I glide my fingers through his hair. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, kissing my chin, the corners of my mouth, everywhere he can reach like he just can’t stop himself. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. I should have been listening for the door. I shouldn’t have gotten us caught.” 

The words fall like he can’t stop them. “I’ll find a way to get around it. I’ll deal with him. Let me deal with him. Don’t…” he shakes his head, goes in for another desperate kiss. “Please. You can’t do this.”

I cup his cheek in my hand and he tilts his head to kiss my palm. “Eris is a snake-” his gaze darkens when I say his name, shadows hissing angrily. “But for now, let’s not make an enemy of him.”

His teeth flash angrily, a growl rumbling up his chest. Heat flares between my legs at his outright possessiveness. Still, I force myself to unwind my legs from around his waist and he, begrudgingly, sets my feet back on the floor. The ache between my legs is uncomfortable. The bond feels like it whines at the loss of contact.

“No decisions have been made,” I promise. “Besides, hearing me suggest it might turn my Father away from the idea entirely. At least, to that end, I can’t say I didn’t try.”

Azriel’s hands leave my hips to fix my rumbled skirts in an attempt to collect himself. He looks a mess! Hair disheveled, lips kiss swollen, eyes dark. I doubt I look any better. “Nothing is happening today.”

“I won’t let anybody take you from me,” he vows.

My heart clenches in my chest and I can’t stop myself from placing one last, gentle kiss on his lips. He chases after me once more like we weren’t just aggressively making out. We’ll have time for more later, when it’s safe. When nobody can take him from me.

I grip his scarred hand tight and place it on my chest, over my heart, in promise. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to make sure no one takes you from me either.”

I mean it. No matter what it costs, no matter what deals I have to make, this male is mine. No one in this damn Empire is going to take that away from me.

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

Tag List:

@sirenpearldust, @saltedcoffeescotch, @littlemissfix-itfic, @waka-babe , @raisam,

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@anainkandpaper, @rafeecameronsbitch, @whothehelliskayleigh, @lifetobeareader, @blimpintime,

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@hjgdhghoe, @krowiathemythologynerd, @urfunnyvalentin3, @mack234-blog1, @kissesfromnovalie,

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@marrass , @lia-h-r, @celestialzdiviner, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @tenshis-cake,

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@of-outerspace, @erencvlt, @corvusmorte, @lindsayjoy444 , @raccoonworld,

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@byteme05 , @art1012 , @the-tummo , @kiwi-mothball, @onthewaytotimbuktu,

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@dreamloud4610, @justtryingtosurvive02 , @sapphichotmess, @nishinoyastoes, @acourtofladydeath,

//

@amelya5567, @cardanenthusiast, @auraofathena

Thank you all for all your support! You guys are amazing! I so appreciate every single one of your comments and messages! Thank you for giving this fic such love! <3 As always, if you want to be added to the tag list, let me know! =)

[fairydrowning]

in order to live a happy life, you must romanticize everything (and see a good therapist).

[echo-starflower]

I FINISHED THE GUY!!!!!!

(Pattern by @ghost-cinnamon)

He’s perfect and I love him

But Echo! some of you might ask, isn’t the body supposed to be red like his bones? To that I say! 1: I’m impressed you saw it under the layers of clothes! /silly and 2!

BAH BAM

Embroidery!!!!! (I’m so proud of this hehe it turned out way better than I expected. Also faceless doll jumpscare>:3)

And of course, credit must be given to my amazing little sibling whose immediate reaction to seeing my doll was “ooo he’s spooky! He needs a top hat!!!!”

(She proceeded to make not one but two top hats hehe)

[whitehartlane]

#bruh

[sunfloweraro]

LUtober day 8: Feast

It’s a special week in Wild’s time, and to start the week of celebrations off, they have a whole-town feast in Hateno. Legend begins to understand the meaning behind community.

Celebration week:

Day 1 (You are here)

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

Day 6

Day 7

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

“What did you say this week was called again? And why are we doing this?”

“It’s Hallowed Week!” Wild repeated for the umpteenth time. “Or, Harvest Week. We celebrate it every year here in Hateno with a special tradition for each day; today’s Feasting Day.”

“Right,” Legend said, disbelief lining his voice.

“Have you never been part of a community before?” Wild raised a brow.

Legend suddenly turned bashful, looking away. “Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m never really home, with all these quests. Ravio is usually the one participating.”

Wild set their hands over their hips. “We’re changing that today, then. Grab that bowl of potatoes for me, they’re about to start!” Legend rushed to do as he was told, snatching the bowl of creamy potato salad while Wild held their own plate laden with a steaming roast lamb’s leg. Wild marched them out of their house, leading Legend down the trail to the village. As they neared its centre, the euphony of chatter and laughter and childish squeals met Legend’s ears, a far cry from the lonely nights he was met with on his quests, or the quiet days spent only with Ravio or his own company at home.

They rounded a corner, and Legend’s eyes widened. The townsfolk had worked hard to prepare for their special week: strings of lanterns joined every house along the main strip of the town, casting a golden glow onto the crowd below. Pumpkins had been carved with intricate patterns, nestled by the doors of each house. In the centre of it all, an oak table sat weighted down by dozens of platters of steaming food, from which the townsfolk partook, chattering amongst each other about who brought what.

“It’s…”

“Fun, right?” Wild beamed. “Come on, the others are waiting for us!”

Legend paused a moment to take it all in, letting his shoulders drop as contentment washed over him. He returned Wild’s smile, soft and genuine, as an eagerness to participate welled up within him. “Let’s go.”

[yooboobies]

Hello💜 Here is today’s feel good💜 #205

I have a few thoughts about today’s one, I will write them in the tags💜

morganharpernichols

[underachieverinlove]

i hate when people say they don't want me 2 kill myself but then not give me any attention . if u want me to keep suffering sooooo badly at least give me what makes it a little bearable ( praise )

[greetings-inferiors]

Nothing compares to the glory of doing a ten minute mechanics question with surds and trig galor, only to result in a vector with coefficients with only 1 decimal place and you know it must be the right answer because it’s so unlikely that such a nice number comes up as a mistake and then when you mark your work you got it right

[meezer]

day 23 no oomf

[forcebookish]

i am currently in the precarious situation where everything that i want to work on requires me researching in some way before i can do it and it's making my brain throw a tantrum because i just want to write but i know it will be no good and i'll have to rewrite it once i gather the information i need to actually work on it grrrrrrrrrrrrr

[marklikely]

seeing a 25 year old post about how they escaped being under 24 and just silently shooting a panicked look into the camera